2/17/11 Whose job is it anyway?

Today I embarked on an 8 hour road trip from Chiang Mai back to Bangkok where I will be spending the remainder of my time. My Uncle Mong is doing the driving and has wonderfully taken off a lot of time from work to take me around Chiang Mai and Bangkok. I expressed interest prior to arriving in Thailand to visit the water filtration and sanitation center that he works at as a technician. We arrive in an area nearby Chiang Mai that consists of a cluster of 75 factories, many of them electronic firms or Japanese companies. My uncle brings me to the water filtration system which draws water from a local river source into a reservoir. He then tours me around to the rooms where chlorine and aluminum sulfate are pumped into the water source and brings me up a large set of stairs where the AlSO4 is stirred and filtered with the water in 3 huge vats. This chlorinated and chemically treated water is stored in a considerably sized water tower, not as large as ones found in mid-size cities but still a respectable size.

Next we drive to the waste treatment plant which is considerably larger. This part consists of 7 ponds. If you had not known they were waste ponds, it actually looked pretty and vast like a series of lakes and even had fish in it. Much like the waste management that I was briefly introduced to in a Lycoming College microbiology class, the waste is taken and filtered, aerated, introduced to microbes to breakdown human waste, and eventually when thoroughly cleaned, is introduced to a local water source.

As my uncle is showing me all of this, I think about Haiti. For the past several months, I’ve been engaged in various projects taking place near Port-au-Prince and one of them involving potable water and sanitation waste management. I have no doubt that this equipment is expensive and complex requiring lots of money and mechanical and other engineers, but it looks so feasible. Especially since this water treatment plant is only for the factories serving about 40,000 people. Imagine the good that a permanent water treatment and waste management facility could do in the earthquake devastated regions where many currently rely on cholera-ridden water from ground water sources, bleached water from NGOs, or expensive water packets. The management of human waste has been a growing issue which is perpetuated when inevitable torrential rainfalls cause flooding of the latrines and further perpetuates cholera and disease spread. With all the money that has been promised to various non-profits, amounting to billions, wouldn’t it make sense to build permanent structures such as these to drastically improve all areas of life from quality of living to increased health? Then I think about whose job is it to do this? Do non-profits team money together or the government make it an imperative to start. If this type of water and sanitation structure can be built for a slew of factories, it can and should also be built for Haitians in need.

2/16/11 Tourist in Chiang Mai

The past few days have been so much fun as my Uncle Mong have been taking me around the beautiful city of Chiang Mai with my grandma, his wife, and my 18 year old cousin Menn. I feel like I’m finally on vacation after a very intense grad school semester, straight nose dive into work, and assisting with research in India. I am taken back by how many foreigners are in Chiang Mai, they are everywhere!

One of the first visits we make is to a temple (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wat_Phrathat_Doi_Suthep) which sits high up on a mountain. It is the most beautiful temple I have ever seen. The white marble floors feel cool or warm to walk barefoot on depending on the vicinity to heat-creating candle holders or oil burners. The pagoda like structures are super ornate in red and gold. In the center of the temple, there is a large shiny golden shrine that supposedly housed bones from the original Buddha. Following my grandma and uncle’s religious tradition lead, we all walk around the golden shrine 3x’s for good luck. We also light our 3 long monk orange candles and stick them on candle holders while kneeling, light our 3 incense sticks and stick them into sand as we make a prayer, and offer a tulip into a large metal chalice…all of these steps presumably for good luck. Then we proceed to ring about 100 large bells around the temple for good luck and also get blessed by a monk that chants something I have no idea what it means and dashes water over our heads and shoulders and finishes the proceeding with a braided white cotton bracelet…all for good luck. There are also symbols of seven different buddhas with a metal lotus holding a flame fueled by oil around it. You pick a Buddha based upon what day of the week you were born and then take a ladle of oil and add to the lotus in a clockwise motion 3 times. The temple is amazingly detailed with statues of golden buddhas everywhere, paintings, hand carved wooden frames and doors, orchids adorned sporadically, and overlooking the rest of Chiang Mai. It feels as if you are at a place that would be the most ideal setting to get married in or visit in a dream.

On other days we visit the night market which houses endless street products and I hoard souvenirs. I also got the chance to ride a chang (elephant). The elephants are quite clever here, they are trained to kick soccer balls, shoot basketballs, play harmonicas, paint pictures, and dance. When I fed one elephant sugar canes, the trainer instructed the elephant to shake my hand with its trunk and put a straw hat on my head. I also visit an umbrella making factory that had pretty umbrellas and hand painted custom t-shirts. There is a gorgeous orchid farm in Chiang Mai so I loved being able to use my telephoto/macro lens to snap away at my favorite flower. My uncle took me to visit a Hmong village, it was more of a tourist attraction with Hmong people dressed in traditional clothing more than an authentic rural tribe village. I also go to a hot spring with really hot water, enough to boil a hard-boiled egg. We also eat dinner at a palace with Thai dancers that put on a spectacular show with decorative Thai costumes as we sat on pillows on the floor eating dinner. My fingers bend back freakishly like the Thai dancers’ since my aunt used to bend my fingers back when I was about 3 years old in hopes of me becoming a Thai dancer. I’ll consider that as a profession when I grow up. Thai food is so incredible and that is a major understatement. Everywhere I go, the food is so full of flavor and often spicy. I drink Thai iced tea on a daily basis, it’s found at every coffee shop and so much more amazing in Thailand. I feel like my culinary experience is just as rich if not more so than my tourist visiting experience. The US dollar goes very far in Thailand. The Thai teas cost less than $1 and meals for 5 people cost about $10.

The entire time, I have accompanied by my cousin Menn. His English is excellent and his fluency allows me to talk at my normal pace, which is very fast. Having Menn on these trips has made him more like a little brother to me. He made one trip to the U.S. to NJ and FL and is in love with America. He has seen more U.S. movies and more up to date on pop culture than I am. He will be attending college in a few months as a freshman and my hope is to have him visit me in LA, a place that he will undoubtedly love.

2/14/11 Valentine’s Day Poems

Pretty cool that Valentine’s Day is celebrated around the world unlike other holidays like Halloween, Christmas, etc. I have friends from the U.S., Tanzania, Haiti, India, and Thailand all wishing me a happy vday! Some of my favorite love poems mostly British lit:

Sonnet 75 by Edmund Spencer (my absolute favorite poem)

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washèd it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide and made my pains his prey.
Vain man (said she) that dost in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalise;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wipèd out likewise.
Not so (quod I); let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame;
My verse your virtues rare shall eternise,
And in the heavens write your glorious name:
Where, when as Death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

"The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd" by Sir Walter Raleigh
(reply to the above poem by Marlowe)

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten-
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no, it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his heighth be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

2/13/11 Five Monks Arrived

After my body involuntarily sleeps for the 2.5 hour plane ride from Kolkata, I land in Bangkok at 5:30am. The last 24 hours have spanned 1 day but felt like 3 days with all the events from shadowing surgery, talking to kids from a rundown area, saying bye to friends, flying to Kolkata, seeing Mother Teresa’s house, and now landed in Bangkok. My uncle, that used to live in the U.S. a number of years ago, and his 9 year old son kindly picked me up at this ungodly early hour of the morning. The last time I saw my uncle, I was about 8 or 9 years old myself. I barely recognized him, 15 years will change you and I was surprised when he recognized me. On our short drive to my uncle’s house, I already see the obvious differences between India and Thailand. The airports in India, even in large cities like Kolkata, were pretty small and some had only hole-in-the-ground toilets. The Bangkok airport was super modern with a glass appearance and plenty of LCD monitors – much nicer and newer airport than JFK or LAX. The ides are nicely paved (definitely better than LA pothole-ridden highways) and most building structures were completed without signs of botched construction and years of overuse like in Guwahati. The people and scenery change too; monks in orange robes are everywhere as is the familiar tongue of Thai being spoken.

We pretty much head immediately to my grandma’s birthday celebration. Since plans were vague, I knew that we were going to Chiang Mai, a 1 hour plane ride away today but had no idea when. Turns out we will be at the party from early AM until 5pm to catch a flight at 6:30pm. In Buddhist tradition, monks in monk orange robes pay a visit to private events such a birthdays, engagements, and weddings to complete prayers/chantings, blessing all involved, and accepting food/gifts. Since my parents are quite devout Buddhists, going to temple and visiting monks was more of rarity growing up. They more instilled into my life, what I consider the important overarching beliefs: walking the figurative middle line in life, reincarnation, and soulmates.

Since Byram consisted of 99% Caucasians and Christian followers, I rarely ever discussed Buddhist traditions which were seemingly weird in comparison. It wasn’t until about last week that I realized this was a beautiful part of my family’s culture when Kelly, Minh, and I were invited to a Hindu birthday celebration with our translators that consisted of similar proceedings of a lively birthday party combined with a visiting monk or priest with food offerings and praying/chanting. Kelly kept expressing how cool it was and that she’s never witnessed anything like that. Then I mentioned how similar the Hindu birthday party was to Buddhists. Kelly finding this entire experience cool made me also realize the same (and the fact that I have awesome multi-cultural friends in my life now).

The food is fantastic at my grandma’s birthday party. About 40 guests show up and the event is catered. Spicy is certainly redefined in Thailand and I’m loving it. Besides my uncle that picked me up, nearly everyone speaks solely Thai with some knowledge of random English phrases. When it comes to languages, I understand much much better than I can speak. It’s the strangest thing being able to comprehend entire conversations but forgetting all the words the second my mouth opens and I’m left searching my left brain. This unfortunate fact of my brain holds true with Spanish, Chinese, and Chow-jo-nese (a Chinese dialect that my parents speak). Its great being surrounded by Thai speakers, I am picking up so much so quickly – and its only been a few hours.

Since I haven’t been back in 20 years, everyone is amused with my appearance. Lots have said that I look a lot like my mom. My entire family kept asking why I was so dark – clearly I lived in the U.S. where everyone was white yet I looked tan enough to be from the Phillipines or India. They were also curious about whether my fading henna tattoo was permanent or not. Its sort of funny how pale everyone is in Thailand – the opposite effect of Americans obsessed with maintaining a tan. In an ideal world, the grass would not be greener and people would embrace their natural pigmentation. Family, especially grandma, keep hounding me about why I let myself get so dark and how I used to have such fair skin (it’s true I do become very pale in the absence of sunlight). Its amusing though, grandma’s response to others asking the question is that I just came from India and I spend my summers teaching swim lessons outdoors (true about 2 years ago). I don’t know enough Thai to crack a wise joke about how I use umbrellas for rain and not to avert a tan or how I carelessly roamed around Africa without sunscreen and was about 10x’s darker than I am currently or that I enjoy laying out on beaches in LA to even out my tan. Note to self for next Thai trip: turn off melanin production, wear a cloth over my face at all times, and buy some of that Clinique skin bleaching cream sold at the airport so that I may look like a falang (white person).

Being at the party today was one of the primary reasons for my sojourn here. It was lovely being with family and meeting younger cousins for the first time and see other relatives that I have not seen for over 10 years. I always knew growing up that I had a larage family but it seemed more like imaginary people in a far far away land. Most importantly today besides being there as my grandma (that looks no more than 50 years old) turns 70, is seeing my grandpa, whom I call ahgong. My mother had been updating me on his failing health and initial development of Alzheimer’s. In recent months when she would call her father, he forgot who she was. One time, she mentioned that she is E-ling’s (my Chinese name meaning Jade) mother and he recalled me and subsequently his daughter. I had a close connection with my grandfather. He lived at our house a number of years while working in a restaurant with my dad. He was the only person that spoke Chinese to me so when he left about 8 years ago, I lost most of my language abilities. Grandpa loved photography but life never gave him the luxury to pursue it. Mom would later recall that during her childhood, her father was so devoted to his 7 kids and would only take excursions away from family to take photos and constantly had a camera on hand. Ahgong was also in Chinatown, NYC, possibly his favorite place in the U.S. on 9/11. After retiring from hard restaurant work for 30 years in the U.S. to send enough money home to support his large family, grandpa finally left NJ and headed for the Great Wall presumably to speak Chinese and take photos. After his trip or two to China, he has been spending his days at another uncle’s home. My eyes welt a little when I see him. He has aged a bit and he recognizes me although looked strangely at me first since I have grown a bit since the last time we saw each other. I get frustrated with myself since I forget how to say Chinese words like: restaurant, newspaper, language, house, school…but I know if it was said in conversation, I would instantly know it. This made it a bit challenging to even summarize that I lived in an apartment in Los Angeles now forget about that I’m studying public health and moved away from NJ or that dad now works in a nursing home cafeteria instead of El Coyote where they used to work together in the kitchen. We spend the next hour speaking in Chinese in a super basic conversation that goes something like…

Me: Grandpa I have pictures of stuff (unable to recall how to say countries or animals) on this (referring to my DSLR since I forget how to camera);
Ahgong: Great
Me: Look, stuff!
Me: I’m not in NJ anymore, I went to CA
Grandpa: Where do you live?
Me: <15 second pause as I search my left brain> apartment (except this is in English since I have not the slightest clue what the Chinese word for apartment is)

The convo does not progress any more intelligently than this. I started repeating lots of words over and over again and at some points combine a mix of Chinese-English-Thai. It’s a mess.

Seeing my grandfather again this trip and sadly possibly for the last time will remain a treasured memory but also a sad one. When I asked my grandpa in Chinese, “How are you?”, he reluctantly replied “As good as it gets. I’m sick now and not the same anymore” with sadness in his voice. He spoke about not being able to leave Thailand because he now depends on people to care for him. He was a man that typically traveled around solo to NYC, China, and Thailand never having to depend on anybody. Being able to see him again and share the love of photography and remembering little things like the noodle soup and Ovaltine he would eat and drink religiously every night, the silly toys he would bring my brother and I when we were young like a Christmas caroling caged bird that ran on triple A batteries or a Tweetie bird cassette tape player, or how slowly he would drive the tan minivan that my parents owned, and the way he would capture our childhood through his lens was simply wonderful.

Bangkok Bound, Tata India

Now that I’ve said tata (meaning bye in Hindi) to India, I am off to Thailand for the next leg of my journey in Asia. India was amazing despite the horrendous air pollution, open air toilets, stomach bug that I caught, and 6.4 earthquake. This will be a much less structured trip which at this point consists of me telling my mom that I’m going to Thailad and having her relay info to family in Bangkok and Chiang Mai and then passing on the news to me. Its quite vague, no idea where I will be going, where I will be staying, or how airport pickup logistics will work exactly. The last time I was in the country, I was 3 years old. My toddler impressions that I recall were spicy McDonalds chicken nuggets, soy sauce on McDonalds breakfast omlette, hot summer heat, grandma’s neighbor’s poodle eating chicken bones until the marrow cracked, being annoyed that the Disney shows are all in Thai on TV, having to take my shoes off at every temple, and being super jetlagged and pretty much sleeping during the day and up all night. I’m hoping that 2 decades will give me a more insightful experience haha.

Lots of thoughts run through my mind as I’m thinking about this upcoming trip. I’m told that with the exception of one or two relatives, most of my family in Thailand only speak Thai. Will my Thai come back to me? What exactly will I be doing? Most people that visit go to ride elephants and see the world famous beaches, I don’t particularly have any of that planned. Then my mind wanders off to think about how I could have easily grown up Thai in Thailand. It would have been a simple slight twist of fate; mom could have decided not to immigrate to the U.S. with my dad or been denied a visa in 1978. How different would my life have been if I was born and raised in Thailand? Would I have never raced racism like I did at a young age in Byram? Would my personality be completely different as would my life goals? Would America have been some faraway land my entire life just as Thailand was for me in reality?

I sleepingly drudge through the Indian TSA at the airport which funnily has a male and female line to reflect the privacy and separation of the sexes. When women are scanned, it is done in a curtained makeshift area after walking through the metal detector even though no clothes are removed. I resolve with the fact that I’ll find out soon enough what will happen when I arrive in Bangkok. Probably should have learned more Thai words or actually used the Rosetta Stone on my laptop. Also running on no sleep, here goes nothing!

Mother Teresa’s Home

This is a continuation of my very long but incredible day on 2/12/11 beginning at 5:30am. I land in Kolkata at 7:45pm ahead of schedule with time to kill until my 1:30am flight to Bangkok. Despite two Indians telling me not to leave the airport (not for fear of safety but rather time to catch next flight), I look into a taxi and utilize the 3G on my cell again to check for interesting things to see in Kolkata. I was immediately sold on Mother Teresa’s house and scarf down my first Assam tea and a delicious paneer tikka, my last Indian meal. I easily find a nice taxi service to drive 1 hour each way to see where the house of this saintly woman looked like.

I am glad that I decided to explore Kolkata via taxi, sitting in the airport for 5 hours whilst in a city I have never been to would have been torture. In the car, I whiz past many shops and a lively street which is opposite from the desolate streets of Guwahati at night. I snap some photos of the token old fashioned Kolkata taxis. This city looks different from both Delhi and Guwahati but at the same time shares similar qualities such as the same cars, rickshaws, cell phone ads, store fronts, and types of street food. There are fireworks in the air and I ask the driver for some radio. What a great way to leave India, Hindi music with fireworks in the sky as I am headed for Mother Teresa’s house after a wonderful 12 days working on an Operation Smile mission.

We stop abruptly and I think maybe the driver needs to buy something at the shop he stops in front of (I recount many a similar scenario in Shirati & Cairo) but we are at the location. For some reason, I romanticized a large charity-like house with green gardens and a big dirt road. In reality, the missionary spans 1 city block, is grey and square, and has towers that span about 3-5 stories. It makes sense though, Mother Teresa’s work was based on improving slums. I love what she represents, what I’ve always believed in: one person can make a difference. Her quote, “Peace begins with a smile,” appropriately sums up my experience in India by helping to create smiles with Operation Smile and making the last stop to Mother Teresa’s missionary home.

2/12/11 Last day in Guwahati

Goodbyes are always bittersweet. It’s disheartening to leave new friends with the deep-seeded knowledge that you may never see them again in your life. Yet at the same time, the fact that you are able to form those bonds that make it difficult to leave is something to be grateful for.

Today began at 5:30am after a short sleep/nap and a shower mixed with haphazard packing. Found out last night from my mom that I need to pack 2 bags – one to be left in Bangkok for a few days and another that will go to Chiang Mai since I’m flying there from Bangkok the day I land.

I realize all the little things I’ll miss from my solo walk from the Dynasty hotel to the hospital, which involves dodging motorcycles and rickshaws as well as walking past delicious smelling street food, and my personal favorite, the outdoor bathroom consisting of “toilet” spray painted on the side of a brick building (and people openly defacating). I’ve grown to be familiar with the hospital, the same way the first days of being on a college campus are unfamiliar and then gradually becomes your home. I’m glad that Minh & Kels get to continue hanging out with our translator friends. I look forward to living out their adventures through blogs and photos, will be missing them all!

At 7:30am, I assist Carolina, one of the plastic surgeons from Colombia that lives in Guwahati. Our first patient was supposed to be 6 year old girl but a parent reaches out to Carolina that morning requesting that she operate on his baby. The 8 month old little boy had a bilateral cleft lip which in laymen’s terms indicates that there are two splits in the upper lip as opposed to a single cleft. I scrubbed in with Carolina and during the 3 hour surgery, she allowed me to hold the hook, suction, hold forceps, and even cut the vicryl stitching thread after she sutured sections. The experience was so fantastic. Prior to the mission, I scrubbed into c-section surgeries in a Camden, NJ hospital and enjoyed seeing the scalpel tear through skin and the underlying organs. This time, seeing the scalpel cut through lips and gums of babies had a different effect. I always think of little kids to be so fragile sometimes but are actually quite resilient. I am also in awe of the results of surgery. The baby boy looks completely normal, no longer with 2 larger gaping holes in his face but rather a straight nose, complete upper lip, and even a cupid’s bow in the center of his lips. His mother’s reaction was priceless, she looked at his face with amazement.

After that, I wander around a bit between meetings. Kelly, Minh, Justin, and I were going to meet with Alex and Carolina about the research projects we had brainstormed a few nights ago. We are specifically interested in measuring malnutrition among children with clefts versus children without clefts. There are so many areas of need in Guwahati to be explored. Since Alex is busy, Jantu (my awesome translator and friend) and I are hanging around the police hospital screening area which is a few blocks from the hospital. About a week ago, I helped the high school students deliver some leftover lunch to a cluster of rundown houses behind the police hospital. I was really surprised that behind the seemingly nice building, there existed mountains of trash in front of a dilapidated apartment building and shacks made of corrugated metal and bamboo sheets. There were multiple families living there and it was clear that there was no running water, electricity, and other basic necessities. The children were so sweet and appreciative of the food we brought.

As public health leaders, we are taught to look at factors upstream rather than downstream. To focus on prevention and understanding the root of the problem rather than just fixing them after the fact. I personally used to (and sometimes still do) hand out money to homeless individuals in the U.S., buy food for begging children in Mexico, or give away things to kids in Tanzania. Those are all such short-term fixes that oftentimes does the opposite effect of what I hoped to achieve…that is, hand-outs have the potential to create dependency and perpetuate the underlying issues. Kelly, Minh, and I weren’t too thrilled about handing food out, but at the time, we had so much leftover food from staff and it was so much better than throwing it away. So back to the present day, as I’m standing with Jantu, I ask him if he can translate for me if we go back to visit the families and run-down living quarters. I am a bit apprehensive since I know that the families will associate an Operation Smile staff member with free food and also what the heck am I even going to say or ask. My real intention is to maybe understand why the families live in such poor conditions and what can be done about it, if anything. Of course, you can’t just ask these questions that can easily be construed as offensive. So Jantu and I head back and a swarm of kids from the last visit surround us. I think they first expected food or stuff but when they realize I’m not there to hand out anything, they still stand there silently looking at us and curious. I tell the group of 10 children that I was there earlier last week with the Domino’s pizza we gave out and that it is my last day in Guwahati so I wanted to say goodbye. I could tell Jantu felt a little awkward since the conversation wasn’t quite flowing yet and he was in the middle. So I ask all the kids for their names and ages as well as whether or not they went to school. The children ranged from 5-16 years. The oldest, at 16 years old, had to drop out of school in class 4 to take care of her slew of younger siblings but the rest of them were able to attend school. I then ask them what they do for fun, do they play cricket? How about soccer? They say that they would love to play those sports but do not have a ball, sometimes they use water bottles or whatever is laying around. This sort of improvisation of toys is all too familiar in other countries…Tanzania, Haiti, etc. I somehow then ease the conversation into who lives with the kids and find out that they live with both parents. I also ask them if something could be improved with the area they live in, what would it be? The oldest girl answers water, specifically an in-ground well where they live. She said that they have no running water and must carry water from far away each day. I told the kids that I will try to do what I can but cannot make any promises. I am also impressed that out of all the things that a sixteen year-old girl can ask for, she asks for something that should be a basic right. When I was sixteen, I wanted clothes and a car not access to water and a better life for my family. As I leave and say goodbye to the kids, they call me in for a huddle and sing a goodbye song. They also tell me that they are so happy that I stopped by, it meant a lot to them that someone cares, and they will always remember this moment. I’m unable to communicate it, but I felt the same way.

2/11/11 Singing in the streets

My short time is winding down and my wonderful friends here (Kelly, Minh, Reza, Jantu, Phalguni, Pompi, and so many others) wanted to make the most of it. We talked about a rock concert or a Bollywood movie, but honestly it did not matter to me as long as I got to spend it with our local friends. It was Friday night and we arrived at 8:40pm for the 8:30pm movie and it was full, showing up fashionably late does not go over so well in other countries haha.

So the 6 of us (Jantu, Reza, Haruti?, Minh, Kels, and I) started walking on the local street in search of something that was open at 8:40pm like a restaurant or bar. It is quite amazing, everything is shut down and women typically do not walk the streets at night. While walking, we hear cheering, chanting, and drums approaching. I see two men holding drums and think that it is another celebration of the Saraswati Puja goddess. Reza tells me that it is actually a funeral, somebody has just passed away. Sure enough I see a lifeless body underneath the clear sheets of the wooden shrine-like structure that follows the drums. I think Reza said that there is also a day of mourning the next day but since this individual just passed away, they are celebrating the fact that the person has left this world for a better one. When Kelly and I explain that in our culture: funerals consist of wearing dark clothes and mourning, our local friends seem a bit puzzled. I think it’s a neat concept celebrating the end of life and beginning of a new spiritual journey.

We all manage to find one restaurant open and I had the best chicken tikka masala and iced coffee ever. Reza is being hilarious causing Kelly to roll in laughter. At times the boys like being facetious and talk about us in Assamese or Bengali so we retaliate by communicating in Spanish. This started an English only truce haha. Somehow since it’s my last night my friends force me to sing but I hate singing except when playing rock band. But Kelly is my moral support and we belt out some lines of Bohemian Rhapsody in the restaurant haha. After being pretty much forced to leave the restaurant at 10pm on the dot, we walk back to our hotel. Outside there are two horizontal poles to sit on. The three of us girls sit on one side while the boys sit on another. We talk and then decide to start singing. Minh, Kelly, and I are belting out Don’t Stop Believing and the boys are singing Hindi songs. It felt like we were in a corny musical where the girls and boys are divided and each group represents a different culture and music was bringing it all together. Then Californication and Hotel California are played on a cell phone and all 6 of us sing along. While our musical score is going on, to the very right of me packs of wild dogs are having some sort of turf war and we watch as a female alpha dog intimidates and mounts males of the opposite pack. Men on motorcycles stare at us all as they drive by, not sure if its because Kelly stands out (poor single redhead in all of Guwahati), girls are out at night, or that we are congregated and singing. The boys walk us to our hotel door as they always do and we end the night…fabulous last night with wonderful friends, will definitely miss them.

2/8/11 Saraswati Puja (Goddess of Learning)

Minh, Kelly, and I had a majority of the day free until our 5pm bus to another hotel for an Op Smile team meeting. We get dressed first thing in the morning in our saris, a traditional Indian dress that women wear. The saris were gorgeous, the fabric flowed down and wrapped back up from our midsection to draped over our left shoulders. A very kind hotel staff member pinned the three of us up. We then meet up with Reza and Jantu and decide that hiring a car would be the best method for attending the Saraswati Puja festival which celebrates Puja, the goddess of wisdom, education, and art. The living cost here is much much less than the states. We paid a total of $20 for the 5 of us to rent a car and private driver for the entire day.
The day was simply incredible, I am so grateful to have such great friends and translators. They brought us to their colleges to hang out with their friends. We stopped by two small worship areas to pay a visit to Puja and the customary barefoot and kneeling homages that we have begun to find ourselves regularly partaking these past few days. At the management college, they served lunch which was spicy and hot and everybody ate the slushy porridge-like meal and potatoes with sauce with their hands and no utensils. I wanted to eat the meal but have been still feeling abnormal ever since getting sick from that chicken wrap a few days ago.

My favorite part of the day was learning an Indian dance. We went to Jantu’s place where there was also a small Puja worship area in the living room. We also took our shoes off and knelt in front of the relics and paid respects prior to dancing. Some popular Hindi music was played and the two women in the household showed us how to mimic the bird-like dance moves. The entire experience was amazing as the three of us were dancing and fitting in with so many friends we have made in Guwahati. I can’t believe I only have 4 more days after this!

2/7/11 Thicker than smog

Since Kelly, Minh, and I missed the memo on signing up for the trip to ride elephants and visit a rhino sanctuary, we decided to spend the day off with our two good translator friends, Jantu and Reza. We took a trip to the Umananda temple (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uma_Nanda_Temple) located on an island of the Bhramaputra, I refer to it as the monkey temple. The temples were beautiful as was the island filled with wild white monkeys and some sacred cows. The five of us took a ton of pictures and hung out by the rocky cliff just before the sun set and the last boat departed. I think Kelly and I had another one of those, ‘omg we are in India and this is so amazing’ moments. After the boat trip, we all had some local food, Baskin Robins, and roamed around the streets of Guwahati eventually walking all the way back to our hotel and ended the night with sari shopping.

Walking around all day in Guwahati made me even more aware of the stifling air pollution. I grew up in NJ near NYC and live in LA, both places not having the best air quality, still pale in comparison to Guwahati. The smog is so dense that the beautiful mountains in the distance are hazy, the sunsets are red through the thick layer of pollution, and even on the street level there is a constant visible thin fog of car exhaust. Having not totally acclimated to the poor air quality, sometimes I feel as though I am not breathing enough oxygen especially when performing any physically taxing tasks.

I start to think about the long term health effects of horrendous air pollution for all the locals. I know after doing a presentation on air quality in my environmental epidemiology class that the rates of asthma, lung cancer, and other cancers greatly increases in areas with significant particulate matters in the air. Lifespan can also be cut down as well as productivity at work. The smog in Guwahati is also far-reaching. It affects all regardless of income, gender, or socio-economic status. You have to think about how many in the deepest state of poverty and subjected to living outdoors or breathing in the toxins at work are at even higher risk. One of the most effective ways to improve health in the area might begin with improving breathing conditions for all. I wonder about the unreported rates of asthma, lung cancer, and other pollution-related conditions in Guwahati as well as the unnecessary loss of life years. Looking at the grand scheme, it’s also apparent that the giant car companies and policy officials have a lack of concern for this health outcome. I imagine that steps to remedy the air pollution would involve emissions control and stricter regulations. These are not necessarily difficult tasks and have the potential to make a huge impact like it did when Los Angeles cleaned up its air quality from the 70s. The health consequences and steps for remediating the issue might truly be thicker than the smog itself.

2/6/11 End of Mission 1

I’ve unfortunately been spending the last few days with some sort of stomach bug restricting my appetite to bread and water and not the delicious Indian food. Feeling a lot better today and hoping that the nausea, fever, and distended abdomen will go away completely. I am glad that most of the symptoms occur in late afternoon so I’m able to get work done and function from the time I wake up at 6:30am until like 4pm.
I spent the majority of yesterday interviewing 4 cleft palate patients and taking their speech samples to ascertain pre-surgery speech level to eventually compare with 1 week post-surgery speech. The patients ranged from 14-20 years old and were all super sweet. I learned that some felt uncomfortable leaving their homes or villages since outsiders would not be able to understand anything that they were saying. My interpreter found it difficult at times to understand the patients’ responses. Although having a cleft palate does not equate to a physical deformity, impaired speech definitely lessens quality o f life.

The last day of surgery is today which is also a half day. Since there are no more cleft palate patients awaiting surgery, I find that my day is pretty much open. I accompany some of the high school students as they shopped around for saris, clothes, and souvenirs. When I returned, I started talking to Gary, the physician that wrote me medications for my stomach bug about the malnutrition among cleft lip and palate children. Operation Smile recognizes the fact that surgery alone will not change a child’s life and that many factors may preclude health. Nutrition is a major consideration when screening children to determine whether or not they are healthy enough to endure surgery. Gary and some others are trying to see if they can perhaps work with the Indian government to help provide supplements and formulas for malnourished babies that have little sources of milk or food and a non-breast feeding mother. These families are typically very impoverished and formula would end up costing about 20% of their monthly income. Food insecurity has always been an interest of mine and I am more than eager to work on this maternal and child health issue.

Kelly, Minh, and I got henna tattoos at the hospital since a henna tattoo artist was brought in. We were intending on going to Alcheringa, a major cultural festival in Guwahati, at IIT (institute of technology) but logistically could not make it work. Our interpreters invited us to a birthday party. We agreed to go as long as we could make it back for the Operation Smile party at 8pm which commemorated the end of the recent mission in Guwahati. A one-hour drive through the city and then into the mountains later, we arrive at the birthday party. There were about 30 locals, mostly translators working with us at Op Smile, and the three of us girls. First the birthday boy was sung to and blew out candles on his cake. Then he handfed me the first piece of cake, followed by Minh and Kelly. Right after that, major cake smearing occurred, much like the bride/groom tradition at American weddings. I came out relatively unscathed compared to some others. We were presented with local fruits, beans, and dinner which the three of us hesitatingly looked at initially and then decided what the hell, we were in India and with our local friends so we ate the food that we might regret later. The evening ensued with a small religious ceremony. I believe the priest, offerings, and chantings were dedicated to worshipping a Hindu god and not directly related to the birthday boy, but I’m not entirely sure. We got such star treatment from our translator friends. They allowed us to kneel before the priest while he chanted and observe. The prayers and chanting reminded me much of Buddhist tradition, especially on Chinese New Year where tons of fruits and food are presented to relics of ancestors or gods accompanied by incense and prayers. The entire experience was amazing and we were all so thrilled to be a part of it.
Immediately after the ride back from the birthday party, the three of us girls got dressed in kurtas, long Indian shirts/dresses and leggings to head over to the Operation Smile party. The staff party was held at our hotel, the Dynasty, in a music-blaring catered private room complete with a dance floor. We pretty much spent the night dancing to Indian, Latin American, and American nineties music. It was bittersweet saying goodbye to all the wonderful surgeons and staff members we got to know over the course of the 2 weeks. We got many an invitation to stay with fellow volunteers in their houses all over the world.

Bucket Lists

For the past few days I’ve had a fantastic roommate at the hotel room I am staying at. Her name is Cindy and she is a nurse that is doing quality assurance checks on this mission. Cindy is in her 60s and is absolutely fabulous. Its pretty funny, sometimes I feel like we have slumber parties staying up at night talking. Anyways, she inspired me to make a bucket list since hers was way cool and she’s already done sweet stuff like climb Kilimanjaro and white water raft the Colorado River and traveled practically everywhere. So I wrote mine:

Completed Bucket List
-see a shooting star
-skydive
-venture to Africa
-go on a safari
-ski/snowboard
-learn how to surf
-drive a convertible
-live in California
-see the pyramids
-shoot a gun
-meet a celebrity
-drive across the US

Bucket List
-white water raft down Colorado river
-bring my dad to Cambodia
-build a school in honor of dad in Cambodia
-climb at least the base of Kilimanjaro or Everest or K2
-meet a shaman or guru in a jungle
-bungee jump
-zipline
-scuba dive in great barrier reef
-Incan trail of Macchu Picchu
-Visit the rain forest
-Hot air balloon
-See the Swiss alps
-Hike or bike through Ireland
-Discover nightlife in Spain
-ride a quad
-become fluent in one of the languages I know
-see all 7 continents, including Antartica (2 more to go)
-see the 7 wonders of the world (5 more to go)

2/4/11 Emancipate our souls

I began the morning on a queasy start. Last night, I ate a chicken wrap that all the Op Smile staff had and my stomach decided to vomit it up about an hour later. I wake up thinking I’m good, go to eat breakfast, and almost regurgitated that too. For the rest of the day I was fine though until nauseousness before dinner again. My slightly distended abdomen tells me that I’m pretty sure I have some sort of bug. Luckily it does not stop me from carrying on with this eventful day.

At about 8am, I edit and finalize the speech index survey from yesterday that will test whether older cleft palate patients show a difference in speech pre and post surgery. I am excited that this assessment may have larger implications for Operation Smile and potentially cleft palate surgery. Basically patients are turned away for cleft palate surgery (hole inside the roof of mouth which interferes with proper eating and speech) if they are above the age of about 12 years since the common train of thought is that speech has already developed and cannot be changed. Note: cleft lip (hole in face/lip) patients are given surgery regardless of age to fix the cosmetic deformity and improve social outcomes. At best, these older individuals get an opterator, a sort of retainer to help with speech. This questionnaire might be able to prove that performing cleft palate surgery in older individuals is in fact ‘worth it’ by demonstrating that their speech does actually improve.

I briefly leave in between working on testing the speech survey when I learned that the volunteer high school students are visiting a special needs school to teach them basic public health practices. I jumped at the opportunity to see how India treats disabled individuals and the school structure available. When we arrive at the school, it resembles an open house. The principal is a beautiful young and educated woman whose family founded the private special needs school that relies primarily on donations and meager salaries for the teachers. There are about 40 children enrolled but I count about 20 present. The enrollees range from all ages and different mental disability conditions. They are placed there for the day by their parents and learn vocational skills such as crafting, carpet making, and weaving rather than academic curricula. The special needs students were enthralled with the high school students’ presentation of nutrition, tooth brushing, and stop-drop-roll demonstrations. At the end of the presentation, the wonderful kids sang their theme song written by the founder of the school. The meaning entailed something along the lines of….help us lead a meaningful life, include us in society, emancipate our souls.

Being at the special needs school was a really positive experience for me. It brings me back to the days of leading Best Buddies, a college organization dedicated to forming friendships w/ mentally handicapped adults, Special Olympics, and most of all, what I had witnessed in Tanzania. I wasn’t sure what to expect in India after seeing the social injustice experienced by cleft lip and palate patients. I was happy to see there was at least one school providing services to these students in Guwahati. I then think about Junior, the 10 year old boy I saw in Tanzania, locked up with no options due to his mental incapacity to be integrated with the other kids. I have this inability to simply ignore injustices that I witness…they usually move me to do something or leave lasting impression or both. Junior and so many other things have touched me and moved me to start doing something about it. Obviously there is no solution or even a defined path, but I did make a promise to at least try.

I return back to the MMC hospital, continue working on the survey testing, and then talk to the two female interpreters about bringing me to grab a sari (Pompei and I are in the picture above). Hand in hand, the girls lead me through the small crowded streets of the Guwahati bazaar area as we walk into shopping alleys and pour through tons of fabric. I get a gorgeous teal and pink fabric with sewn gold sequins which I will have to take to get a hand-tailored sari..hopefully by the big festival on Tuesday. Then the girls really want me to try some spicy street food, I refuse like twice, and then decide that since I already have a stomach bug that it can’t get too much worse. The small crunch, cream-puffed looking crispy pastry was hand-stuffed with a liquidy mix of peppers and whatever else in the paper cone made from an old photograph. It was quite delicious and spicy, pretty much describing everything I’ve eaten thus far. Then around 7:30pm, the girls drop me off at the hospital to walk home. I go inside to grab something I forgot, stop to talk to some other staff, and then feel this immense rumbling. The ground was shaking and the hospital walls appeared to be swaying. The whole thing lasts about 10-15 seconds but it’s apparent that it was a large earthquake…I later find out 6.4 to be exact. Ironic that I live in LA and never felt one until India and am thankful that the aged hospital didn’t tumble.

Oh other random events. Saw a man riding an elephant in the middle of the crowded street among army trucks, cars, bikes, pedestrians as if it were typical and normal. Listened to an Indian song in a car w/ English parts about marrying a millionaire, hoping he dies, and finding another guy. And we had Domino’s pizza for lunch which deviates from normal traditional Indian food. Then a few of us brought the leftover personal pies to a hidden slum behind a large building (see picture). I was also mistaken for being an Assamese local today in the school. Never a boring day in India!

2/3/11 Year of the rabbit

Feb 3rd marks the Chinese New Year, aka year of the rabbit which is my sign. I’m predicting that this year will be super lucky for bunnies, which are already supposed to be lucky.

I started out the day by observing cleft lip and palate surgeries. It was completely intriguing seeing the children pre-op, then operated on, stitched up, and sutured post-op. Of course a strong stomach and high tolerance of blood and scalpeling is required to witness such an event. Like so many people at Op Smile recommend, I really want to follow a child from the screening process, surgery room, and post-op. Shadowing the surgeons showed me how complex some of the clefting could be leaving large gaping holes in faces or inside the upper palate of the mouth while impeding speech and causing food matter to fall out when eating.

My second role of the day was to help develop a speech index survey which consisted of working with Alex, the head plastic surgeon, and a speech pathologist. We included questions such as demographics, being made fun of at school (and possibly leaving school as a result), discrimination in jobs, inability to eat/drink properly, and difficulty speaking. I learned that people with cleft lips are often discriminated against due to the cosmetic deterrent but their speech is often fine. Those with cleft palates may have a normal lip and face but are unable to speak and communicate. The unfortunate people with both inherit both issues. It was humbling seeing a 30 yr old woman and a 35 yr old man in a speech therapy session. They had severe cleft lips causing large gaping holes in their mouths and rotting teeth that were constantly exposed. It is apparent that their extremely shy and hidden personality is the result of a lifelong shun from mainstream society. One 17 year old boy dropped out a long time ago in elementary school due to the teasing from other children. It is amazing how one surgery, usually lasting between 20-60 minutes, that is funded by donors can transform someone from being an outcast to having a meaningful quality of life.

2/2/11 First day at MMC Hospital

Today is the first day of surgery and surveying for Kelly & Minh. Most of the surgical team woke up at 6am to get started on the operations. The girls revised their survey and arrived later at noon. I sat in and listened to some of their surveying and then spent the rest of the day roaming around the MMC hospital. There were enclaves of families outside under a tent that were walk-ins for screening, children awaiting surgery, vital sign screening room, a few OR tables, a post-op section, child life area. I took on the role of sticker lady slash photographer and thoroughly enjoyed my job. I roamed around the different rooms and asked kids if they wanted one my silly rainbow stickers and occasionally took pictures of the cutest kids. It was so amazing seeing one little girl that I had played with yesterday post-op. Her cleft lip was fixed and her mother was glowing today. We are also making great friends with the translators that are our age. They are teaching us Assamese and joking around all day. The translators are all college students that volunteer their time 12 hours at a time to help Operation Smile.

It’s so interesting listening in on the surveys and learning about what people believe the etiology of cleft lips and palates are…either from a past sin, lunar eclipse or reason, or another non-medical cause. The families are also resilient. It is not uncommon to hear of families selling possessions or raising a large sum of money just to be able to transport their children with clefts to Operation Smile. Then after arriving to the hospital, they patiently sit in plastic chairs for hours waiting to be screened and possibly turned away. If the families are housed overnight at the hospital, the entire family shares one hospital bed that is within 2 feet of another family’s bed. In the end, after surgery, you see the most rewarding responses. Some of the kids are in disbelief as they look at themselves in the mirror while mothers are crying happy tears at the sight of their kids.

2/1/11 Sacrificial Baby Goats and My Assamese name

Today was a day off since the Op Smile team had completed screening kids yesterday and will begin surgery tomorrow. We had a group trip to see a temple and take a river boat cruise of the Bhamaputra river. We visited the Kamakhya Temple (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kamakhya_Temple). It was so interesting! You walk around barefoot on who knows what you’re stepping on...goat droppings, bird poo, dirt, sacrificial blood. The temple is quite feminist and was created to commemorate menstrual bleeding of a female goddess or something. I was stoked to get a red marking on my forehead and it might have been the epitome of an Indian experience to me. We also spent a good 20 minutes on gladiator style seating watching baby goat sacrifices. It sounds horrible, but we couldn’t not watch as families surrendered their prized goats to the priests who then swiftly macheted the heads off and then watched as the heads were still moving decapitated. The boat cruise of the Bhamaputra was not quite so violent. We took a peaceful ride on the all-famous historic river that runs through so many countries. We passed by an island where the monkey temple was located but did not dock there.

After the quick tour around the river and temples, we returned to the MMC hospital at about 2pm where more patients have returned for screening for tomorrow’s surgeries. I met some of the translators that have been working with Kelly and Minh with survey development as well as taking them to the local market to get saris. Everybody thinks I look like I’m from Assam – score! For once in a foreign country I look like a local instead of an automatic Chinese label haha. One of the local workers gave me an Assamese name at my request, now I’m known as Sewali (pronounced ah-wahlee). So my name means a type of flower. Kelly is Kakali, the goddess of destruction, and Minh is Meenakshi, meaning fish eyes lol.

Life is certainly different here in Guwahati. The area is quite urban but it becomes more suburban/rural in the outskirts like by the airport. Our hotel is situated in a very urban area. The food here is absolutely incredible, the best Indian food ever. I’m pretty sure that it will ruin any attempt at Indian food back in the U.S. That’s actually my biggest regret about traveling, I fall in love with the local area and the food that I can never experience again unless I return.

1/31/11 First Impressions of Guwahati

As our plane was making a descent into Guwahati, I immediately fell in love. I saw the rusty corrugated metal roofing housing small brick adobes. The palm trees were as abundant as the lush green fields. The moment I stepped off the plane, I began to feel a nostalgic feeling towards Africa. The slightly warm humid air carried a very distinct mix of smells that I can only relate to my sub-Saharan Africa days. It consists of a combination of car exhaust, burnt rubber, cattle in the streets, and sweat from those working outside. Sounds ridiculous I know, but that’s the unique combination I have only found here in Guwahati and in Shirati. My local taxi driver took me on a 30 minute venture from the airport, so small it seems incredulous that they even land jet planes there, down the local roads. As the dirt from the road blew into my hair and face, I again felt like I was in Shirati riding the roads and looking out the windows. The difference is that Guwahati has a bit more stores, brand names circulating, paved roads, and larger population. The paved roads still contained pedestrians, goats, cows, rickshaws, bicycles, motorcycles, cars, and trucks. The familiarity of seeing tons of street vendors selling produce, nuts, snacks from small little huts is almost comforting. I am so enthralled by everything I see, I have my point-and-shoot in hand snapping away. Probably better than looking at the actual road ahead because whenever I did, it seemed like we would get into a lot of close calls with pedestrians, goats, motorcycles, and other vehicles. I did look up when we stopped real short to just miss a motorcyclist. Gotta keep in my mind that the largest yet unpublicized cause of tourist death are car accidents – especially in India.

I notice the brand advertisements prevalent here. Tata is virtually everywhere – it’s a car brand, a dealership, truck logo, mobile phone company, and some other industries. I see how Tata is a billionaire controlling so many industries and how he made this Operation Smile center in Guwahati possible. I also see logos of Pepsi, some Coca Cola, Vodafone, and other mobile companies. We whiz past children playing cricket, baseball, and some soccer. I have a huge urge to just hop out and hang out with locals at the markets and fields which become increasingly more sparse as the ride continues into the city center. I can’t help but notice how beautiful the sun is here, just like Delhi. Sunrises/sunsets are things that awe me just about anywhere…it looks so different in CA, FL, Africa, etc but the same sun looks so incredible. My taxi passes by the Brahmaputra river, I feel a sense of wonder to see such a historic and important body of water. As we near the bazaar area where my hotel, Dynasty Hotel, is located, there is a bizarre (homonym haha) mix of upscale buildings like a Volksawagen dealer next to literal shacks or clothing stores next to produce stands, very strange indeed. I also sort of wonder, judging by the buildings and environment, how nice could this hotel actually be. As we keep driving, the rural and suburban scenes disappear into hundreds of small shacks and gradually larger buildings including a fancy VW dealership. I get to hotel, its good, a bit old and musty but quite nice compared to the living structures during my 30 min. taxi ride. The bathroom reminds me of Tanzania, it’s a shower and toilet in one. So fortunate that there is running water and warm water too (thinks back to many a cold shower in Africa)! My room has a fantastic view on the 7th floor that overlooks the area, a completely urban environment with a bustling streetview and multi-story buildings around. I can see down on the streets and on rooftops where women wash clothes and a little boy is practicing his karate or perhaps dance moves.

1/31/11 My 2 Hour Rendezvous in Delhi

I wake up after my 1 hour snooze and am ready to go explore New Delhi – as long as a 2 hour taxi tour before my flight counts as actual exploration. I pay in advance for the taxi, its crazy overpriced, but I figure its better to have a trusted driver with all my luggage than take a random off the street which is how I rolled in Nairobi sans the stuff. We start driving on the streets which are actually better paved than the potholed-speckled freeways of LA. There is an immense fog which I suspect why all the cars have their hazards on while driving. What really strikes me about Delhi is that there is so much English and all license plates, store fronts, and billboards are written in Roman characters. If there was Hindi written on anything, it was preceded or succeeded by English. I suppose I expected the signs to look like Cairo but with Hindi instead of Arabic. I thought I would have a fun challenge trying to learn license plate numbers in Hindi or numbers of prices, but Delhi is much more westernized than I expected. It’s also nothing like Slumdog Millionaire - ignorant expectation, I know – but the capital of India has just a small amount of litter although the smog is contrastingly thick (I kind of wonder if the fog is actually smog but don’t bother asking the driver). I also pictured the fabled streets of India filled with cows, trucks, cars, and chaos like the pictures I’ve seen but Delhi at least has pretty functional European style roads, round-abouts, and manicured shrubbery around the roadways.

I love driving past the diverse scenes. The autorikshaws (sp?) are cute little green cloth covered vehicles enough for about 2-3 people to ride. They ride in the far left alongside bicycle taxis. Swerving between my taxi are other cars and medium-sized cargo trucks filled with produce and people hanging on the back. On the streets I see women that are either dressed modernly or in traditional Indian attire, which I find interesting in the same vicinity. Since its about 7:30am now, children are dressed in full uniform walking to school. Another random thing I find interesting is the fact that Pepsi dominated Delhi as opposed to Coca Cola having a stronghold. There is also a presence of other brands like Nokia, Citibank, ING, and Gold’s gym strangely enough. The brand Tata is also everywhere – on cell phone billboards, signs, and painted on the back of nearly every produce truck. We in the U.S. would not know the Tata name, but the name stems from the billionaire owner based in India. I know this because Bill has mentioned that the Tata family has been a supporter of Operation Smile, which is always nice.

Of course Delhi also has its forms of poverty, although not as prevailing as I might have imagined since India has a tremendously high poverty level, it is still present. I saw some individuals in ragged clothing on the sides of street. Sometimes the obvious homeless population sold some products on the sidewalk, other instances they huddled around a fire, or just sat there. The rundown houses, not far from the beautiful shops and wealthier homes, were held by decomposing red bricks and what appeared to be like fabric or old clothing that served as roofing. Since I was staying with Operation Smile at a high-end hotel and quickly driving through the city center, I do imagine there are more impoverished areas in the city that I entirely missed. Much like many other cities, there are emaciated wild dogs running around Delhi.

Since it is early in the morning on Monday, most of the monuments and museums were closed. I did get a drive-by tour of the Parliament center, Lotus temple (so gorgeous), Gate of India, and the Indian Museum of Modern Art. The expensive taxi ride lasts about 1.5 hours. At the airport drop off, the driver informs me that I owe more money since the trip was 90km and I had only paid for 80km despite the fact that I was adamant in the beginning that we not go over 80km. I suppose between different countries, taxi drivers are scheming creatures and hardly seem different.

1/29/11-1/30/11 Time travel

How appropriate to be watching Eat, Pray, Love while on the plane starting the journey that will quite literally take me around the world. The movie was awesome, mostly about how the main character leaves her marriage and is on a worldwide quest for inner peace and ultimately, love. As I’m sitting on my second plane from Qatar to Delhi, I sit next to this older Indian man. He takes my window seat, but I don’t mind. Then he proceeds to nosily look at the Op Smile business cards with pictures of children with clefts as I’m entering new contacts into my phone and actually picks them up one by one to inspect them. In another hour, my airplane seat mate invites me to his daugher’s wedding haha. I totally want to and would go but its in the Punjab region on Feb 20th and I’ll be somewhere in Thailand by that point; note to self to get invited to another Indian wedding – they seem so fun and colorful. When I land in Delhi, the local time is about 3:30am and all of my bags make it, I’m not sure why I was prepared for one of them to be missing but I was. A Marriott taxi picks me up and I get my first feel of India. It feels like a warm spring night and quite foggy out, apparently this is winter for the area. The hotel I arrive at which is provided by the generous Marriott family for Operation Smile International is quite lavish. I plan on sleeping for 1 hour, showering, and then checking out Delhi at 6:30am. Its rare to have a 7 hour layover and have the opportunity to explore so I was eager to try.

Operation Smile Opp

I am by no means a wealthy person able to fund my recent and current global adventures. Much gratitude is owed to the USC Institute for Global Health for providing the research grant that allowed Mel and I to live in Shirati for 5 weeks and to later casually hop over to Nairobi and Cairo on the way back home.

I recently started a new position. Funny thing is that is since it’s so unstructured, I have no clearly defined roles or employers yet. Basically my boss, Dr. Bill Magee, decided to create an ad hoc position and recruited me while developing it. Bill is a plastic surgeon at Childrens Hospital LA (CHLA) that specializes in craniofacial and cleft lip/palate deformities in children. He is also the son of the founders of Operation Smile. So I will be the International Operations Manager under his International Programs directorship at CHLA. We will work heavily with Operation Smile on missions.

My duties are sometimes as random and creative as Bill’s thought process. I meet up with him a few times a week and otherwise work wherever. I’ll have some opportunities for international travel to Operation Smile mission sites if the occasion calls for it. Right now I was sent via my job to Guwahati, India to primarily observe the Op Smile mega mission happening here and assist with any small research projects from MPH students here. After India, I plan on hopping over to Thailand and visit families in Bangkok and Chiang Mai.

Just prior to traversing halfway across the globe to India, Bill sent me to Norfolk, VA to the Operation Smile headquarters for a staff conference and lodging at his parents’ large Hotel Magee house. It was truly awesome being able to meet everyone working in the Op Smile headquarters. All of the staff pretty much go through stringent interview processes and are hand-picked to create the down-to-earth and motivating culture found within the organization.

Bill and Kathy Magee are the founders of Operation Smile and their story and success amazes me. They took their first trip outside of the country to the Philippines in the 80s and were moved by the children with cleft lip and palates and the overwhelming need in the world. Today, they have a multi-million dollar non-profit with international missions running constantly and support by celebrities. I was able to chat with Bill Sr. about how they grew their company from a small beginning to a great giant. We referenced the book “Good to Great” by Jim Collins, a fantastic business read about how businesses and organizations should recruit who they want to work with before defining what it is exactly they need to do. Its nearly impossible to motivate unmotivated workers but more constructive to hire already motivated individuals. I asked Bill Sr. about the organization that Melody and I are trying to start to help our Shirati community and ascertained some useful advice such as focusing on the individual you are trying to help rather than some large ideology. I’m also part of another wonderful new start-up called Global Adolescent Project (GAP) primarily working with secondary school children in Haiti. I often ponder what steps and luck it will take to grow these initial good intentions into great organizations.