During our outreach this Wednesday, I was again assigned to the Filis team heading to the brothels in this neighborhood just northeast of Omonia. The scene was much like last week (see It's All Greek to Me) but I felt a bit more confident knowing what to expect in advance. This week, my partner was Corinna, a bright young Greek woman with a head of curly blonde hair and plenty of self-confidence and style. She was "leading" for the first time, meaning she did the talking with the madames and prostitutes, and I could tell she was nervous. But each conversation went well, with several of the madames inviting us in to sit and talk. The Filis area has been fairly suspicious of Nea Zoi since their route through this area is new and we attract quite a consistent number of curious neighbors asking us why we're here. In the past few months, the interactions with the women here have been difficult, or prevented all together by the madames. One of the bigger obstacles is actually being able to meet with some of the women face-to-face at all. On the other hand, some of the madames are warming up to the teams coming every week with smiles and coffees. It is incredibly encouraging for the staff and volunteers to watch this shift in perception and see doors opening to better relationships with the women.
Emma and I went into one brothel together where the madames seem to change every week, and we weren't sure what to expect. But as we passed through the darkened rooms back to the kitchen, we were introduced to a young, pale girl with long dark hair. She was a new Romanian girl, the madame told us, and didn't speak any Greek or English at all. Looking at her, fatigued and fragile, with bruises and dirty fingernails, we quickly assumed she had likely been trafficked. Her eyes followed our conversation in Greek back and forth, but we had no way of directly communicating with her. I could see Emma's frustration and sadness at the language barrier, something I've struggled with our whole time here. Sitting in front of someone without being able to effectively communicate anything really, when you desperately want to love them and give them crucial information to improve their situation, is maddening. Suddenly I realized we at least had a medical survey translated into Romanian, and we trailed a finger under the top line "Public Health Survey, Athens, Greece" until she brightened and grabbed the paper and a pen from us. She bent over the survey, reading carefully and checking boxes as she went, her tongue sticking barely out of her mouth in concentration. As I accumulated our survey data later that afternoon, she was our only Romanian survey, and the checked boxes our only communication with her so far.
Before our time here in Athens, the issue of trafficking vaguely appeared on my radar from news articles, but I didn't understand much of the details or the global scale of the problem. We are seeing a small piece of the overall picture in Europe with Nea Zoi, but even interacting with the women nearly daily, I found it hard to really grasp. When we were over at Emma and Yannis' apartment for dinner last weekend, she let us borrow a movie/miniseries "Human Trafficking" with Donald Sutherland and Mira Sorvino. Combined with our experiences here with the women, the movie was painfully educational and eye-opening. I hesitate to recommend it with its graphic scenes and sometimes agonizing reality, but it is certainly a quick and pointed lesson on the issue of trafficking. During our viewing, I found myself watching carefully for portrayals of the women's responses to their situations. Many of the women we meet here already made clear psychological adjustments to avoid continuing emotional trauma and strain, even the portion of the population who weren't trafficked. The concept of just surviving is very prevelant. And as we continue surveying, many of the women are requesting psychological counseling. The untangling of the emotional splits they require to survive can take years. Complicating that process though, it is less threatening and traumatic for the women to simply continue the dual existance. Recognizing the horrors of their daily life, and reconnecting their identities with reality, is a terrifying step. To maintain status quo, many women will refuse to admit being trafficked, much less turn in their traffickers or leave prostitution, along with fear of retribution or shame returning home or many other reasons. Once they have paid off their "debt" to the trafficker - often 50,000 euros or more - the women have fully adjusted to the split life of prostitution and rationalize staying longer to make money for themselves since they've already been damaged.
All of this to say that the situation here is far more complex than I could have imagined. It's not a simple as just offering the women a way out and them jumping at it with relief, and everything turning out just fine. The process of helping the women leave this situation requires trust and long-term relationships, with provisions for the overlooked medical problems and spiritual and emotional issues in the interim. Before this, I had no idea.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
University Hospital Attikon
Tuesday morning Lindsay and I woke up earlier than usual to make our way across Athens to Hospital Attikon, where our acquaintance Dr. Koutras works as an Ob-Gyn professor with the University of Athens medical school. He invited us to visit his Tuesday morning public clinic where he sees women with Greece's national medical insurance (similar to Medicaid). The morning's first task involved actually finding Hospital Attikon. Our touristy maps only show central Athens, and our vague 
geographical knowledge of the hospital put it in the western part of the city ... maybe. After searching in vain for a while for a decent map online , we decided to just hop in a taxi and say "Hospital Attikon" with confident smiles. Shockingly, it worked, but the cab driver whipped around in his seat to stare at us, and I realized a few seconds later that jumping into a cab and asking loudly for a hospital might deserve that reaction. We drove west on main streets that I slowly recognized from our visits last Thursday night with the transvestites. I snapped a picture of our first stop from that evening as we passed by in broad daylight.
When we arrived at the hospital, Lindsay and I wandered past clusters of smokers and through a blue cloud to enter the smoke-free sanctity of Attikon Hospital. The lobby was modern and airy, full of hustling staff and patients
clutching their medical books (the Greek public health system uses books to track use of the system and provide continuity). We soaked in the familiar sights of a university hospital, including the obvious cluster of residents and medical students standing to one side slurping coffees. Dr. Koutras met us in the lobby to escort us back to his clinic and we settled in. Throughout the morning a long line of women came and went, some with general gynecology problems, and others newly-pregnant or just wanting a routine pap smear. Another medical student joined us for a while - a sixth-year medical student learning ob-gyn exams (before you flip out over six years of medical school, let me explain that the Greek system circumvents four years of undergraduate university time by including it in a six-year medical school curriculum, followed by a residency system similar to ours in the US). Lindsay and I were happy to contribute to the clinic, doing paps and gyn exams, and we were curious to notice a few differences in the Greek medical system as we worked.
back to Syndagma Square close to Omonia. We set a dinner date with him later in the evening, and headed back to the office to get some work done. When he picked Lindsay, Robert and I up later, we were a bit dismayed to be fairly underdressed (aren't we always ..) and quickly realized how much our host wanted to show us the beauty of Athens to counterbalance any one-sided impressions we might absorb from our work in the darker corners of the city. Dr. Koutras brought a date, his cousin and his cousin's wife to join us for dinner in southern Athens on the waterfront. The seven of us had a marvelous time eating incredible Greek food and working our way through often hilarious broken English-Greek conversations about our different persectives on the world. They dropped us off in Omonia well after 1am with full tummies and lingering smiles to stagger back to the apartment and fall happily into bed.
geographical knowledge of the hospital put it in the western part of the city ... maybe. After searching in vain for a while for a decent map online , we decided to just hop in a taxi and say "Hospital Attikon" with confident smiles. Shockingly, it worked, but the cab driver whipped around in his seat to stare at us, and I realized a few seconds later that jumping into a cab and asking loudly for a hospital might deserve that reaction. We drove west on main streets that I slowly recognized from our visits last Thursday night with the transvestites. I snapped a picture of our first stop from that evening as we passed by in broad daylight.When we arrived at the hospital, Lindsay and I wandered past clusters of smokers and through a blue cloud to enter the smoke-free sanctity of Attikon Hospital. The lobby was modern and airy, full of hustling staff and patients
clutching their medical books (the Greek public health system uses books to track use of the system and provide continuity). We soaked in the familiar sights of a university hospital, including the obvious cluster of residents and medical students standing to one side slurping coffees. Dr. Koutras met us in the lobby to escort us back to his clinic and we settled in. Throughout the morning a long line of women came and went, some with general gynecology problems, and others newly-pregnant or just wanting a routine pap smear. Another medical student joined us for a while - a sixth-year medical student learning ob-gyn exams (before you flip out over six years of medical school, let me explain that the Greek system circumvents four years of undergraduate university time by including it in a six-year medical school curriculum, followed by a residency system similar to ours in the US). Lindsay and I were happy to contribute to the clinic, doing paps and gyn exams, and we were curious to notice a few differences in the Greek medical system as we worked. - First difference - instead of the doctor going from room to room seeing different patients, the physician stays in one place while the patients come in one at a time from a line out in the hall.
- Second difference - hand-washing is less rigorous than in our hospitals
- Third difference - as is privacy ... patients waiting out in the hall regularly popped in to see if the doctor was free yet, even in the middle of oh-so-sensitive exams; despite these interruptions, only a handful of the patients seemed truly bothered by the intrusions!
back to Syndagma Square close to Omonia. We set a dinner date with him later in the evening, and headed back to the office to get some work done. When he picked Lindsay, Robert and I up later, we were a bit dismayed to be fairly underdressed (aren't we always ..) and quickly realized how much our host wanted to show us the beauty of Athens to counterbalance any one-sided impressions we might absorb from our work in the darker corners of the city. Dr. Koutras brought a date, his cousin and his cousin's wife to join us for dinner in southern Athens on the waterfront. The seven of us had a marvelous time eating incredible Greek food and working our way through often hilarious broken English-Greek conversations about our different persectives on the world. They dropped us off in Omonia well after 1am with full tummies and lingering smiles to stagger back to the apartment and fall happily into bed.
Monday night in Omonia
Omonia is our Athens neighborhood, with Omonia Square only a few blocks from our apartment and the Nea Zoi office only a few blocks further. Omonia is pronounced like ammonia, but more of an O sound starting the word with a slight pause - "O-monia". Many Athenians react negatively to references to Omonia, often because of its reputation for drug trafficking and use. As I've mentioned before though, we've been able to walk around together at night and still feel fairly safe despite crazy things going on around us. Passing through the main square or the plaza outside the Nea Zoi office (or in front of our apartment for that matter) we often see drug users who are clearly high, and the exchange of drugs back and forth. A few times, the main square has been actually crowded late at night with clusters of hundreds of users mingling together! The more popular drug in Omonia is heroin, and the high users often show slowed motor movements and responses, creating a scene of dark figures swaying and staggering in slow motion.
I describe all of this to provide a context for our outreach this past Monday night, when I had the chance to walk the streets of my own neighborhood to talk with Nigerian, Greek and Albanian women. It sounds funny, but the landmarks near our apartment are already familiar and wandering through recognizable territory added a different layer of surrealism to the evening. During our time of preparation at the office beforehand, I presented a brief seminar on heroin abuse and the symptoms of use and withdrawal. We hoped to better prepare the Nea Zoi folks to interact safely and effectively with heroin-using prostitutes. Compared to populations of sex workers in the UK or US, the women and men here usually are not using drugs, particularly the trafficked women. Only a small group also get involved with drugs, but many of those women can be found in Omonia's streets.
As we headed out from the office, we walked down the "back way" to the apartment through side streets instead of going through Omonia Square. At night, we usually avoid the back way, and I saw why as we passed through these narrow, dark streets with our team. On a corner not far from our apartment, we encountered four or five Nigerian women working. Apparently Nea Zoi knew these girls from encounters over a year ago, and the women hadn't been seen again until tonight. Several of the girls told stories of working in Italy for several months, and we suspect a trafficking ring is involved between Italy and Greece. As with the Nigerian girls at the hotels, these five women were friendly and English-speaking, allowing me more freedom in discussion and verbal compassion. And I love to be able to connect and communicate easily! One girl with the street name "Special" told me about her desire to work in medicine and get training as a midwife or a doctor. When I mentioned the Friday clinic and asked her if she wanted to be there to help, she absolutely glowed! All of the women were willing to complete medical surveys, and amazingly the discussion over medical topics often opened doors to more honest conversation. More about that later ...
Our route through Omonia took us by several bars that host prostitutes, and we met many Albanian and Greek women sitting at tables in front of the bars or waving at us from inside. With this group, my role changed to handing out cards advertising the clinics and smiling with the occasional "neh" and "yassis" (a new word for me, means literally 'your health' often used as a greeting or goodbye, or in toasts ... it's incredibly useful for my non-Greek speaking-ness). One woman talked my ear off in Greek as I kept saying 'English, English?' over and over. When I offered her a nail polish for completing the survey, she put her hands up as if refusing it, then ran off into the bar. I stood there for a minute completely confused. I mean, the nail polish is pretty cool and I hadn't gotten any flat-out refusals yet. But after a minute or so she re-appeared carrying a bag of chips that she thrust in my hands. And she gladly chose a bright pink nail polish from my bag as I examined her gift. A lot of these interactions pose similar language confusions and subsequent surprises for me, usually in the eager response of the women to the teams' attention and concern for them. This woman, her eyes laced with thick mascara and framed with bleach-blonde hair, drew close and grabbed my hands with an awkward English "tenk uuu" as my mind raced to memorize her face. Originally I hoped to complete a series of portraits of the women and men we're meeting. But I haven't been able to photograph the darker side of our time in Athens because it seems like a violation of trust and confidentiality. And at moments like this one, I wish a futuristic neuro-camera existed that could freeze frame her smile and bright eyes and save it permanently in my mind.
I describe all of this to provide a context for our outreach this past Monday night, when I had the chance to walk the streets of my own neighborhood to talk with Nigerian, Greek and Albanian women. It sounds funny, but the landmarks near our apartment are already familiar and wandering through recognizable territory added a different layer of surrealism to the evening. During our time of preparation at the office beforehand, I presented a brief seminar on heroin abuse and the symptoms of use and withdrawal. We hoped to better prepare the Nea Zoi folks to interact safely and effectively with heroin-using prostitutes. Compared to populations of sex workers in the UK or US, the women and men here usually are not using drugs, particularly the trafficked women. Only a small group also get involved with drugs, but many of those women can be found in Omonia's streets.
As we headed out from the office, we walked down the "back way" to the apartment through side streets instead of going through Omonia Square. At night, we usually avoid the back way, and I saw why as we passed through these narrow, dark streets with our team. On a corner not far from our apartment, we encountered four or five Nigerian women working. Apparently Nea Zoi knew these girls from encounters over a year ago, and the women hadn't been seen again until tonight. Several of the girls told stories of working in Italy for several months, and we suspect a trafficking ring is involved between Italy and Greece. As with the Nigerian girls at the hotels, these five women were friendly and English-speaking, allowing me more freedom in discussion and verbal compassion. And I love to be able to connect and communicate easily! One girl with the street name "Special" told me about her desire to work in medicine and get training as a midwife or a doctor. When I mentioned the Friday clinic and asked her if she wanted to be there to help, she absolutely glowed! All of the women were willing to complete medical surveys, and amazingly the discussion over medical topics often opened doors to more honest conversation. More about that later ...
Our route through Omonia took us by several bars that host prostitutes, and we met many Albanian and Greek women sitting at tables in front of the bars or waving at us from inside. With this group, my role changed to handing out cards advertising the clinics and smiling with the occasional "neh" and "yassis" (a new word for me, means literally 'your health' often used as a greeting or goodbye, or in toasts ... it's incredibly useful for my non-Greek speaking-ness). One woman talked my ear off in Greek as I kept saying 'English, English?' over and over. When I offered her a nail polish for completing the survey, she put her hands up as if refusing it, then ran off into the bar. I stood there for a minute completely confused. I mean, the nail polish is pretty cool and I hadn't gotten any flat-out refusals yet. But after a minute or so she re-appeared carrying a bag of chips that she thrust in my hands. And she gladly chose a bright pink nail polish from my bag as I examined her gift. A lot of these interactions pose similar language confusions and subsequent surprises for me, usually in the eager response of the women to the teams' attention and concern for them. This woman, her eyes laced with thick mascara and framed with bleach-blonde hair, drew close and grabbed my hands with an awkward English "tenk uuu" as my mind raced to memorize her face. Originally I hoped to complete a series of portraits of the women and men we're meeting. But I haven't been able to photograph the darker side of our time in Athens because it seems like a violation of trust and confidentiality. And at moments like this one, I wish a futuristic neuro-camera existed that could freeze frame her smile and bright eyes and save it permanently in my mind.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Out and About
Our Sunday started with a Metro ride over to the neighborhoods underneath the Acropolis for church. Both Emma and Jennifer are part of this particular church, which is appealing since we tend to trust their general tastes, but it is also English-friendly to boot! Now, this friendliness does involve wearing a set of big Mickey-Mouse-ears black headphones transmitting a kindly British voice from the congregation's interpreter. It feels a wee bit goofy, but certainly gets the job done. And we do sing in English while everyone sings in beautiful Greek whaa waa waaaaas, but the services have been fulfilling and peaceful to attend.
After the service today, we enjoyed lunch and an afternoon with Jennifer. To say a bit about her, she has honestly been our most comfortable, familiar bit of happiness here in Athens. Always amazingly accomodating and understanding, hilarious and friendly, she is also kind, wise, godly and generally fun to be around. We're big fans. Initially, she started Nea Zoi with Emma six or seven years ago, and only this year is transitioning to a different role of international policy work on behalf of the women. With her visionary personality, this is a perfect position for her, and for Nea Zoi's next stage moving from a local scale with plenty of international issues involved, to the global scale in hopes of affecting the local situations in more countries at once.We enjoyed homemade Asian food at Jennifer's cute, tiny apartment followed by a hearty hike across Athens to Lykavittos Hill and a climb up to the small white chapel of St. George perched on top. Lykavittos is one of the random dark green hills popping up in the midst of the city's sea of white buildings, with a theater tucked into the woods on its north face. The hike felt like a never-ending stairmaster, but stayed pleasant with the dry air and cool breeze. We were pleased to see the familiar agave plant with its broad dusty green leaves and tall flowering stalks, and as we reached the higher, rockier slopes our pictures became very Big Bend-ish, just with a huge city in the background. Check out the Athens picture album for a photographic spread of the fun! The view from the chapel was wonderful, with all of the detail and color of Athens spread out in every direction. And tomorrow we're planning a hike to one of Athen's highest ridges with the goal of reaching an isolated monastery for a lunch picnic before heading to work through the Monday evening outreach late late tomorrow.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Pilot medical clinic numero uno
This afternoon, we hosted our first two-hour clinic at the Nea Zoi offices. Lindsay and I set up one of the rooms with our medical equipment, a rudimentary exam table (picture a desk with a mattress laid over the top and draped with sheets ...) and chairs for the physician and patient. In all of our preparations, we weren't sure what to expect - we might have ten patients, or none at all! Along with a Greek nurse, Lindsay and myself, we were staffed by Dr. Terazakis, an internist, between 2 and 3pm, and our sweet Dr. Lydia Ogur, a general practioner, followed from 3-4pm.
Right at 2pm, we greeted our first patient, a blonde Albanian woman with a face aged well beyond her 31 years. She came with questions about abnormal blood tests she'd received recently - anemia, as it turned out - and the conversation turned almost immediately to her job and unique medical questions concerning prostitution. But as we continued, it became quickly obvious that she is dealing with stresses even beyond prostitution's usual difficulties. Her ex-pimp is currently in prison in Albania, and trying to locate her to "reclaim" her. Despite being behind bars, he has been utilizing the extensive network of the Russian mafia to find her and her 9 year old son here in Athens. Last week, prostitutes in her area reported being asked about her by a man who mentioned being paid 2000 Euros to track her down. The police were called and chased him away, but this woman now lives under the constant threat of kidnapping or even death. She told us about recurring colds and pains, headaches and nausea, that are intesifying as this fearful story continues. Any solutions available for this type of situation will likely not provide much protection for her, including the Albanian witness protection program she enrolled in before the pimp's arrest. The visit felt incredibly frustrating. Even with fairly simple medical solutions - an iron supplement and counseling about anemia - we had no immediate solution for the much larger social issues threatening her life far more than her anemia. We prayed with her and talked through the possibilities of returning to the relative safety of her family in Albania, and she left the office with our phone number knowing the office could be a safe haven if the situation worsens.
One of the other patients was also Albanian, and a smart 23-year-old proficient in Albanian, English and Greek, with some Italian and Spanish to boot. She and I sat talking together for quite a while after she saw Dr. Terazakis, a refreshing change for me to be able to communicate quickly and clearly with one of the women! After she filled out the health survey, she offered some editing tips for the Albanian survey as well, and talked frankly with us about how to make the survey more approachable for the other women. As the afternoon went on, a local psychiatrist showed up and we engaged in an intense discussion of the women's psychiatric needs in broken English. Her input proved invaluable as we checked through surveys from Wednesday, last night and today, and saw the high prevalence of depression. One of the Nigerian women seen on the outreach last night had mentioned feeling suicidal on occasion, and we talked through the options for immediate medical care in similar situations encountered out on the streets. All in all, the clinic saw three patients, and we started planning further steps in our phase plans with the help of this psychiatrist and Dr. Ogur.
Robert and I are going out to dinner in Monistirakis tonight at our favorite restaurant, before meeting a third-year Ob-Gyn resident from the University of Athens. Dr. Koutras, a friend of Dr. Hurd from UTHSCSA's faculty, met with Lindsay and me Tuesday evening and treated us to coffee at a lovely restaurant beneath the Acropolis. He wanted us to see the beauty of Athens, including the warm glow of the Acropolis lit up at night. Our conversations with him - Emma translating and explaining Nea Zoi's purposes - continued our education of the Greek medical system and the possibilities open to the clinic for connections with the local clinics and hospitals. Lindsay and I are pretty sure that Dr. Koutras, who emphasized wanting to be a hospitable host for us, recruited this resident to show us the town ... for now that will just be a coffee date near Monistirakis after our late bedtime last night. We're a bit wiped out, but caffeine is always welcome!
Right at 2pm, we greeted our first patient, a blonde Albanian woman with a face aged well beyond her 31 years. She came with questions about abnormal blood tests she'd received recently - anemia, as it turned out - and the conversation turned almost immediately to her job and unique medical questions concerning prostitution. But as we continued, it became quickly obvious that she is dealing with stresses even beyond prostitution's usual difficulties. Her ex-pimp is currently in prison in Albania, and trying to locate her to "reclaim" her. Despite being behind bars, he has been utilizing the extensive network of the Russian mafia to find her and her 9 year old son here in Athens. Last week, prostitutes in her area reported being asked about her by a man who mentioned being paid 2000 Euros to track her down. The police were called and chased him away, but this woman now lives under the constant threat of kidnapping or even death. She told us about recurring colds and pains, headaches and nausea, that are intesifying as this fearful story continues. Any solutions available for this type of situation will likely not provide much protection for her, including the Albanian witness protection program she enrolled in before the pimp's arrest. The visit felt incredibly frustrating. Even with fairly simple medical solutions - an iron supplement and counseling about anemia - we had no immediate solution for the much larger social issues threatening her life far more than her anemia. We prayed with her and talked through the possibilities of returning to the relative safety of her family in Albania, and she left the office with our phone number knowing the office could be a safe haven if the situation worsens.
One of the other patients was also Albanian, and a smart 23-year-old proficient in Albanian, English and Greek, with some Italian and Spanish to boot. She and I sat talking together for quite a while after she saw Dr. Terazakis, a refreshing change for me to be able to communicate quickly and clearly with one of the women! After she filled out the health survey, she offered some editing tips for the Albanian survey as well, and talked frankly with us about how to make the survey more approachable for the other women. As the afternoon went on, a local psychiatrist showed up and we engaged in an intense discussion of the women's psychiatric needs in broken English. Her input proved invaluable as we checked through surveys from Wednesday, last night and today, and saw the high prevalence of depression. One of the Nigerian women seen on the outreach last night had mentioned feeling suicidal on occasion, and we talked through the options for immediate medical care in similar situations encountered out on the streets. All in all, the clinic saw three patients, and we started planning further steps in our phase plans with the help of this psychiatrist and Dr. Ogur.
Robert and I are going out to dinner in Monistirakis tonight at our favorite restaurant, before meeting a third-year Ob-Gyn resident from the University of Athens. Dr. Koutras, a friend of Dr. Hurd from UTHSCSA's faculty, met with Lindsay and me Tuesday evening and treated us to coffee at a lovely restaurant beneath the Acropolis. He wanted us to see the beauty of Athens, including the warm glow of the Acropolis lit up at night. Our conversations with him - Emma translating and explaining Nea Zoi's purposes - continued our education of the Greek medical system and the possibilities open to the clinic for connections with the local clinics and hospitals. Lindsay and I are pretty sure that Dr. Koutras, who emphasized wanting to be a hospitable host for us, recruited this resident to show us the town ... for now that will just be a coffee date near Monistirakis after our late bedtime last night. We're a bit wiped out, but caffeine is always welcome!
Another unusual Thursday night
Another Nea Zoi outreach started at 11pm last night with a meeting of the volunteers and staff in the office, gathering for prayer and preparation before heading out to different areas of the city. One team headed towards the hotels where the Nigerian women gather, equipped with health surveys and brightly-colored nail polishes to reward the women for their time. Lindsay and I picked out the colors earlier in the day ... the sparkly or super-bright ones were the most popular. Along with the usual Greek volunteers, several American women showed up to help who are teaching English in a Greek city south of Athens. The two teachers, Carrie and Diana, ended up on my team with Martha - a kind-faced Greek mama - and Yiannis, Emma's husband. The five of us went out to the streets of west Athens in Martha's car ... and wow, she could DRIVE, weaving in and out through a mess of taxis and mopeds. As we wound through dark avenues and side streets of Kavalas, she and Yiannis knew exactly where to look for our hopeful contacts for the night, the tranvestites of Athens.
The experience was vastly different from last Thursday's interactions with the Nigerian women on the streets or the Wednesday morning Eastern Bloc women of the legal brothels. The tranvestites tend to park their cars along major roads (usually near car dealerships, for whatever reason) with emergency blinkers on and the constant glow of a lit cigarette, dressed immaculately in wigs and make-up. Each contact was isolated, sitting alone in their car, and more demure in interactions with us than the clusters of Nigerian women with their shouts and hugs. At the same time, I was surprised to see how warmly the men responded, particularly to me, the "little girl doctor from America". Yannis and Martha translated for me as necessary, but my verbal interaction stayed fairly limited. Several of the men talked my head off - in Greek, of course - telling stories or asking about medical problems, others gave hugs, and even pats on the head. I haven't been patted on the head in years, and it was such a tender gesture that I wasn't sure how to respond in Greek except to say "nay" (yes) over and over.
We weren't able to complete any medical surveys with the transvestites, simply because it didn't seem appropriate in the context of the relationships Nea Zoi had with the particular men we saw last night. One big challenge we've noticed with the survey is knowing when and whom to ask, to get the information we need without damaging the trust these people have in Nea Zoi. For some of the men and women, sensitive medical information is difficult to share, and yet others are willing to openly answer any and every question. Our goal of 20-30% sampling of the populations of women seems very possible, but the tranvestites will likely be under-represented. Lindsay and I started researching the different spread of risks and medical needs shared by most transvestites, discussing how to integrate their needs into our data. Many of the women seem to be experiencing fairly expected medical issues - depression, pain in various areas of the body, extreme stress responses, anxiety - but the men's specific needs remain somewhat of a mystery.
One moment from last night stuck in my mind as I finally fell asleep back in the apartment at 4am. At one of our stops, Bella, a tall, lanky tranvestite with a black maroon-streaked wig of curly hair, accepted a hot cup of coffee from me tenatively, almost shyly. As we talked with the two other men with him on the corner, I noticed several timid looks my way. Went I met his glances with a smile in return, he seemed stunned and uncertain how to respond for a few seconds. But as I kept smiling, a small smile played on his lips and got bigger and bigger until his eyes crinkled in a huge grin. We passed Greek and English back and forth with no comprehension on either end, but the smiles said a lot on their own. I'm quickly learning the language of smiles and eyebrow raises and hand motions, connecting as best as I can to the men and women, and I feel immensely grateful for any attempts made in return.
The experience was vastly different from last Thursday's interactions with the Nigerian women on the streets or the Wednesday morning Eastern Bloc women of the legal brothels. The tranvestites tend to park their cars along major roads (usually near car dealerships, for whatever reason) with emergency blinkers on and the constant glow of a lit cigarette, dressed immaculately in wigs and make-up. Each contact was isolated, sitting alone in their car, and more demure in interactions with us than the clusters of Nigerian women with their shouts and hugs. At the same time, I was surprised to see how warmly the men responded, particularly to me, the "little girl doctor from America". Yannis and Martha translated for me as necessary, but my verbal interaction stayed fairly limited. Several of the men talked my head off - in Greek, of course - telling stories or asking about medical problems, others gave hugs, and even pats on the head. I haven't been patted on the head in years, and it was such a tender gesture that I wasn't sure how to respond in Greek except to say "nay" (yes) over and over.
We weren't able to complete any medical surveys with the transvestites, simply because it didn't seem appropriate in the context of the relationships Nea Zoi had with the particular men we saw last night. One big challenge we've noticed with the survey is knowing when and whom to ask, to get the information we need without damaging the trust these people have in Nea Zoi. For some of the men and women, sensitive medical information is difficult to share, and yet others are willing to openly answer any and every question. Our goal of 20-30% sampling of the populations of women seems very possible, but the tranvestites will likely be under-represented. Lindsay and I started researching the different spread of risks and medical needs shared by most transvestites, discussing how to integrate their needs into our data. Many of the women seem to be experiencing fairly expected medical issues - depression, pain in various areas of the body, extreme stress responses, anxiety - but the men's specific needs remain somewhat of a mystery.
One moment from last night stuck in my mind as I finally fell asleep back in the apartment at 4am. At one of our stops, Bella, a tall, lanky tranvestite with a black maroon-streaked wig of curly hair, accepted a hot cup of coffee from me tenatively, almost shyly. As we talked with the two other men with him on the corner, I noticed several timid looks my way. Went I met his glances with a smile in return, he seemed stunned and uncertain how to respond for a few seconds. But as I kept smiling, a small smile played on his lips and got bigger and bigger until his eyes crinkled in a huge grin. We passed Greek and English back and forth with no comprehension on either end, but the smiles said a lot on their own. I'm quickly learning the language of smiles and eyebrow raises and hand motions, connecting as best as I can to the men and women, and I feel immensely grateful for any attempts made in return.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
It's all Greek to me
Yesterday seems like a blur of languages to me after working furiously to translate my English health survey into Russian, Greek and Albanian with a lot of help. The medical terminology proved most difficult to accurately convey, but by this morning we printed several stacks of carefully approved and proofread surveys in English, Greek and Albanian to use on the outreach to several areas of Athens this morning. As I typed up the Albanian survey, I found myself grateful that at least it uses our same alphabet, in contrast to yesterday's total confusion immersed in a sea of Greek and Russian!
Now, I'm no expert, but my Greek vocabulary is expanding slowly as I learn under fire. For example, standing at the vegan restaurant yesterday with the whole buffet labeled in Greek, the only word I could pick out was 'fava'. Before I knew what was happening, I had a large plate loaded with over a pound of fava beans thrust at me over the counter. I swallowed every bit of those beans, despite my stomach's protests, and then vowed to learn a few more options to diversify my next meal.
With my elementary Greek, I'm happy to pass on a few useful phrases for you to learn as well. And I'll leave out the medical terminology ...
Ναι [nay] = yes, despite the fact that it sounds like NO
όχι [o-hee] = no, despite the fact that it sounds sort of like okay
νέα ζωή [knee-ahh zo-eee] = Nea Zoi, or new life, the name of our organization
Αθήνα [atheena] = Athens
Ακρόπολη = Acropolis
γιατρό [ee-ahtro] = doctor
Αγγλικά [eh-gleeka] = English???? (with a desperate tone in your voice)
For now, that's the extent of my Greek and the end of the lesson. But when in doubt, nod a lot and smile big! I used that tactic a lot today in the brothels of Filis during our outreach from 11am - 1pm. The bare white lights that advertise the brothels (not red, as we typically think) were commonplace, scattered down narrow side streets, and the prostitution seems to hide under routine daily life continuing on the streets outside. Each brothel in this neighborhood is the first or second floor apartment of a building, often with "normal" neighbors living above them who see these interchanges every day. Within each apartment, one madame and several women live and work. As we ducked through doorways into the dark, smoky apartments, my partner - a wonderful Greek pastor's wife - did all of the talking while I followed, carrying a basket full of teas, coffee packets and pamphlets etc. Other than handing cups of coffee to the women, I more often just stood back to smile and nod. A few times, I realized as we went back outside that I had smiled and nodded through a very tense exchange, but for the most part, we had good contacts today. Three of the madames, who each "take care" of one or more prostitutes in their separate apartments, effusively complimented the Nea Zoi teams, thanking them for their kindness and help. We had a chance to talk to several young women, many from Ukraine or Moldovia, and to talk through our health survey with a handful as well with invitations to Friday afternoon's clinic.
Leaving out most details of the experience due to a mixed audience, I will say that I left the day rather stunned and depressed. Lindsay and I are holding each other accountable to discussing what we are seeing with each other and the Nea Zoi team, because maintaining healthy perspectives requires prayer and careful processing. Prayer for all of that would be enormously appreciated and especially for the women we are meeting: Nadia, Cleopatra, Corina, Sarah, Maria ... These are "street names" that the women use, often in part to isolate their working identity from their true name and psychological sense of self. The separation of identity makes the current situation easier to cope with, but often results in long-term problems like personality disorders, suppressed PTSD and other psychological issues.
I did have some hope from today though, even in the simple exchanges of a smile back and forth. The neighborhood - Filis (Fe-leece) - is a fairly new area for Nea Zoi, and already the teams are seeing women warming up to the love and help being extended. The other teams going to different Athens brothels today contacted many women as well, and collected health data as they went. Our debriefing at the office afterwards reminded us that the need is huge, but the potential for sharing godly compassion and having a positive impact is equally large.
On a happy ending note, thanks to those of you leaving comments on the blog posts ... the kind and funny words are much appreciated by all of us! If you'd like a response to something specific, be sure to leave your email address with the comment. Or, if you have any questions from reading through the blog, feel free to email us (corrie.roehm@gmail.com and rroehm@gmail.com) ... we'll try to respond as we can!
Now, I'm no expert, but my Greek vocabulary is expanding slowly as I learn under fire. For example, standing at the vegan restaurant yesterday with the whole buffet labeled in Greek, the only word I could pick out was 'fava'. Before I knew what was happening, I had a large plate loaded with over a pound of fava beans thrust at me over the counter. I swallowed every bit of those beans, despite my stomach's protests, and then vowed to learn a few more options to diversify my next meal.
With my elementary Greek, I'm happy to pass on a few useful phrases for you to learn as well. And I'll leave out the medical terminology ...
Ναι [nay] = yes, despite the fact that it sounds like NO
όχι [o-hee] = no, despite the fact that it sounds sort of like okay
νέα ζωή [knee-ahh zo-eee] = Nea Zoi, or new life, the name of our organization
Αθήνα [atheena] = Athens
Ακρόπολη = Acropolis
γιατρό [ee-ahtro] = doctor
Αγγλικά [eh-gleeka] = English???? (with a desperate tone in your voice)
For now, that's the extent of my Greek and the end of the lesson. But when in doubt, nod a lot and smile big! I used that tactic a lot today in the brothels of Filis during our outreach from 11am - 1pm. The bare white lights that advertise the brothels (not red, as we typically think) were commonplace, scattered down narrow side streets, and the prostitution seems to hide under routine daily life continuing on the streets outside. Each brothel in this neighborhood is the first or second floor apartment of a building, often with "normal" neighbors living above them who see these interchanges every day. Within each apartment, one madame and several women live and work. As we ducked through doorways into the dark, smoky apartments, my partner - a wonderful Greek pastor's wife - did all of the talking while I followed, carrying a basket full of teas, coffee packets and pamphlets etc. Other than handing cups of coffee to the women, I more often just stood back to smile and nod. A few times, I realized as we went back outside that I had smiled and nodded through a very tense exchange, but for the most part, we had good contacts today. Three of the madames, who each "take care" of one or more prostitutes in their separate apartments, effusively complimented the Nea Zoi teams, thanking them for their kindness and help. We had a chance to talk to several young women, many from Ukraine or Moldovia, and to talk through our health survey with a handful as well with invitations to Friday afternoon's clinic.
Leaving out most details of the experience due to a mixed audience, I will say that I left the day rather stunned and depressed. Lindsay and I are holding each other accountable to discussing what we are seeing with each other and the Nea Zoi team, because maintaining healthy perspectives requires prayer and careful processing. Prayer for all of that would be enormously appreciated and especially for the women we are meeting: Nadia, Cleopatra, Corina, Sarah, Maria ... These are "street names" that the women use, often in part to isolate their working identity from their true name and psychological sense of self. The separation of identity makes the current situation easier to cope with, but often results in long-term problems like personality disorders, suppressed PTSD and other psychological issues.
I did have some hope from today though, even in the simple exchanges of a smile back and forth. The neighborhood - Filis (Fe-leece) - is a fairly new area for Nea Zoi, and already the teams are seeing women warming up to the love and help being extended. The other teams going to different Athens brothels today contacted many women as well, and collected health data as they went. Our debriefing at the office afterwards reminded us that the need is huge, but the potential for sharing godly compassion and having a positive impact is equally large.
On a happy ending note, thanks to those of you leaving comments on the blog posts ... the kind and funny words are much appreciated by all of us! If you'd like a response to something specific, be sure to leave your email address with the comment. Or, if you have any questions from reading through the blog, feel free to email us (corrie.roehm@gmail.com and rroehm@gmail.com) ... we'll try to respond as we can!
Yannis
Much to Robert's delight, we discovered on our first day here that Emma's husband, Yannis, is a regular rock climbing fanatic and the mutual love has created an quick friendship between the two. In fact, Yannis is their church's local backpacking climbing guide, always organizing trips with the young adults and high schoolers, outfitting everyone with his extra gear to enjoy the outdoors ... sound familiar? Yannis took Robert out for quick climbs after work twice already this week, and they're planning an overnight trip up in the Meteora pinnacles in Central Greece after we're done in Athens. 
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Experience delicious Greek cuisine
Tonight for a light and early dinner, I decided to throw together a Greek salad, one of our new favorite culinary discoveries. As I stood in our teeny kitchen slicing tomatoes and finding the olive oil, I realized that anybody could make this simple dish and enjoy a taste of Athens for themselves.
- Slice one ripe tomato into big chunks and pile onto a plate or bowl
- Cut up a cucumber into chunks and add to said bowl
- Cut up an onion or green pepper or both and add to bowl
- Top with a slice of feta cheese about half the size of a deck of cards
- Sprinkle black pepper and oregano over the top
- Drizzle with a generous amount of good olive oil
All three of us love this salad for its chunkiness and freshness, with the great feta flavor to top it off, and had it for the first time at our favorite Athens restaurant on Friday. Mmmm mmm.
Saturday coffee
If you'd like to follow our progress, check out the Athens map with our first landmarks (map key: apartment - red dot north of Omonoia; Nea Zoi office - blue dot west of Omonoia; favorite cheap local restaurant - green dot near Monastiraki; church we're going to, First Greek Evangelical Church - purple dot south of Plaka, just under the Acropolis)
We started from the apartment (Chalkonkondyli 52, which we found out is pronounced 'Khalkonkondeelee' ... Robert and I keep quizzing each other on that one), which is one block from the epicenter of Athen's drug district (location, location, LOCATION, right?). From there we headed south past Omonoia, a huge roundabout with neat shops and coffee cafes. We've learned to head underground to the Metro station and walk underneath the craziness of the street level at Omonoia ... as an added bonus, the Metro system is no-smoking, our one escape! We made our way past the fish and produce markets on Athinas street near Kotzia Square and bought almonds and dried apricots and raisins from a vendor. Lindsay bought a strange white cake of almond-studded sweet stuff, and the vendor gave her quite a weird look before cutting a piece for her. Turns out it's a Greek dessert that everyone can recognize, but no one knows what it's made of ... or eats it that often. We got great looks later in the day
when Lindsay would pull it out for a nibble.Wandering through the shopping district east of Monastiraki, we discovered that the shops tend to be geographically organized by shop type - fabric, electronics, clothing boutiques etc - connected by narrow side streets. Eventually we returned for lunch at the local spot Jennifer took us on Friday turning her grand tour of Athens with us (see the green spot on the map). Around lunchtime we got a phone call postponing our coffee date to 4pm ... not too surprising, and decided to add a walk up to Areios Pagos outlook (Areopagus in Acts 17), around the Acropolis area and to the Prison of Socrates and Filopappou Monument that crowns one of the tallest hills in Athens. The 360 degree view from the top spanned the full panorama of the city, including the not-so-distant coastline.
After our relaxing walk-tour, we had mildly pink skin and great pictures, and pulled out a map to figure out where we were meeting Emma for our coffee date. For the first hour or so, we met with Dr. Nikolai, "Nick", who is a pediatric dentist who just started his own NGO this past year to address trafficking and child prostitution in Athens. He was very "Greek" - dark wavy hair flopped over his forehead that he'd push back with the palms of both hands at once, penetrating, dark eyes and fast conversation. Ultimately, our time together was incredibly productive as Lindsay and I peppered him with questions about the Greek medical system and churned out ideas for the
clinic. With his understanding of networking with NGOs and the public health system, we thought through the various options available for integrating the future clinic into already existing support systems. He volunteered to translate our public health survey into proper Greek (I got about halfway through using Babelfish online as a translator ... and who knows if it's right or not, after all, it's all Greek to me - that phrase is surprisingly appropriate these days). And right as he ended our meeting and excused himself, a second coffee date showed up ... Dr. Lydia Ogur. We had no idea we could accomplish so much planning and networking in one day!
The time with Lydia was particularly fun. She is a fairly young GP, witty and refreshing in her perspectives as a clinician here in Greece. Among the physicians we've been in contact with, she is the most committed to both the cause of Nea Zoi and actively promoting the clinic. She is also black and a newly naturalized Greek citizen, which, combined with her enthusiasm and compassion, helps bridge the cultural and trust gap, particularly with the Nigerian women. Her entire demeanor is energetic, from her stylish tight spiral curls to a flashing smile and hilarious banter. Again Lindsay and I started in with rapid-fire questions. Of course I asked her about cigarette use first and foremost (See Smoking), and TB incidence/resistance, health care access, the public health system's set-up, laboratory access, and so on. There is plenty to uncover and learn for the naive foreign medical students, and each tidbit helps direct and solidify our plans for the clinic. Can the trafficked women get any government healthcare at all? What are the attitudes towards trafficking and prostitution among clinicians? Is anyone understanding of the women's situation and willing to help?
As we talked, the sky's colors deepened towards sunset in our view over the city from a hillside cafe. We were thrilled to hear her excitement and ideas for the clinic, and to be able to connect with someone so quickly with the ease of an old friend. Look for more to come as our Athens connections continue to deepen, and please be praying for opening doors as we explore the spectrum of options for the women. The possibilites are very exciting!
clinic. With his understanding of networking with NGOs and the public health system, we thought through the various options available for integrating the future clinic into already existing support systems. He volunteered to translate our public health survey into proper Greek (I got about halfway through using Babelfish online as a translator ... and who knows if it's right or not, after all, it's all Greek to me - that phrase is surprisingly appropriate these days). And right as he ended our meeting and excused himself, a second coffee date showed up ... Dr. Lydia Ogur. We had no idea we could accomplish so much planning and networking in one day!The time with Lydia was particularly fun. She is a fairly young GP, witty and refreshing in her perspectives as a clinician here in Greece. Among the physicians we've been in contact with, she is the most committed to both the cause of Nea Zoi and actively promoting the clinic. She is also black and a newly naturalized Greek citizen, which, combined with her enthusiasm and compassion, helps bridge the cultural and trust gap, particularly with the Nigerian women. Her entire demeanor is energetic, from her stylish tight spiral curls to a flashing smile and hilarious banter. Again Lindsay and I started in with rapid-fire questions. Of course I asked her about cigarette use first and foremost (See Smoking), and TB incidence/resistance, health care access, the public health system's set-up, laboratory access, and so on. There is plenty to uncover and learn for the naive foreign medical students, and each tidbit helps direct and solidify our plans for the clinic. Can the trafficked women get any government healthcare at all? What are the attitudes towards trafficking and prostitution among clinicians? Is anyone understanding of the women's situation and willing to help?
As we talked, the sky's colors deepened towards sunset in our view over the city from a hillside cafe. We were thrilled to hear her excitement and ideas for the clinic, and to be able to connect with someone so quickly with the ease of an old friend. Look for more to come as our Athens connections continue to deepen, and please be praying for opening doors as we explore the spectrum of options for the women. The possibilites are very exciting!
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Smoking
Mom, I started smoking. I can't excuse myself except to say that it just seemed like it was the most appropriate way to fit in here in Greece. Although my lungs took a few days to adjust, I must say that I'm doing a bit better now, less coughing and black stuff coming out than before. Most brilliantly though, I am proud to say that I chose a more economical way to get my smoke on ... I'm going second-hand.
Sitting in a cafe meeting with local physicians today, I asked one of the doctors, Lydia - a GP, how she deals with the smoking culture and she threw her hands up in disgust. "They won't LISTEN!" We sat drinking coffee with her and swimming in smoke, trails curling around us from surrounding tables. Lindsay and I told her about the mentality in the U.S. where a moderate level of mutual respect allows non-smokers to politely ask smokers to move in another direction. She laughed and laughed. Trying that here would get a shocked where-are-YOU-from look in return. And so I would turn my head to the side trying to find pockets of fresher air, usually with no luck. On our walk home, Lindsay and I realized that sidewalk exhaust in rush-hour traffic seemed clean by comparison. Most travelers go through some level of culture shock, and I think cigarettes will dominate mine. Second-hand smokers unite!
Sitting in a cafe meeting with local physicians today, I asked one of the doctors, Lydia - a GP, how she deals with the smoking culture and she threw her hands up in disgust. "They won't LISTEN!" We sat drinking coffee with her and swimming in smoke, trails curling around us from surrounding tables. Lindsay and I told her about the mentality in the U.S. where a moderate level of mutual respect allows non-smokers to politely ask smokers to move in another direction. She laughed and laughed. Trying that here would get a shocked where-are-YOU-from look in return. And so I would turn my head to the side trying to find pockets of fresher air, usually with no luck. On our walk home, Lindsay and I realized that sidewalk exhaust in rush-hour traffic seemed clean by comparison. Most travelers go through some level of culture shock, and I think cigarettes will dominate mine. Second-hand smokers unite!
On the street
Much to our delight and our bodies' dismay, our 6pm arrival in Athens meant we could be part of the Nea Zoi (our Athens team) Thursday night outreach at11pm. After dropping off our bags in our new Soviet bloc style apartment in downtown Athens with Jennifer and grabbing some Greek fast food with Emma, we met up with the other Nea Zoi folks at the headquarters on the edge of the red light district (picture of the office entry room). Now, part of me was totally thrilled to be there, meeting the others and preparing for our night with prayer and worship. But the other part of me was literally falling asleep while singing. And I love to sing. With Robert's gentle taps, I managed to stay mostly awake and focused. The group gathered at the office included several Greek volunteers, one Brit and another American both here for two weeks, the team staff - Emma, Jennifer, Bill and a few others - and a random German filmmaker doing a documentary on the group's street work. We split up into three smaller groups - one going to the brothels, one going to the hotels where mainly Nigerian women work, and one going to visit the transvestite prostitute population, where Lindsay was assigned for the night.Robert and I went with Emma, Jennifer and two Greek volunteers to the hotels just a few blocks from the Nea Zoi office. Many of the Nigerian women work here instead of the brothels since they are not here legally and don't have the documents to qualify as legal prostitutes for the brothels. The most common reason for the lack of documentation for these women is that they were trafficked into Greece, further complicating their already tenuous position. As we walked through the city to the hotels, the sidewalks demanded our attention to avoid the occasional dark, gaping holes that could turn an ankle. The streetlights cast an orange glow over everything as the very urban smells of urine and garbage hit us in bursts.
As we got closer to the hotels, the noise of traffic seemed to get louder, with honking and squealing tires. The women were out on sidewalks, stylishly if scantily dressed, many with full, colorful wigs and bright eyeshadows accentuating their looks. The overall feel was something like a high school party, with the young girls running around in pairs, giggling and laughing, running away from any police cars that drove by. Most of the girls knew the Nea Zoi team, and were excited to see them, with broad smiles, hugs and kisses on the cheek. But at the same time, the stark reality of the scene kept overriding the smiles and silliness. Customers walking up to the hotels or driving by kept interrupting the happy conversations between the staff and the women, and divided attention seemed the theme of the night.
We "contacted" so many women, engaging them in conversation, asking how they were doing and giving them an Easter gift of a tote bag with chocolates and verses. Many of the encounters were seemingly happy, with plenty of "I'm fine" replies, but some of the women struggled to smile and wet eyes gave away their answer. I was amazed to see the strong connection between the regulars and the Nea Zoi women ... shouts of "Emma!" and "Jennifer!" echoed back enthusiastically off the surrounding buildings. As we moved between hotels, the groups of women would flood out to see us, and mill around to talk. Customers found us to be quite a curiosity, dressed in modest street clothes and talking with the women like old friends. I kept bouncing between two extreme emotions as I watched the men's faces, wanting to full-out punch them and convince them to walk out of the situation at the same time. The team kept a careful safety mentality, with Robert and Jennifer hanging back to watch and pray over everything, while the other four of us moved through the women in pairs. When a drunk man engaged me and my pair in angry Greek (again, "waa waa waaaa wa waa" to me), Robert and Jennifer intervened and sent us on our way. I was impressed with the conserative, careful organization of their system, and it seemed to maximize the time and attention given to the women themselves by reducing other distractions somewhat. At the same time, the whole situation was a huge distraction. Conversations more frequently stayed fairly simple, really just trying to communicate love and respect to the women. We wanted to know how they were doing, and we were there to really listen to their answer.
I met one Nigerian woman "Pamela" who Jennifer introduced to me specifically, because before Pamela left Nigeria she had been a medical student. We talked for a while, and she agreed to come and help out at our clinic day this Friday at our invitation. She seemed to brighten briefly at the idea, but sunk back into a careful dullness. I found out later that her father had died recently in Nigeria from gunshot wounds. She, of course, was not able to return home and had no choice but to stay here and deal with grief on top of the usual stresses of trafficked prostitution. I felt stunned talking to her. I met "Rachel", "Angel", "Michelle" and many others, and I struggled against my remembering-names-disability to commit them to memory. The first step to establishing intimacy and trust is knowing someone's name. And the women seem particularly sensitive to that. Pray that I'll be able to remember during our next outing on Monday night!
By the time we met the other teams back at the office for a debriefing at 3am and then got back to the apartment at 4am, we were very oddly NOT tired. Thank you, jet lag. I got a freezing, painful partial bath before realizing the hot water heater wasn't on yet, and we gave up to go to bed. That night we discovered, to our delight, that the apartment is scented with the sharp musk of cigarette smoke, and that the karaoke bar across the street pumps out awesome Greek music with drunken singing at all hours of the night. More on the smoke later ... and yet with all of that, sleep was oh so sweet for our first night in Greece.
Athens arrival - April 12th
After leaving Paris Thursday morning, we hopped on an Olympic Airlines flight at Charles De Gaulle and immediatly got our first taste of Greece. All airline announcements were in Greek, then French (and sometimes English). I found it incredibly entertaining to watch the standard airline safety demonstration - stewardesses holding up the seat belts and oxygen masks - in a language that is nothing but sounds to me. Think of the Charlie Brown perspective in Snoopy movies when the adults talk ... "waa waaa wa wa waaa, wa waaa" ... and you'll get the picture. My brain slips into a dreamy state of pure observation, zero comprehension that I actually find quite peaceful. Anyhow, our flight from Paris to Greece took us over some incredible areas of Europe, and we kept peering around our neighbors trying to see out the windows from our middle seats. First the lush, green French countryside, then the foothills of the French Alps, the Rhein, the Black Forest, the Alps of Switzerland, Zurich, the Italian Alps near Turin, the Adriatic Sea etc, all the way down to the western coast of Greece, then the mainland and the eastern islands before reaching Athens.
I was fairly nauseated during most of the flight, and maintained that frozen, terrified position I always get with nausea, trying not to move and doing deep breathing-oh-please-don't-throw-up exercises. Lucky for me, when the meal service started, I was served a "special" meal of all vegetables that smelled far less stomach-wrenching than the other options. When I bought our tickets, the airline included a list of around twenty meal options, and Robert and Lindsay got their surprise "special" meals too - Robert's was certified kosher, and Lindsay's was a very healthy salmon Halal meal - which tickled all three of us. Lindsay and I spent the remainder of the flight continuing through scientific articles on trafficking and prostitution, and reading more on the latest changes in the Greek healthcare system. We realized we would still be getting into a largely unknown situation once we arrived, but reading general information at least made me feel more prepared.
As we descended into Athens, I felt a sense of relief at finally arriving. We could see bare yellow hills surrounding the endless sea of white buildings filling the valley. Everything looked somewhat dry and dusty, punctuated with four or five dark green hills poking up over the city. In the distance there was a hint of blue water off of the coast and the contrast of all the colors was even richer in the early evening light. The stewardesses are saying something again in waa waaa waa that I assume means we're HERE!
I was fairly nauseated during most of the flight, and maintained that frozen, terrified position I always get with nausea, trying not to move and doing deep breathing-oh-please-don't-throw-up exercises. Lucky for me, when the meal service started, I was served a "special" meal of all vegetables that smelled far less stomach-wrenching than the other options. When I bought our tickets, the airline included a list of around twenty meal options, and Robert and Lindsay got their surprise "special" meals too - Robert's was certified kosher, and Lindsay's was a very healthy salmon Halal meal - which tickled all three of us. Lindsay and I spent the remainder of the flight continuing through scientific articles on trafficking and prostitution, and reading more on the latest changes in the Greek healthcare system. We realized we would still be getting into a largely unknown situation once we arrived, but reading general information at least made me feel more prepared.
As we descended into Athens, I felt a sense of relief at finally arriving. We could see bare yellow hills surrounding the endless sea of white buildings filling the valley. Everything looked somewhat dry and dusty, punctuated with four or five dark green hills poking up over the city. In the distance there was a hint of blue water off of the coast and the contrast of all the colors was even richer in the early evening light. The stewardesses are saying something again in waa waaa waa that I assume means we're HERE!
Oui Paris
This will be one of several posts all at once, trying to catch up from several days of busy-ness and few internet options, so read as much at a time as you can handle!
Paris was certainly an excellent pause in our traveling, and a brilliant idea in hindsight. Robert and I had two days and nights there to work out SOME of our jetlag thanks to Johnny's espressos, and to relax with family before continuing on to Athens. Robert and I enjoyed a very late dinner the first night after our 'le baggage' finally arrived at 11pm. We wandered down to Victor Hugo looking for an open cafe and enjoyed salmon pasta, escargot and a nutella crepe before crawling back to the apartment to fall into bed. I must say, after the long plane rides, airport transfers, riding across Paris and staying up all day, the horizontal position of bed-ness felt SO great, to the point of almost physically melting into the mattress. We slept like rocks, one of my favorite sayings, and woke up with lovely deep sheet wrinkles as evidence of our hard work asleep.
Seeing as we slept like rocks, we also accidently overslept since our sleep cycles were so far off - we woke up at 1pm. This was only a problem because we'd instructed Lindsay, who was flying in a day later than we had, to make her way to the downtown apartment from the airport and just shout up at the windows for us to let her in. By our calculations, she would be on the street below and shouting sometime around noon. NOON. We lept out of bed and ran to check the street below, but no Lindsay. After a while of waiting we started imagining Lindsay at the airport with no one to meet her, lost and crying or something awful. But after scrambling to leave and try to find her wandering somewhere between the city and the airport, we saw a smiling face with an enormous backpack wandering up Avenue Bugeaud. We spent the rest of the day keeping her awake with more espresso and a lovely walk to the Musee d'Orsay to gape at beautiful impressionist era paintings. Paris gave us a rare blue sky day with perfect temperatures, and the three of us soaked up the sights before returning home for a delicious meal with Johnny and Claudia ... tofu a la France.
Our time in Paris ended appropriately with a huge morning rush to repack, and prayers with Johnny before heading off to the airport again. By the end of our stay, I had mastered quite a list of French vocabulary: one, thank you, no, yes, please, goodbye, hello, ice cream cone (that's for you Hannah!) and of course, 'le baggage'.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Le Arrival
Robert and I arrived safely in Paris this afternoon, delighted to see our uncle Johnny smiling back at us as we stepped off the airport bus downtown! The flights went smoothly, including the fun surprise of sharing our Houston--London flight with a fellow classmate Nick, who is heading to Nairobi this month to work in a hospital there. Conversation with a friend heading out on a similar journey felt incredibly appropriate and exciting. It seemed like everyone on the plane was heading to Africa for medical or mission work - one group from Austin were even coordinated in snazzy green scrubs - and the atmosphere on the plane was fairly festive as we left from Houston. Around midnight, we were crossing over the St. Lawrence River area of Canada heading out towards the black of the Atlantic when I noticed a small cluster of lights on the horizon south of us ... after a few moments of geographic guessing, I finally realized I was seeing part of New Foundland, looking really remote surrounded by dark water. Throughout the night I kept checking our position on the flight map to see what landmasses were passing underneath, until we fell asleep for a short uncomfortable nap over the Atlantic.
We woke up to the sun rising far too early, just off the coast of Ireland and Scotland. The UK was rather stereotypically covered with clouds as we passed over, but the occasional breach in the clouds revealed green patchwork fields separated by darker green hedges. As we descended, London seemed to stretch out forever, with the curve of the Thames winding through the city. We started taking pictures of the often useless variety out the tiny window of the plane, most details obliterated with window smears and atmospheric smudge. One blind attempt of a large Ferris wheel on the river resulted in a fairly nice photo though. It was neat to see a city for the first time - somehow so familiar from films and books - from the air, where a city looks like a neat Busy Town package of bustle and contented business-as-usual. London's streets seemed inconsistently orderly, with streets fanning out like rays from large roundabouts, and scattered green blobs of parks in between neighborhoods. For a brief moment, I spotted a picturesque bridge over the Thames with a classic red doubledecker bus at its midpoint and couldn't move the camera quickly enough. I probably wouldn't have been able to pick out the key blot of red on the final picture anyhow!
When we arrived at Johnny and Claudia's apartment, we were thrilled to see family and fall immediately into busy conversation. Tonight Robert and I are sipping Johnny's exquisite cappucino trying to stay up to bedtime to outwit the jetlag as best as we can, and waiting for a poor non-English speaking airlines guy to drop off our temporarily lost luggage. Our phone communication with him consisted of a "Fronch" attempt to pronounce le baggage, with intermittant Spanish to see if that might work instead ... we'll keep our fingers crossed. If nothing else, we have our passports and some nifty travel toothbrushes from British Airways!
We woke up to the sun rising far too early, just off the coast of Ireland and Scotland. The UK was rather stereotypically covered with clouds as we passed over, but the occasional breach in the clouds revealed green patchwork fields separated by darker green hedges. As we descended, London seemed to stretch out forever, with the curve of the Thames winding through the city. We started taking pictures of the often useless variety out the tiny window of the plane, most details obliterated with window smears and atmospheric smudge. One blind attempt of a large Ferris wheel on the river resulted in a fairly nice photo though. It was neat to see a city for the first time - somehow so familiar from films and books - from the air, where a city looks like a neat Busy Town package of bustle and contented business-as-usual. London's streets seemed inconsistently orderly, with streets fanning out like rays from large roundabouts, and scattered green blobs of parks in between neighborhoods. For a brief moment, I spotted a picturesque bridge over the Thames with a classic red doubledecker bus at its midpoint and couldn't move the camera quickly enough. I probably wouldn't have been able to pick out the key blot of red on the final picture anyhow!
When we arrived at Johnny and Claudia's apartment, we were thrilled to see family and fall immediately into busy conversation. Tonight Robert and I are sipping Johnny's exquisite cappucino trying to stay up to bedtime to outwit the jetlag as best as we can, and waiting for a poor non-English speaking airlines guy to drop off our temporarily lost luggage. Our phone communication with him consisted of a "Fronch" attempt to pronounce le baggage, with intermittant Spanish to see if that might work instead ... we'll keep our fingers crossed. If nothing else, we have our passports and some nifty travel toothbrushes from British Airways!
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Preparations
Time is growing short as we and Lindsay try to pull together a million details for our time in Athens, Greece. We'll be leaving Monday morning from Houston and arriving in Paris for a few days with family while we wait for Lindsay's arrival. Then we're off to Athens, with arrival sometime Thursday afternoon. But in the meantime our to-do lists are somehow growing despite desparate efforts to check off boxes.
We've been finding donations of supplies and books, solidifying travel details, learning key Greek phrases, and even just preparing ourselves emotionally for our time there. That has been the hardest part so far, simply because there isn't a box to check off for Emotional and Spiritual Preparation. But I have been reading a lot from an international medicine site: http://www.globalhealth-ec.org/. It's full of informative articles and online courses about medicine abroad, and at least is reminding me of reining in expectations and preparing for an unpredictable road ahead. And I'm trying to focus enough in the midst of the chaotic preparations to sit still and pray through all of this - an important element.
Unlike our time in Belize in February, we will have at least sporadic internet access, and will be updating this blog as we go. Look for updates and stories throughout our time in Greece and afterwards as we spend time in Europe and Colorado before our move to Connecticut in early June. Send emails whenever you wish, and we'll look forward to hearing from you!
We've been finding donations of supplies and books, solidifying travel details, learning key Greek phrases, and even just preparing ourselves emotionally for our time there. That has been the hardest part so far, simply because there isn't a box to check off for Emotional and Spiritual Preparation. But I have been reading a lot from an international medicine site: http://www.globalhealth-ec.org/. It's full of informative articles and online courses about medicine abroad, and at least is reminding me of reining in expectations and preparing for an unpredictable road ahead. And I'm trying to focus enough in the midst of the chaotic preparations to sit still and pray through all of this - an important element.
Unlike our time in Belize in February, we will have at least sporadic internet access, and will be updating this blog as we go. Look for updates and stories throughout our time in Greece and afterwards as we spend time in Europe and Colorado before our move to Connecticut in early June. Send emails whenever you wish, and we'll look forward to hearing from you!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
