veggie delight

 Slowly but surely I am teaching myself to cook... mostly with vegetables because they are forgiving and if somehow you do something truly atrocious, balsamic vinegar can fix it. During a recent baking experience, my sister explained to me that the order in which you add things actually does matter... news to me! Thankfully, I've found that most other cooking seems to allow more room for spontaneity, creativity and, well, mistakes. For Christmas, I gave my mom a voucher for a "vegetable feast" because I'm on a mission to cram as many antioxidants, vitamins, and generally healthful things into our bodies as possible. Tonight, as the fulfillment of my Christmas promise and in celebration of my mama's birthday, I made ratatouille -- a dish I honestly didn't know existed until Remy whipped it up in the delightful 2007 Disney/Pixar animated film.

Though originally a French recipe, ratatouille is anything but ostentatious or stuck-up. Although the process is about 1.5 hours long, this vegetarian meal can last for days and is well worth the time and energy. You should start by simmering the tomato base with some garlic and basil, while chopping the assortment of veggies as haphazardly as you desire. In my stewy version I included eggplant, zucchini, onions, and bell peppers. In order to showcase their unique flavors, it is advisable to cook each vegetable separately and then add them to the simmering tomato mixture for the final few minutes. And then we spread the deliciousness over a bed of jasmine rice.

In one of the many entertaining scenes in Ratatouille, Linguini remarks, "Ratatouille doesn't sound delicious. It sounds like 'rat' and 'patootie.' Rat-patootie, which does not sound delicious." However unappetizing its name might be, your tastebuds will not be misled -- try it and believe! I don't know if I would have passed Anton Ego's test, but I think my family enjoyed it... am I right or am I right?

As I lie in bed, the scent of a successful Sunday and scrumptious meal hits me... yes, fresh garlic on my fingertips.

when words fail us

Working at a residential placement for teenage girls with serious emotional and behavioral disorders, I am challenged every day by frustration, anger, fear, and disappointment. Unexpectedly, it is not my own, but theirs: the frustration after she studied and still failed a test; the anger when her mom announced she is moving to another state; the fear that she will never have a real home again; the disappointment from finding out her court date has been pushed back. I have seen girls so desperate to release their escalating emotions that they break windows, slap each other, and even cut themselves. As a student of psychology, I understand that destructive behaviors like these are genuine yet inappropriate attempts to regulate emotions or “big feelings,” as a former supervisor calls them.

Despite this psychological explanation, I am still amazed by the extent to which relational and personal experiences can be felt in an intensely physical way. After returning from a difficult home visit, one of our residents dissolved into a violent breakdown, during which she confirmed my developing theory that emotional experiences are deeply connected to physical reactions. While clutching her stomach tightly, she shouted to anyone who would listen, “I have this anger inside of me, here.” Minutes later, she swung a broom at the office window. Oftentimes we discourage such physical reactions and suggest that others use their words to communicate. However, there are moments when words fail us and we can no longer articulate with language what is happening or how we feel. Acknowledging the limits of verbal communication, we must ask this question: How can we express ourselves without speaking? And from there, let your creativity take over...

keep breathing

Last night as I drove home from my Pilates class, I joined thousands of other Southern Californians in watching a truly gorgeous sunset. I have been lucky enough to see grand forests full of moss-covered trees, rocky crags along the ridges of towering volcanoes, and blindingly white sandy beaches that arc into an eternity of clear blue... but the sight of nectarine and rose-colored streaks across the sky on this random Tuesday in January took my breath away.

There are times when we feel so overwhelmed and lost that nothing can calm us, bring us back to life. We flail in this violent sea, barely treading fast enough to come up for air.

And then when we least expect it, the battle stops. Perhaps momentarily, but that is all it takes. To remember who we are and where -- to keep going.

Picture from Northern Ireland You Never Thought You'd See

Thanks to Robin Kirk for emailing this out:

http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/opinion/columnists/lindy-mcdowell/picture-from-northern-ireland-you-thought-yoursquod-never-see-14900831.html

Our group met and knew William "Plum" Smith and Jackie McDonald. Also, I walked by that mural on the Falls at least every day, going to the gym!

Closer to Home

I cannot believe I've been home for nearly two weeks. The landscape of Belfast's city centre had become more familiar than the Los Angeles skyline, but I sighed contentfully at the sight of the palm tree-lined grid of streets and the jam-packed freeway lanes. I had already indulged in a McDonald's cone at the Newark airport (they must use a different formula in the UK!) and now all that was left to be desired was my bed. Of course I was excited to see my mom and let her kiss me alot, but after that all you really want after a 24-hour travel day is a warm shower and BED. Wish granted at approximately 9pm PT!

And then I woke up at 2pm...Belfast time. It took a few days to adjust, but you'll be relieved to know I am not waking up with the sun anymore.

Over the past several days, I've tried to explain many things to family and friends, including DukeEngage, Northern Ireland, the Troubles, my role at Lisburn PSP. All of these have come to mean so much to me that sometimes I can't find the right words to represent them wholely. However, one of the most challenging questions came from my incredibly perceptive and intelligent grandfather, who asked, "In what way were you, as American students, able to contribute where you were working?" This is certainly a question with which I wrestled throughout the program. Sometimes I was concerned that I was gaining more from the experience than I was giving in return. What I learned is that for many people, it is natural to identify needs that can be filled, but it is more challenging to step back, soak up the environment, listen to people, and learn by following. Following?! Yes, a long-lost art among overachieving, motivated college students, but it seems to me a skill for true service that is equally important to leading.

Leadership + followership = service.

After you recover from being awestruck by my profound equation for service, I will tell you something else I learned. From working with the people at Lisburn PSP and the community centre, I saw firsthand that people sustain energy for a project or cause in which they are truly invested. Today, the "trend" seems to be international service, which I am not trying to discourage by any means. But we also need to remember that our greatest value often lies in what we know. We have the most significant working knowledge about the communities where we've spent the most time and the people with whom we have formed relationships. It's interesting that my international DukeEngage experience taught me the importance of looking closer to home for ways to transform my skills and knowledge into action.

My sincere endeavor now is to keep my eyes and ears open. There's a lot of world outside of Duke University and it not's separate from us. We are part of the world. Just tonight, NBC aired a Dateline special with Ann Curry, entitled "America Now - Friends & Neighbors," which focused on a town in southeastern Ohio and the severe poverty that has been intensified by the recession of the past few years. (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/38382773/ns/dateline_nbc-america_now) There are few adults who are lucky enough to obtain a mininum-wage job because company after company has gone under. Fourteen people living in 4 rooms, children sleeping on the floor, parents going hungry for days to feed their kids, local food banks nearly closing due to funding withdrawal -- all of this within a few miles of people who singlehandedly could afford to support several of these families with money they wouldn't feel missing from their bank accounts. This is America. And the uppercrust which has no personal experience with this kind of poverty is the smallest minority in the world.

So, whoever you are and wherever you are, keep thinking, listening, and (when appropriate) acting.

Week 8: The Final Days

Before you say it, I know it's been longer than a week since my last post! My absence is due to our busy schedule during our last couple of weeks in Belfast lest you think I was running out of things to say / write about. Now the difficulty will be pouring out everything out of this full noggin...

I am finally at the point where I knew the bus schedules and ice cream selection at various corner stores by heart and even count out 76 pence in change (the exact amount of a Twister) without getting flustered by all the coins. And now we're leaving. I would be lying if I said (typed?) that I didn't miss home - because I do. But Belfast has become yet another pseudo-home, complete with favorite places and new friends. My list of pseudo-homes is growing slowly: Boston/Somerville, Durham, and Belfast. And now we're just supposed to pick up and leave?? Yes, I guess that's the deal I signed up for with this DukeEngage program. In fact, I think I had to sign something saying that if I don't leave the country at the end of 8 weeks, they will use force to get me home.

Thus, our goodbyes began. First, Mike and I had to say goodbye to Sharon and Adie-- our wonderful supervisors for the summer and managers of Lisburn Prisoners Support Project. We all worked together in the cozy Credit Union office and the close quarters fostered close working relationships. Thankfully, we got to see Sharon and Adie one last time over the weekend because Adie invited us to join his family for their community's bonfire in celebration of the Twelfth. The "Twelfth" is the Protestant celebration on the 12th of July that originally was designed to celebrate King William of Orange's victory over King James II at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. Three hundred and twenty years later, I highly doubt that people (especially younger generations) are still celebrating this triumph. Now it is a deeply-rooted tradition that starts with the burning of massive bonfires on the Eleventh night and ends with a day-long parade of Orangemen and bands through Belfast (and other cities in Northern Ireland). The "marching season" is fairly tense because TONS of flags are flown, including some paramilitary emblems (although the number has decreased signifcantly in recent years) and because the marches pass through many neighborhoods, including some Catholic ones. The route of a lawful march has to be approved the Parades Commission, who try to accomodate the Orangemen's (Protestant) desired route while respecting the Catholic communities opposition to the parades going through their neighbourhoods. Sounds like civilized compromise, but both sides become embittered through this push-and-shove process. A recurring theme in Northern Ireland's history is one group feeling (rightly or wrongly) as though giving something to the others lessens what they have -- i.e. if you get more rights, ours will be limited. An interesting position to consider...

Yes, it's tradition -- but sometimes that's not a good enough reason to keep doing something. I'm sure you can think of some examples without any prompts from me. All I know is that while I was appreciative of the warmth coming from the huge backyard fire, it was eerie to see the tricolor flag (of Ireland; representative of the nationalist community) burning on top. No matter what way you spin it, that's not friendly or peaceful. This is a very complicated (and dare I say heated) issue, so feel free to respond and/or ask questions.

Another goodbye we had to say was to Farset and the wonderful staff, including the manager Ruth -- who cooked me my first (and only) heart-clogging Ulster Fry. Trying the combo of fried egg, sausage, bacon, soda bread, potato bread, and beans was on my to-do list. Phew! So glad I've got that checked off now.

Finally, we are going to have to say goodbye to each other and our shared summer in Belfast. Hold up! Let's not get ahead of ourselves -- our flight doesn't leave for another 30 hours. There's still time...

Come What May: One Cancelled Bus, 3-hr Layover, and Flash Flood Later

The blisters on my feet, caused by a fair amount of walking around Belfast last Friday in a pair of brilliant blue suede shoes, have healed. Thus marks the passage of another weekend. Sadly, only two remain before we all head to our respective American homes.

But for the next couple weeks, our lives are still very much here, in Belfast. We wake up each morning, some of us sit down for breakfast in the café (while others grab an apple, if they’re lucky), and we catch different buses to our places of work. At work, we complete tasks, but we also converse with our employers and coworkers, laugh together, and eat Twisters or hummus & pita. At the end of the day, we return home -- to Farset. Never has a hotel or hostel felt more like home. Drawn to the lobby by the force-field of (potential) Internet connection, we sit for hours sometimes – watching episodes of Californication, the Bachelorette, Glee, or Entourage. Maybe even deciding on and committing to a full-length feature film. We unwind together and talk with those who pass through Farset’s doors. We aren’t just doing DukeEngage program – we are living life.

Eight weeks never seemed an exceptionally long period of time and now only 16 days remain. However, as our wise coordinator Ama pointed out, we still have 30% of our time left and we ought to make the most of it without overscheduling ourselves -- great advice, especially when we all have so many things that we would still love to do. Obviously, we won’t be able to do it all, but that’s no reason to fret! The depth of our experience is not necessarily measured in how many miles we travel from city centre…

This past weekend, there was a moment when our plans to go up the Antrim coast to Giant’s Causeway were all falling apart. We stood in the Great Victoria Street station being told that the 10am bus trip had been cancelled. Poo. Well, let’s take a train! So, we made it to Coleraine and took the Causeway Rambler bus along the beautiful, cliffy coast to the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge. After walking and then dancing across the less-than-terrifying bridge, we wound our way back to the rest stop. Little did we know that the bus only comes every 3 hours, so we had a good 1.5 left to wait – at first enjoying each other’s company and then becoming slightly irked.

In an attempt to watch the entire US v. Ghana World Cup game (a valiant effort which unfortunately was not rewarded with a favorable outcome), most of the group decided to forgo the Bushmills Distillery and Giant’s Causeway. Though we’ve managed to avoid overly touristy locations, Courtney W. and I really wanted to see the famed hexagonal rock formations at Giant’s Causeway, so we hopped off the bus in good faith that another would return to collect us. Courtney and I came to the came conclusion that Giant’s Causeway can unquestionably be appreciated in less than 30 minutes. We power-walked to a smaller bus, which conveyed us to the site of the rock formations. While we were efficiently staging a photo shoot on the really awesome rocks, buckets of rain were released from the sky flash-flood-style, which made the rocks slippery and the visit quite memorable. As Courtney eloquently stated, it’s not every day that you get to see rocks! Fifteen minutes later we were on our way back to the train station.
You just can’t do everything, no matter where you are - in Northern Ireland, North Carolina, Michigan, Massachussetts, or California. If all you think about while you’re doing one thing is that you have a hundred more to do, are you really gaining much from the experience? During these next couple of weeks, I hope to have the energy to do as much as possible, but also to have the wisdom to discern what is most valuable.