2008

Today is the present

Tomorrow a gift

One day at a time sweet Jesus...

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a cold night

My toes were frozen, my fingers were frozen, my nose was frozen and the rest was of me was hovering at a mere few degrees above freezing. Trying my best to stay warm under a five year old boy's extra jacket, I feel like strangling one of my three companions who are snoring away next to me. Yes, I distinctly remember telling them DON'T get the airconditioned bus! Nights here are cold. We don't need airconditioning. But no, the seats don't recline in non-airconditioned busses...
Well the seats reclined all right. Kind of like reclining in a walk in freezer.
I look at my watch, 2 a.m. Great, only six more hours...
Christmas in Columbia. My three month entry visa into Venezuela expires Christmas day. So I get an all-expences-paid trip to Elizabeth's home in Bucaramunga. Can't beat that. Even if the bus was sub-zero temperatures, beggars can't be choosers right?
Elizabeth really has quite the family. Earlier this week we took a trip into the mountains with two of her sisters and a brother-in-law to do a level four, white water rafting trip, and guess who got to be in the very front of the raft...
This Christmas I traded carols and hot chocolate for drenching, icy-cold white water rafting. Life holds a lot of suprises.
So think of me as you sit around the tree singing carols and gazing at the brown paper packages all tied up with strings...
As for me, 'I'll be Home For Christmas...if only in my dreams...'

Merry Christmas!

Guess what? Anybody sho feels so inclined can send a package to the following address between December 30 and January 14th and the Restrepo's will bring it to me! Yay!
Ingrid Fernandez
C/O Giovanna
6744 Magnolia Point Circle
Orlando FL 32810

BTW

Sorry there are no pictures. My computer is down right now and it is the only one that has the software for my camera...

Brides and Bouquetes

One of the biggest events that can happen in a place like this is a wedding. When you live on a campus, you don’t have to be family or even friends of the soon-to-be happy couple in order to get excited. For weeks everyone is excited thinking about it, mostly about the cake but other things as well…like the food…Everyone eats in the cafe here, students and staff alike. So when we hear the word ‘wedding’ it is immediately translated into ‘good food’ before the sound waves reach the inner ear. Of course I wasn’t on of those sort…
Actually, I was rather one of the friends of the bride. Not one of the sort that gets to march down the isle in a beautiful gown. One of the kind that gets to do the brute work, you know that sort, and arrive at the wedding looking haggardly. I had less time to get myself ready when the big day arrived then I do on an average work day at the lifestyle center. In fact I didn’t even take a shower until two hours after the wedding was scheduled to begin. Of course, as I might have mentioned before, things are different in Venezuela.
When a wedding is near Christmas, the traditional food to eat is ajacas (don’t know the spelling for that one). These are made by wrapping a layer of cornmeal, gluten, red and green bell peppers, onions, potatoes, carrots, green olives and raisins in a banana leaf and steaming them for one hour. In America we would recognize them by the name Tamales. Even though it sounds easy, these little guys are immensely laborious. It took four of us, two entire days to make a sufficient quantity for the wedding. I peeled carrots, onions, and potatoes until my hands turned various shades of yellow, brown and black. Now a week later, I can still smell carrot peels on my hands.
That was Wednesday and Thursday’s work. Then on Friday I accompanied two ladies into town to help with decoration ideas and also to buy the bride a gift, though in the end they really didn’t consult me in the slightest on décor ideas. I would have gone with a theme, say red and white. Red roses and baby’s breath for the brides bouquet, white gladioluses for the bridesmaids tied with a red ribbon, some sheer white fabric draped on the armrests of the chairs down the isles accentuated with red flowers with a little greenery thrown in…
In the end we came out with red, white, pink, purple, blue and yellow. That’s a theme I guess…a circus theme if nothing else…
I was also lined up to play the marches with another violinist and a pianist, and they do a lot of marching here in Venezuela. First the family, then the enormous crowd of bridesmaids and groomsmen, then the bride. So we had four classical pieces to practice for all the separate marches. I certainly would have thought that a little practice ahead of time would be reasonable…did I mention that things are different here?..
The wedding was scheduled to start at 10:30 and all us musicians were there right on the button, 10:30 sharp; dressed in jean skirts and T-shirts, with greasy mops for a hairdo, and flip-flops on our feet…practicing the music for the first time. Lucky for us, the bride had no intention of getting there at 10:30.
Since I happen to have the nicest camera on campus, I also got the role of photographer. So I ran home, took the world’s quickest shower, grabbed the camera and headed to the brides quarters to take dozens of photos. Pictures of the bride getting her hair done, pictures of the bride fixing her veil, pictures of the bride leaving the house, pictures of the bride on the lawn looking all beautiful in white against the green grass, pictures of the bride getting into the car, (Melissa gets into the car with the bride) Pictures of the bride in the car…
We arrive at the auditorium. I quick bag the camera and grab the violin. In waltzes the family, the bridesmaids, the groomsmen, and alas…the bride.
And the rest…is history…

Rubber Ducky

The end of a very long, very hot day... I think I'll take a shower. What a blissful thought. It will be cold, infact it will probably be very cold, but no problem. Unfortunately I share a bathroom with seven others and it is often all tied up on Friday afrernoons as it is this particular day. Fortunately for me I have other options as Elizabeth temporarely has her own private bathroom. So I gleefully tote my things to her bathroom to take a shower. First thing I notice is that the bathroom has no light. It has a light bulb and a switch but unfortunately nothing significant happens when I move the switch to the 'on' position. Well no worries, it will be a cold, dark shower; but algo es algo, peor es nada (to be translated, ¨something is something, worse would be nothing¨).
Ahh yes, nice...cold... shower. Despite the cold I am thoroughly enjoying myself. The first half of the shower is rather uneventful. Then right about the time I get all bubbly from the top of my head to the tip of my toes my little stream of water turns to a trickle and disappears entirely, and I am left peering out from beneath the bubbles at the dry pipe sticking out of the wall I had just so recently called my shower. The longer I stared at the pipe the less I liked it.
What to do when the neither the shower nor the sink will produce so much as a drop of water...? By now I am really disliking the stupid, good for nothing, worthless, delinquent pipe. Slowely the bubbles all pop one by one and I am left standing there all sticky-like. So I resignedly step out of the shower and start wiping off the rest of the soap, when lo and behold the shower starts up again.
YES!!!
I make a flying leap back into the shower and step under the trickle of water just in time to catch the last three drops before it goes off again.
This time I share with the worthless pipe what exactly I think of it.
Again I resignedly step out and continue to dry off the bubbles. The little spit of water seemed to have rejuvinated the soap back into bubbles. I'm still giving the shower some strongly-worded counsel when the water starts coming again.
This time I think rationally about the situation, reach in and turn it off.

SWAK

David Restrepo/Melissa Thrash
Apartado Postal 489
Barquisimeto, Venezuela
telephono: 251-2525635

This is my whole and complete address, a very difficult thing for me to believe since my address in India was seven lines long. But they assure me it is true.
BTW I love mail...

Rain and Shine

Again a country with rainy and dry seasons, I had almost forgotten what it was like. The smell of fresh, soured clothes, wet off the line; mud as a permanent fixture on your feet, and worse your clothes. You wash the mud off the clothes and hang them on the line to sour…I mean dry, and again wear them to get mud all over them…vicious cycle. But it is the end of the rainy season. We will soon enter the dry season when all the beautiful green all around us will change to golden brown, and they tell me the mud is great compared to not having any water to take showers with. Do I ever know that’s true! In India I resorted to taking a bath with water that was green with algae at times because there was none else to be had. We are blessed in America with so many things. My home has a well of its very own …a luxury this campus cannot afford, not even for the lifestyle center. They are dependant on the mountain spring to give them water. When the mountain is brown you can imagine what happens to their tiny little spring.
The other night one of the girls had a birthday. Birthdays are great fun. Desserts come on rare occasions here, namely birthdays and Christmas. Since I was lucky enough to be invited, I received a very large piece of cake which I thoroughly enjoyed.
My Spanish is coming right along. My room mate had a very lengthy chat with me the other night, reprimanding me for spending too much time with the English speakers and speaking too much English in general. The fact that I caught approximately 47.5% of what she was saying all in itself is a great improvement over the ten of so word I knew when I arrived. I carry my Spanish/English dictionary with me to work every day now. Working at the lifestyle center can be very interesting at times. There isn’t a single person down there who speaks English. You would be shocked at exactly how much communicating goes on between two people that don’t speak the same language though.
Despite the obstacles, I truly love Venezuela. Please pray for me that I will learn the language quickly, and that I will leave a lasting influence for good on these young people.

melissa

A Day Off

I recommence my story with a tale of my day off.

Sundays are off days. Not that I don’t do anything mind you, but I have the day for studying and preparing for my classes. Sabbath night I volunteered to do Elizabeth’s guardia, more commonly known as night duty in the great land of America, at the La Centro de Salude, also know as the health center to the English speakers. Guardia begins at 5:00 and goes until 6:30 the next day, which naturally begins Domingo, my day off. Shortly after I arrived for guardia, my very first guardia by the way, Dr. Giovanna came to the center and asked me to do her a favor. Sure. Back home favors include such things as fetching a pen, or giving someone a message. But we are in Venezuela. So she asked me to give one of the patients a hyperthermia treatment at 8 o’clock before going to bed. Sure, I’ll just do that real quick-like before going to bed…
The next day around 6:29, when I was just heading home for a nice cold shower and breakfast, Dr. Giovanna arrived at the window. Oh hi, you again. What would you suppose, but that she asks me to do her a favor. …sure. In America favors include such things as making a patient a cup of tea or perchance putting the washing from the washer into the dryer. But we are in Venezuela. “Would you mind giving a hyperthermia treatment to Jheiline?” Sure, I can give a fever treatment to the nearly disabled MS patient. I’ll just do that real quick-like before going home on this my day off from the health center.
OK, so I go to her room and wake her up, ask another girl to help me get her up into her wheel chair, wheel her to the Jacuzzi and put her in. When it was over I thought I had killed the poor girl because she completely limp with her eyes closed and wasn’t talking. I even took her pulse just to make sure. So then I went to get some help getting her out of the Jacuzzi. This girl is pretty solid.
I find my room mate in the kitchen (don’t tell the folks back home I committed the unpardonable sin of leaving my patient alone). Good! Maryalex, please I need your help! Fortunately the idea translated from English to Spanish. So we both get down into the tub and hoist her out onto the edge (harder than it sounds). Next obstacle is to get slipper, wet, heavy, limp, half dead patient into the wheel chair. You take the shoulders, I’ll take the legs. But for all we were worth we just could not get her into the wheel chair. In fact for all we were worth we could barely keep her up off the floor. So Maryalex starts yelling for the only male in the building to come help. Arsenio! Come! Rapido! (come was in Spanish, but I don’t remember the word at the moment) Jheiline is getting closer to the floor by the second. Rapido! Arsenio arrives and gets her into the wheel chair. I look like I just went for a swim. Ok, into the bedroom. Almost done. Jheiline revives enough to start sobbing. Now what did I do. Cindy explains to me (in Spanish) something about spiritus and Diablo and makes choking motions to her throat. So she prays with Jheiline and then leaves me alone with the sobbing girl. Great. So I sang to her. And sang. Until finally she calmed down and I was able to go clean up the treatment room.
OK, well I think I’m going to go home now. Did I mention it is my day off.
Unfortunately for me I spy a pile of dishes in the kitchen as I’m heading out the door and am overcome with guilt. So I start washing the dishes. Dana comes to me and asks “Are you going home?” Yup! Going home…appearances are deceiving, I am actually on my way home despite the fact that I am elbow deep in soapy water. “Oh…” (sounding quite remorseful). She tries again. “You are going. Leaving?” As if rephrasing it will change the circumstances. “That’s right sweetness…I’m on my way home…By the way, did I mention it is my day off. Why do you ask?”

I’ll spare you the details and skip right to the next hyperthermia treatment that I end up giving. Maria is a good patient. I think we are doing really well. Twenty minutes at 103.5 degrees. We finish the treatment. I pour cold water all over her (the same frigid water I take showers with ever day by the way), and I get her up. OK, we’re doing good. Then she starts to turn green. Or maybe she was already green but I just hadn’t noticed. Things are different in Venezuela as I might have mentioned before. She then vomits todo breakfast, todo supper from yesterday, todo lunch from yesterday, todo…well you get the picture. I think I started to turn green at that point. Fortunately I hadn’t eaten breakfast, neither had I eaten supper the day before and my lunch from yesterday was long, long gone.
Ok, so we’ll skip the clean-up details. Now I am really on my way out. I’m going, saranara, asta lavista, today is my day off.
Then I bump into Mary. “Where are you going?”
“Where am I going? Home! I’m going home! Did I mention today is my day off? How do you say that in Spanish? Day off. Repeat slowly after me…day…off. Caio. See you later.”
“Aren’t you going to give your patient a massage?” (In spanish)
“Well I wasn’t really considering it…(in English)”
The idea didn’t translate.
She won out. I gave the massage. And proceeded to sneak out the back door when I was done. At 1:30.
I’m going to start using the phrase “NO intiendes!”

melissa

Las Delicias

Fourteen hours, 850 miles and $180 later the big city of New Orleans was behind me, passport in hand though it didn’t have the desired visa. No problem she said as she piled my passport, visa application, letter of invitation, visa pictures and my un-cashed $60 money order into my lap. No problem, all Americans receive a three month tourist visa when they enter Venezuela. Right. Well at least they gave me my money back.
Fortunately she was right. The only question the customs official asked me was “First time in Venezuela?”, although it took about a dozen repetitions for me to catch on. He started waving around one finger while repeating the question to try to give me the idea. Unfortunately when you are standing at the customs desk and the official starts waving his finger at you, the logical assumption is that you have done something very wrong.

The mountains near Caracas are gorgeous. Very steep mountains with sharp peaks all completely covered with green. The mountains here near Barquisimeto are not so steep but very beautiful. We started climbing the mountains toward Las Delicias right at sunset. Looking out at the rise and fall of the mountains, the mist hanging in the valleys catching the pink of the sunset, I was certain I had never been anywhere more beautiful in all my life.

As is common with third world countries, Elizabeth asked me Friday night if I would speak on Sabbath. Having been in India for two years, that alone didn’t strike me in any way unusual. The shocking part came when she told me I would be the first of four speakers and that my little talk was to begin at 3:30

a.m. (note the A and the M)
I’m not sure I can recall the last time I heard of a youth meeting at 3 a.m. On a Sabbath morning no less. But there they were filling up the auditorium, listening to what I had to say, answering my questions. These kids are one of a kind. I mean you couldn’t pay me to be at a 3 a.m. meeting…
Did I mention that I work for free?...
Speaking of funds, I know I’ve hardly been here for two weeks now, but yesterday I learned something about two of the girls that might peak your interest.
Nubia and Miriam are two of the most genuine Christian girls I have ever met. They are sisters, here studying to be medical missionaries. Their day starts at four in the morning, and they work hard without complaint. Home for them is in Columbia, and though it may be a neighboring country, traveling there is a long and expensive trip. There is one single break at Christmas time scheduled into the program for the students to go home to visit the family. Unfortunately their family is struggling financially. Yesterday Elizabeth informed me that they have decided to take the money set aside for the trip home and send it to their parents, forfeiting their only vacation until next September. I was touched by their story since I know they have worked very hard to get that money. If you are at all interested in helping them get home please let me know. My parents address is:
51 Thrash Rd.
Seale, AL 36875
I have a bank account there that I can withdraw money from. My e-mail address is melissathrash@gmail.com if you have any questions.

From the beautiful land of Venezuela,
melissa

In the mean time...

The Monterrey Bay Aquarium is one of the coolest aquariums out there. These are pictures of a very rare form of jelly fish approximately 2.7 million years old and still in the evolution process. Course, I wasn't never too good with schooln' and all, so I'll have to check with Mama to make sure I got them facts straight.

I'm scheduled to leave in six days but I have no visa and no passport in hand. I am strongly considering driving to New Orleans to pick up the passport from the Consular General, but I might be able to convince them to over-night it to me. She instructed me not to call again until Friday and I'm trying to be patient enough to wait. I might be able to leave without a visa but not without a passport, so something will have to be worked out.

10

11

Countdown

12 days till I fly.
Current location: Tennessee

Surprises

The road of life can only reveal itself as it is traveled; each turn in the road reveals a surprise. -Unknown

Shuman peers over her mother's sholder, gracing the camera with an ever-so-slight smirk that leaves us with the impression that she knows something that we don't know. Slightly sly, but definitely amused, since you're just not in on the joke. I loved the kids in India. Every place I've traveled has taught me something different. India taught me many things, but for sure it revolutionized the way I relate to kids. An orphanage is a unique place where you fall in love with children. But before I make those of us who were there sound so good, rest assured it was the kids who loved us first. A very no-strings-attached group. Then there was my little brother. They all called him that. I even called him that, though I tried hard not to be partial and love all the children the same, but when he took my hand and called me his big sister...well. And so half my heart will always be in India with Shankhui, my little brother, and all the others that gave so much and expected so little in return.

This year the country on the horizon has changed a bit though I'm sure there will be many similarities to the past. Much of the success that I hope and pray for I will attribute to my experiences in India and the many lessons I learned, the many small advances made. I know the battle is more than half won when I cease to be a foreigner and instead become a friend or even part of the family.

I invite you to join me in my journey. Promise not to hold it too hard against me when I make stupid mistakes. Promise to learn lessons from my stories, and I won't feel I've wasted my time. There is a saying, "Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone." In that way this blog is for me too. This way I know that when I laugh you will laugh with me and when I cry I won't have to cry alone.

melissa

Life is a series of surprises, and would not be worth taking or keeping if it were not.-Ralph Waldo Emerson