Canadian Pride

I managed to catch part of the opening ceremony of the Olympics while at the gym today. I have to tell you, I was really gushing with pride. Even teared up a few times. What I saw, I thought was tasteful, varied, talented, and accomodating to many of the different nationalities that make up our great country. I loved seeing so many maple leafs! And KD Lang. What a voice! And in light of the horrific death of the luger from Georgia, everyone in that stadium did Canada and the Olympics proud with their respect.

It disturbs me to see people looking to find fault. I'm hearing comments that there was too much French. That English should have been spoken first, before French. Why do we have to complain? Can we not just, for once, celebrate our amazing country, and take pride that for the next couple of weeks, we get to shine in the world's spotlight?

We have so much to be thankful for in Canada. For some, maybe they should leave the country for awhile to see just how good we do have it. Then, maybe some of the frivolous whining will stop about which language should come first.

My own special Christmas

Well, I had an unexpected surprise today. I got a Christmas present! My mom had put a parcel into the post for me last November! We thought it had been confiscated, or just plain lost. But lo and behold, today, in walked the delivery man with the box tucked under his arm.
I was SO excited! You cannot imagine how it feels to be so far away from home, and then to receive this package all wrapped up in love and warm thoughts.
She clearly put a lot of thought into it. There was a penguin tree ornament (I love penguins), a key chain of a teddy bear with my name on it, a fridge magnet, cow candies from Poland (yummmm), a card, some chocolate, a tape dispenser shaped like a highheeled red shoe (don't ask), and, courtesy of my sister, Little Moo, a bag of Bran Flakes!!
Yippee!! These little bits of home go such a long way to making my time away less lonely.
I feel so loved today. And that is the best Christmas present in the world!

Holiday thoughts

What a whirlwind this holiday season has been. Hopped over to a nearby resort island for Christmas and enjoyed a fantastic turkey dinner (my first in more than 2 years!), courtesy of Freddie. Then to the city of Jogyakarta for a few days over New Year's. More on that to come. Then into the jungles of Borneo (Kalimantan) to hang out with the orangutans and the people of the local Dayak tribe (apparently they are head hunters!).

My senses were overwhelmed, visiting so many worlds so close, yet so far apart from eachother. The bright lights, noise, crowded markets and pollution of the big city, compared to the sounds of the jungle lulling us to sleep at night, fresh air, and inability to communicate with the outside world.

I will write more in the coming days. Just wanted to let you know I am still kicking!

Witness to a Slaughter

To watch or not to watch. That's the dilemma I faced on Idul Adha, a big holiday in the Muslim calendar. The wealthy are encouraged to slaughter animals and distribute the meat to the poor. I visited one neighbourhood where preparations were underway for the killing of 2 bulls, one cow, a water buffalo and 5 goats. The men were sharpening their knives. The young boys crept closer for a front row seat. I forced myself to watch. It took the strength of 12 men to bring one bull to the ground. But they treated the animals humanely and with respect, inflicting as little pain as necessary. The Imam recited a prayer before slicing the throat of each animal. The hardest parts for me were the sounds. The cow gasping for breath. One goat in particular screaming so loud he sounded like a little kid who knew what was about to happen. But I grew a little through this experience. We in the West are so insulated from the realities of food preparation. Not everything in this world comes prewrapped in tidy little celophane packaging. And these animals, although they suffered briefly, did not live worthless lives. The meat they provided is enough to feed 400 families. And that makes my witness to a slaughter, as difficult as it was, worthwhile.

Back from a disaster zone

So many memories and experiences to write about. I'm just back from spending 18 days in an earthquake disaster zone. My first big disaster. Thousands of people without homes. Thousands dead, some crushed when the buildings they were in collapsed, like pancakes on top of them. Others buried alive in landslides. I met some incredible people. Survivors like 82 year old Rosna who is all alone. Her house is destroyed. Her kids are trying to get her to Jakarta but they are poor and she doesn't want to become a burden. She cries as she tells me this. Survivors like Yuhendri who lost his wife when she ran back into the house to save their 6 month old son.

And the aid workers. Like David from Britain who for years has dashed away from his home life to help others in need. Like Kurniawan and other Indonesians from across the country who come to volunteer their time. They leave jobs, families and friends behind to help strangers they also consider family.

But it's the kids who hit me the most. Some still aren't sleeping through the night. Others aren't eating. But they are starting to laugh again. I shared many a giggle with the little ones, trying to make myself understood. It isn't much, but if I can get the kids forgetting about the hell they've been through, even for just a little while, well, in my books, I've had a pretty good day.

Home is where the heart is

I am confused. You see, I am going home. Or at least I think I am going home. However, I also just left home, or at least what I also consider to be home.

Being an international aid worker, I’m not really sure where my home is anymore. Yes, I have a “home” in London, Ontario, and there’s no doubt about it, I love it. But I also have a “home” in Banda Aceh, Indonesia. I have spent more time there over the past year than I have at my Canadian home.

It sounds so cliché to say the world is now my home, but I guess in a way it’s true, especially in this day and age, when modern travel means I can pretty much get where I want to go within a couple of days.

While home on my R&R, I found myself referring to Indonesia as home. When in Indonesia, I refer to Canada as home. While I really enjoy living overseas, Canada has something that no other place in this world has: my family and really good friends.

It’s because of my mom, dad, brother, sister and gaggle of nieces and nephews that I had a stellar vacation. My brother Paul says he misses me more than he thought he would. It’s the kind of comment you’d expect from a younger brother. But I know what he means by it, and am extremely touched. Frankly, I think it’s one of those comments that I think I will remember for a long, long time.

My friends were also huge supporters of me being home; very enthusiastic to have me back. I don’t think I’ve ever been so popular. And it’s a reminder to me that when I do feel homesick, or lonely, that I am never really alone. I have all these wonderful people back home, ready to wrap me in their arms and give me the many hugs I have missed while away.

I write this as I sit in the Singapore airport, waiting for my connecting flight that will take me back home to Indonesia. It feels strange in a way but it also feels comfortable, kind of like pulling on an old sock. I know this is the place I am meant to be at this time in my life. I am looking forward to seeing the friends I have made here. And maybe that’s how you define where home really is… wherever it is you feel loved and cared about.

Home is where the heart is...

I am confused. You see, I am going home. Or at least I think I am going home. However, I also just left home, or at least what I also consider to be home.

Being an international aid worker, I’m not really sure where my home is anymore. Yes, I have a “home” in London, Ontario, and there’s no doubt about it, I love it. But I also have a “home” in Banda Aceh, Indonesia. I have spent more time there over the past year than I have at my Canadian home.

It sounds so cliché to say the world is now my home, but I guess in a way it’s true, especially in this day and age, when modern travel means I can pretty much get where I want to go within a couple of days.

While home on my R&R, I found myself referring to Indonesia as home. When in Indonesia, I refer to Canada as home. While I really enjoy living overseas, Canada has something that no other place in this world has: my family and really good friends.

It’s because of my mom, dad, brother, sister and gaggle of nieces and nephews that I had a stellar vacation. My brother Paul says he misses me more than he thought he would. It’s the kind of comment you’d expect from a younger brother. But I know what he means by it, and am extremely touched. Frankly, I think it’s one of those comments that I think I will remember for a long, long time.

My friends were also huge supporters of me being home; very enthusiastic to have me back. I don’t think I’ve ever been so popular. And it’s a reminder to me that when I do feel homesick, or lonely, that I am never really alone. I have all these wonderful people back home, ready to wrap me in their arms and give me the many hugs I have missed while away.

I write this as I sit in the Singapore airport, waiting for my connecting flight that will take me back home to Indonesia. It feels strange in a way but it also feels comfortable, kind of like pulling on an old sock. I know this is the place I am meant to be at this time in my life. I am looking forward to seeing the friends I have made here. And maybe that’s how you define where home really is… wherever it is you feel loved and cared about.