Check it out now

Check out a video I edited about the ethnoecological team's experience in the village of Nehas Liah bing!

http://www.youtube.com/user/ethicalexpeditions#p/u/12/wcOww1EiWgE

(this link should actually work)

Life is a Story of Reciprocity

Being back in the Singapor airport is defintely a odd feeling. The airport hasn't change one bit, from the 24hr burger kings and the Adidas and Nike stores, all accompanied with the hustle and bustle of airport passengers. I have already had Subway and Starbucks, my taste buddy Gregory is writhing in pleasure of familiar tastes, while my stomache looks up at me asking where the noodles and rice are. I miss the food already, I miss the people already, it's unfortunate. I think about future trips to the Village of Nehas Liah Bing for students and individuals alike, and I can't imagine their experience anything like mine. Maybe it is simply Paul Glantz wishful thinking, but the we created such strong relationships with the villagers and PM's in Nehas Liah Bing that I can't imagine another group coming in and doing the same. While I truly wish every individual in the world could experience the friendship and community and love that comes from interacting with the Wehea Dayak of Nehas Liah Bing, I also secretly have this selfish feeling that this had to be something unique, something that no matter what probibility or repetition says, these deep connections won't come to fluition like the did for us. But I am excited to be coming home, I am the luckiest guy in the world, I have a nine hour layover in of all places San Francisco, so I will get to kiss and hug my four lovely parents (my three others are unfortunately still in Nehas Liah Bing), get to hold my precious neice who can't even comprehend yet how much I truly love her, and of course my sister who means the world to me, her beauty and strength impresses me more and more everyday. I know some Yay area friends are home, I hope you guys can come give me a hug before I head back to Seattle for a week to complete my research papers and policy breifs and tests etc. And for my Seattlites, I cannot wait to celebrate the gloom with my Wehean skin (no need to be jealous). My travels are far from an end, they have affected me in ways that the ripples the created in my life won't show themselves for years to come. I have oodles of decisions to make, oodles to learn and oodles to love. I will continue to post on this blog, because I will have so many lessons and stories that are continually coming to me, and I want to be able to share that because life is a story of reciprocity, and to best understand who we are and what we are living for is through learning together. We all have lessons to teach, and the capability to learn and suprise ourselves.

Don Porget

I am not quite sure how to describe the haps at the moment. Drinking decently brewed coffee with a fully belly of potatoes and fruit, sitting in the Sagita hotel lobby watching the Copa America is just more evidence that I am no longer in Nehas Liah Bing. Spending five hours editing a little video for the ethnoecological team just helped allure to the feeling of still being within the community. Yet, reality kicks in, and I am leaving Indonesia tomorrow.
The last days in Nehas were spent enjoying the company of the relationships we kindled through out our stay in the village. I spent most of my time simply hanging around my family and absorbing as much time with them as possible. The second day after being back, was a day that simply can only be described as epic. With my father and nephew Pilu, we started making our Hudoq costumes which is a traditional Wehea Dayak dance that involves invoking the spirits and communicating with them to bring good luck and prosperity. The costumes are layers upon layers of banana leaves fringed giving the costume a façade of feathered reeds dancing in the air. My father is a master dancer, and has been dancing his entire life. He was traveled to the Wehea Forest, Bali and many other places to ceremoniously dance Hudoq, and his grandson Pilu is well on his way to being a master himself. We finished the constumes and the next day donned them along with traditional Hudoq masks that my father carved himself. They are unbelievably beautiful and frightening, and if you see him dance you’d believe he was possessed by spirits through the ferocity of each motion he produces. The three of us including Nathan in regular traditional Dayak garb, adorned with our costumes set out to dance in the village. With multitudes of individuals gathering to watch the Buleh move, quite a crowd assembled as we flapped and danced, moving our arms and feet to the rhythm of the gong beating just outside of us. It was so much fun, and was such a great experience that I am so honored my father would go through with the effort in making the costumes and teaching me how to dance. Always with a smile on his face, he continues to astound me in how kind and loving he is. The community is truly something unique and unheard of.
In our last night we had a presentation to explain our findings and about our research to the community. It was so nice to be able to communicate to the entire village about how lucky and touched I felt to have spent so much time among them, and attempt to explain how thankful I am for opening their arms both literally figuratively. We presented for nearly two hours, followed by a quite changed into traditional outfits, and traditional dancing for another two hours. It was a perfect way to sum up our experience in the village, and spend the evening dancing and enjoying everyone’s company. The next morning I spent relaxing with my family, giving gifts and suveniers to villagers. What definitely broke my heart was when my nephews Pilu and Togok interrupted one of Squidward’s manical speeches in Spong Bob Square Pants to attempt to tell me something. They handed me a piece of paper that had the words, “don porget mai pameli.” How could I forget his/theirs/my family? They really were the sweetest boys in the world. Saying goodbyes were unbelievably difficult. It was so difficult to leave when villagers all crowed the TNC awaiting our departure. Wile I may not have had the words to tell them that I promised I would come back to them, and a promise is a promise, I may not know right away when, but I know I will.
We were able to meet with BP Wehea in Sangata and the Governor of East Kalimantan in San Marinda yesterday, both meetings being quite unique and difficult. I was able to present along with Steven for the Ethnoecological team, and met some very interesting individual, including one who would be a great foot in the door for cultural preservation.
With finally a full day to do what we please, I spend all night editing and now am in desperate need of a nap, dozing off as a write this novella of a blog post. Just know that while I am so sad to have leave this beautifully rich and diverse country, I cannot wait to see some friends and family. Miss you all, I hope all is well.

Paul

Mmmmmmmmm

What is it about serenity that kindles thought? Being in the forest now for five days, we keep returning to philosophical conversations about our individual roles from local to global perspectives, and it is always this relaxation that perpetuates it. While responsibility may be a conduct of human nature and an abstract divined out of superiority (thanks Pudge), I have such a hard time letting it go as mere metaphysical thought. There are so many times in life where I feel responsibility is this dense object that has definite mass and energy that places weight upon you in ways that pounds and gram can’t. So I keep mulling over what are we doing every second of every conscious thought, and why. I am writing this blog because I want to share my runoff thoughts and my mismanaged words with whatever sparse populations will read it. I am in the Wehea forest in order to gain perspective as to the physical boundaries and spacial relations to the villagers of Nehas Liah Bing in order to best gleam the importance of this intricate spot of land. I am in East Kalimantan so I can study the lives and culture of the Wehea Dayak of Nehas Liah Bing and understand the forces that disturb it, whether they be positive or negative. I am in Borneo because East Kalimantan is just a part of this enormous island. I am in Indonesia because of their rich culture and history and how – just like every country in the world – find themselves in a time of multi-faceted struggles, whether it be economic versus ecological conservation, cultural preservation versus globalization, etc. etc. but these minute duels exist whether or not their opponent steps into the ring, ecological conservation exists whether the Wehea forest remains standing. They always seem to work in opposition of one another, but in actuality must do so hand in hand. You can keep zooming out of the lens in which your location acts upon your individual actions, but the whole time our actions or inactions play a role in the relationships all around us. We were joking while sitting in the bed of a truck, tumbling through time and tired beaten, bushwacked dirt and pebble roads on the way to an all day hike when we came upon a tree that had fallen into the road. With a smirk written on my face I turn to Nate and mumble wondering if that tree had made a noise. As knee slapping silly that age-old is, its damn good. Does anything truly exist outside of perception? Yes, a tree falls and the sound reverberates as roots let loose their grip on the earth and make music out of snapped limbs and showering leaves as it finds both neighboring trees and the ground itself, but rather than the sound having existed or not, without the ability to perceive that it fell, did it really ever fall at all? If the Wehea Dayak continues to be displaced by disturbances to their land and their culture, how resilient is their culture in terms of springing back up for another go? If displacement and cultural disruption and degradation flows idly by with time, if we aren’t able to perceive that it is there, was it ever truly there? The Wehea Dayak I have lived with for over four weeks now have shown me a culture so rich and kind, a society so dense with community and family that it makes life taste hot-diggity-dawg-delicious, I can’t imagine how worse off the world would be without them. I don’t want them to become, “those people who danced with grass suits and masks,” or, “those people who used plants for itches or burns, and tea for malaria,” because being described through simple images in minute details doesn’t come close to encompassing the true spirit of the individuals that define it. While one day the human race may be uprooted to sway and timber down to earth floor, I want to make sure that the Wehea Dayak are perceived as a culture of strong and intelligent people who have multitudes of lessons to teach, and that they too do make a sound.
The time in the forest was wonderfully calm. The first night was spent taking trips to and from the restroom, due to a lovely stomach bug, and the whole next day in bed. The next several days was all casually reading and doing some organizational work for our projects. The drive was four and a half hours in, and when we finally reached the campsite, there is a river on each side. Got to bathe in the rivers, rinsing in waterfalls, ain’t no big thang. As you’d rinse your body, little fish would come and nibble the dead skin on your legs and feet, which was one thing impossible to not laugh at. Went on a morning hike to check out a saltlick where numerous animals visit to get their lovely minerals, and set up camera traps. Little did we know the trip which was suppose to be a lovely four hour hike, turned out to be a ten hour one. It was unbelievable. Treking deep into the Wehea forest with a PM/forest guardian from Nehas Liah Bing was an adventure in every sense of the word. It was really important to be able to situate ourselves with the forest, because the culture of Wehea Dayak has culturally had such a strong tie to the forest. The PM's had a going away bomfire for us, telling us how they consider us family and have enjoyed being able to share our experiences, and did some traditional dancing and then boogying down together. The PM's are some of the kindest and truly wonderful people I have ever met, I could write multiple blogs simply about them, which maybe a I will save for another day.
My policy brief and ethnoecologcial ethnography all have got decent work in, and videos edited, the next few days in the village are for celebrating the relationships we have built. We have a presentation to the community on the evening of the second, so a lot of work still to be done, and then two days later the governor. I am sleepy but good, and am at a loss of words at the moment, so I will share my experiences through following blogs. Thanks all, miss you.

Mr. Indiana Jones and Me

The last several days have been dedicated to research and adventures. The sporadic adventures have been a product of blind faith in the lovely villagers of Nehas Liah Bing, and thus have been fervently rewarded. Just the other day, I was working on typing up some research when my buddy Aken came up and said it was time to play soccer. Being only a quarter to noon, I was confused but what the hell, gametime. Hopping on the back of his motorcycle we sped to my house to grab boots, and then sped off. Now I was aware of the fact that the game today was not in the town, based on the fact that we were leaving over four hours earlier than usual, as well as through Aken and my broken Indoinglish. What I wasn’t prepared for was a mad chasing down of a bus, climbing onto and finding all the towns players packed into a bus heading for our game. Next thing I know, we’re on a two hour bus ride, on roads that atvs would have had difficulty on. We arrive in the town, relax in a friends house, eat some cookies and drink some water before leaving for the game. Dressed up in uni’s, we had a friendly match with a village of players whom were all pretty damn talented. We ended up winning 3-1, a good game, I got to play the whole first half, and it was a blast. What really was the best part was just kicking it with the guys driving on the bus to the match and back, being able to make jokes (attempt at least) and just joke around. There was an Indonesian karaoke machine chalk full of traditional Indonesian songs, where everyone was belting it and joking yelling from free-fall, being suspended when speed bumps were quite the surprise. It was really a fantastic time, bringing back such great memories with Drake high buddies going to and from tournaments. It was truly a great feeling to be making such damn good memories while bringing back just as good ones. It was ironically a blessing to not have my camera on me. There were a million times where I would be dying to get a video of these crazy guys, or snap a shot of us in our neon orange uni’s, but the lack of having a camera almost made me take in the experiences more. I feel that too often we hide behind our cameras and flips, not truly appreciating the beauty of moments because we either know we have it on film (sorry Steve, on video) or because we suspend so much effort and energy finding the best shot.

Yesterday, in attempt to learn more about local medicinal plant gathering, several of use rode a rickety pickup with the back suited with two wooden benches. Forty five minutes later we are at what is called Kombeng. Kombeng is literally a mountainous range in the middle of palm plantations that is utterly hollow. A huge cave by the name of the Wind Hole, it is prime exploring and climbing material. Suited with three flashlights, we took off, ditching our shoes near the front, and going almost knee deep at times in concoctions of mud and guano and unable bugs. Bats populated the caves by the thousands, as they swarmed in circles and dispersed from the echo of our voices. I know Indian Jones would be proud. We ended up climbing around 100 meters inside the caves, slipping and crawling, and having truly, an unexpected, crazy adventure. This feeling of unpredictability is so rich. I don’t think I would have enjoyed the adventure half as much if I had been told we would be wading in guano with the squirming of cockroaches and other unnamable insects, with hoards of bats sending mistimed breezes near my face. It was great.

Some students and researchers have arrived from Osh Kosh University, Wisconsin, yesterday. It is definitely a treat to have some more English speakers here, as well as a much unpredicted bonus. As they joined us for well-timed Eraus both day and night, they seemed to put my entire experience in the village. By helping them with common curtosies and practices, helping them translate and teaching them about life in the village, they showed me how much language I have learned, how much I have learned about the village and everyday life, how many people I know living here, just how great of a lexicon of language and knowledge I have built, it is a warming experience, one I cannot thank them enough for.

We’re off tomorrow. The forest will be a brilliant place to organize thoughts and research. With sunsets and hikes and the spotting of animals (I’m still crossing my fingers for a slow loris), it will be really nice. But with remoteness comes the inability to access the satilites and let all y’all know about our adventures. So I shall update y’all in about a weeks time, where hopefully I’ll have organized my data, finished another book or two, and find good time for some R&R (unfortunately not the Rat and the Raven my dear Seattlites). I miss you, and wish you were here with me.

Your Pa(u)l

Wes Wang Siang Sien Tiak Tung Bung Wes Wang Siang Anak Tibung

I have been giving English lessons with my nephew Pilu. He writes down sentences of words he wants to learn, then I translate them, and if I don’t know them (which honestly happens more than not), then I either grab the ol’ handy dandy dictionary, if my kamus doesn’t have the specific words, I enlist the help of our trusty musty translators (Indah and Ratih aren’t really musty at all). It is great, because that relationship of guru and pupil is a very reciprocal one. As he is learning extremely important words like ‘Soccer’ and ‘cookie’ and ‘water’ and then legs and arms and head and eyes etc. I get to learn them from him, which has become a rather affective way to learn. He laughed this morning as I called him guru while the rain drummed on the tin roof, deafening all other noises except our conversing. He giggled to me in Bahasa Indonesia, “I’m not a teacher, I’m just a boy.” As ironic at times it may be, children really are our best teachers. They have this intrinsic knowledge that we seem to lose slowly and surely as we grow older, but this knowledge isn’t lost forever, but right in front of our noses the entire time. They help me every day here. Whenever I’m tired or frustrated or stressed, I walk into the main room of the TNC, where the village kids have come to use it as a playground and the foreignors as the jungle gyms, and am quite literally tackled by miniature limbs clinging like vines. Often playing a game of, ‘let’s see how many children we can fit on Jiang’s back?’ or ‘how many bicep curls can he do holding me?’ Who said there wasn’t a full service gym in Nehas Liah Bing? There’s the steam room, only problem is it follows me everywhere I go. The children here are pretty impressive, just yesterday Pilu caught the fish and eel the family ate for dinner, and I found him this morning butchering a snake and drying the skin. One of the neighborhood kids named Anwang was wearing a Batman shirt supped up with a cape and all, and on one of our first days here we nicknamed each other Batman. Yet he loves to add little adjectives to our nicknames. For example, one day he was climbing on my back, and he exclaims; “ini Batman besar.” Which means, “this Batman is big.” Or “Batman minum” or “batman kopi” or other fantastic little additives.

You can surprise yourself with how much language you can learn and manage to ramble off when pressed to. Some of the best nights here are the ones spent sitting on the floor of the kitchen/bedroom at my house with my father and brothers and whichever neighbors may happen to be visiting that evening. We men sit on the plastic sheen floor, with shirts off and cross-legged like real men, while the children lay passed out on the mattresses less than a foot away. Cigarettes are passed and so is mismatched snacks of fried fish and chips. We talk about all we can, about the day, about Nehas Liah Bing, Obama, Bali, soccer, food, animals, chest hair and facial hair (Padak Ledan and I agreed to trade my chest hair for his mustache, gotta get him to shake on it). It is definitely one of the best feelings to make a joke in broken Indonesian, whether or not they are laughing at me, it still is the sweet sweet sound of success. Another thing I love about the Wehean family unit, is the structure of their families. So in my home houses my father, my mother, two of my three brothers, one of their wives, two nephews and a niece. Communal sleeping is a huge thing here (though I have my own room, which I feel like a dick about). But the love for each other is so abundant, I am still not sure who is the father of which nephew and niece, that even the brother and sister in law who have their own house could still be the parents of them because of how much they love their family.

Because of certain circumstances, I have found myself lucky enough to have receive a second name and family here in Nehas Liah Bing. I am proud to call Ibu Tibung my second Wehean, and call myself Wes Wang Siang Sien Tiak Tung Bung Wes Wang Siang Anak Tibung. That’s right. Wes Wang Siang Sien Tiak Tung Bung Wang Siang Anak Tibung. Hot Damn there couldn’t be a cooler name if Muhammad Ali and Mahatma Gandhi had an illegitimate child and named him Mahatmmad Butterfly Ali Gandhi, or something of the sort.

Time is winding down like tickets to a Cher concert. We leave on Thursday for the Wehea forest, where we will be relaxing and finishing up projects for a week. We have a lot to do, but we will be spending oodles of time on hikes, wading through rivers, bathing under waterfalls, watching sunsets and finding Slow Loris’ to apprehend and feed ‘em a leaf, and maybe a Gibbon or two. Hell, there are rumors that there still are Indonesia Rhinos still out there, let’s just hope they’re still herbivores. But a week without internet always does the body good. I will make sure to post another blog-diddy before we depart, but research time is dwindling, and there is always much much still to learn.

Wes Wang Siang Sien Tiak Tung Bung Wes Wang Siang Anak Tibung out. 

Oh Poopnanny

Well hey there gang. Today I had an out of body experience. The river that the village is located on the bank of, loves to flood the street that walks down from my house to the TNC (The Nature Conservancy) which is where we have class and eat and gather, and at most parts the water level was up to my ankles. As Moses once stood on the brink of salvation of his people, I looked upon the sediment rich water gentle flowing in front of my soleful (ha! You get it! Damn I be good) feet. I rushed to be able to get breakfast and had no time to go back and switch to shorts or sandals, just as Moses and his people had not had time to let their bread rise, we together separated the water as to make it to the other side. Well Moses did so more in a legendary way, I kinda just hiked up my pants and trudged through, but epic none the less.

Celebrations continue, with a wedding this afternoon, parties are being prepared and thrown, and at nine in the morning a pig has already been sacrificed and dances held. It will be another long night of tuoc and beetlenut, with conversing in broken indoinglesh and lot of buleh laughing. The Wehea Dayak of Nehas Liah Bing have been teaching me more and more about both their culture and life in general. Research and learning is always a reciprocal relationship, as I learn about the customs in which they live their life, I am gleaming tidbits of mine to them, and we erase biases and precontrived ideas about how we each lead our lives. As time goes on and my bahasa Indonesia slowly evolves from infantile to toddler, I joke around telling them I am not buleh, I am Wehean. As a joke it may get a chuckle out of it, but it makes me think more and more. What makes a Wehean and Wehean? A gringo a gringo? A buleh a buleh? What truly differentiates them from me? While there are cascades of examples one can trickle off, the root factor solely is location. I was born in the Yay, and they here. But what is the difference between us? We both take two or three lovely showers a day, we bathe and wash our clothing in the river, we eat with our right hand and avoid touching things with our left (I think you know why), we love soccer and we dislike Christiano Ronaldo, we drink tuoc and chew the beetle, we give our energy at healing ceremonies to the sick individuals, and as a community we laugh and enjoy each day learning about each other and putting energy and thoughts to those who need it, we hold hands with little kids walking down the adobe colored road and watch sponge bob on Sunday mornings, know we haven’t eaten a meal unless there is rice involved, love our gulah (suga suga suga) and know that the most important things in our lives involve family and the community that you situate yourself in, rather than monetary hierarchies and material engraved chains.

I guess as I listen to the flowing river and drink gritty sugary coffee and hear little boys chanting fish for sale as they drag their feet on the river floor that yesterday was the neighborhood street, I get overly sentimental, but I can’t help it. We learn so much from the people we surround ourselves with, and we learn so much more about ourselves when we take time to step out of our boundaries and give ourselves the ability and the chance to surprise ourselves. I just know that I continually am so thankful for the friends and family that have kept me alive and well all my life, and that I can never repay all the individuals whom have shared their love and their time with me. People here are so amazing, so kind and so happy, that I want them to continue living that way for the rest of their lives, as well as all the generations that follow them, because they deserve it as much as everyone. This village’s resilience thus far to outside disturbances is truly impressive. With massive floods, deforestation all around them, palm plantations and coal mines sprouting like weeds and bringing massive populations of individuals for plantation work turning a once populous majority of people into a tiny indigenous minority, who face migration from their traditionally owned land and cultural disintegration for economic goals headed by the international community for economic process and overall excess. If the Wehea forest is cut down and used for palm oil plantation, thousands of Javanese or other Indonesian populace will be brought here to work the plantations, furthering this displacement, destroying not only one of the richest areas of biodiversity, but one of the most true, kind hearted and wonderful cultures. Land tenure is difficult, it is impossible to ignore that, but just as impossible to ignore the importance of ironing the kinks and untying the knots with in it. The land has traditionally been the Wehean Dayak’s, before the Indonesian government existed to distribute and nominate land as their own and deem it production land. While it is easy to villianize others, this is simply put, a really convoluted and difficult issue, just as land tenure between indigenous populations and governing nations is worldwide. You can look at the imprints of these issues documented and footnoted throughout Canadian and American history. The panacea is not clear, and may never be, but we’re working on some facet to get the job done, or at least started.

It is an amazing feeling to know that I have family in both Brazil and Indonesia now, it is a warming and reassuring feeling that I continue to learn how grateful I am that people everywhere are willing to open their minds and their arms. Wow… I apologize, that was a lot of poopnanny, guess I needed to get that out. But life is short, doesn’t matter what religion or culture you identify with, we must all deviate our paths into realizing we need to live for each other and put humanity first, because as corny as the quote is, the quote the top of my blog says this: The only real nation is humanity. Written on a little sign inside of a village named Cange, Haiti, Tracey Kidder wrote it down with following Doctor Paul farmer, a sign simply saying that the only nation we are citizens of is humanity. Boo-yah poopnany.

Just kickin' it during some wedding festivities with some of the gang

Nehas and me... yes I know I shouldn't have named her

Padak Ledan drying some fish right outside our humble-abode 

Formerly know as Paul

I will solely refer to Jiang Ledan, which is my official Wehea Dayak name that my host father, Pa Ledan gave to me. Word spreads quickly around town, so everybody is already referring to me as Jiang. My family is wonderful. My father is a master dancer of a traditional Dayak dance called Hudok, which is a fantastic dance that involves these extravagant masks and being possessed by spirits. He said he will teach me this coming week, which should be a good time being that the villagers love to get us to attempt to dance in the traditional circles and music, which gives them a nice time to just laugh at our moves.

It is crazy how quickly time has already gone. We have been in the village for over a week now, with less than two more before we head out to the forest to do work up there for another week. Our biodiversity team who is out there already just left for their two week trek throughout the unexplored forest with camera traps and all sorts of gear to check out and survey the biodiversity of the forest, which little is known at the point. It is known that rhinos and leopards and elephants use to populate the forests of Borneo, but the extent of what is known in the 38,000 Hectare forest of Wehea, little is known.

Research has been a slow start, but the ball’s moving. I have been able to witness a healing ceremony which was really awesome, as well as getting tours of the surrounding areas of the village to document some of the traditional plants. There are so amazing people here, and to see such a rich culture alive and operating under such vast western influences is a treasure.

There have been several parties of resent, called Erau’s. It is what is called a naming ceremony, or Erau Anak, which translates literally to ceremony child, but is rather like an enormous birthday. Depending on the social class of the family, children get at least one of the ceremonies in their lifetime. It is massive with nearly the entire village there to celebrate that child (with no temporal resemblance to their birth date, but there are several this time of year because it is a resting season after the collection of rice and crops). It has been a lot of fun. A whole caboodle of dancing, tuoc (palm wine), smoking and chewing of the BAMF beetlenut, and even pig sacrifices. There were six pigs sacrificed today for the erau anak of three children, which was absolutely breathtaking, nauseating, beautiful and nauseating again. The pig is washed and an area cleaned for the pig, and a drum is rhythmically beaten, as well as a gong, and family dressed in traditional Wehean clothing comes out to stand in front of the pig to be sacrificed. Immediately after the throat is slit, they gather some blood either on a plate or bamboo leaf and thumbprint the foreheads of the family with the blood, and let the pig kick and drain while he feet and mouth remain wrapped. After it is still, they rinse again, and then haul it off before the process starts all over again. It is pretty gnarkill, but definitely a ritual that is much more meaningful and honest then most if not all commercial slaughterhouses in North America.

It is still the most fun, as well at time the most difficult aspect of learning about cultural difference here in Nehas Liah Bing. What makes it especially difficult here is the way in which pets are seen in society. A majority of cats and dogs are maltreated, simply because their social ties to them is so different then it is in the United States. While individuals main “own” a dog, they may only feed it several times a week and let it fend for food the rest of the time. The dogs and cats are also often played with roughly (to say lightly) which results in some scaredy pups and cats. So, knowing me well as most of you do, I have had a mission to befriend all the dogs and cats, which has been met with some mixed success. The dogs living such wandering lives leads to some interesting sounds throughout the night. Often there is this enormous choir of howling dogs, that frequently seem oddly in sync or harmonic and creepy. The villagers describe this by saying the dogs get possessed by spirits at night who speak through them, which doesn’t sound too far off.

Down time is a must here in Nehas Liah Bing. It is damn hot erray day, and multiple showers or ‘mandis’ are needed, or a dip and the river. Soccer is played every day, and my Wehean cousin Ding Siang (his host mother is the older sister of my host mother) play almost every day trying to keep the opinion of Buleh’s soccer high. Being Jiang Ledan (more commonly known as Paul Glantz) I hurt myself playing yesterday, ankle and foot quite swollen, but it just makes me walk slower, which is very Indonesian of me. I have two interviews this evening to go prepare for, before going to see the rest of the Erau. So betta get back to work. I shall see y’all ERAUnd! Ha!

Jiang out.

some tradition Wehea Dayak dancing at an erau

this little piggie got rinsed and prepared for sacrificing

Beetlenut Beetlenut Beetlenut

The Wehea Dayak have a lovely culture that I have come to skim the surface of learning about. They have lived in this region of Borneo for over three hundred years, and they use to span most of this region, but due to overpopulation in other Indonesian areas, the government has taken land and divided it out to transmigrant populations as well as for logging companies and palm plantations. What becomes the largest issue is the idea of landownership. Who owns this land, thus who gets the authority to decide what happens with it. The government has been making those decisions, dividing land and giving it up to the logging companies and palm oil plantation corporations as well as for transmigrant populations for years, and as a result the individuals in Nehas Liah Ding and other Wehean villages have lost vast quantities of land and have had little say in protecting it. Not only is their specific land where the grow medicinal and other plants for consumption that are intrinsically important and necessary for their traditional and cultural practices, but the Wehean forest is in danger as a result of the inability to get it classified as ‘protected land’ rather than ‘production land’. That is one of the reasons we are here. By showing the extreme biodiversity of the forest as well as the cultural importance to the Wehea Dayak and others, we can help facilitate the transfer of the Wehean forest and land to protected, and give them the land that has for centuries been their own.

The Wehea Dayak culture is extremely rich within society here. Historically, the Wehea Dayak are an animistic society, but relatively recent missionary influence has converted a majority of the population here in Nehas Liah Bing. About eighty percent of the people here are Christian and the other twenty are Muslim or Protestant. The result is like nothing I have witnessed anywhere else, but the religions tie together surprisingly well. While if you ask an individual what religion they have, they will respond Protestant or Christian, but then if you ask if they are monotheistic almost all will respond no and say animistic because of their religious beliefs within traditional Wehean society.

The cultural norms here are all socially constructed so individuals are all extremely polite and respectful. When you meet someone for the first time, you shake (well more hold hands) and slightly bow and touch your liver as a sign of respect (your liver is connoted as we think of our heart). Walking down the street, you tell everyone “selamat pagi (good morning), ciang (day), sorrey (afternoon) or malam (night)” and the typical response would simply be responding “pagi” or “malam”. While the main language spoken here is Bahasa Indonesia, a large amount of individuals here speak Wehea, which is the traditional language of their people, but is limited to this region. It is all beautiful. You eat with your hands, well hand really because it is socially rude to eat or touch anyone with your left (both for cultural reasons, as well as sanitary due to the fact that toilet paper isn’t used… if you catch my drift). Men smoke like chimneys, women do smoke but more regularly chew what’s called in English, Beetlenut. It is a nut found in a specific tree that you chew along with a leaf call sirih, and similar to chewing tobacco it gives you a nice body high and plasters your mouth with a deep red. You never really get quite use to the spitting, and there is no cool or polite way to spit except avoid drooling and spit in a trash can. The only real alcohol available in the village is what’s called Palm Wine or more regularly for foreignors is rum. It is an alcohol made by fermenting palm sugar or sap, just as rum is made from fermented molasses. It is damn tasty, but it is only consumed when offered, which has only been once thus far. We all sat on the floor of a family’s house last night and had pork (which if you were lucky you got to see them take the leg or torso, burn the skin and hair off before cooking) last night along with palm wine and beetlenut and cigarettes, which in combination can get you quite intoxicated, and is a damn good time stumbling in your Indonesian and enjoying everyone’s company. People are amazingly kind and happy, they want to share their lives with you, and I have been gladly accepting.

All the kids play soccer, the older ones play on a large field coupled by copious amounts of puddles and cowpies, as the younger ones stage smaller games on the sidelines barely big enough to dribble the ball and frequently tripping over its monstrosity. I managed to play yesterday, and in combination of lack of hydration, lack of fitness and lack of cleats played pretty lethargically, but it was a damn good time. Soccer being the cheapest sport in the world, it is popular and well played all around the world, and the remote village of Nehas Liah Bing is no exception.

Mic, a fellow ethnoecological student (well now after his renaming, Ding Siang), and I last night were laughing at this feeling that we weren’t only in a different country but a whole different world. We sat in a circle smoking cigarettes and sharing stories and listening to the elders speak about life before deforestation in the region, I petting the cats that walk in and out of the room, kids running around, singing echoing through the windows from a healing ceremony right next door, women with weighted ear piercings elongating their lobes to their collarbone, and on and on the multitude of cultural differences that you come to just absorb and breathe in.

I will keep writing as often as possible, but internet is something of a rarity here. We have a modem, but the connection is so poor, that rarely am I able to connect and post. I think that the work that anthropologist do is so important to the world, not just for helping communities of people advocate for themselves in this bureaucratic world, but help us learn how we all choose to live our lives. The study and practice of ethnography is reciprocal in nature, it lets us learn how societies and people live their lives and deal with the struggles of everyday. These practices can help us gleam ways to better the means in which we live our own lives. The Wehea Dayak continue to teach me, and I cannot wait to share more of our story together with you.

Love,

Your Pa(u)l

line of bulehs being welcomed to Nehas Liah Bing

a shaman and one of the chiefs of the village preparing to welcome us

Mantaaaaaaaaaab

Just when I was getting use to gringo I start becoming unanimous with Buleh. Walking down the street uniformed school children run up chanting “Buleh! Buleh!” and women grab my nose and touch their pregnant belly. All this to remind me that I am the funny looking white boy, which after a while you learn to laugh and as a brilliant man once said, simply “brush your shouldas off.” The village of Nehas Liah Bing is populated by the Wehea Dayak, with about 900 families. The village is unbelievably wonderful, the people invite you into their homes and greet you with a “Salamat Pagi” or “Ciang”. We are going to be living among the Wehea Dayak for three weeks, conducting our ethnoeocological research, as well as research pertaining to the resilience against outside influences as well as help Ethical Expeditions figure out how to best utilize their resources and energy into conserving the cultural heritage of the Wehea Dayak and the Wehea Forest. We will be meeting with BP Wehea which is one of the largest deciding factors in Wehea conservation, as well as something no one in Wehea has been able to do yet, which is speak to the Governor of East Kutai.

We were welcomed into the village yesterday with traditional Dayak ceremony protecting us from evil spirits. It had to be one of the most amazing experiences of my life. We were lined up in front of a bamboo alter while a dozen women in blue woven robes and the tribal chief, a shaman and two elders prepared the ceremony. The chief strode past us, having us all pat the head of a baby chick (which may sound redundant, but it was so soft and young underneath our fingers), and continue to slice its throat coating a tin plate with is ruby red blood. They dipped sixteen bracelets into the blood, and then made a small cross on our foreheads with the blood before tying them to our wrists and concluding with everyone dancing in a circle to the beat of a drum. It was absolutely phenomenal.

The Dayak culture moves at a pace that forces you to relax and take your time unlike anywhere I have ever been. Breakfast and lunches are spent sitting at a table in the kitchen watching the river flow by as women use the sediment rich water to wash their clothing. Even now I sit on a second floor deck that overlooks a dirt road. Cats meander by periodically with their misshapen tails, lightning cracks off behind some mountains off in the scenery illuminating for a moment the outline of trees decorating the far off hillside, I love that I can count eight geckos crawling the walls around me making the oddest cackling call I have ever heard, and families sit on their decks smoking cigarettes and socializing with their neighbors, cicadas and other unnamable insects chirp to fulfill the chorus of passerby sandals dragging on the dirt and people singing in houses nearby. I hate to say this, but you are all really missing out.

We were able to meet with two of the three heads of the village, talking about how the village is run and the current problems within the village and conservation of their 30,000 hectare forest. Tomorrow the biodiversity team leaves for the forest, while we conduct our research for another three weeks and meet them there. We spent the day learning about the history of landownership inside Wehea. The idea of ownership is such a weighted ideal, that it is almost impossible to define. Because of the western influence of paper wielding ownership, the lack of such here in Wehea has resulted in a multitude of problems with deforestation and palm oil plantations being fervently sought for economic means. So I am planning my ethnoecology project will focus on either the Wehea cultural relationship to land and the governance of landownership, or the relationship between traditional medical practices and medicines, and its resilience to deforestation and western influence. Ugh… I am so excited! Internet is worse than sparse, so I hope I will be able to update my blog often. I miss y’all.

Your Pa(u)l

Sun Bears, Orangutans and Ants... Oh my!

I wish you all could see Borneo, it is a place like no other. Arriving in Balikpapan was very stimulating for a jet-lagged, confused and excited Paul. A got through immigration quickly, and was helped outside by a kind individual as I looked for my ride to the hotel. Little did I know that this little Indonesian man was not carting my precious belongings by the goodness of his heart, but requesting payment after I loaded my bag into the van.

- Hint for fellow travelers, triple check the currency exchange rate before you land because he kept asking for 2,000 rupias, which numerically sounds ridiculous. Having not visited a exchange place, I had to ask a fellow student of mine for two american dollars.

So great, here I am, fifteen minutes into Borneo, already into debt, and not having slept for almost two days. The day was great and early. Got to the hotel and met the team we will be working with which includes some amazing students (primarily from Canada), three professors and several translators. Everyone is so passionate and intelligent, I cannot wait to work with them.

We have been going over the information as to what we will be doing over the next forty five days, and how. Man, I cannot come close to describing how mindblowing all of this is. I have only given people minute descriptions as to what this trip is about, so let me go into more detail. The trip is organized by a nonprofit by the name of Ethical Expeditions which advocates for the conservation of our natural world through education and community empowerment. They have worked extensively with the population of people we will be spending time with here, helping them advocate and work on protecting their environment and culture. Ethical Expeditions describes the Wehea Dayak as:

Surrounded by forest, the Wehea Dayak communities live in five small villages in the East Kutai regency of East Kalimantan. The community is so small that some studies of Dayak ethnic groups leave them out entirely and little has been documented about their unique cultural identity. The Wehea Dayak used their traditional practices for conservation in 2004, by declaring a 38,000 ha abandoned timber concession “protected land” under traditional law. This forest is protected by fifty local young people, called the Petkuq Mehuey, or forest guardians. Bolstered by the success of this conservation project, including receiving Indonesia’s highest environmental honor, Wehea tribal leaders are committed to leading their community in efforts to preserve their cultural and ecological traditions. At the same time, community members are seeking initiatives to bring income to the community, balancing traditions with “modern” development.

And what we are doing here is helping the community preserve both their cultural and ecological heritage. We are doing this by splitting into two groups, one being the biodiversity group and one being the ethnoecological group. The biodiversity group is traveling out to the Wehea forest and documenting what is in their for the Dayak people. The ethnoecological group is studying the culture and people of the Nehas Liah Bing village and researching their relationship to the environment and documenting our cultural and anthropological research for the communities benefit. We are aiming to be able to research the resilience of the Wehea Dayak community, because while it is rarely studied, the resilience of a community and environment is extremely important.

We drove from the hotel in Balikpapan to an area called Samboja Lestari, which is a rehabilitated rainforest in outside of East Kalimantan. It was rehabilitated by a man named Willie Smits, who started an NGO by the name of Balikpapan Orangutan Survival Foundation (BOS), in order to provide the orangutans a place to live as they are slowly becoming more and more extinct. They as well as thousands of other species are facing this reality as a result of massive deforestation all over Borneo, depriving the soil and land of their nutrients leaving the land virtually unusable except for for grassland. It is truly a site to stand in our lodge, five stories up and see the vast forest that fifteen years ago was all grassland. Each tree had to be planted by hand, and each orangutan giving care for. You can walk by their little islands separated by a minute moat, as they jump from branch to branch and tree to tree. They are such beautiful animals, as they jump and somersault and eat their damn yummy bananas. Watching them makes you feel jiped some how by getting only two thumbs instead of four. In Samboja, there also is a Sun Bear survival foundation that has forty nine Sun Bears, which have become like Borneo's forgotten step children. They two have been severely killed off as a result of Borneo deforestation. I had never seen or heard of these fantastic bears before coming here. They are much smaller in stature compared to most other bears, but what makes them truly unique is their pattern of fur on their chest. Each one is perplexingly different, acting as each Sun Bear's fingerprint. We were able to feed them by scattering fruit and food all around their living area, and hiding the fruit in suspended barrels and rope ladders and branches, in order to keep them stimulated as they search for the food. It was hilarious running around and hiding the fruit, as if we were preparing a massive easter egg hunt for them. I of course got a bloody nose, only to get another one in my other nostril several moments later, thus was jogging around hiding chunks of pineapple and guava with both nostrils stuffed with tissue. I really have made that look look damn good. It is so crazy beautiful here. There are ants the size of my thumb, spiders literally the size of my entire head, and even praying mantis' come climbing on you. The biodiversity found here is astounding, and you cannot help but smile and love every second of it, and wonder why so many people are willingly destroying forests and threating the world's biodiversity every single day. I cannot wait to share more as we enter the village late tomorrow evening (of course after a seventeen hour van ride... whoot whoot).

View of Samboja Forest

Orangutan having a good time

The moat between island and mainland for the Orangutans

A lil' family of Orangutans

The Sun Bear Sanctuary

Fruit and Soy milk, dang good diet

He's saying "Salamat Ciang"

Female Sun Bears gossiping

"I'm a get that pineapple."

Borneo Bound Baby

Man, all the B's. I returned from Brazil to fly to Balikpapan which is in Borneo blah blah blah, might as well have flown from Beattle with a layovers in Bokyo and Bingapore. It has been a long long thirty or so hours thus far, with more to wait and one more flight. I flew on Singapore Airlines, which is an extremely nice airline. It is quite similar to virgin america, but without the whole soulplane ambiance. The food was without doubt the best plane food I am yet to try. They give you an international or japanese option for meals, and had really good tea and coffee. I ate eel and rice for the first meal, and pork for the next (Ma, ain't you proud?!). The only real regret I have is not having worn my hat that I have become infamous for, which you will understand after you visit http://www.singaporeair.com/ and appreciate the stewartess' outfits (as well as the stewartess' themselves)... okay do it... go... wait for it... look familiar? I now sit in the Singapore airport named Changi, well squat rather at a terminal with free internet near my gate that took me nearly thirty minutes to walk to because this place is so damn large. It is a fantastic, decked out with shopping malls, art everywhere, all the great american fastfood one dreams of when abroad, including several lovely starbucks' and even a coffee bean. At least as a result of globalization you can get a decent cappuchinio no matter where you are. So a book and four movies later I am ready for Borneo and ready for class. I am very excited to meet the students I will be working with, and of course the professors whom will be teaching us. I keep falling more and more in love with traveling, rather than being a bug, its like an itch. If you ignore it, it will receed to the back of your mind until that moment you consciously scrath it, and hot damn does it itch like hell, making you want to travel and travel and travel. Well I have been up for nearly forty someodd hours, ready for a nap or ten, but first I gotta go catch my last plane. I think they'll give me some sashimi or something good. Is it too early for an asanti or tiger?

Um Sesta in Seattle

Well hey there gang! It is a lovely day of rain here in Salvador, but instead of Seattle decked out northface coats and timberland waterproof shoes, we got havianas and short sleeves integrated with umbrellas and dodged projectile raindrops. Whilst the rain dots the streets and clothing alike, the temperature remains a lovely constant warm and enjoyable temperature. It is a beautiful city, we have gotten to explore more and more of it in our last fews days in Brazil, and learn but a bit more about culture and what it means to be Brazilian. While we do live in hotel/apartment rooms four stories high with views of the beach, we are on an anthropology trip! Margaret and Melanie (our professors leading our trip here in Salvador) have made as much of a possibility to realize that the Barra neighborhood is not what Brazilians know Salvador to be. We have taken trips around the residential areas where over 80% of the population of Salvador live, and got to see life in these neighborhoods which definitely reflect better the more impoverished areas of the city. It is a beautiful city no matter where you choose to live, and is lively and has such strong cultural ties, despite being a more dangerous Brazilian city during night time. We spent the evening last night at a festival inside of the plaza infront of the church of Sao Francisco, which is Salvadors most famous and more adorned church. It is a beautiful piece of architecture and home to such passionate individuals. The festa involved a lot of dancing and Forro music, as well as the streets decorated with acaraje vendors and kabob grillers, providing individuals a taste of Bahian food and Capirinas, which are made from the ever so popular Cachaça (a hard liquor closing resembling tequila, it is made similarly to rum, but instead of distilling and fermenting molasses which is boiled and refined, where Cachaça is made from fresh sugar cane). This as well as Nova Schin and Skol, which are the two most popular beers in Brazil (both being pilsners, I am yet to find anyother kind of beer here in Brazil). Everything here is delicious, and most of the time made with dende oil, which is a rich oil that is extracted from the fruit of the palm, which gives their food extravagent and rich flavors unrivaled by coconut or other lower beta-carotene oils. Though of course, often dende-newbies have stomache irritation, but I have seemed to power through to enjoy my plates of carne e frango and follow it with an icy Skol. Life is good here, we are all tired from our experience in SAJ, but so sad that it came to an end, just as our time in Salvador is. The individuals here, both Brazilians and Americans are great people. I feel so lucky to have spent time getting to know everyone.
Tomorrow is our last full day, which we will continue to learn about Salvador and the culture and people that turn the city from simple clusters of buildings to a live breathing organism, one that breeds Cadomble and soccer, that will host a great deal of the world cup, that has Bahian pride and Brazilian life all throughout it. Friday morning we find ourselves flying back to ]the States where we will spend a night in Miami (hopefully Mr. Nice Guy will Smith will hang out for a bit), and then finishind our journey to Seattle Saturday. I cannot wait to be able to share stories and see the faces of my Seattlite friends and family, and hate that I cannot see and hug the ones down in the Yay, or in the Bahamas. Though short lived, it will be great to have a night to celebrate before embarked just 36ish hours later to Indonesia. I will have to share more, hence back in the arms of Obama and the orignial 13 colonies.

Whas up Plaia!?

Bom Dia! from Salvador. We left our home stays inside of Santo Antonio de Jesus yesterday afternoon, which was definitely sad. It was an afternoon wrought with tears (Allisson and I didn~t of course, we talked about hearing rumors about that thing when you perspire from your eyes). It has truly been an amazing experience, getting to know another culture and experiencing how people in different a completely different society live their daily lives. We had our presentations on friday, all twenty of us gringos and our project partners got to prent the different anthropological project we had conducted over our time in SAJ. Allisson and I did really well, it was a lot of fun. Our project basically consisted of research I conducted in Amargosa which was to learn about the public health system with in the state of Bahia. I spoke with some really high up people which was a pleasure. Than made an interview with individuals accessing the regional public hospital with in SAJ, which was a lot of fun. I will try to post my findings so for all you interested out there in how a free public health system work inside of a middle developed country like brazil, you can read about my research. I miss my family already though. I woke up saturday morning, (the day we left for Salvador) and went into my mothers room where she and my sister were chatting. We all just lounged and talked for hours and it is such an amazing feeling to have a family open their home and their family to you, especially this weird light skinned person who speaks less portuguese than a todler. I had to giggle and smile the day she said ´´bye son´´ to me haha. It is great to experience how deeply engrained soccer is into everyday life here in Brazil. While i have not been able to play yet (which I dont want to talk about), my brother bought me a jersey of one of his teams, but that team has a giant rivalry with another state team. So while I wear my Bahia team jersey proudly, there are Vitoria fans all wanting to tear it apart. It is great, I walk do the street and have people honk their horns and give me the thumbs up, where simultaneously I have little kids grab their hair and ask what the hell i am doing. 
Salvador is beautiful, it is a city about three times the size of Seattle, and the dispparity between the rich and the impoverished is much more noticeable than both SAJ and here. We have cute apartment like rooms here, with a mini stove and a fridge, so I just finished doing a little grocery shopping so we could make some stuff inside our rooms. This involved going through themarket and getting excited at every little fruit and boxed chocolate. But forty rais later, we hiked back to the hotel, and went traversing a bit through the city and beach, while the town pour rain upon us. Soaked, I sit hear drinking an espresso and letting you all know that I miss you all and hope you are well.

Some of my reasearch (rough rough draft):

Santo Antonio de Jesus-
The research we conducted in SAJ was to conduct a simple questionnaire
to best understand the situation and thoughts of people accessing the
public hospitals, to best formulate an opinion of the efficiency of
the public health system. We designed the questionnaire to be simple
as to not bore the interviewees, but with questions to best ascertain
information about accessing the public hospital. We asked name, age,
gender, if they used the public hospital, frequency of use, distance
and transportation, opinion on the efficiency, possi-ble problems, and
possible changes. We were able to obtain 36 subjects, each answering
one of our ques-tionnaires. Our research subjects ranged from
individuals we knew and random individuals accessing the HRSAJ
(Hospital Regional Santo Antonio de Jesus). We walked around the
outside of the hospital, as I learned about how the hospital operates.
We kept our questions for the individuals accessing the both the
administration and appointment wings of the hospital as to not disrupt
or disturb patients of the emergency rooms, all operating on an
ethical basis not to obstruct people. Brazilians are all extremely
kind and helpful individuals, we only had one or two individuals
decline taking the survey. Some of the statistics I felt most apparent
and interesting are as follows:
10/36=27% of people believe SUS is efficient
27/36=75% specifically mentioned issue with reception
9/36=25% of people believe SUS needs to change everything
28/36=78% of people believe SUS needs more and better quality of doctors
7/36=19% of individuals interviewed did not use SUS
18/36=50% live far away and need transportation
While the population of individuals interviewed was not well enough to
be a proper distribution of the SAJ population, it definitely echoes
some concerns and thoughts involving the SUS. A massive majority of
indi-viduals felt the system is inefficient. What becomes next
apparent is that most of the people who feel that SUS is inefficient
wish to change most are respectively the reception and amount of
doctors. This was not surprising whatsoever. There had to be at last
twenty people waiting on both occasions to the hospital to obtain
assistance. While the patients seemed quite patient, it must be so
frustrating to have to wait so long. On hot days there is just a fan
to cool patients down inside, and a black and white TV playing Soap
Opera reruns (at least there should be a color TV). On average there
were only two doctors working at the ap-pointment wing of the
hospital, which is hard to imagine when there are over twenty people
wait to be treat-ed, not to mention the many that must be inside the
waiting rooms inside. Both days we visited, there was only one doctor
working. At least a third of the subjects voiced that they felt
dehumanized and received rude treatment from the health professionals
at the public hospital. One mentioned that they even witnessed someone
reusing materials, which echoes patients concern on the quality of
available medical professionals. A majority of the subjects concluded
saying they would hire more doctors, and quarter mentioned that there
was a need for an overall change to the system, including the
structure it operates under. It also seems that people are in need of
more means of transportation to obtain treatment at the hospitals, as
half needed one, two or even three means of private transportation to
simply get there.

As of today, more than 80% of Brazilians depend on it. Though these
were enormous steps, over decade later, 2/3 of the hospitals, 70% of
the hospital beds and 87% of the specialized hospitals are private.
With an enormous population of 189,000,000 Brazil has made some great
steps in treating its vast population, and doing so in a human and
gallant way, being free. Though it is impossible to ignore the fact
that there are multitudes of people falling through the cracks in the
system, which makes change necessary. Based on the conclusions of our
research thus far, it seems that what people feel is most needed is an
increased amount of doctors and medical professionals, as well as a
change in the reception system utilized in the current hospi-tals.
Training new doctors and medical professionals take money, and the
problem is always finding where this money will come from. This brings
back the issues that I spoke to the psychologist at the clinic in
Amargosa. People want better public healthcare, but not higher taxes. Thus, what needs further consideration is finding the best allocation of money.

Vagalumes e Maracuja

Time is quite odd. It fabricates as if it has genuine proportions, but it speeds up and slows down as if to taunt you. Time here does just that. It feels like its has been months since I last stepped on the Patriotic land of America, yet I canñot believe I have been in Brazil for three weeks. The last several days have flown by redick-ally. On thursday, a couple of students and I took a bus to a nearby town by the name of Amargosa. It is a tiny prosperous little town that a student named Jackson politely invivted us to explore. The town was gorgeous and was truly a sweet little town. He lead a fellow researcher and gringo (which is considered despite being from Ethiopia) and I to several places around town to interview people about our research projects. It was really a great experience. We talked to some pretty high up people, including the top regional distributor for all medications, including all antiretrovirals for HIV/AIDS treatment. We talked to some psychiatrists at a local public clinic, and even went into eight classes talking to around 100 students about their thoughts on the public healthcare system as well as their knowledge about HIV transmission and prejudice. It was all great. Got to attempt to save his sister in the morning from a frog that sneaked into her room as she stood shaking atop her bed holding her confused and barely awake one year old Miguel.
We spent the weekend exploring. Went to a town in Valença where we met the local Bahia Police force. They showed us around and we visited a private school they help run. It was great. The sargent/cheif felt I looked like Justin Beber, which I knodded and smiled to, but because I shook his hand and thanked he, he rewarded me with a hat. Boooh yeah! Betta believe I rep that Bahia Po-po force. We went to a paradise island of Moro de Sao Paulo, where we zip-lined into the water, and visited a massive waterfall. It was two very entertaining and beautifully spent days.
But, it is monday afternoon back here in Santo Antonio de Jesus, and we have but five more days left here before heading to Salvador. We are all excited to see Salvidor and explore another town and people, but what I have come to realize is how much I am going to miss this town. Sure it is relatively small and quite conservative, but it is home to such kind and caring people. I have come to love so many people here, and so many have become family that it is hard to imagine the difficulty of seeing them again in the future. Not only will I miss the families that figuratively and literally openned their arms to me, but so many little things. The lanky man that squats and drinks coffee every morning on a pile of brinks four feet tall outside my house, gojaba and maracuja suco, the sound of horses trotting on the cobblestone right outside after several mottos and cars, the fireflies that dance among the grass and trees near our house, and the silent agreement and understanding that comes with a simple thumbs up. It is a great town full of loving and kind people. The next few days will be spend finishing up my research, which has come along quite well. We are presenting the findings of our research to the local college, hoping we can find a median of understanding and bridging the language gap.
Being able to see my two moms, sister, brother in law, two grandmothers, two fathers, hear little umbligas voice and see my nine month old neice recharged my batteries which was greatly needed.

Sou un Morango

Itaparica I keep getting called Camaron (which means shrimp), not because of my height (being here actually boosts my ego, I may be the one white male in all of Santo Antonio de Jesus, but I am also taller then most), but rather pertaining to the color of my skin. Visited an amazing little town called Itaparica north of Saju (that is right, I am hip, I use brazilian slang/abreviations... which are okay in foreign languages!). It is a beautiful beach town, with historic and antique buildings reminiscent of Portugal. The beach was to be expected, unbelievable, uncrowded, water warm, blah blah marvelous. I did but some spf 50 on, but that did not seem to be enough to give my skin a nice sheen of burns. I just keep telling people minho pele e como um morango (my skin is like a strawberry). It hurts, but nothing like a cold shower and aloevera (luckily Brazilians take multiple quick showers a day). Brazil still loves to alternate between downpours and blistering son, but I simple just sweat through both of them and enjoy it all. All continues to go well here, I am learning more and more about the Brazilian cutlure, because of such wonderfully kind people who love to help learn. Off to go home, and get ready to survey about the public health system. Goooooooooo healthcare!

Capo-Theta Tao

Holy goiabas it is moist in Brazil. At the moment it loves to mix periods of complete sunshine and rainforest downpour. It gets more and more beautiful here though with every passing day. I know most people who know me will not believe this, but I am coming to know this town like the back of my hand. Everyday I take a public van to the square of Santo Antonios, walk to portuguese class, then anthropology, then we have lunch somewhere in the town before either dance or capoeira classes and research. Today was the first day of capoeira, and it was damn good fun.We were huddled into a room with the wooden windows flappying open and closed as it poured outside, the rain echoing off of the tin roof with rain dripping through the holes. Capoeira is such a beautiful thing to witness. You can never truly wrap your mind over whether it is a dance or fight or what, in reality it is everything. It combines dance moves with martial arts rooting from the African and indigenous populations during colonial times. But we were taught basic moves and were able to practice, which as you throw kicks about your partners head, you cannot help but smile and realize its all about rythm and syncing with your partner. If you walk around the University of Washington campus during the spring and you can see some people practicing capoeira. And for the inner nerd inside me, Eddie from tekken was a badass at capoeira. The hut where we learned reminded me of the karate kid. I have expected Jackie Chan or my new sensae to come and start catching the flies that were landing on my face with some chopsticks and explaining life through elaborate metaphors. Alas there was just a goat named Emanuel who let me pet him. I will share more another day, because Allisson is waiting for me to finish. Oh! We are going to be on the Bahian radio soon! And yes... in portuguese. Legao!

Hot Damn!

Hot Damn! And I mean that literally. It is flipping hot here, I am getting quite use to this constant feeling of being sweaty. It is amazing here in Santo Antonio, no one speaks any english except our hosst brothers and sisters. I am staying with such an amazingly nice guy named Allisson. He is unbelievably intelligent! I would not be suprised if he started using english words I did not even know (yeah yeah yeah... i know that would not mean much, whatever). But it is frightening being here with such a poor grasp on protuguese, I really wish I knew more, and it is frustrating i do not but I am learning. Everyone is so kind. I am in my host brothers friends house, just had lunch with her family and her host sister (who is in my class), but the generosity and humanity is truly unparallel. It is such an amazind adventure and I am so touched to be able to share an experience and converstaion with everyone here. We have portuguese class everyday at nine, we will be working on our research projects come tomorrow, which mine is suppose to be a comparative analysis of the public and private hospitals in Santo Antonio. We shall see if the lagnuage barrier can trump that, but who knows. I believe this week we start our Capoeira classes, so yes Max... I will become herra buffer than you. I miss you all, and hope by the next time you read my blog, it will all be in portuguese. Okay... Maybe a paragraph... Or a sentence. Yeah...

Lucky lucky Gringos!

Lucky lucky gringos! I and seven other students got to participate (well... Witness is a better term) in an Cadomble ritual. Cadomble is a religion combining African and Christian spiritual beliefs that's home is rooted in Cachoeira. When the Portuguese began to colonize Brazil, they brought slaves over in order to produce and export native goods. Along with the spread of Christian beliefs, indigenous and African religious and cultural beliefs began to mingle. Cadombleh finds most of it's roots from a Nigerian religion called Ifa. It colonial times, it was illegal to practice Cadomble, as well as other African influenced practices such as Capoeira. It is a an amazing testament to spirituality and beauty of Cadomble that it still exists today. The punishment for practicing was 400 lashings, which ultimately was always death. Today it faces opposition from the evangelical population in Brazil, but is a powerful symbol of the beauty of both Cachoeira and Brazil's history. 
As we hiked among the back trails in the more residential area within Cachoeira, we could hear the drums echo. When we reached the house where the procession took place, we were ushered onto some seats along the walls of the house. Green leaves decorated the floor, and grass hung from beams on the ceiling. Four dancers danced in a counter-clockwise circle as three drummers and bells provided the rhythm for the dancing. Cadomble has strong ties to nature, as one could see the leaves and grass decorating the entire home. Often cats would enter and exit the door of the home sporadically throughout the procession. At one point, a humming bird even hovered above my head, watching the procession before landing in their nest dangling from the ceiling. What we witnessed was a festival for Ogum. The drums provide rhythm for the dancers to dance in response to the beat and when the Orishas feel comfortable and ready they move through some of the dancers, putting the individuals in a trance that leaves them moving and yelling to the drums that are communicating to the specific Orishas. It was unbelievable to experience such a beautiful tradition that not many outsiders get to see, especially the specific ritual an group we saw inside of Cachoeira. Man, it was unbelievable, I felt so lucky. 
After that, we got to run through the streets in celebration of Christ rising at midnight. It was another amazing experience to see all the people of Cachoeira running through the streets clapping their hands and fist pumping (in less of a Guido way) and truly being joyous. Even not sharing the same religious ties or beliefs, it was hard not to run and dance and embrace the joy of the symbolism. Cachoeira was truly an amazing experience, full of history and culture and people I will never forget. I'm here in Santo Antonio at a hotel for the night before we meet our host families tomorrow, so more stories, saved for another day. 

Holy Batatas!

Holy batatas. It has been so beautiful here in Cahcoeira. It has such a rich culture and history, that we've only been able to skim the surface. Our professor Margaret (or as the locals call her, Margaretchi) has been sharing with us the deep history of Cachoeira. Last evening, being good Friday, we went to the convent/church for the beginning of a ceremony devoted to the death of Christ. I could only catch glimpses of the chanting and prayers with in the gold adorned walls of the church, before the precession commenced outside of the walls. Next thing I know, women in morning dresses followed by six priests in gowns, and four men holding up a bed with a Jesus figure bloodied and laying covered by a cloth surrounded my military men, then a mother Mary stature following close behind. The procession lasted at least a couple hours, walking Jesus around the town, switching between two walking bands playing music and chants of "Jesus Christ, our savior, is dead." there had to be almost a couple thousand bodies walking among the streets in somber moods of respect, and people watching outside their windows. Will the story of good Friday is quite somber, the procession involving Easter sunday involving Christ arising, is suppose to be quite joyous, which I've been told involved running and dancing at midnight these evening. Only time will tell! It is amazing how important religion is for brazilians, whether it be for hope or faith, the extreme sense of community is astounding and lovely, the root of religion shines through. So I have only been called gringo once, and have been stared at constantly. I got some havianas to try to fit in, but my Latin Brethren haven't welcomed me as one of their own quite yet. But Cachoeira is beautiful, with views of the market right outside my window, and buildings and trees sporadically decorating the hillsides, it's marvelous. More to come about celebrations and beer, now don't y'all worry.

Greetings from Brazil!

If there was a cute little postcard to go along with that greeting it would be my gringo self waving among the streets of Cachoeira in Bahia Brazil. It is absolutely beautiful here. Ever since the drive from the airport in Salvadora to the city of Cachoeira there is so much green and so much beauty. May be that is why Brazilians are such a vibrant and happy people because they surround themsevles constantly with nature. The importance of nature in America was realized around the mid ninteenth century hence the contruction of city parks such as Central Pàrk in New York and Golden Gate in San Francisco. But everyone has been extremely kind here thus far. I have had some old men make jokes and give me high fives and hugs as well as many weird looks at my shoes and clothings. Guess Pàul will have to get him some thongs (sandals... you all with your dirty minds). It is... HOT. For those who are around me constantly I know I sweat constantly which is why I am embarrassed already sweating in Seattle compáred to here. Yet it has been póuring which is quite refreshing. I will report more about my adventures for all I have yet to accomplish is to make it here (insert comma because I cannot find mine on my keyboard) drink a couple of beers and wander. It is beautiful though. Canñot wait to see more. Love and miss you all.

well here goes nothing

Alriiiiiight, so I'm still figuring out how this shindig works. I am making this little blog so I can best keep in touch with everyone, and let you know how all is. So... what adventure is Paul partaking in one may ask? I am studying in Brazil for a month with some wonderful University of Washington students and professors. We are traveling to Salvador, Bahia, San Antonio de Jesus and Sao Paulo. My Portuguese is not too bad, around the level of a two year old. I can basically point at things and attempt at the right word. Yep, pretty soon my niece Paula (well, more commonly known as Marley) will be speaking better English than me Portuguese. After that, I am traveling to Borneo which is in Indonesia and is the third largest island in the world with some of the largest biodiversity in the world. I will be doing an ethnoecological study, which is a fun word that can be explained below in a link by one of my teachers! Well I'm off to finish packing, but I wanted to create this blog so I can have some sense of communication with you all, because the love I have for you all is like my awkward arm hair, it's long and I can't help it being there, but I wouldn't change it for the world. I'll be flying to Salvador, Brazil tomorrow morning before most of you open your little sleepy eyes. So in the newly found words, I leave you with, "A sia saide e com licença, onde fica o banheiro?" (Cheers, and where is the restroom?)