Compone, Peru: Community Work Day

Since the worksite is located at the top of a mountain, moving materials for the project proved challenging.  With the community president promising 30 helpers, a community work day was organized.  Our team was cautiously optimistic that a substantial number of people would show up, but we feared solid days of carrying materials ahead if they didn’t.  Due to the efforts of community leaders and Graciela, 47 community members arrived to help!  People, young and old, carried a cubic meter of sand, a cubic meter of gravel, over 200 cinderblocks, several one hundred-pound bags of cement, and an enormous water tank up to the site.  This volume of materials really helped us understand what the air at 12,000 feet is like.

Half way up the hill!

Meanwhile, others excavated the site to make room for the materials and the chlorination system, digging for over five hours.

The community work day was a success, enabling the engineering team to pour a concrete pad the next day.  The work day also resulted the second of several community meetings about the project.  This meeting produced a commitment of several volunteers per day to the engineering team’s construction efforts, and the community members voted to fine households that didn’t help out!

Compone, Peru: 2014 Implementation Trip

Visit http://umd-sph-ewb.blogspot.com/ to read about University of Maryland's Public Health without Borders projects in Peru and Sierra Leone.  The following is a repost from PHWB's Blog.

The University of Maryland chapter of Engineers without Borders has been involved in water system and purification efforts in Compone, Peru, a small town in the Andes of Southern Peru, since the spring of 2008.  (Click here for a thorough project history).  Over the course of the last several years, the chapter worked to improve irrigation channels and minimize water loss in the community.  The water, however, remained unsafe to drink, as the chapter was not successful in building a disinfection system. 

After years of preparing multiple design solutions, the 2014 implementation trip resulted in the successful installation of a chlorine water disinfection unit in Ayllu San Isidro water district of Compone.  A group of over 70 students and faculty worked to design and test a solution during the fall 2013 semester.  Many students and advisors prepared implementation plans: Achal Amin, Joe Andrews, Brian Avadikian, Sean Bagnall, Jordan Cassell, Hyunjo Choi, Maria Coelho, Mateus Coelho, Addison Goodley, Kevin Hogan, Kelly Hogenson, Abby Iacangelo, Delaney Jordan, Bhumibhat Kerdsuwan, Elisabetta Lambertini, Kelly Latham, Zachary Lawrence, David Marin, Ed Miller, Dominick Montero, Mike Nociolo, James Pokodner, Nelson Quispe, Jon Tseng, Ben Tunick, and Caislin Wheeler.  

Six engineers traveled to Peru in January to execute the project team’s plans:

Jordan Cassell is a sophomore civil engineering major.  Jordan will serve as the Project Leader for the Compone project starting in February 2014.
Jordan’s Compone Superpower: Tallest woman in Peru.  Also, calculations.

Juan Cruz is a sophomore electrical engineering major.
Juan’s Compone Superpower: Bargaining for hardware supplies nearly every day.

Kevin Hogan serves as the Project Leader for the Compone EWB project.  He is a senior computer engineering major.   Kevin previously traveled to Compone for the 2013 assessment trip and worked tirelessly to lead the project team in development a feasible solution.
Kevin’s Compone Superpower: Fearless leader.  Also, low culinary standards. 

Abby Iacangelo is a junior biomedical engineering major. Abby also serves as the EWB-UMD chapter Vice-President. 

Abby’s Compone Superpower: Pound-for-pound weightlifting champion.

John Tseng is a junior computer science major and also serves as the EWB-UMD chapter Webmaster.
John’s Compone Superpower: Reducing three weeks worth of work in a two-minute time-lapse. Also, eating contest titleholder.

Dr. Bart Forman, Assistant Professor in the Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering, is a Faculty Advisor and Professional Mentor for the Compone EWB project.
Bart’s Compone Superpower: “Historical” references. Also, coffee procurement.

The 2014 implementation trip also marks the second time that EWB-UMD has traveled with a Public Health without Borders team.  The Maryland PHWB team prepared community organizing and health education activities to compliment the construction of the chlorination system.  A team of seven sophomore Global Public Health Scholars students (Hannah Asmail, Cinthia Ennaco, Ali Jourabchi, Stephanie Olcese, Priya Parikh, Kamran Partovi, and Joshua Trowell) worked with faculty and graduate students to develop a safe water curriculum for children and educational materials for adults.  Faculty and graduate students also prepared a community mapping interview protocol and evaluation tools.  The following individuals traveled to Peru for the 2014 implementation trip:

Graciela Jascheck is a doctoral candidate in epidemiology and biostatistics.  Graciela previously traveled to Compone during the 2013 assessment trip and frequently served as a translator for the group. 

Graciela’s Compone Superpower: Diplomatic relations.

Stephanie Olcese is a sophomore neurobiology major and Co-Founder of the Public Health without Borders student group. 

Stephanie’s Compone Superpower: Piñata destruction.  Also, best boots.

Priya Parikh is a sophomore individual studies major focusing on global health.  She is also a Co-Founder of the Public Health without Borders student group. 

Priya’s Compone Superpower: Hand-washing sing-along captain.

Greg Raspanti is a doctoral student in environmental health and toxicology.  Greg  previously traveled to Compone during the 2013 assessment trip. 

Greg’s Compone Superpower: Kitten whisperer.

Dr. Stephanie Grutzmacher, Research Assistant Professor in the Department of Family Science, is a Faculty Advisor for the Compone public health team. 

Stephanie’s Compone Superpower: Not dying. 

Travel Blog Demerit Badge and Traveling Alone

In the previous two years of my travel blog silence, I have visited six countries, taken thousands of photographs, and scribbled dozens of vague or disparate thoughts about my experiences on little bits of paper jammed into the small, worn backpack I've dragged around the world.  I'm giving myself a demerit badge for my inability to post with any reasonable frequency.  And, sadly, I was using my own definition of reasonable rather than anyone else's just so I could lower my standard and, thereby, meet it.  (I learned that trick by working at a university).  But sometimes, even my standards aren't low enough.

Heed this warning: Don't ever get hooked on reading about my adventures.  Even if it seems I've finally mastered the dedication to post, I promise continued dry spells during which I forget I even have this thing.  Add six weeks to the time I remember I have it for password recovery.  Then add a 1-10 more months because chances are it's not July or August, my "light" season.  Besides, wouldn't it be better to have the actual interactions, tastes, smells, weather, experiences, feelings, frustrations, insights, and memories instead of my vaguely sensory recollection and analysis?  Yes?  Great!  Let's go!  No, really, where do you want to go?  I'm in!  Really.  Not the kind of "no, really" I've heard before, but the kind that I really mean.

People often ask me the same series of questions about my trips: Who did you go with?  Did you go by yourself?  Why do travel alone?  Do you like being alone?  I think people actually know the answers to all of these questions and are actually just looking to say I don't get it.  Doesn't sound like fun to me.

Not a picture of me traveling alone.

There are two reasons I have traveled alone more than with others.  One, all y'all are lame.  When I mention the possibility of a trip to someone, most people are YAY and YESYESYES! and we should go here, and then there, and there, and there, and s;lkdfjgs;ldkfjgaw;li!!!!  Then sometime between this exciting fantasy of pinning mind-blowing destinations and driving to the airport, I become a party of one.  Time, money, work, family, dogs, responsibilities, too much perishable food in the fridge, the possibility of missing the truly riveting book club meeting (but it's the one I chose).  If I waited for others to be ready to pull the trigger, I may have been to just a handful of places at this point in my life.

Before anyone gets defensive, let's work this through, for your sake and mine.  I don't know whether this is pessimistic (I am SO young at heart and would be a hilarious old person; I've been holding onto jokes that are only ironic for an old lady to say for years already) or generous (I've always imagined I'd get taken out by a blood clot or a shark or something not age-related), but let's say I die when I'm 75.  Let's also assume that I'm limited to two weeks of travel per year.  As a matter of practicality, I need to categorize trips into 1) trips for old people, 2) trips for little people, 3) trips for rich people, and 4) trips for crazy people.  And finally, let's assume that, when possible, destinations and experiences should be sought in order of most to least desired, just in case the universe t-rexes me or you or all of us.

It's even more sad when I remember that she's extinct and can no longer even struggle to put on her adventure hat.

Here's a sample:

	Crazy	Rich	Little People	Old People
33-40	Vietnam Burma Morocco Turkey Northern Lights Belize Trinidad	Galapagos Islands Greece Croatia Italy Uganda Zambia Kenya
41-50			Bald Head Island Zion/Bryce Glacier National Park Austin
51-60			Santa Fe Savannah Monterey
61-70		Madagascar Southern Africa New Zealand/Australia Cuba		Prague Budapest Chile Argentina
71-75, then die				London Key West

I can't be dragging children through a lawless country, bribing the police to not kidnap and traffic them.  I can't be dragging myself on overstuffed buses that toss passengers around on unpaved roads after my third hip surgery.  I can't spend a dependent's college tuition getting to the world's most remote locations no matter how "valuable" that Easter Island passport stamp may seem.  On top of these constraints, I've already maxed out my travel before age 40 with the crazy list and haven't even gotten to the rich list.  And, I made this list carelessly and quickly- I didn't even check Pinterest to remember everywhere I want to go!  I know barely anything of my own aspirations without Pinterest!

Bottom line, the clock is ticking on this sweet, sweet life.  I can't wait for you to be ready to pack your adventure hat.  (See T-Rex for adventure hat style ideas).

Two (remember how all of that was just the first reason I travel alone?), I know it's good for me.  I'm an extrovert to my core.  I suffer from Fear of Missing Out.  I love being around people all the time and don't need time to myself.  I'm flexible about most things and don't like making decisions, sometimes to the point of complete paralysis.  I'd really rather do what you want to do, especially if it saves me from having to think about what I want to do.  I try hard not to inconvenience others or myself with my own needs and wants.  From silly to biological, meeting one's own needs is for suckers.

During my first trip abroad alone, I tested out this Don't Make Decisions mantra.  I landed in Nadi, Fiji very early in the morning and boarded a public bus to Suva, the capital on the other side of the island.  I was just doing what I was told by my hosts- I had no idea what was about to happen, but I probably didn't need to do anything except sit on a bus, right?  The bus drove and drove and drove along the beautiful Queens Highway, the single, coastal road that connects the east and west sides of the island.

After a few hours, the bus stopped in a small town, and everyone got off.  Except me.  What would happen if I got off?  Would I lose my seat?  Would someone take my luggage?  Would they leave me behind?  What would I do off of the bus anyway... Eat?  Pee?  Eating didn't seem all that important considering how difficult it would be for me to figure out what to buy and how to buy it.  Compared with doing nothing, peeing increased the risk I'd be abandoned in the town.  So I sat there.

And then, as if the universe knew how hungry and stupid I was, people started walking up to the windows selling small, but unfamiliar snacks.  What were they selling?  Are these normal American peanuts or some weird, gross, unacceptable Fijian peanuts?  Was it even proper to buy a snack from a random person outside of the window or were these black market peanuts?  Did they have the necessary permits?!  So I sat there.

Everyone else got back on the bus, and we drove for a few more hours.  The scene from the first town played out again.  Slightly hungrier and more wiggly than before, the universe offering me an opportunity to learn from my previous mistakes, I was still too paralyzed to get off the bus.  The risk of those peanuts containing some kind of meat was too high, especially in a heavily vegetarian, English-speaking country in which I could probably not very easily inquire about the meatiness of the street peanuts.

After about eight hours, we finally arrived at a bus depot in Suva.  I was supposed to get a cab and give the driver the address of my host.  But, could I deviate from this path to get a quick bite to eat?  Would the city of Suva have any food?  I spotted a bakery and decided to investigate whether they had food.

Me: (Looking at rolls with minimal aspiration for actual nutrition) Do you have, like, plain rolls?
Baker: Yes.
Me: Oh, okay.  Do they have any meat in them?
Baker: What?
Me: Are they just, like, plain?
Baker: Yes.
Me: Great, I'd like one of the plain ones.  With no meat.

(As an aside, this fear of meat rolls seems entirely irrational, but, in fact, foreshadows an unfortunate translation error that occurred years later in Costa Rica: the jam croissant.)

It probably wasn't okay to eat (meatless) rolls on the street or in cabs in their culture, so I waited.  I hailed a cab and got in, with a (meatless) roll in a bag smooshed in my fist.  I arrived at my host family's house and settled in.  In the two minutes that I took my eyes off of my (meatless) roll to pee my life's longest pee, four million of the nearest ants sensed how delicious it would be to such an incredibly hungry person and moved in for a taste.  When the disappointment of losing my (meatless) roll this way set in, tears of frustration and exhaustion and homesickness streamed down my face.

The next few weeks brought many firsts: first attempt at a cold, outdoor shower and, subsequently, first attempt to go almost a week without a shower and, subsequently, first water-heated-on-a-fire-and-dumped-on-me-bowl-by-bowl shower; first decision about what to do when peeing has already occurred and toilet paper is not provided; first independent execution of a vague project assignment and literally no skills or ideas to work with.  Over time, the what-was-I-thinking regret of traveling alone to Fiji gave way to a shaky, albeit undeserved sense of independence and bravery.  These and other weird situations are the norm of international travel, but reacting with flexibility and resourcefulness is the priceless take-away skill.

Maybe I should not admit that I was 24 when this happened.  I have known so many people who have experienced much more of the world than I had at this age, living, studying, working, and volunteering abroad.  I was a year away from finishing my PhD, I had independently taught a few hundred undergraduates, and I had a growing list of personal and professional interests and accomplishments.  But, I couldn't feed myself, bathe myself, or otherwise figure out what to do with myself without tears, blunders, and doubt.

So this is why I value traveling alone: It serves as a periodic recertification of my independence and dauntlessness, a check on my ethnocentrism, and forced decisiveness, introspection, and self-care in a mind otherwise clouded with the demanding noise of others' wants and needs.

Hello Lay-Deeeeeee! Adventures in Phnom Penh

“Hello Lay-Deeeee” is the constant, singsongy refrain shouted repeatedly at any foreign women by Cambodians who are offering or pretending to offer tourist services. Common variations include “hello lay-deeee, you wan coke? One dolla,” “hello laydeeee, you wan ride? Two dolla,” and “hello lay-deeee, you need massage? Three dolla.” Having ten people shout at me simultaneously did not discourage ten more from joining in. Showing a go-getter persistence not uncommon in South Asia, these solicitations only get louder after every polite, but firm “no, thank you!”

The most confusing part of this situation is that when one actually says yes, most of the solicitors are unable to deliver the service they’ve offered. For example, every Cambodian with a motorbike, bicycle, or car perceives him or herself as a provider of public transportation. Unfortunately, I failed to find even one single driver in Phnom Penh who knew any famous landmark, business, street, or intersection I needed to find. Forget pointing it out on a map. It took me awhile to understand that getting driven to weird places, having the driver shout the mystery destination to random and equally clueless pedestrians, and then getting dumped who-knows-where with a ‘sorry, I donknow’ or even more oblique ‘sorry, not here’ was a normative experience.

Mom, I think you should stop reading now. I’ll let you know where you can start again.

All of this dumping is unsettling given the many personal safety warnings about Phnom Penh. During my flight from Bangkok to Phnom Penh, I sat next to a man from Florida who was the evil doppelgänger to The Office’s Creed, unnerving one-brow-down stare included. Creed struck up a friendly conversation with me by saying, “watch your back in Cambodia.” Startled by his immeasurable creepiness, I said ‘oh, haha, yeah, I heard that sometimes tourists are targeted by purse snatchers…I’ll be careful.’ Creed: “Purse snatchers? Try murrr-derrrrr.” Alright. At this point, I couldn’t help but wonder why he was going to Cambodia for his 46th trip- he sure made it sound like Palm Springs. Was I sitting next to a hitman? A gun trafficker? A child sex tourist? A guy who really enjoys showing off his proficiency in creeping people out? I finally settled on “foil hat wearer” after the following exchange:

Creed: You know what’s wrong with America these days?
Me: [Oh boy…]
Creed: Look around. Look at the people on this plane. What do you see?
Me: Cambodian people?
Creed: No. Look again.
Me: Thai people?
Creed: No.
Me: Umm, tourists? Advertisements? Peanuts? I’m not sure …
Creed: No. YOUNG PEOPLE.
Me: [Looks around … spots mostly not young people…]
Creed: It’s because we’re destroying America. The young people are coming here instead. Asia.
Me: Oh.
Creed: And that’s the problem with America.

Good start, right? He warned me about 96 more times not to go anywhere alone after dark, which is perfect advice for touring a tropical country with a 6PM sunset. The next bizarre western man I meet is Franz, the gross German retiree who is staying at the same guesthouse. During our ride from the airport, throughout which his gross and unbridled toes were touching practically everything, he told me that he was moving from Malaysia to Phnom Penh because the beer is cheaper and there are fewer Muslims. Alright. Franz wanted me to join him at his favorite steakhouse for dinner. I declined, explaining that I’m a vegan (and leaving out the part about just not really wanting to have dinner with him- the tuktuk ride was long enough...) He says, “No steak? Why aren’t you dead? Well, don’t go out at night. The people are small, but determined.” Strike two for not being an extra weird weirdo magnet in a country that itself seems to be a weirdo magnet.

I don’t know how much my experience in Phnom Penh was influenced by these two oddballs, but I did find the city to be a little sketchy. I shifted my time there to the following goals: 1) do not get murdered, 2) do not eat steak, 3) do not choke to death on the chunky, particulate air while trying to breathe, and 4) go to the park to see aerobics.

Across Cambodia, people gather every morning and evening at local parks to do what I would describe as Cambodian Zumba. Or, white people’s favesies, instructional wedding dances. This is a really interesting sight, as the young men who own boom boxes compete with each other to get the most people dancing to their instructions. Even for people not involved in dancing, this activity serves as spectator sport complete with roasted corn, cotton candy, and popcorn.

Obviously, the beautiful sunset at the stadium made me remember that it was time to hustle back to my safehouse to achieve goal #1. To work on goal #2, I started to get driven around to lots of places I did not ask to go. After about 3 hours of driving and walking (yes, alone, at night) around desperately searching for not-steak, I found a vegetarian restaurant, moments short of hunger-induced delirium. Like many businesses in Cambodia, the restaurant was a non-profit training center for Cambodian youth trying to leave the sex trade. As it turns out, this is a great idea far beyond the obvious reasons: former sex workers really know how to whip up a real nice yellow curry.

Having achieved all of my goals so far, I planned to stay victorious by rethinking my planned three-day stay in Phnom Penh. I decided to just spend one night, sightsee the next day, and then scurry onward to wholesome Siem Reap on the night bus. For the first, and hopefully last, time in my life, I propped a chair underneath of the doorknob and went to sleep.

The next day, I buckled down for some disturbing, but unavoidable education about Cambodia’s recent past. My planned light-and-fluffy start to this day was at the Russian market, a huge open-air shopping center jammed full of, well, everything. When I say jammed, I mean jammed:

Every stall was like this. Since Phnom Penh is home to many of the world’s garment factories, the market was filled with Yves St. Laurent, NorthFace, Ralph Lauren, adidas, and so on… Intellectually property and laws in general are no big thing there, so it was hard to tell what items were imperfects, overstock, stolen, or just plain fake. The market was chaotic, crowded, sensory overload. I rubbed up against more people in more ways than any westerner – even an oblivious close talker- would be cool with. I tried to wander to an isle with more room, and I landed in the food area. Mistake. If I could name one thing worse than the personal space nightmare I was trying to escape, it would be a crowded aisle full of pig heads, duck fetuses, assorted eyeballs, fried grubs, cow legs, fermented fish paste, and the smell that accompanies such culinary delights. I’ve never been so close to indiscriminant public vomiting. I quickly mastered the desperate shoving that is a favored pastime in much of Asia and made my way to the street.

My next stop was Tuol Sleng, a school-turned-torture and execution center of the Khmer Rouge. This probably goes without saying, but the Khmer Rouge represents the most depraved and wicked capacities of human beings. In a period of four years, they managed to systematically murder two million people or one-quarter of the population. They kept meticulous records of victims and deployed children to commit heinous acts against the population. The educated and cultural classes were targeted; teachers, doctors, professors, the literate were killed, kicking Cambodia back to the dark ages. A massive famine followed the genocide, which explains the peculiarity of Cambodian cuisine. Phnom Penh was the epicenter of the destruction, profoundly tarnishing the once-glamorous “Pearl of Asia.”

Any Cambodian my age or older has lived through harrowing violence, famine, and unthinkable loss. Anyone younger inherited a broken society whose dysfunction created the kleptocratic government, widespread gun violence, child exploitation, lawlessness, poverty, and screwed up sense of justice that characterize the country. Order more closely resembling the twice-daily line dancing rather than the Russian market would really benefit the tourism sector, but it’s not hard to understand why the country struggles to regain its footing. The vast majority of Cambodian people I encountered were gritty, eager, and kindhearted, but they’re stuck in adverse circumstances that force difficult choices.

After a heavy day facing how on earth mass killings happen (and keep happening), I went to a tiny movie theatre to kill time with smoothies, Four Weddings and a Funeral (how unlikable is the allegedly captivating Andy McWhatshername’s character?!), and peeing a lot until my night bus arrived. I still consider this a foreign experience, as I understand about as much dialogue in that movie as I would have a Khmer film …

Okay, Mom, you’re back in. Phnom Penh was great!! Here are some pictures! Bye bye lay-deeee!