A PSA for DWRG

(I feel a bit unoriginal for referencing another World Hum piece to aid in my static writer's block, but until my next adventure, I seem to be living vicariously through the adventures of others.)

In Eric Weiner's recent contribution to the award winning travel blog World Hum (is that something brown on my nose?) he discusses the serious and often overlooked condition of Post-Trip Funk or, as he's coined it, PTF. Weiner's piece is a light-hearted account of a relatively serious malady, pointing out that much advice is given to beginning a trip (where to go, when to travel, what to do, etc.) but very little is given to the return from a trip.

While Weiner focuses on the sun-screened and money-belted tourist's battle with PTF, I'd like to acknowledge the voluntourist (yes, "voluntourism" is an actual thing) struggle with a more intensified form of PTF known as Developed World Residential Guilt, or DWRG. Symptoms of DWRG include:

• Wearing only two or three outfits and one pair of shoes, despite stains
• Donating all other clothing to charity
• Refusing to spend more than $10 on any item
• While still considerate of personal hygiene (ie, showers and deodorant), complete ignorance of hair products, makeup, nail polish and perfume
• Feelings of guilt when turning on faucets and light switches
• Adoption of orphaned pet from animal shelter, especially if time in developing country was spent caring for children
• Sudden obsession with being "green" and minimizing waste
• Tendency to spend countless hours alone, ignoring phone calls, emails and personal invitations

Sufferer of DWRG. Notice adopted puppy coupled with

complete lack of fashion sense, make-up and hair products.

The problem with re-entry is that you don't expect it to be as difficult as it is. Going from home to somewhere new, one mentally prepares for the changes they will experience, new foods they will eat and new cultures to which they will adapt, excitedly embracing all of this "newness" as an outsider. But the idea of going home is supposed to be comforting, familiar and natural which is why when a voluntourist returns home he or she is thrown off by the shock of it all. It is important for sufferers of DWRG to recognize that home is unchanged. Family is unchanged. Friends are unchanged. It is only the traveler who has changed.

While symptoms of DWRG will subside with time (recovery time varies largely, often related to time spent away), it is rare that one will go back to a completely symptom-free life. Most victims of DWRG will forever bear the scar of their disorder, though many will ultimately block out the months of suffering and, again, set themselves up for a repeat episode by continuing their volunteer work and travels.

Githeri and Kilimanjaro? Yes Please!

Sunday was a special day. The sun was shining (for an hour longer, too), the broom was sweeping (sun inspired spring cleaning) and the beans were boiling (more on this one later). All of this in preparation for a screening of the MTV documentary Summit on the Summit, a Kilimanjaro trek organized by musician, Kenna, to promote awareness of the global clean water crisis. Kenna, who was joined by Jessica Biel, Lupe Fiasco and other famous friends, is of Ethiopian decent, making the clean water crisis a personal one for him.

So, on one of the warmest days Chicago has seen so far in 2010, I invited Tami and Katie over to relive seven of the coldest days of our lives. The African themed dinner (recipe below) complete with Milo and vino was originally organized so that we could laugh at the celebs whining their ways up the mountain but, instead, we ended up feeling almost bonded to them. Regardless of our histories, experiences or bank accounts on the mountain we're the same - we struggled over the same tough areas, breathed in the same thin air and had the same awe at the top. Suddenly, Jessica Biel and I have a lot more in common.

I think we look just as cute as the celebs while climbing!

The dramatic footage and retelling of summit day not only brought back nostalgic emotions of the experience but made the three of us seem even more amazing to our family and friends. To quote a text received from my mom Sunday night, "So glad i didn't see this b4 u climbed kili - i'd be a mess! Way 2 go - all of u!!!"

But here's the thing: the danger and risk of it all made me want to do it all over again. (Does that make me crazy?) I can honestly say, with 100% certainty, if I were given the opportunity to climb Kilimanjaro again tomorrow, I'd do it in a heartbeat! Because, despite the cold and headaches and the sore muscles, nothing compared with the feeling of making it to the top - that surge of adrenaline that hit me like a train, making me feel superhuman - capable of anything I set my mind to. Just writing me about it fills me with energy!

And another thing that fills me with energy... githeri! Githeri is actually a Kikuyu dish and a favorite of mine. I love any excuse to prepare Kenyan cuisine but this was my first stab at githeri. Now, get your pen and paper to write down the ingredients because there are many:

Red beans

Maize (or, in the US, frozen corn)

Seriously, that's all. Quick soak the beans by boiling them for a few minutes and then allowing them to sit for 2-3 hours off the heat. Then drain, add the corn (equal parts). Cover and simmer with enough water to cover the mixture until most of the water is evaporated and the beans are tender. The frozen corn makes it a bit sweeter than it is in Kenya, but overall I was pleasantly surprised by the results. And the best part is that it keeps for several days in fridge, making fantastic leftovers!

Githeri - a delicious and nutritious taste of Kenya!

Place Dropper? Guilty.

I love the World Hum blog. (And I'm not just saying that because I hope to one day be featured on their award winning site.) The pieces speak to real, gritty, Therouxian travelers - the kind of globetrotter I hope to be one day. Earlier I came across a brilliant and hysterical piece by Spud Hilton, discussing the "fine art" of place dropping. It's like name dropping but instead of making yourself cool by association to a person, you subtly (or not so subtly) make yourself cool by association to far off places. For instance (from my "place dropper" archives):

"What a fantastic necklace!"

"Thanks! I got it from a silversmith in Lamu who collected the ancient pottery on the beach from 15th century ship wrecks."

"Where did you get that scar?"

"Yeah, it's a little souvenir from climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro."

"You're so tan!"

"Oh I know! I guess I should have reapplied the SPF when I was in Dahab, but I just couldn't pull myself away from the Blue Hole."

It scares me how naturally I recognize an opportunity to place drop. Even while working a shift at Borders tonight I saw the window and went for it without missing a beat. I came across a girl about my age in the travel section (OBVIOUSLY my FAVORITE section of the ENTIRE store) surrounded by books on Italy, specifically Rome. I just couldn't help myself.

"Are you planning a trip?"

"Yeah, well sort of... a friend and I are thinking of heading to Italy for a couple of weeks."

"It's a beautiful place, you'll love it. And springtime in Rome is so exciting. Each year they put closed azaleas all over the Spanish Steps and let them bloom in the sun."

"Have you been?"

"Yeah, I lived in Rome for a couple of months a few years back." (Note: saying you lived somewhere exciting is much cooler than saying that you studied there for a semester.)

"Oh wow! How exciting! What was your favorite part of living there? Tell me everything, you're officially the coolest bookseller I've ever met. I will hang on your every word." (I'm paraphrasing.)

I know, I know. I'm pathetic. I've had a handful of interesting travel experiences and have been fortunate enough to visit some amazing places and suddenly I think I'm Samantha Brown - with far less class, of course.

So why do I do it? It's certainly not the reason I travel, it's just a mode that is easy to fall into back at home. I guess when someone's passionate about something, they want to share it with others. Or maybe I just miss that feeling - that rush - of being in an unfamiliar place when something ironic or memorable or life altering happens. Maybe I place drop because it means that those experiences actually took place, however distant they seem at the time. Perhaps being in dreary Chicago on a foggy March night, I need to remind myself of those experiences and places and people who have done so much to shape my life.

But there must be a less obnoxious way of holding onto those moments and I'm on a mission to find it. But until I do, beware of this place dropper. She's sure to strike again.

My apologies in advance.

A February Haiku

New blankets each day

again, I must scrape the car

Chicago winter.

23 Beanies

Heart for Africa is an organization that has various projects in Kenya and Swaziland. My Aunt Jan and Uncle Ron have made several trips to Swaziland with Heart for Africa putting their skills as social worker and physician to good use. In November Aunt Jan mentioned to me that Heart for Africa will be holding an event for the orphans of Swaziland in July at Somholo National Stadium. It is their wish that each child leave the event with a handmade beanie hat on which they are relying upon skillful volunteers to donate. I'm not much of a crocheter, but I do know how to make hats. I've spent the past couple of months using yarn leftover from past projects to make 23 beanie hats for the orphans of Swaziland. I'm hoping to get a couple more completed by February 20th when they have to be sent to Heart for Africa headquarters in Atlanta.
If you have a little extra time and talents in the knitting and crocheting world I invite you to become a part of this project with me. Believe it or not, Africa can get very cold at night, especially during the wet seasons, and having a hat can help keep a child warm and comfortable during those months. To find out more about the project please visit the Beanie Machine page on the Heart for Africa website. Send your completed beanies no later than February 20th to the Heart for Africa headquarters:

Beanie Coordinator

c/o Heart for Africa

P.O. Box 573

Alpharetta, GA 30004

A Day for Living Positively

Today is World AIDS Day. I've noticed a bit of awareness marketing for the day, mostly from the RED campaign and the companies associated (Starbucks, Apple, Gap...) But World AIDS Day is so much more than an excuse to wear red on December 1st. It's a day to recognize and support the millions of people living with HIV/AIDS. In Kenya and other parts of AIDS-ridden Africa, these individuals living with HIV/AIDS are said to be living positively. Living positively. What a wonderful way to look at what is otherwise seen as a death sentence.

So many groups and organizations in sub-Saharan Africa are working to reverse the negative social stigmas attached with the virus and, though there is a long way to go, they are making progress. One such organization is AMREF (African Medical and Research Foundation), headquartered in Nairobi. AMREF's goal is to educate communities and cultural groups in Africa about healthy initiatives like clean water, vaccinations, pre-natal care and HIV testing and treatments. AMREF trains African health workers to go into communities (oftentimes their own communities) to educate other Africans on how to stay healthy. This concept of Africans helping Africans is surprisingly new, but it is a huge stride toward to the goal of Africa becoming a self-sufficient continent. AMREF's health workers educate their peers, like the story of George who lives positively and counsels his HIV-positive neighbors in the Kibera slums. Below is a short video about George and his work with AMREF in Kibera.

Today is a day for us all to live positively. To support people like George and organizations like AMREF. So wear your RED Gap shirt. Sip Starbucks coffee from your RED cup. Listen to your RED iPod. But do so with purpose - not because it's trendy or because Bono says to, but because you actually believe in what it all stands for. Live positively. Not only on December 1st, but everyday.

Tami Moves Outdoors (Please Piss Nicely)

Katie, Jenn and Tami at Macheme Gate before the climb

When Tami first arrived in Kenya, she confessed something to me while unpacking her amazing mountain climbing gear for Mt. Kilimanjaro. "So, I'm really not that out-doorsy." At first I thought she was kidding but when she convinced me that she wasn't, my jaw fell open. Not out-doorsy? This girl had half of REI in that black duffle bag of hers, how could she not be out-doorsy? "Most of this stuff is borrowed," Tami explained, "the backpack, the sleeping bag, the rain pants, the rain jacket, the gaiters..." While Tami may not be out-doorsy herself, she has a lot of generous friends who are. I nervously considered my now pathetic looking pile of Kilimanjaro gear, some dating all the back from the Clearwater Camp for Girls days of my youth, and the only borrowed item, a sleeping bag that my dad used in the Rockies in the 1970's. I consider myself pretty out-doorsy, but my gear needs a serious facelift.

Katie was just as surprised as I was to learn that Tami wasn't an out-doorsy person. I think that we just both assumed that she was because, personality-wise, she fit the bill. Both Katie and I grew up going to summer camp: hiking, canoeing, cooking over fires, sleeping in tents and, of course, peeing in the woods. We both decided that we'd much rather take care of business in the bush than use a latrine but we forgot one important detail: above a certain altitude (about 3000 meters) there isn't a bush because without enough oxygen, plants don't grow! Some nights our campsite was remote enough that Katie and I would find a big boulder to go behind. Otherwise we were forced to use the lovely latrines provided by Tanzanian National Parks. The latrines were small wooden sheds, usually without a door, and, because they were built on the side of a mountain, uneven flooring. Latrines were clearly marked either "Porter Toilet" or "Tourist Toilet," though I'm glad to report that segregation is dead on Kilimanjaro and Porters and Tourists felt free to use whichever toilet gave off the least amount of stink. Though the most challenging part of the latrines (better known to us as the "Shit Shacks") were the small holes in the ground, obviously designed with the better aiming male anatomy in mind. So, combine the construction with the slanted floor, the high altitude with a lack of oxygen, multiple layers of clothing, suggested water intake of 4-5 liters per day, the small target and, of course, the sometimes beyond putrid smell and you've got jokes for the entire trip. So much for peeing in the bush!

The PLEASE PISS NICELY shit shack

While all of the Shit Shacks are memorable, there were two in particular that the three of us will surely never forget. At Karanga Camp the floor of the Shack was so slanted and the target so small that there was, understandably, a yellow puddle in one corner. I was the first of the three to venture into that one and, while trying to get my footing, I noticed some pretty distinct graffiti on the wall: PLEASE PISS NICELY was written in black Sharpie right next to the yellow puddle. I don't know if it was the situation or the oxygen depravation or the exhaustion or what, but this Sharpied request got me laughing so hard that I missed the target completely and doubled the size of the yellow puddle. The day had been wet and cold and our campsite was currently in a cloud so, shivering, I made my way back to the tent and told the other two to go use the Shit Shack. High altitude and lack of oxygen (blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-altitude!) made this whole scenario funnier to the three of us than it probably actually was, but memorable nonetheless. (Though, seriously, who goes to the trouble of writing graffiti in a a latrine on Mt. Kilimanjaro?)

Barafu Shit Shacks, and the edge of a windy cliff

The next night at Barafu Camp (Base Camp) the Shit Shacks presented a whole new challenge. At first we were excited - these actually had doors on them and seemed better constructed than the ones further down the mountain! But, as Katie soon discovered, looks aren't everything. The Barafu Shit Shacks were built on the side of a very windy cliff and whoever designed these pristine mountain bathrooms did not take ventilation into account. Soon after arriving at camp Katie came out of the Shit Shack laughing. Basically, anything that you try to put down the hole blows right back up. I opened the door to one of the "toilets" and found dirty tissues sticking to the urine covered ground. Fantastic. There was literally a wind tunnel coming up through the small hole in the ground and creating a dirty tissue tornado. In order to discard of you tissue, you had to stick your arm down the hole and let go, otherwise it would blow back up at you, most likely hitting you in the face. Being the positive girls that we are, we took this as fresh comedic material and referenced the insanity of it for the remainder of the trip.

Katie models the Barafu Shit Shacks

Between the Shit Shacks, the cold/wet weather, the insanity of summit day and amazingness of the entire experience, Katie and I have decided that Tami has more than earned her out-doorsy badge. While Katie and I had years of past camping experience to fall back on, Tami basically jumped straight into the deep end of hard-coreness and, by God, she swam!