wowza etc.

Wowza. I just rented and watched the rather terrifying film, Jesus Camp. It's a documentary about some evangelical Christians, in this case Pentecostals, who run a camp for children every summer in Devil's Lake, North Dakota. It started out not too bad, just rah rah America and Jesus loves America but it degenerated into basically child abuse. I'm not going to go into the details too much but it's a fascinating and disturbing look at the religious right in the United States. The rather horrifying thing is that it is the children who are effectively being brainwashed. Now before my evangelical fans start getting all upset and encouraging others from reading this and such, I want to point out that what Jesus Camp represents is not Christianity really. It is a distortion of it so profound that it turns it around into something completely else. I recognize some of it, mainly because when I was 21 years old I ended up in a Pentecostal church for a couple of years. Long story that one. Lots of the people were super nice and super caring and their love and commitment to me was amazing and touching. I was vulnerable, lonely and confused. Bingo. B I N G O. Some of what I saw in the film - the high emotionality, the constant mention of fighting the "flesh" and the devil and how Satan was everywhere ready to destroy us - are things I remember. I distinctly remember thinking, "the flesh," gross yuck, gross. Sin is mentioned a lot in this film too and that also rang many bells. I don't deny that sin exists - wowza just look at the oppression in the world - but the way it is used in this film and in some of my memories is so indescribably destructive. Warriors for god is a huge theme, as is a denial of global warming and an obsession with proving creationism. The tragic thing is that those being told these things - had these things shouted at them - are young children. A young boy was sobbing at the front of the church - god was disappointed and angry at him for his sins. The emotionality was turned up high in every meeting until the kids were literally screaming. I recognized the looks of ecstasy, of pain, of anguish on these young, young children. In individual interviews a couple of the kids expounded on what they were thinking. Levi, 11, became a Christian at 5 because he realized the world held nothing for him. It's a bad, bad world he kept saying.
Interesting statistic from the film - 75 per cent of children home schooled in the U.S. are evangelical. One such mother, mother of Levi I think, noted that there are two types of people in the world - those who believe in Jesus and those who don't.
The children' pastor, Becky Fischer, had many many things to say. She sincerely believed, sincerely and deeply, that giving her life to do this was the correct thing.
I hesitate to write about this somewhat because I do have a few evangelical Christians in my wee fan base. Seriously though, I believe if you saw this film you may agree with me at least somewhat. It is not Christianity I am disparaging, it is the profound distortion of it. The film also showed a Christian radio host whose beliefs swung far, far from the others in the film. I liked that bit of balance.
And almost eerily, the directors interviewed Ted Haggard, who at the time was head of Evangelical Churches of America. He had a lot to say about the need for holiness and purity. Sadly, last year he was found to have been soliciting the services of a male prostitute. Oops. People make mistakes of course but oops.
I just read that Ms. Fischer has shut down the camp for now and will for several years to come because of the tremendous negative attention this film has brought her. When she agreed to be filmed, she never saw this coming.
Near the end of the film, she made it clear that she loves America, loves her life. But, she added, God can end it any day now, the world is just that horrible.
It is the scenes of mass hysteria that are the most disturbing for me. I recognize them somewhat from my past. I do believe that God can and does bring profound and deep emotional experiences to people. But it is the pumping up of people - in this case children - to hysteria - that is disturbing.
The film noted that 43 per cent of people become evangelicals when they are children. Ms. Fischer stated that if Islam can train suicide bombers (her words) then she can darn well train an army for God. When the radio host accused her of brainwashing the children as she suggests Islam does, she said that was fine with her. It's the truth, we have the truth, she said.
Jesus Camp.
And finally, because I sometimes think I think I know what other people are thinking, I want to make it clear that I don't use these types of films as a way to disparage Christianity or to disbelieve in it. Not at all. If you've read it that way, then you haven't really read it at all.

yee hee

yee hee - my good pal Donna responded in my comments! Yee haw! I haven't heard from her in ages. DONNA!!!!!! How I miss you.

Toaster Mel, she of the calming voice, was kind enough to e-mail me a few more photos. This one I actually don't remember being taken, but I think it was at the Lantern Festival last summer. Tracy and me. Me and Tracy. Her and me. Us.

I do love Trout Lake Park. When I feel a bit more financially secure, I'm finally going to buy a digital camera. Nothing fancy, just one and I'm going to take lots of pics, including of Trout Lake. I used to live half a minute from Trout Lake in a great area of town. Now I live a 10-minute car ride away, still nice and close. I like to jog around there and from May-October there is the great Farmers Market there, starting on the Victoria weekend. Good stuff. I get lots of good fruits and veggies there and some organic beef.

I'm starting to see a few results from my new vitamin regime - only two weeks in and I notice that my fingernails look shinier, healthier and stronger. That's from the Cal-Mag of course. Very cool. The other stuff - flaxseed oil, vitamin B, multi-vitamin - will take a bit longer but I trust will kick in soon.

I had a nice visit today with my friends who live in the community houses on the Downtown Eastside. If you happen to be driving past Jackson and Cordova, you'll see a green house with tarp and major work being done. That's their row of houses, being turned into social housing. I hadn't seen them in awhile and it was nice to catch up. I notice that when I talk to people I haven't seen in awhile, I realize how, well, depressed I sound. More negative than even usual. Hmmm. . . . It's like I watch that from above and worry even more. Meta sort of. I need to chill about it and let myself feel what I feel type of thing. It's really all of the time I spend alone is just not so good for me. I really perk up when I'm around people and we're hanging or playing games or that type of a thing. I also notice I am much less able to handle watching stressful TV or even reading about distressing things than I used to be. And I notice myself noticing all of that. Wow.

I should put out a notice.

ha.

I did say one thing that made my friends laugh (well, quite a few actually, I was on a roll. I was actually able to joke about some rather yucky things that have happened of late and had em rolling in the aisles). "I'm too anxious to be an atheist," said I, and they laughed. But I'm actually quite serious about that. I simply feel too anxious to be an atheist. The idea of god steadies me in some way. So while I know a few who've gone the atheist route, I'm not prepared to go that far nor do I think I ever will be. I knew anxiety had to have some kind of benefit. I watched a documentary last night, a re-run from January apparently, about the sex trade in Vancouver. They interviewed a madame, an independent sex worker and a native woman who after years on the stroll in Vancouver and elsewhere, went straight and now hands out sandwiches to the sex workers. She had some really good insight. She mentioned that she had detoxed on the floor of the Union Gospel Mission. That made me want to cry and cry and cry I was so touched by it. Another reason I can't be an atheist - stuff like that. "Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto me," was a song we used to sing in the Catholic Church. Sniffle.

Anyway, it's lovely and sunny out tonight and my windows and curtains are wide open. Let the sun shine in.

Carry on.

a tiche of a bored coma

sorry, wee fan base, for my lack of posting. Well, what with the shock that Beverly Hills 90210 is back to the very beginning on TVtropolis weeknights from 5-6 p.m. on channel 48 in the Lower Mainland (Shaw Cable) - I mean they were only up to about season 4 and Andrea had just popped her premature kid and I really don't like the first season of 90210 and a few other things, I've been in a tiche of a bored coma.
Also, wee fan base, only three of the fan base responded to my "what calms you" query and i'm a wee bit verklempt by that. Marty, Julie et al, let's hear from you please. Or anyone else in the wee fan base who isn't staging a protest against moderated comments. Then I can compile the ultimate calming list. Ooh-ah.
One of the Korean students at the school I teach at is concerned that because of the Virginia massacre by a Korean man, that the U.S. government will not move forward with doing away with the visa Koreans need to enter the U.S. Sadly, I think it's a legitimate concern. How many people in the U.S. (and to a lesser extent, Canada) are afraid of/have contempt for Muslim people? Raise your hands.
And so off I go into my bored coma. And the perimenopause, permanent PMS thing is rather annoying to be honest. too much information again.
oh wait - i've discovered a new author i like! I found the book at the Renfrew Library, conveniently located at 22nd and Renfrew. Sujata Massey. I believe she is half-Japanese. At any rate, she taught ESL in Japan for many years, it says in her bio. Her book is about a young Japanese-American woman who works for something similar to the C.I.A. and is being sent to go undercover as a clerk at a fashionable Tokyo store. It's written humourously and the woman is as excited for the fashion opportunities as the chance to do undercover work. It delves into the Japanese culture, something I find fascinating.
Speaking of Japanese people, my lovely student Akane did a great presentation last week on Marilyn Monroe. The topic was mystery and that was the one I assigned her. Her posters were great - very easy to understand and lots of drawings. Very sweet - her drawings of Bobby Kennedy and Peter Lawford especially and the secret service cracked us all up. Another student took a photo of the posters and is going to e-mail it to me and I'm going to put them up here.
"We want to see your blog," said a couple of students.
"My god, no !" I said, making them more curious. I think the computer savvy may be able to track me down. Eeek.
A great morning class in the 4-week session that just ended. We had great fun together and at our Milestones lunch, I had them laughing and having fun. Put that in your comment card and smoke it.

things that

I find relaxing or that calm me down. I've needed that calm me down thing a lot lately. Have I mentioned wee fan base that I seem to be in peri-menopause???????? My time o the month used to be very regular but now weeks and weeks go by without it and yet i have these PMS symptoms a lot. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. Apparently peri-menopause can bring on anxiety. Oy vay. After a few months o denial (now, now I come by that honestly) I have an appointment for a full checkup on May 1. Aaargh. Really, can hot flashes be that far behind????? I'll stop here before I get myself all in a lather.

Here's a short list, I'm sure there are more. And wee fan base, feel free to add your own things to the list (Julie James, that includes you! You pop up once in a while in my comments, excellent but Toaster Melanie and I want to hear more from you! Forget not your Vancouver roots. Also, are you getting married soon? I'll have to buy a dress)

1. swimming (not at the time but a while afterwards. Today I swam for almost an hour and boy do my shoulders/arms feel it. I try to pound into the water some of my stress. That sounds more violent than it is) And in a month and 6 days, the outdoor pools open! Including New Brighton Pool a mere 5 minute drive or 1/2 hour walk from my place. I'm all over that.

2. running/jogging - still the best way i have ever ever found to reduce my anxiety. like ever. have i said ever. I haven't done it at all in the last few months - weather, mainly, motivation and my knees which creak more than ever. Nonetheless, I am going to buy new running shoes (very very important) and a new sports bra (definitely important) and get back out there as the weather improves. I used to run four times a week and it was a radical thing like.

3. Watching the repeats of Beverly Hills 90210 from 5-6 p.m. on TVtropolis (channel 48 in the Lower Mainland). Odd, I know. It only started a few weeks ago these reruns and they are going in order so Brenda and Dylan are thisclose to getting back together after he and Kelly have finally broken up. I've discovered that the calming effect of it is quite profound. I like to putter when I'm watching it - cooking, cleaning or interneting or sometimes just watch it. I think it actually calms my brainwaves. Perhaps they should have it airing constantly in prisons and psych wards. or maybe it's just me. I will do an at home brainwave test and let you know.

4. Reading a good book. This has been less so lately, which is a tiche odd.

5. Certain voices calm me down - the inflection or something. I try to save these voices on my voice mail (of people I know, strangers are harder to get on there) and play them. Toaster Melanie, your voice is very soothing and I don't know why. Perhaps Toaster Melanie should record her voice so that it can be played in prisons/psych wards/labour and delivery. Toaster Mel, remember Mike McCullough from Toasters? His voice was also very soothing. Hopefully, it also soothes his wife, who as we now know, could get quite tense.

6. Typing really really fast. Not numbers, just words.

7. Chilling at Glenda's house. Reading the paper, surfing the net, etc.

8. Playing cards. oh i do love to play cards. That was the highlight of my recent holiday - learning and playing new card games with Jakob and the gang. One night we played this totally silly game involving flaring nostrils and shouting stop! and kent! I nearly peed my pants.

9. Doing the Vancouver Sun crossword puzzle. - not the NY times one, the other one.

10. Dancing to a wee bit of Abba or the Beegees or Laura Brannigan or others of that type of thingy bobby genre.

11. chewing ice (sorry, Dr. Salma Ramji, the best dentist ever who works out of North Van with her brother whose name I have temporarily forgotten.)

12. Thinking about Beverly Hills 90210

13. Reading People magazine that I can borrow free from work (the perk). oh my god the great Valerie Bertinelli was on this week's cover. Seems she's ballooned up to a huge and shocking size 14 and will now be the Jenny Craig spokesperson. I knew she was divorced from Eddie Van Halen but had no idea that she's been living with this other guy for three years and he has four kids and wowza. It's really a desperate ploy to get back in the media spotlight i realize but as a young en i worshipped her. I used to make these signs ' "Travolta power!" and put them on my wall - "Bertinelli power!" was a common one. I wanted to be her or to know her or to be her sister or maybe even her girlfriend in a non-sexual way. Well, probably more her character Barbara Cooper but still. Never was crazy about Bonnie Franklin - she annoyed me. Ditto Mackenzie Phillips. I'm sorry, but was/is Mackenzie Phillips just not so ugly? I mean really and the years of drug abuse sure didn't do her any favours. My favourite episode of One Day at a Time was when Barbara found out that Cliff had a baby from a previous relationship. Oooh - that was good. Sadly, they pretty much broke up after that.

14. Thinking about 70s TV shows, particularly One Day at a Time and sometimes Love Boat.

15. Thunderstorms in the evening when I'm inside and cozy.

16. being cozy.

17. saying the word evening.

18. watching a good movie in the theatre with a medium popcorn with butter and some water that i've snuck in (not the popcorn - it must be the theatre popcorn).

19. a recent one - observing my friend Gabrielle's daughter Mira. She's 2 and a half she tells me and is so talkative and curly red-haired and adorable. Yesterday, Gabe told her that I was a school teacher. Not really a school teacher, I kept repeating to Gabe, more like a fake ESL adult thing and really who knows how long I'll be there and really, it's all very - . Through this wee Mira kept looking at me and being tremendously wide-eyed and repeating, "you're a school teacher?" And then I ask for a hug and kiss good bye and she even let me hold her for a few minutes before I said, "I see you would like to get down," and she said, "uh huh," all matter-of-factly.

20. Thinking about those encounters with wee Mira.

21. Browsing at a bookstore knowing I can buy some books or at the great Magpie Magazines on Commercial Drive - thanks for the gift certificates, Kristina (Maria) and Glenda!

22. Sometimes watching King of the Hill. "I'm Peggy Hill!" Particularly the hilarious episode where Hank is constipated and has to get a colonoscopy.

23. Sometimes sitting at Cafe du Soleil on the Drive eating and reading the paper. Not always, especially if i'm feeling really anxious, but sometimes. Today i went and had a lovely veggie burger and salad and that was about 7.2 out of 10 on the relaxation scale.

Wee fan base, I wait for your additions. don't be shy. On you go.

5. Watching a funny tv program or movie.

6.

some more from that report on the DR

The report is about 30 pages long. Obviously, I am not going to put it all on my blog (you can read it and reports on other sex tourism countries such as Thailand, Cuba and Costa Rica on that website I noted in my previous entry) but this section hit me in the gut and is so true in terms of things I have seen on websites and at travel agencies.

The Dominican Republic, like other economically underdeveloped holiday destinations, is marketed as a culturally different place and all tourists are encouraged to view this 'difference' as a part of what they have a right to consume on their holiday. The British tour company, Thompsons, for instance, shows their package tourists a 'destination video' on the flight to the Dominican Republic.

The video shows sun baked white sand beaches, lined with sawying palm trees; it shows colourful markets crowded with local people selling knickknacks; it shows Dominican men, women and children dancing to merengue music in open bars and tells the tourists 'in a few minutes all this will be yourst to enjoy.' It tells them that 'these people' love to dance.

Showing them film footage of both adults and children, it tells them that 'Despite poor living conditions, the people work hard for a living and are always ready with a smile.'

In amongst the pictures of happy 'natives' smiling despite the fact they have to live in a 'developing nation' which is 'still perfecting technology that we take for granted,' come pictures of tourists going horse riding.

'If you go horse riding,' the commentator says, 'please don't worry about the horses' and explains that Dominican horses are a special breed which are naturally thin and boney and are not malnourished or maltreated, even thought to westerners they may appear so.

Although no doubt unintended, the subliminal message of all this is clear: 'these people' are not like 'us', and it would therefore be inappropriate for tourists to respond to the visible condition of either horses or people as they would back in their own fully 'developed' country. Certainly tourists (couples and families as well as sex tourists) appear to accept this message.

Deeply exploitative forms of child labour which would evoke a reaction of dismay and concern if seen at home are simply viewed as photo opportunities in this tropical 'paradise.' The sight of a four year old child dragging two large bags filled with bottles along a mile long stretch of beach in temperatures of 90 degrees in order to earn a few pennies is heralded as a delightful indication of the 'entrepreneurial' spirit of the Dominican 'kids.'

A seven year old child attempting to make a living by washing the sand off tourists' feet as they lie comfortably spread over sun loungers on the beach is viewed either as 'cute' or an irritant to be summarily dismissed.

'They' are different and it is, after all, lovely and sunny and there is a beach to play on, and besides, this is a third world country, so 'they' cannot expect the things that we take for granted.

This kind of thinking appears to extend to the question of sexual exploitation, for neither 'ordinary' tourists nor sex tourists who claim to be horrified by the very idea of adult-child sexual contact appear to believe that Dominican children have the same right to protection from abusive adults that is deserved by Western children.

Sex tourists and expatriates, as well as some 'ordinary' tourists, told tales about men who bring young shoeshine boys back to their apartments in order to sexually exploit them, or 'adopt' street children and quite openly conduct sexual 'relationships' with them for periods of months or even years.

The cognitive distortions devised by domestic sex offenders are at odds with popular beliefs about children and are thus abhorrent. But the cognitive distortions which sex tourists employ to justify their sexual exploitation of Dominican child prostitutes are not the aberrant products of abnormal or atypical minds. They merely extend the logic of the king of 'Otherising' routinely expressed by tourists and tour operators.

The report goes on to interview several sex tourists, one of whom found it admirable that young boys were at midnight, shining shoes of the tourists because back at home, in Canada in this case, these kidss would be sitting around watching TV while their parents were on welfare. It was very admirable in his estimation.

The report earlier noted that in the DR, expats and foreign owners of All-inclusives, for example, are allowed to repatriate their profits. All of that money spent by the one and a half million tourists to the country every year simply is by and large not staying in the country. From the little I saw of A.I.s, I noted a profoundly 'cleaned up' image of the DR - with DR employees seemingly specifically trained to be tremendously polite, kind, humourous and to meet a certain respectability in the eyes of the guests. This is not to say, obviously, that Dominicans aren't kind, polite and humourous. I did see some salsa lessons being taught poolside and some interesting aquasize in the pool. The guests I noticed were mainly middle-aged and seemingly well-fed.

This is not to say that I am the "better" tourist in the DR. Hardly. Heck, the relaxation of an A.I. was tremendously appealing to me as well at times. And I was often times definitely a "first world" snob in terms of my expectations of how service should be (I'm paying you money to stay here, stop being so indifferent! often went through my head). The chaos and often times lack of basic infrastructure was overwhelming for me at times which, as is my way of dealing with stress, caused me to feel generally just pissed off. At to that the oppressive heat and my general simply not eating too much or too often, and I was a nasty camper. I was frustrated by the literally hundreds of little shops that sold the same tourist crap at crazy prices and couldn't understand how they stayed in business. And I was more frustrated by their sales tactics, which generally involved either tremendous indifference, rudeness or a constant badgering to come and see and buy. I knew it was desperation and lack of education that brought this about but I just didn't care. I wanted to get the hell out. In Cabarete, where I spent 8 days all together - four days at the beginning of my trip and four days at the end - I was alone. It was nearly impossible to meet people because the people were either in A.I.'s, were hardcore kitesurfers or were in couples and not interested in hanging with me (can't blame em really - third wheel deal). There is quite a large party scene at night in Cabarete - but that consists of the 20-somethings bar hopping. Try as I might, that's not my scene. Being alone, especially in the last four days - was really difficult. Yes, there was great sun and a wee pool and the beach, yes indeedy. It is hard to explain this without people going 'give me a break.' and I'm not sure I really can in any way that makes sense. I know some of it definitely has to do with my personality - I'm not the calmest of people and I take things at times too personally and too hard. All I know is that to try and cope with the situation I 'upgraded' and got a room with a TV and watched it for about 4 days. I berated myself for feeling so anxious which didn't help of course. Given all of this stress, it's not surprising I vomited on a plane (not to be confused with Snakes on a Plane)
I am still so strongly affected by this situation - in talking about it again tonight on the phone with someone I hadn't talked to in awhile - it was still really fresh in my mind and emotions. I've noticed that in the last year or so I don't handle stress 'as well' as I used to so that might well be part of it. But I can't attribute the entirety of my response to my anxiety.
Something will come of this, I've decided and until then I process.
Phew, that was a really long entry. I think it counts as two or three.

and here be an article of interest

From ECPAT International: (www.ecpat.net)

At the opposite end of the continuum are younger girls who are forced into prostitution by one or more of the factors mentioned in the opening section of this report. Teenage pregnancies are commonplace and abortion is illegal in the Dominican Republic. In Sosua, backstreet abortions involving knitting needles, no anaesthetic and no aftercare are available for women and children whose desperation is such that they are willing to take the risks involved.

The UNICEF survey found that up to 48% of the female child prostitutes interviewed in beach areas had terminated a pregnancy but it is not uncommon to meet girls of 15 who are working as prostitutes in order to support a child.

The UNICEF survey also found that, in Sosua, almost half of the female prostitutes aged between 16 and 18 had one or more children. Other girl children begin prostituting themselves because it is the only means by which they can support themselves and/or contribute to their family's inadequate income. Some then become pregnant by their clients.

One child we interviewed, Rosa, for example, has a nine month old child fathered by a sex tourist who contributes nothing towards the baby's maintenance. Rosa is 15. She has left her baby with her own mother, and sends money back when she can.

Rosa tries to negotiate 500 pesos (about $18 Canadian) for short time with a client and 1,000 pesos (about $32 Canadian) for a whole night but is often forced to drop her prices. She told us that the police 'fine' prostitutes for failing to carry their ID cards with them and for failing to carry with them a certificate demonstrating that they have been AIDs tested and proved HIV negative within the past six months.

Rosa did not have either of these documents and she has frequently been stopped by the police. Every time they stop her they extort money from her but she has never been formally charged with any offence.

She has never been AIDs tested. She said that she buys condoms and prefers to use them, but that some sex tourists beg her for unprotected penetrative sex, offering to pay double the price she has quoted.

Other independent child prostitutes told us the same and evidence from the UNICEF survey further suggests that condom use by child prostitutes is erratic. Not only had up to 48% of their sample in some areas fallen pregnant but 20% of girls interviewed in beach areas had contracted at least one form of venereal disease.

Like many of the younger prostitutes, Rosa drinks fairly heavily throughout the evening and by 1 a.m. is usually drunk. 'I like to drink', she says, 'it helps me to forget everything'. Indeed, extensive alcohol use by young prostitutes was one of the most marked differences between the Dominican Republic and Cuba, where very few women or girls drink heavily. It is another reason to fear for such women and children, who are obviously less in control of transactions with clients when working in this condition.

Moreover, like other young prostitutes we spoke to, Rosa does not have lodgings of her own or a special arrangement with a cheap boarding house but accompanies the tourists and expatriates who pick her up anywhere they choose to take her.

Some of her clients are easy ‑ for example, an Austrian expatriate in his late 50s who buys her meals and then takes her back to his apartment where he ejaculates almost as soon as she takes off her clothes, then gives her 500 pesos. Others are more demanding and she has experienced violence at the hands of some clients. She does not use the kind of distancing strategies employed by more experienced prostitutes but allows clients to kiss her and to perform acts that she has not agreed to or negotiated in advance. She is thus at risk in many senses.

The fact that many of the independent female prostitutes soliciting in bars like bar A are clearly under‑age is of little concern to the bar owners. One bar manager observed to us that as long as the owner pays the police protection money, they will 'get no trouble' from the authorities.

sun, beaches, sand, surf

Beautiful. The Dominican Republic is beautiful. The beaches are some of the most beautiful in the Caribbean. Yes indeedy.
Why, why why, some people seem frustrated really that I had such a difficult time on my trip there. But, but, it was beautiful and hot and you got a great tan.
I'm trying to figure it all out too because really, my pictures as you have seen make it all seem really amazing.
And it is.
Ceri, the Welsh girl I hung out with for a week, has travelled extensively around the world and the waterfall we saw is the most beautiful she's seen she told me.
I live in Vancouver which has the poorest postal code in Canada - the notorious Downtown Eastside. I have friends who are committed to living down there amongst the poor and I take the bus through there every single day of the work week. Through my friends I have met some of the prostitutes who work to support their heroin or crystal meth habits. They are hardcore. Not sure what I'm trying to say here - I know for prostitutes?
Thailand, I believe, is the number one country for sex tourism. Sex tourism - men (almost always men, this isn't sexism it's just a fact) go onto the internet and book themselves a little trip to Thailand.
I met a Christian missionary type person in the DR who told me that as far as she knows, the DR is number three for sex tourism in the world.
What I saw time and time again was men - in the DR case it was strictly German men but these men come from all over the world - middle-aged men with huge stomachs and receding hair and etc. etc. - frolicking in the pool with their DR "girlfriends". Two on one I saw - two old men, one DR girl - she looked to me to be about 14 - hanging out in the pool together. This pattern was repeated over and over and over in my 14 days there. Where Ceri, Jakob and I stayed in Las Terrenas - a rustic set up with about 9 small cabins for tourists/ex-pats - we saw two German men with their (looked to be in both cases) 15-year-old DR "girlfriends." The female Dutch owner didn't bat an eye, in fact she spent more time talking to these men than to us. The men were there long term and so were the children with them. In the case of one of the men, his girl had a baby. We would watch him come out to the shared outdoor kitchen. He'd lock his door before he came out. It was the kind of lock where you are locked in unless you have a key. He locked it carefully. Then he came out, made some spaghetti, put his plate down to eat with us. He took another plate back to his cabin, unlocked the door, dropped off the food, locked the door again and came back out.
We figured he thought we didn't know, that we couldn't figure this out. The next morning we spotted his DR girl with their baby (it looked disturbingly like him) skulking around. He was laughing and trying to put the baby on the donkey (see earlier pictures) and she was screaming at him in Spanish to stop doing that.
The poverty in the DR is such that the girls feel they need to do this Iand their families most often encourage it.
"You'll see these men at the store, " said the Christian missionary, "they'll be buying condoms and potato chips and the girls are buying shampoo, soap, things they need."
It almost goes without saying that the rate of HIV and AIDS in the DR is astronomical.
Sosua, near Cabarete on the North Coast near Puerto Plata, was basically tourists, expats and prostitutes for years and years. Seems ex-pats who owned the houses around there were not too happy and complained to the government. The government, not wanting to lose the wealthy expats, shut down every bar in Sosua in 1996 for one year. It dried up the town which is still re-building. But the prostitutes are back and that is what Sosua is known for. Some of the action has moved east to Cabarete. Puerto Plata, Boca Chica, Santo Domingo, Sosua and Cabarete are the hubs but it is throughout the country.
If I'd gone to an all-inclusive (some people have said to me things like - "my sister goes there every year and loves it!" and I know they are talking A.I.) I wouldn't have seen this - it's kept well hidden apparently from the A.I. crowd. Fascinating really - I saw the (air-conditioned, first-class) buses at the airport that transfer A.I.ers from the airport to their hotel and back again two weeks later. The only DR they see is what can be seen from their windows. And that is enough apparently to scare some people a whole lot. My friend whose co-worker went said it looked nasty and she wouldn't go out into it (into DR). They are also offered closely guided/guarded tours of certain sites.
I get that I've lived a friggin privileged first world life and the fact that a month later I am still reeling from some of this proves that. I'm simply trying to get my head around some of this and for me, writing helps.
"You know now," the Christian missionary told me, "so you have a responsibility to tell or to do something about it."
So I'm starting with processing it in my blog and then researching and finding out what I can do - writing about it, donating to the many organizations that work to help child prostitutes around the globe.
Maybe. Maybe if I were a less anxious person or less obsessive or less - what less something - I wouldn't be all twisted up about this.
I'm going to be processing this more in the coming weeks, read if you like, wee fan base, or not.
But thanks for reading this.

friends with digital cameras

are good to have. Soon, oh soon I will buy one too. In the meantime, these are courtesy of Toaster Melanie. These are from my recent birthday - my 29th! - at a Mexican restaurant in Kitsilano. Hence the hat. There's me (clockwise) work Kristina (I often (mis)quote her in my blog), Tracy, Michelle, Edie, and Toaster Melanie. The photo above that is a wee purse of Tracy's. She's a great Anglican who loves God, so it's all cool. It's kitsch at it's best.

Then there is a photo of some of the awful wreckage in Stanley Park from the winter's windstorms. And then me carrying something on my head in the Dominican Republic. Okay, probably not me.

There's no real theme you'll notice in these photos but that's okay.

I learned an interesting wine crystal glass trick last night from Glenda's son, Geoff and her daughter's boyfriend, Viktor from Slovakia. Seems if you have a thin-lipped crystal glass you can run your finger around it and make a rather haunting, high-pitched sound. This I never knew. At one point everyone was trying it and it was quite the sight. I couldn't seem to get mine to work, I think I need some practice.

There we go, a blog entry about many things. Happy Easter.

photos!

And here we find four more photos: (thanks, Jakob!) - fairly self-explanatory. The donkey where we stayed was very friendly and really he seemed depressed and needy (we decided he really wanted to live in Thailand where he could be involved in some of those - never mind), the cat just decided to play cards with us one evening, Playa Bonita and one of the buses we took when we were there. I think this is a shot of Jakob and Ceri's trip to Santo Domingo. But it is pretty much identical to the one that Jakob and I (we only met at the end of the bus ride) took from Cabarete to Las Terrenas. Very, um, rustic and old, some people standing (an almost four hour trip through windy roads - glad I didn't have to stand), no air conditioning! and some wacky radio station playing of which I understood - frantic talking the Puerto Plata - more frantic talking - Presidente!, etc. And the fellow beside me played his cell phone for awhile - some odd tunes without words. Very surreal really.

photos of the Dominican Republic!

Phew. I'm learning to post some pictures here. These are from Jakob's camera and he posted them on his my space page. Jakob is the Czech fellow I met while travelling in the Dominican Republic. The one who saved my trip from awfulness and kept me from booking an early trip home. So really he saved me thousands of dollars! No romance though, wee fan base. He's only 27 after all. He was just quite simply a really sweet guy. Anyway, I'm going to poast more pictures on another blog entry. From left to right: there's Jakob at Playa Bonita in Las Terrenas, the waterfall with crazy "guide" Carlos climbing up it and the four of us intrepid travellers in front of the waterfall. From left to right -me, just happy to be alive, Carl, Czech friend of Jakob's, Ceri (pronounced Carrie) from Wales and Jakob.

I'll post a few more now. Enjoy.

oooh, how cool

I've just been invited to my first lesbian wedding. Colour me cool. Actually, their RSVP is quite funny. You can pick from three options:

1. Yes, I'll be there! Attending a lesbian wedding would make me even cooler!
2. No. Sorry, but i will not be able to attend.
3. Eww! Gays are an abomination! Thanks, but no thanks.

Ha!
And we are to pick a song we want played at the reception. I'm thinking Beegees, possibly ABBA. Really Melissa Etheridge is too predictable.

I haven't felt inspired to blog too much I must say. In distressing news, my hair is getting crazy and my hairdresser, as we know from earlier blogs, has MOVED AWAY. Wee fan base, if you know anyone who can cut curly hair really well (not just a little bit well) Kristina and I are desperate. Of course I'm more desperate than Kristina because I naturally suffer more. That goes without saying.

Oh I've made it through another week of work without being fired. That can only be good.

A funny thing Wendy said. Work Wendy. Mind you, it was all in the tone but still good. Wendy was noting that in her famiily growing up, she received big presents for Easter - bikes and such like that. She wondered why shouldn't we get good presents at Easter. "I mean Christ rose then!" she noted. And at Christmas she added, he was just born. Anyone can be born!
I know how she meant it but just to be silly and to make work Michelle and Charleen laugh, I noted that that was in fact exactly why Christ rose. "You know," said I, "to set people free, to turn society upside down, so the last could be first and so that Wendy could get a good haul at Easter."

"Karen," said she, "don't make me look bad on your blog if you write about this."

Nah. I know what she meant. You know, Wendy entertains me. This past week I've still been all stressed about my job and my not feeling well and blah blah and somehow Wendy and I ended up at London Drugs together. She found fabulous shopping even there. Hilarious, I mean I was bent over laughing. Now, she was a bit upset that the Canadian shopping magazine wasn't sold there (I forget what it's called) but the American one was. Today she informed me that the Canadian one can be found at Chapters. Phew. Wendy makes me laugh and have residual laughter. Giggle.

K. I'm going to go swimming in my new suit which fits much better and i don't have to worry that my breasts are going to fall out as they did in the other one that i left in the DR because really it was crap.

vitamins, fusion reactors

I've started myself on a vitamin regime. I've often bought vitamins - say a multi-vitamin and generally left it sitting in my cupboard for years.
My shrink, who by the way turned my frown upside down on Friday, if you need a good one, she is a great one, is very holistic, which I love. She thinks vitamins would be very helpful for me, and noticed by my skin that I'm not getting enough. This makes sense, I suspect the food I eat doesn't provide enough for me.
I have a whole schedule written down for breakfast, lunch, dinner and bedtime. Vitamin B, a multi-vitamin, flaxseed oil (for omega fatty acids) and calcium magnesium with D. Very good that last one as I don't drink milk. I'm being quite strict with myself about it - mind you I just started. Someone suggested Greens Plus but that is very cost prohibitive. However, Tracy was just at Costco and picked me up some - $30/month versus $60/month elsewhere. My body won't know what hit it.
I must admit I live in some denial about the effects of aging and the importance of supplements. I've seen a few friends with their vitamin bottles and never really gave it much thought. I think this is a positive thing to be obsessive about.
I've decided to reduce my teaching hours by one afternoon class starting next session - if possible, I will do the guaranteed substituting on two afternoons of the week. This way I will have only two different classes to be worried about - my morning class and the Tues/Thurs. afternoon class. It will mean less money of course but that's the way it be. Many teachers only teach 3/4 time and find that to be emotionally/psychologically plenty. Someone suggested this new schedule to me and it makes sense. I might even eventually cut back to 3/4 time. I want to consider other ways to make money - perhaps some private tutoring or something completely not ESL related. I'm not sure.
I attended my friend Michelle's 40th birthday party last night. Her whole family came from out of town and surprised her. That was terrific. I got talking to an old friend of ours from university - Geoff be his name. I'd never talked to him at length before and he is hilarious. Thanks to Cindy, his wife, who didn't seem to mind my monopolizing his time. I had a great laugh or two. He'd been to India with work, Mumbai actually, and we shared lots of wacky stories - he about India, me about the Dominican Republic. Lots of chaos and surrealism. Mumbai I'm certain would be far more of a culture shock.
We got to talking about midlife crises - he mentioned that a friend of his is building a fusion reactor (I think in his basement) as part of his mid-life crisis. Another friend seemingly dumped his wife for a 22-year-old and the pair started up a bakery in Tofino. Geoff, who at 36 is too young for a mid-life crisis (well, unless he gets hit by a bus tomorrow and then really he was too old for one, but I digress), notes that he feels like a train wreck as well (referencing my anonymous blog commenter who wanted to inform me that I am a train wreck.) Seems people at work respect him too much and he feels like a concept, not a person. "Yes, Geoff," I said, "that must be my problem as well. I am respected TOO much at work." In fact, I continued, on Monday I would march into my boss' office and say, "the problem is you respect me too much!" Ha.
So I really, really enjoyed the laughing and laughing at absurdities. I really enjoy people who like to joke around like that as well.
Oh yes, my sense of humour. On Friday, my birthday I say again, my boss, in a rather desperate attempt to make a point, said that when I first started at my job, some teachers came to her complaining about my sense of humour. Oh, I said, maybe they just respect me too much. That must be the problem really. I must be the Gandhi of my work place. Don't know why I never thought of that before.
"You can be a tad defensive," noted good friend and work pal, Kristina. "Oh yea," said I, "well your mother wears army boots." Her mother, in fact, does not wear army boots as far as I know.
In other news, I went in search of a bathing suit today. I want to get back into my swimming routine because other than the mountain climbing in 800 degree heat I did in the DR, I haven't exercised in a while. I couldn't find a thing. Walmart, Sears, Sport Mart, etc. Either atrociously ugly - and the really ugly were like $80. Odd. I left my stretched out bathing suit in the DR and wish I hadn't now. Tomorrow I may try the Sport Mart near where I work. Desperate times.
I don't want anything fancy - just a one piece that hides my breasts and fuzzy bits and is comfortable to swim in.
And finally, I went to the walk-in clinic today because I think I have a bad yeast infection due to the Cipro I took last week when I was skirting death. Too much information? Indeed.