Water Bags and a Flat Tire

I've spent too much of my oh-so-precious time deciding whether to organize my Ghana blogs chronologically or thematically, so I've decided to stop the thought process of how to organize and just write.

Excitement, curiosity and sheer exhaustion washed over me like a wave as I first stepped off the plane in Accra. If for some reason I had doubted the pilot's word that we landed in Africa, the blast of humidity that immediately hit me would have convinced me that he was correct.  

The cold weather preceding my trip and my lack of tolerance to it had me irrationally excited at the prospect of warmth. I couldn't wait for the embrace of the blanket of heat to wrap around my constantly frozen exterior. However, the warm comforting blanket I expected turned out to be a bit more stifling than I'd hoped for. Sweat immediately cascaded down every inch of my skin and continued to do so for the duration of my stay in Ghana. Sometimes there were fans, but more often than not, the only way to attempt to escape the shroud of debilitating humidity and heat was to sit as still as possible wearing the loosest garments in your possession.

Anyways, before I get too sidetracked, let's get back to my arrival in Ghana (see that, I guess I just decided to do this chronologically). Getting through customs was easy enough, but baggage claim was a different story entirely. Actually, the reason it took me so long to get my suitcase was because the damage done to it in transit transformed it to the point it was unrecognizable. When I finally realized my bag was my bag, I grabbed it, took a deep breath, and headed outside to find my ride.

I almost instantly saw a man holding a sign with the name of my volunteer organization on it. I was instructed prior to the trip to insist on seeing his I.D. but he just shrugged and said he left it at the volunteer house. Great. I was potentially about to get kidnapped. I went with him anyhow; he seemed relatively harmless- a teenager named Elvis.

Another volunteer had been waiting for me in the cab since my flight was delayed. I sat down beside her and felt the sweat on my back plaster my shirt to the seat of the car. Better get used to this, I thought. Finally, we were off to the volunteer house where we were to spend our first night prior to heading out to our specific placements.

Of course, something just HAD to happen en route to the house. As we drove along, a loud rattling sound began to come from the car and the driver rolled down his window and looked to the back of the car, discovering a flat tire. For WAY longer than he should have, he continued to drive. Eventually, however, we pulled over in possibly the worst part of the road possible and called another cab. We made it to the volunteer house exhausted and very, very parched.

Elvis immediately taught us about how drinking water works in Ghana. Yes, it needs to be explained. He led us to the refrigerator and grabbed two clear bags and handed one to each of us, then told us to bite the corner and suck. Turns out that is how they drink a lot of things- shots of alcohol, yogurt, and more. Okay, that's enough typing for one post. Stay tuned for more!

Ghana's Right Around the Corner!

My Ghana trip is creeping up on me. Today, it began to feel unfathomably soon. I received detailed information regarding my volunteer placement, and while much of it I already knew or assumed, seeing it in print seemed to make it all real. I will be living and working in a tiny village about two hours east of Accra living in a family's home with no Internet, no running water, no electricity and, best of all, a hole outside in which to take care of business.

Pooping in this will not be fun...

This initially caused me to go through a mini panic attack. I started realizing the enormous degree to which we use the Internet, electricity, running water and toilets EVERY day. I mean, it is actually concerning when you stop and think about it. I paid attention today to my use of technology and I realized that my face is almost always plastered to my phone screen. I began to feel a bit disgusted by it all and all of a sudden my attitude towards my trip shifted.

I now look forward to my trip and plan to embrace the lack of so many conveniences we here take for granted constantly. Today especially I felt how absurdly cushy my privileged life is. I was walking to my car and felt irritated about the fact I'd have to scrape the snow off of my car. What a stupid, First World problem! I HAVE a car to scrape snow off of! That is a privilege!




I'm sure this trip will be a grounding one to show me how those who have much less than me live. In my past experience, it seems that people who have the least live the most fulfilling, happy lives.

Let me give you all the inside scoop on what exactly my volunteer work will entail. Every day, I will arise at the butt crack of dawn, around 4:30 or 5. At that time, I will tend to the farm animals and begin planting crops or doing construction work. Around 9 AM, the overwhelming heat will prohibit me from staying outside, so at this time I will teach and play with the kids in the orphanage. Later in the evening as the temperature drops, I can return to outdoor work. On the weekends, it's play time and teach time with the kiddos.

Yes, I'll be living the real life version of Farmville most of the time. Jealous? I thought so.

Last but not least:

Hello friends,
I hope this message finds you well! I am reaching out to you all as I am planning a volunteer trip to Ghana. My goal is to spend a couple of weeks there helping plant crops and assist in other agricultural activities in order to provide a sustainable food source to children in an orphanage there.  During the evenings and weekends I would also provide childcare to the children. There are a lot of fees associated with this journey on which I wish to embark and I appreciate any donations you could provide. Of course, I understand if doing so is not possible- if that is the case, just send me well wishes and good luck! Also, for those who previously donated, well wishes are more than enough!

Please visit my fundraising page to donate any amount and your generosity will come a long way! You can also share my page to your family and friends and help me spread the word!

http://bit.ly/1NKIlHH

Thank you for your support!
Marisa

The Secret To Fishing

Breaking news for all you fishermen and women out there: you've been fishing wrong this whole time. Last summer while vacationing in Minnesota, I discovered the key to catching fish every time you set out to do so. Do I have you hooked? There's a little fishing humor for ya...

In Minnesota, there are many species of fish that people attempt to catch with fancy rods, bait, lures... the works. Some take to the lake to catch walleyes, whereas some have the goal of hooking the elusive northern pike. Yeah, I know my midwestern fish species, big whoop, wanna fight about it?

Since I first began to fish all the way until last summer during my time in Minnesota, I would go out on the boat, rod in hand, dreaming of catching a giant fish. I'd take the monster off the hook and hold it up proudly like fishermen do in pictures. I went a little crazy trying to achieve this dream, as no walleyes nor pikes nor anything really seemed interested in my bait. We would often spend hours casting and casting only to return to land empty handed. Of course, my relatives always caught one or two eventually, but it always seemed to take a long time and a good deal of trial and error trying to find the part of the lake in which the fish were lurking.

Seldom catching any fish, and never the kind I wanted, weighed heavily on me and I felt shrouded in disappointment. One day on my recent trip, my little cousins were fishing off the dock and seemed to be catching fish after fish. Granted, these weren't ones that would be considered impressive by any stretch of the imagination, but still, they experienced the thrill of constantly reeling in fish. I decided to give it a try.

This method immediately made fishing enjoyable. Because of the relatively shallow water, I could actually see the fish I intended to catch. Cheating? Maybe, but super awesome. So the key to constantly catching fish, albeit tiny ones, is to just fish for the ones no one wants! You're welcome for sharing the key to making fishing the most fun and successful hobby you can imagine.

My giant catch!

Kids These Days!

I feel like I've already written a post with this exact same title. If that is indeed the case, it simply goes to show the sheer depth of my frustration with today's younger generations. They most recently flaunted their flaws on Halloween night, one that children look forward to all year 'round as it enables them to walk door to door and get FREE candy from their extremely generous neighbors (candy ain't cheap).

Sounds AMAZING, right? What a deal! You get to dress up as some awesome character or whatever you want really, walk around in the dark with your friends and get heaps of free, delicious, sugary candy that will give you a crazy high, make you bounce off the walls, and then pass out from exhaustion. What an evening, Halloween is....

That should be fun enough for today's youth, right? WRONG. I'll start this rant off by conceding that yes, there are many polite, well-mannered young people wandering around in this world, and we encountered a great deal of them on Halloween during trick-or-treat time. However, another great deal of children were snotty little ungrateful brats who acted in a way that I am sure no kids did when I was one.

I also concede that my roommates and I were not properly prepared candy supply-wise for the hoards of children that came by on Halloween night. However, even our need to rush out and buy more candy to restock was partly to blame on snotty children, namely those who took more than one in spite of our specific verbal instruction to take "just one." Some of them needed to work on their listening skills, like one child who said "well, I didn't get both types of candy!" and grabbed a second one.

Jerks.

Most of the candy-kid-drama occurred in the first portion of the night as we handed out bags of chocolate snack mix and lollipops. As my roommate handed a kid dressed as some superhero or another a bag of the snack mix, he stated that he didn't like that. In my day, we were never that rude! It's FREE! Just take it, smile, and say thank you! Other children asked what specific flavors of lollipops we had and immediately made a sour face when we said we didn't know (they all had the same wrapper). On that same note, one kid put back the candy he was given and demanded to choose his own. I repeat: smile, accept the candy, say "thank you." Three easy steps.

Once we ran out of the snack mix and lollipops, my roommate came up with a backup plan to hand out Halloween-themed temporary tattoos. We felt confident in this decision until we found out how extremely averse the trick-or-treaters were to temporary tattoos. One kid actually turned to the rest of his pack of friends when he saw that we had tattoos and shouted "let's go, all they have are tattoos!"

The candy-less period of the evening seemed to drag on slower than a snail moving through expired molasses (which, for some reason, I imagine is stickier and thicker than unexpired molasses. Actually, does molasses expire??). We made a very apologetic sign which many people ignored and when they rang anyway we broke the news to many disappointed kids. Some were bratty and rude about our candy shortage (partly caused by earlier children taking too many, I'll point out again), but some kids were kind and understanding which was refreshing. 

Too many kids these days are like this little "gem" of  movie character...

When our reinforcements arrived with supplemental candy, things had died down a bit but drama ensued. Many kids greedily snatched handfuls of candy without even a mumble of "thanks" and without preceding their candy-grabbing by saying "trick or treat!" It's a pretty easy thing to say to get candy. As it got later, children who had already been by earlier came back and asked for extra candy since it was the end of the night. Seriously?! Take what you get and be THANKFUL! I guess being thankful is too much of a struggle for some, hence why society seems to ignore Thanksgiving decoration-wise and head straight for Christmas.

What about Thanksgiving?!

Perhaps the "highlight" of the evening...the high school kids who are way too old to trick or treat and really just irritate everybody. I felt horrible for my roommate when she answered the door from them. One of the two girls in the group said to my roommate "my friends drew something on my face, do you know what it is?" It was a penis. Nice end to the evening.

Post ranting, I will once again add the disclaimer that I in no way think this behavior applies to all kids. There were certainly polite kids who thanked us and used these things called manners. But this blog isn't about them.

Biker Chick

I must admit I never thought the above term would ever describe me in a million years. I enjoyed biking as a child, sure, and it helped me get to class when running late in college (though I was certainly a hazard to any pedestrians on campus, I'm a bit of a spazz on a bike). However, I never saw myself as someone who uses a bike as my primary mode of transportation. Over the past few weeks, I have discovered that biking is not only a blast and a great way to get around, but also something I am intensely passionate about. If I'd started biking earlier in life, maybe I could have been the female, drug-free and honest version of Lance Armstrong. I'd use a different comparison but I don't know the names of any other bikers.

I love biking because it feels like you are part of a community, at least here in Boulder. Bikers are all over the place due to the accessibility of getting around cycling. I was shocked that in construction zones, there are even bike lanes made of cones. I feel like that wouldn't happen anywhere else. Anyhow, I feel like us biker folk have a connection amongst each other that only other bikers would understand. For example, when a car completely blocks a crosswalk, we sometimes give each other an annoyed look to demonstrate our shared frustration. Bikers, in my experience, have been quite friendly in general, their kindness shown with a nod, smile, or other similar gesture upon passing.

So...much...community!

 Yes, I adore biking. I have already learned heaps about bicycles as well. For instance, my seat was far too low for far too long, and I learned that keeping the seat too low isolates certain leg muscles while pedaling whereas a higher seat promotes the unison of various muscle groups.

I've also learned that I am one of those bikers that really irritates drivers. When I drive, I feel on edge all the time about bikers and the swift, often unpredictable moves they make. Like, is this dude going to last minute switch from the bike lane into my turn lane? Probably. But you NEVER know! And I see how frustrating that can be from both sides. As a biker, I feel jazzed that we have so many "traffic rights," if you will. I already mentioned the cone lanes, and it seems like there is a never ending number of "yield to bike" signs. It's like, as bikes, we always win! As we should- it takes a lot of preparation and leg muscle to make biking all over a functional practice.

Let's all bike together!

Maybe we should all just get rid of cars and switch back ro bikes. Yeah... it must be obvious now that I haven't yet biked in the winter... 

This DOES look awful...

Pigs Are People, Too (PART TWO)

I know you are all just waiting for this- the moment I decided I couldn't live without a guinea pig post house sitting. Fine, you all know me SO well, give yourselves a pat on the back and let's get back to what's important, MY STORY!

Yesterday, I decided to peruse the options of pigs available for adoption at the Humane Society of Boulder Valley. All I wanted was to find a guinea pig exactly like Cookie in every single way. That's not too high of an expectation, is it?? Didn't think so. On the site, one of the first guinea pigs listed, Panchito, was Cookie's identical twin. I called the location where he was listed to be, and sadly learned that he was just adopted. Of course he was. The lady told me in this horribly heartless tone, too. Jerk.

No Panchito?!?!

However, a little lower down the list was a little guy who looked a lot like Cookie too, but with a lot more white fur. I looked to his name and knew it was meant to be. Fili. Like, one of the dwarves from The Hobbit. If that isn't a sign, I don't know what is. The only thing that would make our match more destined to be would be if there were a caption under his picture saying "MARISA COME ADOPT ME NOW." Actually, if that were the case I would probably be a bit creeped out.

So I decided. If Fili was available, it was destiny. I called and waited with bated breath as she checked to see if he was still there. YES, she told me cheerfully, and I instantly asked her to put it on hold. I begged her as if there were a line of people out the door and commingling around Fili to take him home right then and there. 

Heart racing, I drove over to the humane society. The woman at the counter told me to take a seat and wait for someone to find a room where Fili and I could meet. I felt insanely nervous as if I were about to adopt a child or go on a blind date, which are both creepy scenarios to compare to meeting a guinea pig. After about fifteen minutes, an employee led me into a room and put Fili on my lap. He just sat there, just like Cookie. So far, so good. I pet him for about a half hour and he began to make soft squeaks. Perfect. He didn't even poop or pee on me, which instantly scored him some points. Then I put him on the ground. He lazily bumbled about, just like Cookie. Done, done, and done.

Our first meeting.

I signed a bunch of papers that I didn't really read and Fili and I headed home. Unfortunately, there are now three guinea pigs that all hate each other in the house. Turns out, males don't get along. Should have figured that one. Whatever, Fili is awesome, Bob goes home today, Cookie is super chill, and things are good in my little wild kingdom.

Pigs Are People, Too

Okay, that's not even remotely true. Pigs are pigs, and people are people, and this blog isn't even about pigs, it's about guinea pigs. Yes, guinea pigs: America's favorite pet rodent and Peru's favorite main course (actually, judging by their size I would probably only consider them to be appetizers). Guinea pigs have taken up a surprisingly large role in my summer this year, and I wanted to bestow upon all of my readers the privilege of hearing ALL about it. Can't wait? That's what I thought.

So, flashback to the beginning of the summer. I am three months younger, and about to launch into a summer-long house sitting gig. The family that lives here is spending the summer in a home on the East Coast.

When first offered the gig, I hesitated as they have two rather high-maintenance dogs (one elderly and medicated, partially blind and deaf, and hardly mobile and the other a young, spritely and large dog not yet aware of his own strength). However, they informed me that the dogs would be venturing east with them, causing me to do a little jig of victory internally.

Then I remembered... the dogs weren't their only pets. Cookie the Guinea Pig also lived in the house I would be watching. I anxiously asked if Cookie would be going with them, too- I had no desire whatsoever to take care of any creature beneath that roof besides myself. My heart sunk a bit when I found out that Cookie would be my responsibility, too. I fully anticipated a very half-ass effort on my part just to keep the thing alive, but quickly I realized my affinity toward the creature.

Cookie has a personality just as well defined as any other living being I have come across. He is laid-back, cares about eating way more than he should (often to the point of prioritizing it above his own safety), is relatively quiet but still makes those charming little squeaks from time to time, and will happily sit on my lap while watching TV and just relish in being stroked. Cookie and I became fast friends, and so attached that I began to worry about our eventual and inevitable separation. Actually, anyone who knows me was worried about it too- I was attached like a conjoined twin to this furry little critter.

I began to wonder if all guinea pigs are this rad as pets. One weekend, the neighbors asked me to watch their guinea pig, who shall not be named (we will call him Bob just to make this easier to understand. He doesn't deserve more than a generic name like that [no offense to my readers named Bob. It's a pretty good name for a person]) while they went out of town. I agreed. Bob came over and quickly demonstrated that no, not all guinea pigs are rad as pets. Some are just horrible.

First of all, he was a jerk to Cookie and that is just not cool. No one messes with my baby! Yikes, can you imagine what I would be like as a mother? I put them next to each other for a quick photo op and Bob quickly attacked. Screw you Bob. That instantly put him on my most-hated list. That's not a list that anyone wants to be on.

Also, he squeaks to this volume that seems absolutely unbelievable coming from his tiny body. In no way are these cute, quiet squeaks like Cookie's- no, these are more like blood-curdling shrieks. I also decided that Bob was trying to sabotage me. As I recorded a guitar song and was finally happy with my take, he squealed in the last five second and ruined it, as if he were just waiting for the end to do so. Whatever, I posted it anyway so joke is on him. Or maybe he won that round, whatever. Click here for the song, and wait for the squeak at the end.

Okay, I just realized how ridiculously long this post would be if I made it just one, so I'm going to split this bad boy and make it a two-parter.