Europe - Maniago

God is kind to his children.

He is the kind of Father who keeps track of details. The kind of Father who crafts gifts that speak individually to the hearts of his kids. When he blesses you, it reveals a love that is personal, a love from a person that knows who you are.

This is Gabe, and to tell the story of Maniago, I'll need to rewind a couple decades to tell you a little about my Grandpa Duane:

My Grandpa is a hero. He has jumped from a Coast Guard ships in an absolute gale and swam through 20+ foot swells to save people's lives, but he would rarely tell you so. He'd prefer to serve YOU - stuff your face with ice cream and cookies, pour you a tall glass of milk, and sit you down to hear about how you are doing and what's going on in your life.

About 2 decades ago Grandpa gave me my first knife, and he took great care to show me how to take care and maintain it, avoid hurting myself with it, and somewhere along the way he conveyed to me a little truth about being a man; about having power to do damage or do good, about choosing to use your ability to serve, help, and protect others.

In spite of the fact that I went home from that noble lesson and promptly sliced my finger open trying to chop leaves off of a tree, both the principles he taught me and an appreciation for pocket knives have never left me.

Through the years, I've bought and sold countless blades, and endeavored to pass on the lessons he taught me to other young men. Most recently in my pursuit of that passion, I ran a small business to repair, sharpen, and customize pocket knives.

Coming to Thailand last year to teach, I needed to put that hobby on hold, and while I was ok with that, I have also missed it very often.

My absolute favorite brand of knives is called LionSteel. They are based in Italy and when I found out we were coming to Venice, I thought I'd see how far away their factory would be.

The factory was an hour and forty minutes from where we were staying and despite my constant comments of "Well... We don't have to go...", my wonderful wife saw through it all and said "But honey, this would really bless your heart wouldn't it? Come on, let's try!"

In her determination, she pressed on, even through a series of mishaps as we rescheduled our trip to fit around Burma, missed our flight due to strikes in Germany, arrived in Venice too late to make it to the factory, and had to delay going to Rome until after the weekend just to make it work!

After delays upon delays, a train ride, a bus ride, and a short walk through town with our monstrous backpacks, we found ourselves in the beautiful town of Maniago. Weaving our way past ancient abandoned forges and factories, we walked the almost completely unmarked path to LionSteel, sitting right at the edge of the Dolomites (beautiful green and gray mountains, the Alps of Northern Italy).

In the chaos of the last few days we'd not been able to contact Gianni, the owner and make sure our rescheduled visit would work out, so at the front door we had a moment of "Well, I hope we didn't come all this way for nothing!" but before we knew it we had been ushered in, given real Italian Cappucinos and been told to wait a moment. In about 15 minutes Gianni came out and said "Wow, it looks like you've come a long way, I have 2 hours for you - what do you want to see?"

He proceeded to literally give us the knife-factory tour of my dreams, starting with inviting us into his office to tell us the history of how he and his father built the company, the changes that have taken place over the years, and his dreams for the future. He let us watch the machines and workers craft metal into beautiful and precise blades and handles, and showed us prototypes of upcoming models (even some that will be featured in Hollywood Action films not yet released!).

He concluded the tour by letting me ask as many nerdy knife questions as I wanted, and then throwing our backpacks in his car and personally driving us across town to show us their second factory, and then dropping us off at the knife museum in town.

The museum was closed, so Gianni made a few calls, and before long a museum attendant had opened up the locked doors and proceeded to give us a personal tour through the completely empty museum!

Afterward, Dani asked me "How are you doing?"

"I am doing awesome", I replied, "It's kind of like the Lord saved up all the blessing that I gave up by choosing not to run the knife business this year, and then just dumped it all out on me in a concentrated dose in the span of about 3 hours!!!"

And in the legacy of my Grandpa, the determination of my wife to honor my passions, the amazing generosity of Gianni and the folks at LionSteel, and in one beautiful Italian day, I see the Lord's kindness toward me.

So much more than he had to give. So specific to who I am. And I just have to say, "Thanks Dad, that was better than I ever imagined!"

- Gabe

Europe - Venice: The City and The Lagoon

We flew in to Marco Polo airport in Venice (after the unexpected stopover in Cologne, Germany). I'd never flow into Venice, but armed with our handy "mapme" app and the location of our AirBnB, we began our trek into the city.

One thing we had to figure out about Venice was that this city has been in the tourism industry for a very long time - it's been a "grand tour of Europe" stop for some, like, 350 years. And man, does the local economy have making money off of tourist dialed in to a science.

Our first experience was the fact that the bus from Marco Polo Airport to downtown Venice is a whopping €8 per ticket (about a 35 minute ride). Since we REALLY didn't want to spend that kind of money on a bus ticket from the airport to our AirBNB flat, we decided to walk the 3 miles. It was a beautiful day, we weren't at risk of the sun setting on us, so off we went - each with our backpacks. W figured the added bonus was the chance to work off some of our German breakfast feast! The road was narrow and not really designed for pedestrian traffic the whole way, but it was a lovely introduction to Italian countryside for Gabe. We passed little vineyards and very old towers in the middle of wheat fields, and small Italian farm villas and tiny chapels. We found our AirBnB host with no problem outside our rental flat, and got settled.

After a run to the grocery store, we were set for meals, so we went to bed early so we could start touring the next day.

Unfortunately, jet lag caught up with me about 3am and I was wide awake, but I got up, did some laundry, made our packed lunches, made our breakfast, and woke Gabe.

That was our Venice day - we wandered through the streets, sometimes in back alleys and sometimes on the tourist drag. When we got thirsty, we stopped at public fountains and drank. When we got tired, we slipped into a church to sit down on the pews and try to decipher the artwork. When we got hungry, we sat on the steps of some building to eat our fried egg sandwiches we'd packed for lunch. We stopped into coffee bars to buy an espresso (€1!) as an excuse to use the shop's toilet, since Venice charges €1.50 for public toilets.

We basically walked our feet off! And then we headed home to cook up pasta and fresh vegetables and fall asleep early.

The next morning, Sunday, we had planned to catch an early train out of Venice and stop in Siena for 6 hours before continuing on to Rome Sunday evening. However, with our delay in arrival, we'd lost the only chance on our original schedule for Gabe to go to Maniago to see the Lionsteel knife factory. We decided to bite the bullet and
stay at our AirBnB place in Venice Mestre another night (Venice Mestre is on the mainland and is essentially the "modern" city of Venice. What it lacks in canals and romantic charm, it makes up for in price as the AirBnB spots in Mestre we spotted were about half the price to the ones on the islands). Then we could go to Maniago first thing Monday morning when the factory was open, and catch an afternoon train directly to Rome - Siena, obviously, got sacrificed.

So we went to an Anglican Church service (since it was in English AND it was raining anyhow), and after the church service ended, the rain had stopped, so we hopped onto a vaporetto (water bus)to the islands of Murano and Burano. Murano is known for it's fabulous glass-making, and Burano's commercial heritage includes fishing and lace making.

Gabe loved them. He'd enjoyed Venice, but the islands especially tickled his fancy since they were so tourist-free compared to the crowds of Venice. The buildings are paints bright, beautiful colors, and the canals weave through the little island town, and you can see real-life Italy happening around you - Dads taking their kids for an afternoon stroll, and Moms pushing their child on the swing set. By the time we got back to the Venice city, it was time for a final vaporetto ride up the grand canal as the sun set behind a thick layer of clouds, and home to pack up.

The only frustrations we had with Venice was how EXPENSIVE it was there - we'd ordered pizza marguerite (i.e. Cheese pizza) that was listed for €7 and a cup of coffee in order to get wifi at a restaurant one afternoon, and somehow our bill - with various taxes and fees - cost €20! We didn't really bother doing any of the major tourism things with the goal that we could save the money on entrance admittance.
- Dani

Europe - Venice: The Back Story

Ahh, Venice.

I have visited Venice before - in 2006, Venice single handedly determined my "backpack luggage only" rule for traveling internationally - and again in 2008 with my sister when we did a rather whirl-wind trip of Italy after I finished my school year at JCU, and I've always wants to come back. Gabe and I even talked about doing an Italy/Greece trip for our honeymoon, because I wants to show Gabe this land of my college years and see the picturesque beauty of Greece. Obviously, we didn't - too expensive, bad time of year, and we had too little time before my school schedule started again to warrant flying 10 time zones. We shelved the idea.

When we started to see the publicity about the Syrian refugees and began to understand what was going on in Greece last summer, Gabe and I both felt like we wanted to do something about it - it seemed such a massive tragedy, but also such a unique point in the history of our lives and our times to stand up and seek to serve and love the homeless, the hopeless, the children and mothers and fathers and the "least of these." Especially as Christians, we wanted to reach out to people that could potentially be considered our "enemies" perhaps, because that's what Jesus told us to do! We wanted so badly to go DO something - because we could, because someone needed to, because so many people were, and we didn't want to have to say to our children or grandchildren someday, "We knew what was happening, but we decided to ignore it."

But Europe wasn't in our plans. We had budgeted and planned for being in Asia during this whole vision season. An airplane ticket alone to get to Europe, we figured, would put us way off track, not to mention the cost of surviving in Europe for any time. We set aside our desire to go.

Then things got kind of crazy in Thailand - we were discouraged by some of the choices that were being made around us. We took a stand for what we felt was right, at the potential price of our teaching job. We felt like we were in limbo. We began to pray, "Lord, we want to go where you want us, and this situation seems so crazy. Are you leading us away from here soon?" Then my sister and brother-in-law came to visit during our October break and it was so hard to see them leave, because the situation in Thailand and the atmosphere around us was so heavy, and I just wanted to go HOME, or at least someplace that felt more like home!

Before we returned to school, I had a couple hard days - I remember crying and telling Gabe, "I feel like if I knew there was a clear end point to being in this atmosphere and this place, and something to look forward to, I could handle this situation!" I started to look at visiting home over Christmas, just to see what prices were like and if we could swing it. I stumbled across the skyscanner website. It has a feature where you can search by using a map and see the cheapest locations to fly to from a specific departure city during specific months. I checked all over the Pacific Northwest and the west coast for tickets around Christmas - LA, Los Vegas, San Francisco, Vancouver BC, Portland, Seattle - and nothing was cheap enough for us. I started searching other places in the world, just to see what was available. I thought even if we couldn't go home for Christmas, maybe we could go visit other people some place less expensive and have that fellowship time to look forward to!

God has done some funny things for me in the money department over the years, and one of the ways I interpret confirmation from him about something is whether something fits in my ideal money range. After looking at our budget and our savings, I set what seemed like a ridiculously low mental number of $300 for a plane ticket and asked God to provide something for cheaper than that number as a possibility of leaving SE Asia after the school year ended.

Somehow, my search expanded to looking all over Europe, but most of the tickets were $500-$1000 each. But then I zoomed in around Greece and Italy, and a few seconds later, I was staring at one-way tickets from Bangkok to Venice for $247 each. I closed the laptop and walked away - what was I thinking?! This was crazy talk - that was a crazy price!

I held out for about 15 minutes and then told Gabe about the ticket I'd found. He was incredulous, so I showed him. The price was still there. I looked up reviews on the airlines - it was real, the reviews weren't bad. We talked about it some more, prayed about it, and decided to see if the price held for a day.

When we checked the next day, the price was still there. Gabe and I looked at each other in the glow of the laptop screen and I said, "Well? What do you think? Is this confirmation?" Gabe just looked at me and grinned.

Then he said, "Dani, you asked for a ticket for less than $300, just to see if something was possible. Not only is it possible to get to Europe, but this is ITALY - right next door to Greece, the very place that has been receiving refugees fleeing from Syria. And beyond that, it's not just anywhere in Italy, this is VENICE - the very city you've told me time and time again that you want to take me to see. I don't think this is just confirmation - I think this is God's message of love and caring and seeing the challenges here and giving you something wonderful that speaks to your heart to look forward to. He really loves you, Babe. Buy the darn tickets!"

So I did.

And what a joy it has been to anticipate this time in beautiful, elegant Venice.

- Dani

Europe: Getting Here

After we got back to Chiang Mai on Tuesday night (36 hours of hiking/motorcycling/sleeping on the bamboo floor of a hut in 100 degrees/boat riding/truck riding), we had about 24-hours to do our final clean out. The first stop in CM was the bus station, where we rented a scooter for 24 hours (we sold our scooter before we left for India). Next stop was The Salad Concept, a delicious restaurant that caters to the vegan/vegetarian crowd with huge piles of organic greens and choose-your-own-toppings for the splurge prices of 100 baht or so ($3). We ate salad AND an in-season smoothie of strawberries and mango AND each bought a dessert - we really splurged on that meal, and after a month of anticipating it, it was taste-bud bliss!

Next was home - to our condo - to start washing our clothes from the jungle and scrub our shoes and backpacks. 1.5 hours of scrubbing in the shower later with dish detergent and a scrub brush, and most things were pretty much back to a normal hue. After scrubbing myself almost an equal amount of time, we hung up our clothes, rigged up a fan system to blow on the backpacks, and fell into bed for the first horizontal-on-a-mattresses-surface sleep we'd had in a month.

We packed up our stuff to bring to Europe (a backpack for each of us, my purse, and a little day-pack satchel for Gabe to carry), boxed up a box to ship to New Zealand, tried to straighten/clean our apartment a bit, and hit the road on our scooter to head back to the bus station to return the scooter and catch our bus out.

The bus was overnight (6:30pm to 5am) down to Bangkok. We've done this route a few times, and our tickets were the cheapest yet (488 baht each - about $15), and the experience was probably the most ghetto yet, but hey, we made it! Once we got into Bangkok, we strapped on our packs and walked the few kilometers through a park to get to the metro station. When it opened at 6:30am, we rode it out to the airport.

Our flight leaving Bangkok was delayed, which was a blessing because we got a meal voucher (800 baht total for a meal at Burger King! We felt like we'd won the jackpot!) and had plenty of time to sort through a potentially complicated immigration situation leaving the Kingdom of Thailand. We thought we might be charged a fee (possibly banned from reentering the Kingdom for a time), but neither happened, which we were praising the Lord about!

Our 11 hour flight departed 3 hours late, and we realized that one of the reason our tickets to Venice had been so cheap initially was because we had purchased the "basic" fare - which meant no food service. I'm sure there was probably information informing us of that fact when I bought the tickets or received the confirmation or something, but somehow I missed it. The stomach pains of hunger abated about 6 hours in and I slept the last 5 hours, and the 2 free glasses of orange juice and one free tea we were able to procure got us through without purchasing overpriced airline food!

Upon arriving in Cologne, we found out that the last flight out for Venice had already departed, so our airline put us up in a hotel near the airport with breakfast included, paid for transportation to and from the airport, and gave us a dinner voucher. We had a delightful dinner with a Hungarian gal - probably a few years younger than us - that had just spent 4 months in Asia. Since everyone had been on the same flight and flooded the hotel restaurant for dinner at 10:30pm when we all arrived at the hotel, it was fun to have the shared suffering to bond over. Our flight the next day left at 2:30pm, so we had a free morning to sleep in a little and then walk around the neighborhood we were in. It was beautiful, albeit cold, and Gabe loved his little glimpse into German life.

We had a taxi provided to take us to the airport, and our taxi driver proved to be a delightful addition to our German experience. He was a Syrian immigrant (30 years ago) that shared more about how he feels regarding the situation in Syria when we asked him questions. He was also able to talk about the local industry and the historic places we were going through. We hit a major traffic jam that delayed is about an hour getting to the airport, but we were glad to have the extra hour to visit with George - we saw photos of his family and we were complimented on our English ("where are you from? I can understand you so well!" When we told him we were from the USA, he remarked that he thought we went to school at Oxford or something because we pronounce things to clearly. Gabe and i realized later that our English has changed to be much more ESL friendly over the last year - we choose international words and speak slowly and clearly these days!). We talked about what it means to be a Christian in response to poverty and this tragedy in Syria, and we discussed knives and German products. It was delightful.

Our flight to Venice was smooth (another conversation with the money change person who converted the last of our Thai baht into Euros reinforced that Germans find our English easy to comprehend), and we walked the 6km to our Airbnb place in Venezia Mestre from the airport because neither of us could stomach the idea of paying €8 each for a 15 minute bus ride. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and we enjoyed getting to walk through wheat fields, although the road was very narrow at times and the cars very fast! The packs on our back counted as our "weight lifting" regiment for the day!

Although long, the journey was full of surprise blessings along the way!



- Dani

JSMK: Final Thoughts

Although there were moments, during the hottest part of the days during our time at JSMK, when it felt like it would never come, we exited the jungle this week.

I could use this blog post to tell you about the final days and details - getting sick the day before departure, lying on the floor of our hut in the sweltering afternoon heat repeatedly taking off my shirt to soak it in a bucket of water and then putting it back on wet to try to bring my (not-too-high-but-still-miserable) fever down, and the pounding of the dehydration headache and turning of my stomach through the long, hot afternoon.

But I'll keep that part of the post short: we got sick, we recovered, we hiked out to the supply village and then rode on the back of Honda Wave 125cc scooters the 20km out of the jungle on the route we had previously entered via tractor. It was very exciting, at moments, and you should definitely ask Gabe, "What happened to the soap?" the next time you see him, and you can ask me, "How did you commune with the water buffalo?" if you want, but those stories would be better shared in person (when we're home safe and reading about them on our blog doesn't terrify our poor mothers!).

Instead I want to spend this post talking about the feeling I experienced hiking out. I was behind our friend Klo Law Law Say, in front of Gabe, who was in front of another ranger. We knew we were going into the zone of space as we left the jungle that is within a few miles of the Burma army, but with the present ceasefire, we didn't have to be quite so cautious as in past days (we heard that they used to only hike the trail at night, now we can hike during the day).

Although I had my heavy pack on my back, and I wasn't feeling 100% anyhow, and I was certainly a far cry from speedy on the mountainous terrain, I realized as I watched Klo Law Law Say's back disappear around a bend in the trail in front of me: I felt safe.

Oh, I'm not talking the kind of safe one feels when they're sipping hot cocoa in front of a cheerful fire on a dreary, rainy Washington day, or even the kind of safe possible to experience when one crawls into bed in a place where there are no venomous centipedes - I'm talking about that safe feeling that isn't dependent on creature comforts or surroundings, but rather on the presence of someone strong, someone good, someone brave, someone who you know has already made up their mind to do the right thing, no matter what the circumstances involve.

You see, not only was I with Gabe, who is certainly that kind of a person, albeit as foreign in this territory as I am, I was with two Free Burma Rangers. And because of that, I knew I was safe.

If someone or something should attack us, they would put themselves between us and the danger. If I grew too weak and weary to continue carrying my pack, they would carry it for me. If I slipped and fell and hurt myself - broke a bone or hit my head or got stuck in a ravine, they would do whatever it took to help me, to get me the medical care I needed, to get me out.

That's what they do - and for just a moment, in a very limited, narrow, Galawa (foreigner) tinted way, I felt what the thousands of Karen and other minority tribal people of Burma have experienced when walking trails just like the one I was on in the presence of a Free Burma Ranger: come what may, I have a strong, friendly, trained, warrior type of person here with me, and I know that I'm going to be OK. They won't leave me behind, they won't abandon me, they know this land and this trail, they will go through whatever I have to face, and they will do it with me.

And then, as such feelings and thoughts often - and perhaps ought to! - do, I realized how limited my scope of view was, as if walking in the presence of a good, strong, committed, resourceful, brave, honorable being on a possibly dangerous path was limited just to being in the presence of a Free Burma Ranger.

Do I not walk EVERY path with a personal, relationship-oriented, friend-God? Is not God's Spirit - brave, strong, good, honorable, resourceful, and even all-knowing and all-powerful - with me EVERYday, living inside me and accompanying me on any trail I travel, be it an urban or literal jungle, or figurative or physical mountains, carrying emotional or spiritual or tangible weight on my shoulders? But of course! "Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me" (Ps 23:4), and "He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along" (Ps 40:2).

It was, despite the liter(s!) of sweat pouring out of my forehead, stinging my eyes, and making my vision wobble and stretch, a moment of clarity: "Put your hope in me, Dani. Travel steadily along my path (Ps 37:34). I know this trail, even if you don't. I won't leave you behind; I'll help you carry your pack when it gets too heavy. I am prepared, I am ready, I am walking before you and behind you. You can be at peace, even if there is war on all sides of you. You are safe."

What a tangible moment! What a visible revelation!

Later, when Gabe and I were talking about our thoughts on leaving, we decided that if something were to happen and we were to be told that we had to leave the US and never come back, abandon our people, and no longer claim association with them, BUT we could choose one people group in the world to ask to adopt us and take us in as their own, we would ask the people of Karen State (home of the Free Burma Rangers). And we would understand if they told us no, because we are so unfit and unknowledgeable about how to survive in their way of life, and we would bring so little to be able to offer them. But if they said yes, we would be so honored!

Our time at JSMK has redefined my mental image of a hero. Now, if Gabe and I were asked to picture our hero, we would immediately envision a small, dark-skinned person, wearing basketball shorts and flip-flops a couple sizes too small, carrying a huge, camo-colored backpack up a 45 degree angle mountain in blazing sun for thousands of vertical feet, perhaps stopping in a few square feet of shade cast by some tiny, scrubby shrub to say, "Ah! Teacher! Is so hot! I am so tired!" Before flashing a big smile, taking a deep breath, and hefting the pack onto the shoulder of their olive green t-shirt with a badge across the left breast that states: Free Burma Ranger.

My heroes keep climbing. There are supplies to deliver, people who need hope, justice to stand for, and they still have a long way to go.






- Dani

JSMK: Birthdays, House Dedications, and Thoughts on Concluding Teaching

Birthday:
Today we went to breakfast at our up-the-hill neighbor's house. It was for his oldest daughter's 2nd birthday (yesterday a pig was purchased at the vaccination village and driven all the way back to JSMK by a very dedicated and persistent pig-handler - it was the main course for the celebration). The party started happening at 7AM. I commented to Gabe, "This is thinly sub-culture know of that would have a turn out of 35 people for a birthday party at 7AM with all ages on a Friday morning." But, when the ENTIRE community wakes up sometime between 4:30 and 5:30AM and goes to bed by 8 or 9PM, 7AM feels more like 9 or 10AM in my home culture!

Anyhow, at the birthday today, there was a ceremony - singing, scripture message, a time for the mom to briefly share - and then a feast of rice, broth, pork, and spices. The child's gifts were mostly from the families with other small children, and they were comprised of a box of soy milk boxes, wafer cookies, and various other edible goodies. They weren't really opened or exclaimed over, just scooped up and taken into the back room.

A few hours later, the house was torn down so a new, larger house could be built, I guess!

House Dedication:
At lunch, someone stopped by our window and gestured for us to follow them, speaking to us in Karen. One of our lower-level English students was motioned over to translate, and we got, "Teacher, you go" as the translation. So off we went, following the inviter. We went to a house where the community was gathering again, and apparently we able to participate in some kind of a house dedication service. The gentleman who did the ceremony followed a Catholic-type format, complete with flinging water at everyone out of a shampoo bottle. The candles kept blowing out, which I felt badly for him about, and I'm pretty sure about 9/10ths of the people attending dozed off at some point during the hour long ceremony, but it was still fun to be included.

Teaching Conclusion:
I ended up starting class 15 minutes late because of the house dedication ceremony, but i don't think the students minded too much! After our class finished, I had everyone come pose for a picture with Gabe and me at the front of the room. It was a short, sweet, cheerful goodbye, and the students left on their merry way (as the hillside across from us was engulfed in flames, but that's a separate issue altogether. By the way, did you know that bamboo sounds like a gun shot when the chambers in each section of the bamboo get hot and then explode from the heat of a large brushfire? Yeah, for a few seconds, I thought we were under attack from the army and were needing to flee... In my flip flops! But it was just a clean-up fire).

It's strange for me to reach the end of this teaching gig. For the past seven years, I've been teaching year round, and whenever something "finished" (a quarter or even teaching at a certain place), I was already mentally working on the plan for the next place. I spent so many years developing new curriculum what felt like EVERY quarter at LCC, that I always needed to be jumping in with both feet the second the last quarter was finished and final grades were submitted.

Last year, when I finished at LCC, I had 6 weeks to focus on selling stuff, emptying our apartment, getting our to-be-stored things into storage, and the hundreds of little tasks that needed to be done before we left the country. And at the back of my mind, I was also thinking about how I was going to switch gears from teaching college students to teaching primary school ESL. Once we got to Thailand, besides climate and time zone acclimating, we worked on getting prepped and planned for the year teaching.

Last month, with the conclusion of our time at Bawrirak, we knew we were coming into this month-long gig of teaching ESL to jungle medic students, so I'd started thinking about and planning for our time here, even as we finished up details in Chiang Mai and jetted over to India.

Now, for the first time since I got that job at LCC the week after I graduated college, I'm done. Like, I don't have a teaching gig planned on my calendar. At all.

I think there may be a whole compartment - like a closet-sized office! - of my brain that has been solely dedicated to teaching since I first became a teacher, and all of a sudden, that office space is no longer needed for that work responsibility. I don't even know what I'll do with that part of my brain, but it is a little weird to think of rerouting the brain traffic away from there!

In reality, I'm not sure I'll ever be concluded with teaching, though, or at least not in the near future. It's become such an integrated part of me - making plans in a teacher way, interacting with kids in a teacher way, even structuring myself and my days in a teacher-ish way - that I feel like even if I never go back to a classroom, it's going to take more than a day to just STOP being a teacher.

I think I'm glad of that. There's something comforting to me, even in the presence of rejoicing at the break from lesson planning, that likes having that predefined role to function within for now.

I guess I'll just go into Teacher-on-Holiday mode in that brain office for the time being.

- Dani

JSMK: Vaccination Day

The calf muscles of Khyar Hel's leg rippled above his 2-sizes-too-small flip flops as he took another step. His calf was at my eye level, even though he was only two feet ahead of me. That's how steep the hill (mountain?) we were climbing was. We'd been climbing for 15 solid minutes and sweat had dr niches my shirt. And it was only 5:45AM - literally the coolest part of the day (about 74 degrees).

We went on. And on, and on, and on, and on. And on some more. The hill seemed to continue for.ev.er. In reality, we only climbed UP for about an hour and 45 minutes. I have no idea how many vertical feet that was, but I'd venture a guess from the views at the top that we were about 3000 feet up, and we started probably somewhere in the vicinity of 500 feet elevation.

And yes, we did stop to catch our breath four or five times! But it seemed an eternity - beginning in pre-dawn shadows and mist (Gabe and I were the only ones that used our headlamps when we left camp at 5:15, though - jungle dwellers must have better eyesight or surer footing... or both!) and seeing the sun slowly, dimly emerge from the smoke-filled atmosphere before it began blazing away at us near the summit.

We were on our way to a nearby village to see (and hopefully help) FBR medics vaccinate the village kids. If I thought the hike was tough for me (carrying, in my borrowed Karen satchel, the following contents: my 28 oz waterbortle, a ziplock with TP, my point and shoot camera, my headlamp, a package of instant Mama noodles, and the and notebook and pen which I used to jot down notes - a grand total of maybe 1kg), Khyar Hel had a backpack loaded with about 15kg of medicines and supplies. And I could barely keep up.

Gabe and I had volunteered for this - no one had forced us or even asked us - and I had to remind myself of the positives as we continued to climb (i.e.: my legs were getting a killer workout!).

Of course, we did make it to the village - a tiny ridge-top scattered with bamboo huts which we approached through a bamboo-grove ravine. Water buffalo, cluster of chickens, and families of pigs wandered at will. Our final destination was a smokey, 800 square foot hut, distinguishable from the others only by the parents and children that began to gather outside.

The FBR guys took a few moments to rest, drink some (boiled) water, and then they started setting up. The kids started to cry on cue!

Each child received three injections and two oral vaccinations. Gabe helped fill the DTP injections, but we're not sure what the others were ("For fever" we were told when we asked). I alternated between trying to teach the kids waiting outside songs in English and attempting to distract the little ones who came with their parents to the closest injection station. Gabe and Abbi filled syringes. Four others worked in pairs running the stations (sometimes they had to work with them parents to physically restrain the little ones). One guy washed arms and legs outside before the kids were taken inside, and one guy filled in immunization charts and handed out candy and oral vaccines.

Within an hour, it was all over - the brave older kids stoically looking away form the syringe, the toddlers that screamed in horror as they saw the needle pierce their skin, and the babies terrified by the noise, wailing into their parent's shirt.

We sat on the bamboo floor (sheets of flattened bamboo, spread over the wooden frame of the floor, about 4 feet elevated off the ground), and the parents came in with the their children's immunization and health record safely protected inside a ziplock clutched in their hands. I assume that ziplock might have been protecting those records since their child was born. Everyone carries their too-small-to-walk kids tied to their back with a large piece of cloth. One mother had several children and her oldest daughter, who was maybe 8 or 9 years old, seemed just as proficient at tying the little ones onto her back as the adults. One dad had two kids with him - one strapped to his back, and the other balanced on a hip. After the horrors of climbing that hill, I thought to myself, "Thank goodness that these kids are getting immunized. If I was a parent, the very last thing I'd want to do would be to carry my child back down that hill with a strange fever!"

After injections and clean up was finished, we wandered around the village while the owners of the house were we'd set up clinic made us food. We saw the (roofless) primary school, and saw our hosts' little daughter carry 3 large "buckets" made of bamboo (each one holding probably close to a gallon or so) head down the hill to the creek a little ways down. She strung the buckets on her back, with the strap of the contraption over her head. It was humbling to realize that was the water we used to wash our hands before eating our meal.

Fish, rice, some green mango, and several kinds of boiled vegetables were served to us, which we are with our hands, and then we waiting a bit while the FBR guys visited.

At 10:45AM, it was time to hit the trail for the long, long, long descent down. It took a little less time to go down, but not as much as might be expected, since we were slow, ("Slow, slow, slow, teacher!" our walking partners kept telling us!), and our legs seemed to be rubbery and shaky, and the dirt wanted to slide out from under our feet. There were a couple slips, but everyone stayed on their feet, and eventually we made it to the cool(er) shade of the valley floor, and finished the last 20 minutes back to JSMK.

Our bucket showers and lunch of Mama instant noodles were well deserved, we thought!

- Dani