Daytripping in Hamburg
Although I spent a year living in an outer suburb of Hamburg after high school, and have visited that village many times in the intervening decades (gotta get used to viewing my life in terms of intervening decades…no sense beating around the bush on that one…), I really hardly know the city and have spent little time there. This was the first time that I went into the city with the sole intention of simply exploring it, and I found it utterly delightful. (In the past, there had always been a purpose: a movie, a concert, the art museum; this time the agenda was “explore the city.” It has not only a very busy and beautiful harbor front along the Elbe River and the Alster, a series of lakes that feed (I assume) into the Elbe, but also some beautiful old town squares, a gorgeous and beautifully-landscaped city park in the heart of downtown, and, oh yeah, one of the largest gay communities in Europe. Gotta like a city with those attributes.
The disneyfication of the world continues apace. Yup, that tourist boat is advertising “Der Koenig der Loewen. Young Dan (6 years old), who helped me select some of the photos going into this section, found that pretty cool. Thanks for the help, Danno. 
Hamburg is the largest harbor in Germany, and what’s cool about it – compared, say, to LA and Long Beach, the largest and second-largest harbors in the US, is that it’s on a river which is also actively used for commuter and other transport. All of these pictures of the harbor were taken from a ferry trip I took on a one-day Hamburg transit pass, which also took care of my subway and streetcar rides, everywhere in the city.
If you enlarge this one, you’ll see the graffiti says “Bush Go Home.” One of my best friends, with whom I agree wholeheartedly, feels we should give Texas its independence, and then I’m all for sending Bush home to Texas, and banning him from re-entering the newly-sane USA. 🙂 
Schleswig Hostein
The final stage of my swing through Switzerland, Germany & Holland was based in a small town north of Hamburg, not far from the historically-important city of Luebeck, a major player in the Hanseatic League that dominated Baltic trade for a long time. Luebeck held the salt monopoly, and is also famous as the home town of marzipan. (In the picture of the Holsten Tor – city gate – below, you can see the old salt cellars to at the bottom left of the picture, by the river. Their marzipan is both differnet and much better than the nasty fake fruits you get in many places.) As usual, a visit with my host family involved a glorious trip to see the many churches of Luebeck, and a beautiful bike ride through the yellow fields of … well, its real name in English is rape, but they’re now calling the oil that comes from its seeds canola. So you can think of the bright yellow stuff as canola flowers, or rape flowers. Up to you. Either way, here they are again many miles from Chartres, and still beautiful.
Rhapsodies in Stained Glass
As my six weeks in Europe began, so they ended: in Paris. So we’re ending our photo-tour with a display of something that captivated me and reminded me of many of the good achievements of European civilization. (There are, after all, a few…however far we’ve strayed from some of the higher aspirations of our earlier thinkers and researchers.) I approached churches on this trip much as I approached the temples I visited around Asia: with interest, with respect for the beliefs of those who visited them and also a strong protective distance from the rich institutionalized religious orders to which they often belong. As artistic achievements, so many of the churches in Europe truly are spectacular…as in other parts of the world, it seems religion is able to call forth some of humankinds most beautiful impulses (in this case, artistic) – not just our most angry and base. Trivial fact: this church, and I think other national-monument-level churches around France (e.g. Chartres, probably Notre Dame as well) is physically owned and maintained or restored by the French state. Religious services and religious workers attached to it, naturally, belong (argue the verb if you wish) to the Vatican. Made it easier for me to pay admission, knowing it went to the state; I simply hope the church isn’t profiting too much by my visit in any other way.
The purpose of this little guy is to remind us all how different stained-glass looks from outside; how much it relies on the light shining through to make it glow and show its true beauty. I took this from the top of the bell tower at Chartres. Below: top to bottom: Sainte Chapelle Rose Window 2x, Chartres, and a modern window from the International Center. Immediately above, bottom to top: contemporary from Int’l Center, same artist as below; reproduction of classic from Int’l Center, and Chartres.
Farewell & Thanks
As I write this, I’m in one of those rich in-between moments full of sadness and potential, and in some ways scary, to the extent that I’ve come unmoored from the work and colleagues that have been my anchor since arriving here in Sri Lanka. My friend and counterpart Violet, from MSF Holland, and I had our little farewell gathering down at Mt Lavinia Hotel yesterday afternoon and I opted to spend the night here as well, rather than going back and being underfoot around the house and office, with my replacement already settling into his position. So I write this while watching the blue waters out my window and hearing the waves break, pondering the irony that early this morning – on the very day I’m scheduled to fly out from the international airport — the LTTE introduced a new tactic in their conflict with the government of Sri Lanka: light aircraft attacked an air base next door to the airport.
Last week I visited our project in Point Pedro briefly, to introduce my replacement and say goodbye to my colleagues and enjoy one last time the rich red soil, azure sky and verdant fields of the peninsula (along with a heavy dose of the usual road dust!). It would be the ultimate irony if, having worried that something would happen to delay my return flight from Jaffna and thus my trip to Paris, it turned out to be attacks here in Colombo that delay my departure. From what I hear now, this seems unlikely.
Sitting on my balcony while staring at the waves has given me time to ponder the meaning of life a bit. Two+ years ago I left the US and felt, I must say, rather brave about it. Not so brave as some of my friends thought – you know, leaving the so-called security of corporate America behind for the unknowns of a life doing humanitarian work in the developing world — but brave nonetheless, on some level. I’m no longer so sure. I’ve grown used to seeing more semi-automatic weapons and soldiers than I ever expected. I’ve learned what shelling sounds like from a distance. (It’s never been terribly close, on my visits in Point Pedro, though I did hear my loudest on the recent visit – which was still fairly far away.) Soldiers blocking the road so that military convoys can pass by unimpeded and unworried about suicide attacks are something I seem to take pretty well in stride now. And there’s no shadow of doubt that I feel more alive doing this than I’d feel if I’d stayed at my day job in the US.
I think I now live on two levels: part of me knows, remembers, and misses the comparative stability and day-to-day sameness of life in the US. Another part of me now knows viscerally what a big world is out here, and how much there is to experience, learn and live here. An Obie friend, Kris, was surprised that what I write most of missing is the foods: bagels, cheese enchiladas, and so on. Naturally there are things I miss more: friends, family, long hikes in the Sierras or walks on the beach in Mendocino County. But the friends and family keep in touch by email and even phone, and I can hike in Ella or walk on the beach here in Mirisa. But I can’t sit at an outside table on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood, with a bagel and a good coffee (a rare commodity in Sri Lanka), pondering why Americans are so committed to worshiping at the alter of consumption, and feeling holier-than-thou because I’ll soon be back in some place where the electricity is scarce and the bagels are even more so.
Enough of this. This loooong first chapter of my life with MSF is about to end, more than two years after I headed to Paris in February 2005. I’ve learned life is just life, wherever you are in the world; work is just work, and if that’s the case, I’d rather do work that has a different goal than increasing a corporate president’s year-end bonus so he can buy another Hummer in which his kids can sit in the backseat watching different DVDs with headphones on, while all the commentators bemoan the loss of family values in the US.
I’ve learned above all that I cannot do this without my wonderful friends and family who have read the blog and posted comments and notes, sent me emails and postcards, care packages and books and DVD’s, and generally helped me stay connected to that other side of my life to which I’ll be returning shortly. And then there are all of you who contribute to MSF – for which I thank you VERY much, since it makes all this work, which I like to think is valuable, possible. I’m really afraid to list names, since I’m sure I’ll miss some…but: Steve D and Steve B, my most regular phone and email contacts through the years, one of whom sent regular infusions of good books and DVDs, and the other of whom twice came to visit me in Asia, once being so good as to bring along Mom and a suitcase full of books and other goodies; Glorianna, a friend I’ve not even met yet, but who arranged for some great books to come my way, which I’ve been very much enjoying; Jill & Chuck, always ready with a funny t-shirt and useful information; Howard & Gene, Amy & Nancy, Neal & Elizabeth; Bill & Bobbie, regular blog readers who are making my summer vacation possible!; Connie & Anne, Michele T, Midge, Deb & Carl, Gary – quiet but never gone! – Steve E, Cat in BJ; darling Ondrej, whom Cat describes as “even better-looking in person than his blog makes him seem,” Mutti, Vati, Jens, Birgit, Fabian, Miriam, Daniel and Jan. Here in Colombo: Jim & Richard, Toby, and Omar, all non-MSF friends I’ve been happy and proud to have in my life here.
I’m going to close here, probably logging off the blog for a good chunk of time, with a belated thanks to my exchange sister in Germany, Sigrid. She greeted me at the Hamburg airport in 1980 when I arrived for my exchange year living with her, Jens, Mutti & Vati. In a sense this makes her the first person ever to welcome me to an expatriate existence, and throughout that year and the years since, it has warmed my heart to know that her light and energy enliven in the world. My loss is a small candle compared to the grief and loss of her sons, daughters, mother, father, brother, sister-in-law and husband, but it’s a loss nonetheless. She passed away during my first visit to Jaffna in February, after holding on as long as she could against malignant cells which had taken over too much of her body. I don’t know what to say, other than that I will miss you Sigrid, I will continue to take pride and joy in knowing your wonderful children and family and spending time with them when I can, and I will try to honor your energy and life by living as much in the moment as I can, and being as generous and warm as I know how to be, for as long as I can.
Signing off from Colombo, urging us all to spare a smile and some warmth for someone we don’t know, and a thought to people less blessed than us, thanking you again for tuning in to my meandering thoughts and photos…this is so much world, so little time.
Contrasts & Contradictions
The largest hay-bale I think I’ve ever seen.
The dusty NGO and UN-truck-filled parking lot where the flights up from Colombo disgorge their passengers.
The unusued, full-hulled, normal fishing boats get put to some interesting uses. 
I’ve been saying since I arrived in Sri Lanka that the country calls forth a wide range of highly varied emotional and intellectual responses in me. As my farewell (at least for now) to Sri Lanka, I present a portfolio of shots from all over the island. I’ll let the captions tell most of the story, with this small introduction up front. In early February – shortly after finishing that last mammoth posting about Cambodia and Thailand, which I hope you’ve all taken some time to digest! – I finally had the opportunity to visit our field project in Point Pedro, up at the northern tip of the Jaffna peninsula. Never visiting a project, never seeing the patients and populations we’re here to serve, has been perhaps the single most difficult aspect of this assignment for me. 
Members of the capital team never see our patients or the daily life in our projects anywhere near as much as the field teams – but at least in China I was able to get to one or the other of the projects usually at least once a month, and some months I went to both projects. Here, circumstances have conspired to limit me to one field visit over the course of a 7-1/2 month assignment. After that, there were two more lovely weekend trips out of Colombo so I could see a bit more of the island before leaving it: 24 hours at Mirisa on the south coast (with my good friends and colleagues Ulises and Violet, counterpars from the other MSF sections whom you saw pics from Violet’s and my farewell) and 48 hours in mountainous Ella all on my own to catch my breath and clear my lungs in the mountain air before focusing on the handover to my replacement.
As expected, I learned a very great deal from my field visit, in addition to enjoying it. The peninsula is generally drier than Colombo, and that makes it feel a bit cooler even if the air temp is not any cooler. Moreover, the air anywhere on this island is likely cleaner and less cough-inducing than the smog-ridden soup of Colombo. But the visit yielded more than just personal comfort and enjoyment. I’ve heard many say that the Jaffna Peninsula is effectively under a military occupation – an idea I appreciated abstractly, but which took concrete meaning for me when I visited. The security in Colombo is tighter than any place I’ve ever lived before: presence of soldiers at street corners, sandbagged bunkers in many strategic locations, pat-down searches and metal detectors to get into many public buildings and almost all government offices, etc. Jaffna takes it to new levels: every 250 meters or so on the road, you hit a new roadblock and checkpoint. Every 100 meters along the coastline, there’s another bunker with soldiers looking out in four directions.
(so much world, so little time....) 
