Travel nursing Photo Contest

So this I think is just funny, but I submitted a photo for a travel nursing photo contest a few weeks ago and lo and behold, my picture from Sierra Leone with Mercy Ships is one of the ten finalist pictures. I'm including the link (but not the picture- I want you to click on the link to see it!) below, but if you would be AWESOME and click on the link and "like" it on facebook, twitter, etc., or vote for it on the website, that would be amazing. Love to all!

http://blog.onwardhealthcare.com/2012/11/finalist-our-2012-travelers-contest-lycia/

Cool stirrups, mean stirrups

Found! Really cool stirrups, and really mean stirrups. Chilean rodeo.

Spiderman is Chilean

Spiderman's true colors show during the week of the 18th of September, when during independence week every Chilean proudly becomes a huaso or cowboy. I found him hiding out downtown in a crowd between the Minnie Mouse dresses and pantyhose.

Sweeties and chocolates

It's been National Independence Day, well, week in Chile. The country ground to a halt as thousands of people headed out of Santiago to the coast, while those of us who remained in the city enjoyed huge festivals involving dances, rodeos, barbacues known as asados, and a series of inventive alcoholic concoctions well worth mentioning as well.

Buried amongst the food stalls and children's rides was a candy shop. A chocolate shop tempting you with colored gumdrops and mountains of white turron, a soft nougat with peanuts in it.

Mountains of turron

 Gumdrop heaven!

My loot. Could pirate booty be any more satisfying?

How a Cannon takes a flood

  One of the dangers of long-term storage became apparent when we unpacked Mom and Dad's belongings to bring them from Osorno to Santiago, in Chile. Most of their appliances bit the dust I'm afraid. Their refrigerator had to be replaced and the washing machine had apparently died as well (but only after we moved it twelves hours north). The dishwasher repairman has also been out twice so far, but it's still not working; we've not given up on it yet - probably lunacy at this point, hoping it will be rescuable, but here's hoping.

  Mom did shed a few tears for her old fridge and dad had a loss too as well, his old Cannon camera. He's had this fella for a long time, but what made it kind of cool was the science experiment it became while it sat in a nice cool, damp, dark environment.

Tragic.  The old knobs and bobs that came with it fused together a few years ago apparently, as there was no separating some lenses from each other.

  I'm hoping some of the lense filters will willingly subject themselves to some professional cleaning though. I'm interested to see what the red and yellow filters will do to a picture, and what that lense so tantalizingly labeled "star filter" will do.

Laja trash removal services

There's a tiny town six hours south of Santiago called Saltos de Laja. This is the Chilean answer to Niagara Falls or Iguazu Falls. We break our journey to the city of Osorno, where Mission to the World helps with another church called the "Iglesia Presbiteriana de Osorno".

They're beautiful waterfalls, three in a row, each as lush as the previous. The above photo was from the window in my hotel room. I opened the curtains and told dad, "uh, there's a leak in the backyard"; he just laughed.

The trash removal services got as big a response from me as the waterfalls though.

What a lovely fellow - a bit on the bony side if you ask me, but if you've gotta have your trash taken out, this is the way to do it.

Rites of passage/Salvo Conducto

The quirks of living overseas never cease to be a good source of entertainment for me. If it's not entertaining 'cause it's messing with your plans, at least it's a good "huh. Who knew." This week had two such oddities.
First "huh" of this week; Did you know that babies born in Chile have their little heads shaved before leaving the hospital? All that lovely little fuzzy baby down, gone. Off with the peach fuzz! Don't ask me why, I don't know. Baby girls have their ears pierced before leaving the hospital too. This is done by parent's choice, but the majority have their little ears pierced.

The second "huh" has caused more troubles.

Mom, Dad and I are in the south of Chile, in a city called Osorno, about 12 hours south of Santiago, the capital city. During my parents' last mission assignment to Chile they lived in Osorno, so their stuff has been stored in the basement of the local church here. It's time to move north to Santiago now for a couple of years. Enter the fun chilean law that requires a notarized "salvo conducto" or, literally, a rite of safe passage through Sherwood Forest, Robin Hood. I demand a bow and arrows!

Pretty much it's a document that moving companies have to have so that if the police stop the truck, it states that the contents of the truck have not been stolen, signed by the owner of the originating property. So who'se the legal owner of the church property in the south? Some guy in Santiago- whose very willing to sign the paperwork, but what a shlep. So if you stored your piano at a friend's house, if they don't sign a rite of passage, the police can stop you, request to show the legal ownership of the piano, and if you don't have it, it's off to prison, or "chooky" as mom calls it.

So we're not sure how we're going to get our stuff up north just yet. Our pastor in Osorno, Alex Frites, has been wonderful in helping us to get a moving company and many other details, but they aren't just going to accept a letter from the pastor here as the pastor is not the legal owner of the church property. Hmm.

I vote we load up the wagons, cover it in burlap, send Friar Tuck ahead of the truck to bribe with ale and I'll shoot anybody down who tries to come at the trucks - with that trusty bow and arrows.

　

Mercy Ships in Dry Dock

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El payaso en la micro

Since being in Santiago over ten years ago the metro systems have expanded and now spread over the entire city, lending itself to quite some confusion of overlapping lines and when to get on and off, transfer to a bus to reach your destination, etc. So Dad was kind and took me for a trip to the mall Alto Las Condes from where we are in Santiago Centro, right downtown. Very nice of him to take a few hours just to orient me to the metro and bus system, and to spend some time together after not seeing each other for a few months.

We get on the bus headed back from the mall, and one of the more ingenious forms of Chilean artistry takes over. The chilean payaso (clown) on the bus. He gets on at the beginning of the ride and proceeds to, in quite friendly fashion, haze the heck out of the passengers. You try not to giggle in hopes he's not going to pick on you next, but there's no hope. I stepped onto the bus and the three elderly ladies behind me promptly get introduced as "Miss Mundo 1943, 1944 and 1922". On walks a wizzened old lady aided by her cane, "y Miss Universo del arca de Noe, mejor que se siente para disfrutar de su ultimo viaje en micro!" (and Miss Universe from Noah's ark, she'd better sit down to enjoy her last trip on a bus!) - as he literally drags a kid from a chair and plonks the lady down.

He cracks jokes and pokes at people and keeps you giggling for about 20 blocks, gets his tips and jumps on the next bus until he's made his living for the day. For some odd reason I try to not giggle thinking maybe I can avoid tipping the dude at the end of the ride, (odd reaction) but there's no luck there - I'm crying laughing within two blocks. Another girl says that she has no money and he's like "que alguien te preste! dude, borrow some!"

The next female that comes onboard, "Oiga, el chofer esta casado, desgraciada,vengase para atras pa' disfrutar del show! Ya po' Vamos a chocar y va a ser tu culpa!" (Lady, the driver's married, :insert insult:, we're gonna crash and it's gonna be your fault, quit hitting on him, get to the back of the bus...)

He finishes his show with a, "No se preocupe de malgastar su dinero, no lo voy a gastar en alcohol o en drogas porque las drogas son malas y si te tomas drogas vas a terminar como payaso en una micro...." to general gales of laughter on the bus. (Uh, don't worry about misspending your money, I won't spend it on drugs or alcohol because drugs are bad for you and if you take drugs you're going to end up as a clown on a bus...wait...)

Where would you be if you couldn't poke fun at yourself? He got a tip from us :-) I think we were too scared not to.

la Vega central de Santiago

Did you think that My Fair Lady was set in Covent Garden in London? You're wrong. It's set in La Vega - at least, the Chilean version of the play has it's perfect setting among the tin roofs and alleyways of la Vega Central in Santiago. Imagine the fruits, flowers and sellers from the movie, you've got the setting our our adventure this morning.

From the flower stalls to the squashed cabbage leaves on the ground, kittens sleeping between the stalls. Professor Henry Higgins was stuck in my head roundly declaring that, "here she is a prisoner of the gutter, condemned by every syllable she utters..."

Lois Mateer, Mom and I set out at 7 am, well before the sun came up and well below freezing temperatures, bundled to the hilt and our sense of adventure primed for an excursion. Lois and Mom with their lists and I as the general pack-horse to carry the goods.

Hundreds of tiny stalls with mountains of fresh, delicious produce line the alleyways. The richness and bounty of the Chilean countryside gets shipped to Santiago to be sold at the Vega. Mountains, mountains, of lemons, potatoes, tomatoes, spinach, avocadoes, pumpkins, fish, meat etc. Baskets of nuts, dried fruits, and every spice from oregano, thyme and basil to garlic, walnuts and almonds. Every variety of peppers, eggs, cheeses and hams. I had a fun time accusing one guy of injecting his garlic with steroids, what do you mean by selling garlic that's the size of a large potato? He laughs and lets me take a picture. I had a definite moment of realizing that Lois was standing next to a mountain of spinach that was taller than her. She's my height!

Highlight of the morning, the sun barely rising casting it's first weak rays and lighting up the fruit as we're standing in front of one of many tomato stands. Mom looks at Lois and says, "You realize we're never going to be able to bring our supporters here...." as they look at each other and giggle wickedly together and pay 25 cents per kilo of tomatoes.

Our take-home booty.

Now, caveat, this is way cheaper than even the usual feria, or street market, price. I wanted to laugh but was sweating profusely carrying our wealth of raspberries, kiwis, potatoes, broccoli, brussel sprouts, cilantro, nuts, etc. They wanted to get fish and meat still but I objected vociferously as my arms were falling off and my feet were frostbitten.

To compare it to home, we spent about $80 US for what at home would have easily cost $400.00 at Bi-Lo. At home I wouldn't even dream of getting that much produce. Supper tonight was, well, food like God intended it to taste.

El cielo en llamas, bienvenida a Chile

  I really don't like small planes. What would be small turbulence in a nice, jolly 747 becomes a armrest-gripping, sweating, praying-to-the-Lord-to-confess-any-sins-you-might-have-forgotten ride. Air hostesses on small airplanes should get combat pay, I'm quite convinced. How they manage to stay upright while the plane is banking at a full 45 degrees is beyond me, as my seatbelt is the only thing keeping me in my chair at that moment.

  Then the captain comes overhead and pleasantly informs you that he's turned the seatbelt sign on due to some slight turbulence.

  "Why thank you, Captain Obvious," runs through my head, rife with sarcasm at this point as the poor dude's coke, which moments ago was on his tray - 2 whole aisles ahead of me, drips only my lap from it's arc of flight from his chair over to mine.

  My flight from Atlanta to Toronto...Toronto... on my way to Chile was such a small plane. No worries though, I had just been through much grander misadventures traveling through Africa. Time to visit Chile. Ah, Chile lindo. I haven't been to Chile in ten years! Mom and Dad have now moved down to the Southern Hemisphere for their next term with Mission to the World to do church planting in the Santiago and Osorno (down south), and maybe a few other cities as well.

So the Lord lit the skies on fire in welcome. I am not kidding:

I can honestly say that there was no capturing the color of the skies - pure flame. Arde el Cielo.

Sorry, but there's a good chance the spanglish might turn on anytime soon. If I forget to translate, holler.

The funny part of the whole arrival process was getting here. Nobody was at the airport to pick me up! Now, ordinarily I would have panicked, but I figured, knowing the reliability of my dad, something was afoot and there was a good reason he's not showed up. The taxi drivers I was standing around who kept asking me if they could take me somewhere were joking with me that "le puedes tirar la oreja a tu papa despues" or that I can pull my dad's ear later for leaving me stranded. I gave had almost given dad up for a lost cause when a very flustered father showed up. Being in a near panick about not being able to get to the airport on time, he had left his carnet, (chilean ID), driver's license, money, you name it, he'd forgotten it at home. So, in honor of newly arriving in the country and brandishing my 2 day old international driver's license, I got to drive us through the city of 9 million people. Bear in mind I haven't driven in months, but hey!

Good thing mom didn't know or she'd have had a kadiption. (Is that how you spell that?)

 

The sunset turns the snow on the Andes the shade of the clouds at sunset. Tonight, pink!

Puro sacandoles pica- reineta frita, papas duquesas y un vinito tinto - con Torta Mil Hojas pa' postre. Supper - fried reineta (a fish, don't ask me what it is in English), papas duquesas (something like fried, mashed potatoes-to die for), a local red wine and this Thousand Leaf Torte that I'm gonna write about later to finish it all off with.

 

He did not, however, warm this land before my arrival.

Chocolate and skittley misadventures

What's to do on a ten day sail with plenty of time to kill and a handy cocoa pod in your posession? On a hike up Mout Agou in Togo, I found an awesome cocoa tree with ripe pods growing, so I grabbed one and, visions of Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory dancing through my head, decided it would be an adventure to make chocolate.

Oh yeah... chocolate does grow on trees. I've found paradise.

The bottom one, you're mine!!

Two keen roommates (i.e. bored) join in the fun and it gets out of hand rapidly. Step one. Google the process. The fine art of chocolate making involves candy thermometers, drying cocoa beans in the sun for days on end, adding ingredients like lecithin (hard to come by in the middle of the ocean), carefully mixing and stirring the chocolate, etc. The images on the web are of indigenous women piling pods and grinding them in gorgeous tropical locations. I've got the ship's galley kitchen.

 Bored, armed sailors. You should be scared.

Hellooooo my lovely! oh yeah, that's cocoa.

So my roommates and I came up with our next approximation to the real thing. No sunshine? No problem. Oven set at 220 Celcius- another quandry. How much is 220 celcius? who cares! Surely it will roast, it's at the top of the dial! Whereaby we skip that entire pesky roast-the-bean-in-the-sunshine-for-5-days step.

Wait - the cocoa pods come covered in a really sweet fruit! That obviously needs eating off first! (We insert our own step 2.) The white fruit tastes rather like litchie. Unfortunately, when you add a juicy fruit to the oven, the juices caramelize and don't become chocolate, the whole thing just burns.

Step 3. Add cocoa butter. Right. I don't have that on the ship. We'll skip that too. You can see where this is headed...not to successful chocolate -making.

We gave up and ate skittles instead, readily available in the ship shop, proving that lots of initial enthusiasm sometimes does yield before ignorance.

 Skittles anyone?

it's all in the family

So here's a random post: ah, the Africa Mercy, it's a family affair sometimes. I was flipping through the transfer drive - this lovely intranet folder onboard where they take loads of pictures and let you share them anywhere, including private blogs, etc. Free marketing, right?

When I stumble on family pics - well, my godparents, being taken on a tour of the Africa Mercy when it was docked in South Africa.

                         Being shown the Africa Mercy's ORs

Uncle Niels and Auntie Marietjie!

Flight of the 990

The field service of the Africa Mercy is over for Togo 2012 and the hospital work has ceased, but the bustle of activity has only increased in preparation for our sail from Lome to Santa Cruz de Tenerife in the Canary Islands. Our captain has told us we're anticipating a ten day sail, fair weather most of the way, thank goodness 'cause I feel like the swaying is quite a bit! Thank goodness for friends, handrails, walls, doors, anything to hang onto while traveling up and down our hallways.

Some of the tasks we've been involved with in preparation of shutting down our hospital have included the infamous bleaching down of the wards (walls, ceilings, floors) that some of you are familiar with from previous descriptions from last year. We got to redo it again at the end of Togo but was quite a bit cleaner only having been a 6 month service this time. One of the more onerous tasks was sorting and scanning patient charts so they can be stored electronically. One way to make the time go faster though is to stick all the nurses in an empty ward with boxes of charts and playing Pirates of the Caribbean projected on the ward. Time flies when you've got good friends and Johnny Depp :-)

Did I mention we're sailing? And swaying. Swaying a lot! So there was loads of bolting things down going on, securing our belongings on top shelves that you don't want whacking you on the head in the middle of the night or landing on something breakable. I'm told the lack-of-balance thing will pass as soon as I get my sea legs. Our ship's physician has handed anti-seasickness tablets like they're M&M's and there's heavy black market trading in ginger tablets and ginger teas going on.

There have been several safety drills to prepare us for the sail, and two stowaway searches where every single nook and cranny of the ship are combed over in search of anybody trying to head off to a better life, and a lovely very $$$ fine for Mercy Ships should a stowaway be found entering Europe. Our doc joked that we can pay him for the tablets in M&M's and the captain said that if a crewmate is found stowing away a stray, the discovery will soon be followed by a Man Overboard drill - the offending crewmate having just volunteered his services! :-)

My favorite part of prepping the ship was watching the ship's jeeps being loaded onto the top deck of the Africa Mercy. It's quite exhilirating to watch a fleet of white jeeps swung through the skies and deposited onto the deck, to be parked and bolted down for the sail.