I can travel anywhere, except Cuba, and I will travel to New Zealand and walk the Lord of the Rings trail to Mordor and I will hike Mount Doom!

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs
And as silently steal away.
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Erin and I listen to music almost as much as we read, which we do like it's our job. The music I have been listening to here in Jamaica has various purposes. Sometimes I use it to unwind after teaching/herding our pint-sized pupils, sometimes I use it to put me in a better mood, sometimes I use it to put me to sleep, and sometimes I use it for background noise. Whatever the reason, listening to an iTunes playlist makes me feel like Erin and I are not so isolated here in the Caribbean. If you are in need of some playlist ideas, here is what frequently is featured in mine...

Fire It Up
Modest Mouse
We We Dead Before the Ship Even Sank

Going to California
Led Zeppelin
IV

Jazz Selections
Miles Davis
Kind of Blue

Shoot the Moon
Norah Jones
Come Away With Me

All Night, More Justice
Damian "Jr. Gong" Marley
Welcome to Jamrock, Halfway Tree

Imagine
Jack Johnson
Instant Karma

Glory Bound
Martin Sexton
Black Sheep

Tomorrow Comes a Day Too Soon
Flogging Molly
Whiskey on a Sunday

Born to Run (acoustic)
Bruce Springsteen
Chimes of Freedom

Black Rain, Steal My Kisses
Ben Harper
Both Sides of the Gun, Live From Mars

Neighborhood #1, Neighborhood #2
The Arcade Fire
Funeral

While We Cry (live)
Kenny Wayne Shepherd
Ledbetter Heights

Whiskey in a Jar
Metallica
Garage Inc.

Top of the World, Year to the Day
Van Halen
Right Here, Right Now, Van Halen III

Melissa, Blue Sky
The Allman Brothers Band
Eat a Peach

Rock n Roll, Please
Eric Hutchinson
That Could Have Gone Better

Stranglehold
Ted Nugent
Great Gonzos!

I'm OUT!!
Patrick

So I put out a bunch of extra candy on my desk so the kids will come talk to me. Like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.

What a week. It has been one of those whirlwind types and I am not sure what I should tell you first. One would think lacking the ability to identify a quality starting point would be problematic. It is not. The beauty of blogging is that I am justified in blabbering on indefinitely. I apologize in advance for lack of intrigue, as I enjoy giving more of an anecdotal account of our interesting happenings rather than weekly overview. But due to interest expressed by certain family members about to our daily life, I am going to try to bring you all up to date. So… our library is coming along slowly. We have gone through about 250 books so far, but progress is slow because everything is so dirty and requires cleaning. We are planning on color-coding the books by reading level. So any of you librarian types wishing to donate some colored spine labels should feel free to contact Laura or Jill (thanks Moms for coordinating). Were shooting for 6 sections: Early Readers, Everybody, Intermediate, Advanced, Adult, and Non-Fiction. I can feel all of you out there with library science degrees shuddering at our lack of alphabetization and careless disregard for the Library of Congress shelving system. Sorry about that. Our aim is to create a system easy enough to operate that di pikni dem (children for those of you who didn’t pay attention during patwa lessons) can run the library without Erin and my supervision. If any of you are so inclined on one of you trips to visit us, you are more than welcome to add a true librarian’s touch to our modest work in progress. Everyday around 3 o’clock we leave the library and head to the multipurpose room at the orphanage to begin our homework help sessions. The kids look so endearing in their little uniforms that it lulls you into a precariously elevated sense of confidence about your ability to control one’s classroom. Instead of calling what we do there ‘homework help,’ I think a more accurate expression would be ‘melee in which a modest amount of homework gets completed and even less learning takes place.’ Generally speaking the kids are very respectful calling us ‘sir’ and ‘miss’ and listening to us when we discourage negative behavior. It is only once we have turned our backs that they return to their running amok-edness. Despite being turdballs when we do not give them our undivided attention, they really are quite fun and undeniably endearing. Last weekend when our beach clean-up was over, I walked with one of the aunties to accompany the 10 children back to the village. About halfway up the large hill home 8 of the ten spontaneously and simultaneously scampered off into the dense brush alongside the road. The kids did not look back and the perturbed auntie and I finished our walk with two kids. The auntie, still fuming, storms into the director’s to find the social worker (2nd in command) and detail the blatant disobedience we experienced. Just then one of the hooligans walks in with a june plum in each hand and a mouth full of the same. The social worker and the auntie took him outside and were preparing to give him a stern talking to when they were interrupted by the blaring horn of a 2-ton flatbed truck. As the truck rolled up, reggae music cranked, the remaining 8 troublemakers could be seen gyrating to the music, each sporting a large Cheshire grin and holding a box full of ‘borrowed’ june plums. It was hard to not crack a smile and marvel at the audacity of their arrival (so I lied about the anecdotes). Anyway… We are struggling with how to deal with the disparity amongst the children in their learning. Some kids can function at their grade level and some kids that are supposed to be doing fractions do not have addition/subtraction understanding. But that is why we are here. Today we meet with the principal and counselor of a nearby school to discuss starting a HIV/sexual health/life skills program at their school. They were very excited and even volunteered us to join the ‘Guidance Committee.’ Throughout the week we have continued our search of new living arrangements. Hopefully by the time we have company coming to visit Oct 12 we aren’t homeless.

Patricio out!!

And I know what you're thinking. Won't that just shed more light on the penises. But that is a risk we have to take.

For a change, Patrick and I are writing this blog together. This is because our weekend was peppered with one spectacularly awesome incident after another and we couldn't decide who got to write about it. So we're sharing. Both the writing and the bottle of white rum. Kidding. -Ish. Well, first off, a series of unfortunate events forced us to search for a new place to live, hopefully of our own. We're optimistic and supremely excited to have more freedom and privacy. Patrick feels oppressed in our present situation as he cannot wander about the house in his underwear. This includes venturing into the kitchen to fetch a swig of juice. I must concede that I myself wouldn't mind more scantily clad migratory behavior as Jamaica is quite warm. Cross your fingers for us, we are hoping some of our leads pay off. And a big thanks to the other volunteers in our area who have been instrumental to our housing search. So our living arrangements have been a pressing concern since last Thursday. Luckily, we've had an interesting weekend and thus have been granted a reprieve from our domestic concerns. We began our weekend with a trip to a local seaside bar/restaurant with other volunteers and a visitor from abroad. The restaurant was literally right on the water with the omnipresent white plastic patio chairs and cheap beer and reasonably priced entrées. But what really makes this establishment special is the live music. To our extreme delight, Friday nights are country western music night!!! You may be asking yourself, “Do Jamaicans like country music?” The answer to that is a hearty, “yes.” Throughout the night we were treated to music from the greats including Jimmy Buffet, Kenny Rogers, and Johnny Cash. Let’s not forget “The Rooster Song” which Patrick sang at boy scout camp, “No Balls at All” a particular favorite of the Jamaicans present, and “The Pum Pum Song” I do not know the real name of this song, but the chorus goes “pum, pum, pum” and in Jamaican slang “pum pum” means girlie bits. Perhaps the best part of “The Pum Pum Song” was listening to the band and the Jamaicans discuss whether the rest of the restaurant understood “pum pum.” They then proceeded to enlighten the table of gay, foreign men using food analogies. This incident cleared up some confusion at our table as to whether we had accidentally stumbled upon a gay bar. So the band. Haha. The band was two pieces of beef jerky holding guitars with microphones attached. Patrick felt that the band members were Hispanic Jamaicans. I agree that their Patwa was exceptional, however I think they were just tanned and leathery white people. Regardless of nationality, they were brown and wrinkly. Just like beef jerky, if it were dressed in western shirts, worn Levis adorned with monstrous belt buckles, well-loved 10 gallons, and dusty cowboy boots. Oh yes, these boys took their job seriously. Not only did they bother to learn all of their songs, they pre-recorded drum beats on their keyboard. We were just wondering, in the land of dancehall, how often does a country band get to perform? We say, “not often enough!” Great night. Everyone who visits will be treated to country night. Quite the incentive, eh? The next morning, we participated in international beach clean-up day. The two of us, plus several other volunteers trouped down to the nearby fishing village with about 20 kids. We filled 15 large garbage bags before the kids lost interest. After that, we bravely ventured into the water with the children. We almost drowned. At all times, we would have at least 4 kids dangling from our necks and arms. I spent a good deal of the time attempting to keep my swimsuit in place. It couldn’t withstand the kids literally crawling up me, or them pulling at the straps to marvel at how white I was. It was a long, exhausting day. All of the white people burned their noses. We did enjoy a fabulous lunch courtesy of a local Rasta. Thanks for your comments last time! We enjoyed them. Miss you all! -Patrick and Erin

p.s. It was me, Erin, who picked the phallic quote. All issues concerning the appropriateness of the phallic quote should be directed to me.

I swore to myself if I ever got to walk around the room as manager, people would laugh as they saw me coming, and they'd applaud as I walked away.

Hokay, so… The first picture is of Joe, Tiff-Tiff, Ryan, Matt, and of course Erin and me (from left to right). This was taken before a fun night of ‘bleaching,’ a term used to describe partying in Jamaica. Jamaicans party late, and when I say late I would be vastly more accurate in saying very early. One does not really go to a party/club/etc. until 11 o’clock (late) at the earliest and the party does not get hoppin’ until 1 or 2 (early) and it will last until 4,5 or 6 o’clock (also early by most standards). Partying that late (or early??!#$... I’m confused) then forces one to sleep all day and never see the sun, leading to a lack of a good tan, hence ‘bleaching.’ And for those of you that think our PC adventure-o-fun is nothing more than an extension of our college experience (you know who you are Jill Smith, though you are probably not isolated in this assumption based on stories and pictures), we merely engage in acts such as ‘bleaching’ in an effort to thrust ourselves into Jamaican culture thereby assimilating rapidly to assume our rightful status as Ja-mericans. Picture two is later that morning. Picture three is what you might see if you walked out of our driveway and immediately turned 90 degrees to your right. The ocean is in the background about 300 yds away. Picture four is Ryan and me bobsledding. I know most of you know that the Disney Corporation made a wonderfully touching movie about the heroic story of some non-stereotypical Jamaicans that became Olympian bobsledders and here there is a restaurant to commemorate the cinematic magnum opus. I am sure we will take all of you who come to visit to the Bobsled Café because it actually has pretty good pizza and decent veggie burgers. The final picture is of our beach that happened to be captured on a day that was very windy and thus the water is cloudy and not all that pretty. My apologies.

The more I ruminate about the ‘extension of our college experience’ section of my post, I feel it necessary to offer you this nugget of wisdom… Less than 1% of the world’s population has been enrolled in university level education. I am fortunate enough to have a college degree and to have acquired a wealth of knowledge during my career at Mizzou. This in mind, I experience obligatory urges to share the gift of a college experience with those not providential to have had one of their own. This develops mostly in the form of imparting practical knowledge and skills to others, but every now and again in the form of dancing as a result of the ingestion of alcohol.

Thank you if you take the time to read our blog. If you can spare uno momento to leave a comment, please do as we would love to hear from you. Even if you can only spare the time to leave a comment such as, “I read your blog. Love Bernard” it lets us know people read our entries and makes us feel loved. Hope all is well for you.

Patricio

Pam? How do girls your age feel about futons?

It has come to our attention that individuals are dissatisfied with the information that we choose to post in our blog. I am atempting to remedy this now. I don't want my mother to think that this is just an extended college experience. It's more like high school really. Lots of rules and everyone is in everyone else's business. You know what I have come to love while in Jamaica? Jalapeno Pringles. Delicious. I've really taken to Jamaican cuisine, as you can see. Okay, onto what we are doing and where we are. Forgive me any redundancy that may occur. Our main project is to start an after school homework/literacy program at a local private orphanage. We will have children of all ages and grade levels. There are about 100 children at the orphanage and they attend myriad different schools in the area. School starts on Monday, and we'll be there when the kids get out to help them with homework. For the first couple weeks, the plan is to assess the children and get them to show up. After a bit, we would like to begin carrying out lessons of our own about literacy, life skills, health, etc. We're also hoping to have the orphanage library open in October. It will depend on how soon we can get it fumigated. I am sure I have written about the library, but here is more about it anyway. It's in the basement of the kindergarten that is near the orphanage. It is smaller than a colllege dorm room and there are a lot of mosquitos. Once we get rid of the termite poo, I think it will be quite lovely. I think we're going to arrange the books by grade level and have the children color pictures to decorate the walls. It faces a dirty, but melodic little creek, and it's fairly cool as it's always in shade. We're going to teach some of the older children to keep track of check-outs and they are going to run the library for a little pocket money. The set-up of the orphanage is unique. It is arranged in a little village. There are about 12 houses, each one has a mother and an auntie and 8-10 children of mixed ages and sexes. It is long term care, so they try to find children that probably won't be adopted. The village serves as a community for them, and their adopted mothers and siblings as family. It's an interesting idea. We really enjoy the mothers. They are friendly and clearly insane. They have to be there 24/7 taking care of up to 10 children. Very selfless. They humble me. There are, of course, general rules, but each mother is the head of her own house and they all run things a little differently. She does her own shopping and cooking and whatnot. It's not like an institutional orphanage at all. The village is at the top of a hill. It's fairly scenic. There's a creek that has the potential to be pretty, and a lot of green. The concrete buildings all match, they're painted blue and beige. They kind of form a horseshoe shape on the side of the hill. We are currently living at the bottom of the hill, about a 10 minute walk from the village. The road we take to get up there is one lane and rapidly disentegrating. It's mostly a giant bumpy pothole with a few patches of asphalt. It's lined on both sides with dense vegetation. At first I thought it was really secluded, but then people started popping out of the bush with machetes and goats and I realized that the vegetation is not that dense on one side and that there are houses nearby, You can still, however, get the illusion of isolation while walking as long as no one is blaring dancehall music. It's devestatingly hot if you attempt to summit the hill around noon. Other times, there is some shade. There is a lot of horse poop and dead frogs in the road. I feel bad for the frogs. I like them. The children try to kill them. The kids are funny. They really like Patrick. The little ones want him to throw them, and they climb all over him. They come to me only when his arms are already full. If I come without him they ask where he is. They scatter when I attempt to chat with them. Most of the older children are polite and a bit uninterested in us. The little ones get pretty excited and they are totally unintelligable. We have a hard time even catching their names. The house closest to the road is full of little boys and you can hear them all yelling right as you enter the village. It's amusing. Alright, did you appreciate this? Or was it boring? Provide me with some feedback, please.

Uh, no, I only give my organs to my real friends. Go get yourself a monkey kidney

Sorry about the poem to my bathroom. I realize that is a bit bizarre, but hey that’s me. It really is quite funny the things one miss when they are removed from their home. I figured it would be more like… well I stared that thought thinking I could verbalize my expectations for my homesickness, but alas I cannot. I guess it would be more accurate to say that I am surprised how much I miss American grocery stores, my bed, black beans, Bob Jones, etc. I definitely miss people more than things, but I was just unprepared for consciously missing some of these things. I am not too beat over the absence of these things, but I wanted to make Chipolte type burritos and couldn’t find black beans anywhere. I was prepared to look for ‘Frijoles Negros’ but was unsuccessful on that front as well. Grrrr.

So the elections here were interesting. To give y’all a frame of reference… imagine a democrat voter getting a verbal lashing from a republican voter and deciding to get a rock and chuck it at the republican. More rock throwing ensues and both leave their debate ducking for cover. Not everybody is so politically violent, but many people here are very passionate about their politics. The voter turn out here was only 60%, which surprised me because everybody has A LOT to say about Jamaican politics. The JLP won the election and I guess there are some hard feelings about it. But it did not stop some JLP supporters from having a party in downtown MoBay, and pretty much getting smashed in Sam Sharpe Square. Hopefully things return to normal soon as Erin and I really want to wear some green outside without making a political statement.

We read down here in Jamaica. I feel that ‘avid reader’ should be included in PC required skills. We have read all of the books we brought with us and have started to borrow books from other volunteers. There is an organization here that distributes donations from the US called Food for the Poor. We much of what they get in the form of books is trash that didn’t sell in the states and the publisher wanted a tax write-off. They received something like 450 copies of Madeline Albright’s memoirs. ‘Yes’ to your next question, I resorted to reading the 500-page autobiography of the former secretary of state. It’s a pretty dry read but hey it’s has words and pages and fills in some of the vastness that is my spare time. I would not recommend it to anyone that could get their hands on any other type of literature. Well enjoy the pics and my poem to my bathroom.

One Love
Patricio

Yay, Kevin! Woohoo for Kevin, for stinking up the bathroom.

**** Warning! This blog entry contains humor of the scatological variety. Read at your own Risk ****


An Ode to My Bathroom (the one I deperately miss in KC)

Oh throne room in KC, I thought my missing of you would wane,
But it increases ever so, for here roaches come out of the drain.

I love you for your ability to always have water that's hot
For on this tiny island, water is most often not.

The height of your toilet is the perfect height for me,
'cause it fits just right for either poop or pee.
I miss you KC toilet, my toilet here's too tall
I must dump from such great heights that I'm afraid to fall.

Your water pressure rushes forth and flows at comfortable speed,
Acrobatics to get wet, for that there is no need.
To get pressure in my showers here I have to coax and beg,
and even then the water feels like someone's peeing down my leg.

My memory of you, my W.C. friend, it is fading fast,
the last time we were together is in the far away past.
I miss family, I miss my friends, but mostly I miss you
I can't wait to fly home so I can take a poo.

**p.s. Contrary to what it says in my poem, I miss my family and friends more than I miss my bathrrom. You know chaps... poetic license.

Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica

Ryan is convinced that we have a ghost in one of our rooms here. It kept changing the volume on his iPod while he was trying to sleep. It most be a recent addition to the ghostly realm since it knows how to work an iPod. The party was in Mo Bay this weekend. We had four of our friends staying with us and our neighbor had several volunteers staying with him, and still more people were visiting others in the area. Friday night we went out to Pier 1 because Matt needed a Buddha statue and some decorative pillows. Haha, no, Pier 1 is not a store where one can buy overpriced items to clutter up the house, it's actually a club. It's on a pier and that means that everyone throws their empties into the water. What is wrong with people? Does the ocean look like a landfill? Or a toilet? Well, it is not. Anyway, Americans are goofy. It's fun to watch a group of us seizing in the midst of rythym-endowed Jamaicans. I had a lovely time making an ass of myself. The rum helped. We went to the beach a couple of times. Ryan stepped on a sea urchin. The water was rough and cloudy and smelled a little bit like New Jersey. Usually it is smooth and clear and salty-fresh. It was entertaining to watch the boys attempt to ride the waves though. Everyone got a sunburn. People keep asking why I don't look tan, it's because I don't go to the beach often. I am here to do work, you know. Matt and Joe left on Sunday, but Tiffanie and Ryan are still here because of elections. They were yesterday (Monday) and Sista P and the PNP lost. Except that the are doing a recount, so it will be a few days before it is all over. People may be a bit high strung about the outcome, and it's somewhat safer here than where Tiff and Ryan live. It's wonderful to have company, but we're kind of stuck in the house because of elections. We actually resorted to watching Varsity Blues one night. So about a month after our arrival I had reached my yearly quota of peas and rice. We were eating a lot of peas and rice. Recently, in an effort to cut back on peas and rice, we have begun experimenting with tofu. I say we, but we all know that Patrick has the culinary skills. We had some pretty delcious stir fry one night, and some fried tofu strips antother night. He made them just like chicken strips, and it tasted kind of like mozzarella sticks. I recommend them. The boys made chicken lasagna one night. It was also quite tasty. School starts next week, so hopefully we will have more interesting things to report.