Showing posts sorted by relevance for query raining. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query raining. Sort by date Show all posts

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Hue (it's raining)

Someone on a travel forum said that this journal is boring. My response: "Thanks for the comment. It's what happens when you get old, if you're lucky: just happy to be alive, happy to be with your wife, happy to be in Vietnam again ... simple needs, simple pleasures, laying up treasures where moth and rust don't corrupt." Here are the Hue photos. Photo below: Street of dreams (speaking of simple needs)

In the Hanoi airport we talked with a pleasant couple from Germany. At some point the man said he hoped it wouldn't be raining in Hue. I didn't say so, but I thought that I hoped it would be raining in Hue. It's winter and it's Hue and I love the rain in Hue. And of course it was raining when we landed – ahhhh, Hue.

The ride into town from Phu Bai Airport was as always, a panorama of mossy temples, shrines, and other religious structures interspersed

among the usual open-fronted stores selling pretty much the same old stuff, then a few markets, then bigger and bigger buildings, modern ones and the smaller stores and the motos, bicycles and cyclos (more than in Hanoi or Saigon), cars, trucks, but nowhere near the congestion of Hanoi or Saigon. It feels so good being in this place. Then turning left from Hung Vuong on to Nguyen Tri Phuong and pulling up to the alley where the Binh Duong and other budget hotels and cafes are. We're here! Get a room ($18 for triple – none of the doubles working for us). Drop our bags, step across the way to

Cafe on Thu Wheels for some soup, noodles, garlic bread, and beer with U2 on the sound system – a backpacker cafe – banana pancakes for me soon. Photo: An Cuu Market

Back in the room, listening to a live recording of the Wave Farmers album, a psychedelic trio (electronic drums, synth, violincello) playing at Soul Rise. Perfect for Hue. Going to see them, be danced by them again in March at Mannafest.

Email to Jim: Yes, the journey continues well. I was lying on the bed yesterday (a rainy day) with moderate abdominal pain and maybe a little fever, in kind of a daze, staring at the art deco-ish light fixtures and the detailing on the ceiling and windows – happy me (except for the tail end of a sinus infection, a broken off crown, abdominal pain & fever - and

also that I seem to be talking more and more about physical ailments - at least it's not bowel-related – give me a few years). Hue is waaay slower than Hanoi. I love it here. Feeling good today ...

Photo: Our alley - Binh Duong Hotel on right, Thu's on left

We took cyclos to Cho An Cuu, a big market by a small river. This market is very different than the heavily-touristed Dong Ba Market (on the Perfume River) with its aggressive over-charging vendors. Leslie bought some more peppercorns and we furnished some comic relief for several vendors. From there we walked to the Big C department store, checking it out (getting jiggy again), had lunch at a little cafe inside: Banh cuon, salad, nem, and peanuts. I was starting to feel pretty bad by now, so we left, cyclo back to hotel where I lay on the bed for a few hours. Had some yogurt for dinner, feeling better, slept hard that night. Photo: Leslie buying pepper


I fixed coffee in the room (Trung Nguyen #4) and we had our usual leisurely morning, then walked to Nina's Cafe for an excellent omelet and cafe sua da (35,000 dong – about $1.70USD) and comfortable chairs. http://ninascafe.jimdo.com/ Then to the Family Home Cafe for Leslie to try their egg sandwich – another good one, but the chairs are uncomfortable (Asia, the land of uncomfortable chairs).

Photo below: Coffee in the room

We walked across the Trang Tien Bridge over the wide Perfume River to

a supermarket to get some yogurt, then back across and southwest for a pretty long walk on Le Loi to Dien Bien Phu Street to a place named Quan Tai Phu that's well known for nem lui (grilled pork on lemon grass). When we got there I went to the toilet – through the kitchen and a short passageway that was (no kidding) 18” wide with loose tiles on the floor and into the squat toilet room about 3.5'x3.5' where all sorts of newly laundered clothes were hanging so that I was peeing with someone's damp clothing on my shoulders. When I got back to the eating area, they'd brought our unordered food (and no idea of the cost). The server showed us what/how to put the various vegetables on the rice paper and then the pork, and then some weird looking and very tasty dark viscous sauce. I think there were 12 pork things, all for 50,000 dong ($2.50USD). Wow! Sooner or later we're going to get over-charged (and needless to say, we bargain firmly with cyclo drivers) but so far, things are working out well for us in Vietnam. Here is the food blog that describes nem lui (page down a few times) http://theworldtastesgood.blogspot.com/2009/02/hue-part-3.html.

Sunday: After a banana pancake breakfast (with honey and yogurt - see Photo above) and

not forgetting a glass of very strong cafe sua and a few minutes later splitting an omelet/baguette sandwich, we took a riverboat cruise for 100,000VND (Leslie's bargaining acumen) to Thien Mu Pagoda, 45 minutes up the perfume river. This where the monk Thich Quang Duc lived before he went to Saigon in 1966 to immolate himself in protest against the VN government and the war. The pagoda and grounds were quietly beautiful – understated and mossy with just a few people around and a view from the grounds across the wide river, past the plains, to these mist-covered mountains where we fought and bled, where so many from every side fought and bled and died, aching for life – me for a beautiful dark-haired girl whose photo was so washed out from the water that only the shadow of her left eye was left and now, 45 years later, looking across the room from where I write she's sitting on the bed, the love of my life, beautiful, her hair white now and here we are in Hue and I look out through the glass-paned doors toward palm trees and mossy buildings - it's misting in Hue.

Photo above: Random lane; photo below: These mist-covered mountains beyond the Perfume River - photo taken from Thien Mu Pagoda

Aes Dana, Summerlands ... then Vibrasphere, Forest Fuel … Aes Dana, Les Grandes Fonds … Solar Fields, Summer … Hue, misting, humid, green Hue, perfect for psytrance.

We walked along a quiet section of the riverside, then along Le Loi Street and back to the nem lui place, and added a bowl of bun thit nuong – grilled pork with cool noodles, vegetables, peanuts, and nuoc cham with, what else, chillies. Every morning we've marveled at our lack of GI distress. We hope for the same thing tomorrow.

Monday: We had another late start, coffee in bed, talking, and finally to Nina's Cafe for an excellent backpacker's tradition – banana pancake (with honey and yogurt) and more stout

coffee, then we walked along the Perfume River again and over the new bridge to the Citadel side of the river and wandering down side streets through neighborhoods in the soft mist for a little over three hours – more overgrown green, more mossy walls, gates into houses, tin roofs, tile roofs, shrines, incense, women with conical hats, past a school with children playing in the street – “Hello! What your name! Yo-yo-yo!” Bicycles, motos, xyclos, fruit and vegetables for

sale, coffee/tea shops with stools at low tables, cafes, and finally through a gate in the huge wall, across a narrow bridge over the moat, into shops and to the old
bridge in the mist that's a light rain by now. It was really raining by the time we got to Nina's for banh khoai – kind of like a fried pancake folded over pork and shrimp – cut it into strips and wrap them into rice paper with steamed bean sprouts, cucumbers, lettuce and dipped into nuoc mam-based peanut sauce. Back to our room that's been damp the whole time we've been here, and damper now. We're pretty damp too. LOL, our clothes
are damp, our bodies are damp, our books are damp (the pages are kind of wavy, if you know what I mean), our bed is damp – it's damp … it couldn't be better.

Photo: Nina in front of Nina's Cafe

Thursday, May 5, 2016

How Weird, hospice (the purpose), ports of call (Asia)


How Weird, 2016
How Weird is a street party in San Francisco – about 20,000 people, fragrant air, 10 stages, trance around every corner – BIG THUMP THUMP THUMP! 2016 was a good one! How Weird site
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I found this from days gone past (in the 1995 book): “The underlying purpose or mission of hospice/ palliative/terminal care is to facilitate an internal and external physical, psychosocial, and spiritual environment in which the patient and his or her loved ones have the opportunity for reconciliation with God, others, and self… to realize the purpose of life.” 
We took on pain, suffering, despair, emptiness… with knowledge, skill, commitment, presence…
In the Still of the Night, Hong Kong 5am
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Traveling in Asia… All those places…
(Links are to some - not all - posts from Asia travels)
Hong Kong – Home base, where we always spent at least a few days going to and coming from SE Asia. My first time there was in 1967; Leslie and I started going in 1978; our last time was in 2013. I love Hong Kong. “Urban compression!” 2012, 2005, 2008
(Ridicerous!), some photos, and 2013 (our last HK post)
Leslie's favorite banh cuon lady in Hanoi
Hanoi – Walking in the “medieval streets” of the Old Quarter, Leslie said, “I love Vietnam. It’s fun. It’s clean. The people are nice and seem to be honest. And the food is unbelievable.” Nobody in the history of the world ever said all that together about Vietnam. Vietnam! Leslie! 2010, with David and 2008 (first time)
Sapa – A town in the clouds, literally; in the cool northern Vietnam highlands; kind of like Nepal. Sapa, 2013 
A lake in the middle of an island in Halong Bay
Tam Coc – In a two-person boat on the river running through rice fields, along limestone cliffs, through caves… Hanoi and Tam Coc
Halong – Incredible islands of vertical limestone rising mysteriously from the mist and a placid sea on a boat with about 20 passengers. One of them said, “I have, what do you call it – the sickness of the ocean. I want to womit.” Halong - a ship of (some) fools 
Hue – Beautiful Hue, my favorite city in the world (along with San Francisco and Berkeley). My first time here was in 1967. It’s raining, misty, tropical, mysterious, this city of ghosts. Hue (it's raining) and Beautiful Hue
David and Leslie in the rain near Hue.
I love this photograph.
Hoi An – Narrow streets, few cars, old shop fronts, tailors, and tourists. Hoi An and Hill 55 (2005)
Danang – I spent 3-4 days/month there for six months in 1967. Leslie and I just passed through a few times. A place with a lot of memories, many of them good.
Near Battambang
Saigon – Oh hell, yes! Packed streets and markets (it’s a commercial rave scene), millions of motos, brilliant street food, countless narrow lanes, a place of many good memories since my first time there in 2005, 2012, 2006
Mekong Delta – The greenest place I’ve ever been, water, water everywhere, a beautiful place. 2006
Phnom Penh – The first time there it seemed ominous, but over time, opened up. David was there for a year working at the Hope Medical Center. Mony, Sophear, their family, Samnang – welcome! 2006 (includes Phnom Penh and Hope Hospital),  2005 (I never imagined visiting mass graves or torture rooms)
In Chiang Mai
Battambang – The heartland of Cambodia, slow-moving, deep into the countryside 5 minutes out of town. 2010, 2005
Siem Reap (Angkor) – Ancient temples, deserted for centuries, and we’re slow-walking into the empty forest around Angkor. 2005, 2006
Kampot – Sleepy riverside town where the river empties into the Gulf of Siam. Phnom Penh and Kampot
Poipet – (Cambodian border town) It used to be the dirtiest imaginable town with dusty, ghostly, ragged people trudging around; now, it’s full of casinos and brothels.
Curry - two with rice for a dollar or two
Aranyaprathet – Several times, actually. Once we were staying in a house way out in the countryside a mile or so from where artillery was hitting. We talked about where we would meet if the arty hit us and we were separated and Leslie was like, “Okay.” A very cool person. Khao-I-Dang – the refugee camp near Aran. Photos, words about K-I-D
Leslie in Burma, 2007 and Kathmandu, 1978
Bangkok – Southeast Asia’s main travel hub. To put it into context, the population is almost 3x bigger than Houston, but with waaay less urban planning. Leslie loved Bangkok and we had many good times there – The Miami, where as a gesture of solidarity with the prostitutes who weren’t allowed to use the elevator, Leslie always took the stairs. The Century Motel, Nansok’s, Boon’s, Drop Inn, Suk 11, Merry V Guesthouse, Stephan’s, Jean-Francoise’s, Harry’s... 2008, 2009 (rediscovering Bangkok) (also see You call it liver... below)
Kho Samui – In those days, just an overloaded ferry-ish boat. Little grass hut on the beach for about $1.50. Photo below.
Ayyutahya – Ancient ruins north of Bangkok.
Worship at Shwe Dagon in Rangoon
Chiang Mai – City of many temples, markets, festivals, good food, cheaper guesthouses and hotels, cooler temperatures, and happy memories. Our first time in Chiang Mai was 1978 and our last time was December 2013. "You call it liver; I call it karma" (2013), 2011, 2007 with David
From left: Paul, Charles, Leslie, Vera - in Mandalay
Luang Prabang – A UNESCO World Heritage city, which means that old buildings are preserved vs. new one built, small signs, many travelers (more travelers than tourists). Great times for Leslie, David, me – and a great connection to Ben and Magera. 2007 with David
Rangoon – We were here in the old days, when visas were for 7 days only, and in modern times when the city is (now) called Yangon and visas are for longer stays. There was one magical night in a government guesthouse. And magical days at Shewdagon – the great golden temple/paya. Photos from 1970s, Shwe Dagon 
A transgender trance dancer (pink top) in a nat
ceremony down a side street in Mandalay, 1980s
Moulmein! – “By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin’ lazy at the sea, there’s a Burma girl a-setting, and I know she thinks o’ me...” And I sat right where Kipling's Burma girl sat, and I looked out to the sea and thought of her… Following written on the train from Moulmein to Rangoon:
Mountains above,
Padi below,
In mystic light.

Through a village in a forest,
A beautiful, graceful girl,
With thanaka on her cheeks,
And a basket on her head,
Walks out of a dark path among the trees.

Then another one!
Down in a small valley between green, green hills women bathing by a stream, sarongs up over their breasts. Children playing. How I wish, how I wish you were here. 
Mountains close by the road, clouds touching to tops and sunlight touching the sides with golden stupas glittering in the sunlight - like a hallucination. Smell of growth and wood smoke. Child with short hair and thanaka on her cheeks and nose. Some houses, but mostly hooches, some nice, some poor. It's not too hot, but it is hot.
Somewhere along the way I lose almost all my commitments, except for Leslie and David and the mission. Moulmein and other places in Burma, 2007
At Shwe Dagon
Pegu – Home of the world’s most beautiful reclining Buddha and not much else – just an incredible small Burmese town. See photos and 2007 links above
Mandalay – More magic in this sprawling dusty village-like city. Leslie and Charles: they’d have fun anywhere! More photos from 1970s
Sagaing – a mystic town of temples and monasteries across the hills, in the mist. See photos and 2007 links above
Maymyo – A former British hill station, where there are miniature stagecoaches instead of taxis. See photos and 2007 links above
Outside of Kathmandu
Calcutta – Every block of every street had many, many people sleeping on the sidewalks, even in the street. There was a corpse right outside the gate to our hotel. Leslie’s dysentery got worse here.
Kathmandu – A hippie paradise framed by the Himalayas. On the plane out of Kathmandu, flying over the snowy mountains, Leslie said, “If this plane goes down (and that seemed like a possibility), what a place to die!"
Ko Samui - Leslie and our little hut

Food in Asia post






Thursday, December 18, 2008

Hue (a little Hoi An)

On our last day in Hanoi we met Alison and her two children, Alex and Rose - two true Australian teens - for breakfast. One day I guess we'll have a bad experiencve with an Australian, but so far, over a good many years it's been all good. Had a good time, packed, had a last cafe sua da and away to the airport. Photo: Perfume River in Hue

I made a really goofy mistake booking tickets Hanoi to Danang. For some reason I was under the erroneous impression that there were no flights to Hue. So we were thinking and scheming - maybe spend the night in Danang; maybe catch bus to Hue. We finally figured out what to do after landing in Danang - was talking with Terrance, a young man from Malaysia (the one who gave his seat to Leslie), who said they were going to Hoi An. I immediately knew the way to go, and we shared a taxi from Danang to Hoi An. So here we are in Hoi An, where David and Jeff and I had some seriously good times in 2005 (uh-oh, just discovered that my photos in VN 2005 site are gone - something else to sort out when we get home). We're staying at the Vinh Hung 3 Hotel ($22/night), which is nicer than our usual, but we're getting in touch with the realities of the limitations that have visited us with age - no more people's buses, no more non-aircon $2 GH rooms (the worst was one in Rangoon where the walls went up about 6 feet, then chicken wire to the ceiling), no more 8 hour hikes through weird places, etc., etc.

Had some okay shrimp with garlic and tomatoes, decent french fries, and good sauteed spinach for afternoon meal. Later we got chicken quarters with rice, noodles, papaya, that strange-tasting VN leafy vegetable, chilis, lime garlic and a little bowl of blood soup (I didn't realize that's what it was until I tasted it - hmmm). The chicken was 30000 dong (less than $2USD); the shrimp etc was 80000 (about $5USD). Eating the chicken we were accompanied by 2 dogs under the table, using their noses very gently to remind us to drop some scraps on the ground. Photo: Imperial City

So tomorrow we catch the $4 tourist bus to Hue - a 5 hour trip, including an hour stop at a beach somewhere - one more swim in the South China Sea for me. The tourist bus is about 70/30 Vietnamese and travelers. Very nice reclining seats (that did not sit up, so it took a pack and other stuff to kind of sit up. The most comfortable bus ride ever. It's raining and Leslie tells me Van Morrison is singing, "Oh the water, Oh, oh the water, let it run all over me ..." (Problem - no good photos from bus)

The stop at a beach is not a stop at a beach, but a restaurant near a beach. Leslie goes to the WC and comes back to give me her purse. "I don't think I can do this while I'm holding anything." That is, it's a squat toilet. While she was waiting to use the toilet and talking with two young women from Singapore, two Vietnamese women slipped ahead of them in the line (because Leslie and her acquaintences didn't keep the line closed up. "I'm glad this isn't my first rodeo." She says, "Not good to be learning these things at our age."

It's raining and we're driving through padi and garden land with houses pastel blue, blue, green, yellow, cream, white, violet, orange, pink - in that Vietnamese style and sense of style. Photo: Imperial City

Oh! 19th Nervous Breakdown from Got Live album just came on my iPod and I flash back to being a few miles north of here, in my last few months in Vietnam in 1967 when I was in a "psychological operations" unit and we'd go on large operations with Marine units and (listen, this is true) broadcast Buddhist funeral music on big portable speakers that we'd hauled up into trees and there was a Vietnamese guy who went with us and he'd talk to the other guys (NVA) and tell them to give up (chieu hoi) and we'd get bored with that and we had these tapes, including a Rolling Stones tape from the Got Live album and we'd play things like, Have You Seen Your Mother Baby, Standing in the Shadows and 19th Nervous Breakdown really loud in the night at the DMZ and sooner or later the NVA would start shooting (yeah, they'd give up about like we'd give up - Marines that is, not America) and around midnight one of us would crawl out and lower the speakers.

The bus driver is going slow through the rain, past these houses, past a funeral, past a wedding, houses and garden and padi all green and it's edging toward psychedelic here. Green! Vietnam! Photo: Imperial City

Through mountains and there goes the train on our left and on the right the South China Sea and there went the remnants of a French blockhouse - High Flying Bird and then Barricades of Heaven, a song about a place in time, not geography- "Oh the world is shining!" Water buffalo, padi and muddy dikes like I've walked a thousand times, some of the padi ready to plant (all is wet and watery and muddy), buffalo boy riding a buff, wearing a sheet of plastic sheet and conical hat. Cane, chickens, pigs, ducks; Leslie points out a vast cemetary set into the side of the hills on our left. And we go bumping, the bus swaying and across a one lane bridge.

Goin' Down to Old Woodstock, Bullet the Blue Sky, little girl on a pink bicycle, holding on to her straw hat, riding down a dirt path. A temple, another river, another temple, another wedding all the bridesmaids wearing pastel orange ao dais, looking good (I said something earlier about the Vietnamese sense of style, right), through a beautiful tiny town, lanes and rectangular pools of water, ducks, children playing, people having tea, all the houses open in the front, Lady With a Fan/Terrapin Station, duck farm with many ducklings destined for a dinner table, maybe a wedding table.

All the everywhere now muddy. Woman sitting in her front room sewing, people having tea, a midday meal - Oh! An arbor! Chickens on a front porch, another river. If this is a tourist bus, how come most of the people are Vietnamese and there's a Chinese action movie in Vietnamese on the TV - on the other hand, the movie isn't really blaring so that's a check in the it's a tourist bus column. Altars at most of the houses along this road. Leslie just gave me some of the vaselin (no e on this brand) she bought in Hanoi. Small temples along the way, water cokes beer etc. for sale and there's another river and here comes the market, Cho Phu Bai. Photo: The people's bus at Hue market

I was in Phu Bai in 1967. That's where a small contingent of men from C Company stayed while the rest went to Khe Sanh. I went to Phu Bai to visit my friend Jeff and we were drinking in the squad tent that the REMFs had there and had a can of C-rats cooking on a little heat tab stove and a sergeant who was also in the tent told us to quit. We didn't and he got agitated and he and Jeff ended up fighting and in addition to Jeff beating him down, the sgt stepped on the still lit heat tab, which stuck to his foot giving him a pretty good burn. The outcome of the whole thing (in addition to the interrupted party) was that Jeff got sent to Khe Sanh, which was okay with him, except that he was wounded at Khe Sanh, but not badly, so no problemo. Miss Sarejovo (Miss Saigon).

Still on the road to Hue: old mossy Catholic church built by the French, haystacks, lots of chickens, tiny market, laundry still on the line - hey, it's getting wet, cemetary, dogs, Kwan Yin - Our Lady of Compassion, another old blockhouse, gun ports empty for a long time now.

Wish list: "I wish I was a sacrifice, but somehow still lived on."

Leslie is plotting and scheming on how we can get back to Hanoi in another year or two. One really nice thing about here is the lack of discernable prositutes. Photo: Hue market

Hue: bus stopped at a big hotel. Leslie went up to look at a room, but the best they would was $22, which seemed high. Then I went off with a guy on a moto and came up with a place for $10/night (Ngoc Binh Hotel) in a backpacker alley. It's okay, not great - your basic $10 room, I guess.

Somewhere along the line, after another interaction with yet another charming person I said to Leslie, "I wonder if people think we're goofy with our pretty constant (unspoken) 'Oh man.'" She said, "We may be among the happier travelers they see (so our responses may not be so typical)." And I'm thinking about that for a couple of hours and thinking, Maybe so. But not happier, I think than the two Canadian travelers we've run into several times - one big old, good old boy and his friend, drinking beer and smoking them cigarettes.

Leslie arranged for a slightly more expensive room ($12 vs. $10 and nicer - aircon, hot water, internet in room) at the Binh Duong 3, still in the same alley and across the street from a classic backpacker cafe with good music (REM, Bob Marley, U2, etc.) - Thu on Wheels, operated by the frenetic, husky-voiced Minh Thu.

Monday: up early after sleeping like a log for 10 hours. Back to Thu's for coffee, banana pancake with honey and mango shake - classic backpacker cafe fare (think I'll have the same tomorrow). Started walking to VN Airlines to book a ticket to Saigon. Of course that and changing money took longer than you might think. Then we got completely lost and wandered, fortunately, in a circle. Met two transcendentally cute Viet students who tried to help, but didn't know where to tell us to go. Later, as we continued our circular walk, one of the students dashed across the street to try again, but by then a young woman at a beauty shop had walked with us 1/2 a block to get us on the right track. Photo: Market in Hue

After lunch Leslie went to the room and I went on a walk to the huge Dong Ba Market. People I encountered on this walk included a pretty gross guy who had sex on his mind. Then an alleged university student selling toothpicks (she said) to benefit the blind. Then a Viet woman from Germany whose photo I took (with her camera) on the bridge. A little further along the bridge a girl on a bicycle gave me a soft/firm slap on the chest (and then a gale of giggles) as she rode past with her friends. I was very tired when I got back to the hotel. Dinner was at the Hung Vuong Cafe - baguette sandwich and salad. Hope the salad doesn't do me in.

"Keep it tidy"

Tuesday: no ill effects from the salad - think I'll do it again this evening. "Keep it tidy" indeed. On this day I endured comments about (1) me splashing too much when showering "Why don't you keep it tidy," (2) me drinking straight from (my own) water bottle, (3) "I think we should spread up the bed a little bit - I don't want them to think we're complete aborigines - though one of us is," and (4) my propensity to step in water puddles while walking. I wish I was Muslim so I could have 3 more wives - YEAH! Photo: don't eat the fresh vegetables

Breakfast at Cafe on Thu Wheels: banana pancake (10000 dong - 16900 dong/$1USD) and cafe sua da (5000) for me and a baguette with veggies and cheese (10000) + coffee for Leslie. I think I have the banana pancakes figured out and it does not include any pancake recipe.

We took xyclos to the Citadel (20000 dong each) across the Perfume River (Song Huong), along the river and into the fort, past the fort to the gates of the Imperial Enclosure. We had talked earlier this morning with a man from Manchester who told us he had found the Citadel unremarkable, but we found it pretty great, not in a monumental way, but beautiful and in the rain, perfect. We walked from one end to the other, having a good time in the rain and some mud. Photo: Thu's cafe - a classic backpacker place

In 1967 I was one of the few Americans to go there. I caught a truck from the base at Phu bai, then a cyclo to the Citadel. It was almost completely deserted and I walked around inside for several hours andf outside for several hours. It was a lasting and wonderful memory to me. A year later, the VC executed more than 4000 civilians in the streets of Hue and after the slaughter had them buried them in mass graves. Hue is a city with too many ghosts.

We left around noon and shared a cyclo to the Dong Ba Market - "What a sight we must be" Leslie said. It was a memorable ride in the steady light rain. At first I had my head under Leslie's umbrella, then, hey hey, let's go, I got out from under and enjoyed the rain and the ride. The cyclo driver said, "The people of the world, they like Obama." We walked around in the market for awhile, then to a new adjoining department store and grocery, both pretty empty.

We walked across the bridge and on to our hotel. Lunch at Thu's: water spinach, spaghetti & garlic for Leslie and one banana & pineapple pancake and one banana pancake with honey and two cafe sua da for me. Photo: taken from Thu's

Tomorrow we leave for Saigon. As it turns out, flying is about $20 more per person than the train and, needless to say more than $20 more convenient/faster and less demanding, so here we go on Jetstar Air (after more banana pancakes - I was telling Leslie that there is a snobbery in some quarters re banana pancakes, because, I guess, they are so prototypically backpacker fare - what foolish snobbery).

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Days into days...

Days rolling into days, into nights, into days. 37 Bus to the Haight, hang out on the street for awhile, walk to Hippie Hill, nap in the sun…
Apple Pie!
After months of drought, it’s raining in San Francisco. Cold and rainy, so fine. The front door is open and it’s cold and the pumpkin pie just came out of the oven and yesterday it was a pecan pie and chocolate chip cookies – the apartment is smelling very good. Pecan pie to neighbors: ½ to Chuck and Stephanie and ½ to Sean and Emily and Leon; cookies to Tony on the third floor, to Chuck and Stephanie, to Lance and Spence, to David and Charles.
David came by yesterday evening late, on a walk with Jake. This is how it is, wonderful, having an apartment 3 blocks from David and Charles. I was thinking about their wedding rings – I gave them Leslie’s wedding ring and they had their rings made from that 18k gold layered into platinum from a goldsmith in the Castro. Perfect.

Better late than never: I started reading the Chronicles of Narnia a few days ago. I’m a few pages away from finishing the second book in the series, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. I surprised myself with tears when Father Christmas said… “’The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well.’ With these words he handed Peter a shield and a sword…” And again tears at the end of the book… “But don’t go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don’t try to get there at all. It’ll happen when you’re not looking for it.”
David and Charles took me to Chez Panisse in Berkeley last Saturday. Chez Panisse is “ground zero” for California cuisine. Local, organic, sustainable – here is where these concepts first found voice. It’s one thing that happened out of the Free Speech Movement at UC Berkeley. Thank you again, 1960s.
Wait, what is this about free speech and food? The Free Speech Movement wasn’t really about saying “fuck” – it was about freedom, freedom from mindlessness, freedom from repression, from prejudice, from the gods of corporate, from being told what to eat, drink, smoke, feel, want, desire, dream...
Chocolate chip cookies (extra chocolate and nuts) and
Pecan pie with a layer of chocolate. Alright!
Baked an apple pie from New York Times recipe. Used tart apples, a little extra sugar and cinnamon. This is the second or third apple pie I’ve baked. I’m very happy with how it turned out – or at least how it looks.
All these pies are for Thanksgiving, which, thankfully, wasn’t a deeply emotional time for our family. On the other hand, Christmas was a very special time. So far, plans are David and Charles in Texas for Christmas Eve and part of Christmas day; John for Christmas dinner.
Guy and some of his flowers
This a photograph of Guy, the man who sells flowers at the corner of Noe and 15th. He's been selling flowers here since the bad old days of AIDS out of control. He's a story-teller, and he has some stories about people wasting away and dying, one after another, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. So many casualties...



Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Come on people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together, try to love one another right now…


Here is what that song looks like, played out in real time in a real world. These are things I wrote in the last three months of a young woman’s life. Some of the names have been changed.
2/23/2007 - Take me down, to the infirmary
This may get a little confusing, but here we go. Over the past year at the clinic we've given some help to some people from the Sudan. One of them is a man with a severe thought disorder/psychosis as well as PTSD. We treat him for minor problems and another organization treats his psychiatric problems. (Once I went over there to talk with the psychiatrist about this man and when I was ready to leave, she asked how much Seroquel [a potent antipsychotic for schizophrenia and acute manic episodes] I needed to borrow. I told her I didn't need any and we looked at each other and busted out laughing. It's a crazy world, man.)
Another of the Sudanese who has been in the clinic is the man's sister (we'll call her Maryam here). She is a very sweet woman, 20-something years old, seems lost in America, but making it - working in food service somewhere. She had been to the clinic several times, and she and Caroline helped Leslie putting new charts together.

Yesterday Maryam's brother came to the clinic to stand there kind of shuffling and vibrating with his mental illness and the antipsychotics he's got on-board to tell us she was having severe back pain and couldn't leave the apartment. We had a full house at the clinic and I asked two of my students, Dana and Alicia to go to her apartment to see if they could determine what the problem was and what we should do. The anthropologist, Marisa, who works with us also went. (It's good to work with people like these.) They reported back that she really was in severe pain and there was no discernible etiology. There was a cousin visiting and he had a car. We sent them to the ER of the Medical Center nearby.
Today, the cousin came to see Leslie. He was sobbing (recall, he is a Sudanese man). Maryam has breast cancer metastatic to her spine (and probably elsewhere) and was admitted to the hospital. Leslie called to give me the news. I walked across the street to visit her. She looked so small, lying in the bed. "Thank you for visiting me," she said, in her sweet clear voice. Ahh, precious sister. It's a little strange interacting with her like this, she being pretty conservative Muslim and my inclination being to hold hands or whatever and knowing that's a bad idea, so I'm standing next to the bed - further away than I'd like ...
The social worker on the (oncology) unit has Leslie's cell number and it's in the chart, so that's a very good thing - justice-wise. Leslie and Caroline will visit her in the coming days, so here we go, Sudanese, Burmese (Karen), American, African, Asian, Anglo, Muslim, Christian, and my Leslie, a direct descendent of fierce old Isaiah.
So take me down,
to the infirmary.
Lay me down,
on cotton sheets.
Put a damp cloth,
on my forehead.
Lay me down,
let me sleep, let me sleep.

This is the saddest thing. Here we go.

3/1 - Update (Maryam is still at Baylor)
Leslie and Marisa visited Maryam today. She's doing well - In the context of terminal illness. The palliative care team is going far beyond what one might expect in these days of "the healthcare industry" (a vile term & concept). It appears that things may come together without much intervention on our part. Amazing. Reminds me of comments from a few days ago re mercy (my teacher and Maryam's doctor are well-known to one another). 

3/2- Making friends
A couple of days ago I was at another agency (through which Maryam's brother is treated) to give them an update on her status and perhaps light a fire for getting the brother's future planned as he will need living assistance. The person was saying, "What do we need to do?" And I'm saying, "Start planning." I gave her the address of a group house for people with mental illness, but I doubt she'll f/u. And she says, "Should I call _____  (someone who works at her center)?" And I say, "No need. I've never gotten a lick of work out of him." Oops.
Here is the history: they had a program to find and assist human trafficking victims and not only could I not (3 requests) get anyone from the agency to visit our waiting room to address a room full of people who have a very good idea where trafficked women are - I couldn't get brochures out of them! More often than not, when I would pass by the agency there would be staff sitting on the porch, smoking, talking. They had this program where people who had been tortured would paint flower pots with little flowers and designs. I'm telling you the truth here. But I guess now I'm the offensive one. But there's more.
Maryam told Leslie her brother had quit taking his medications. Leslie then called the psychiatrist, who, when they finally talked said, "I don't know why you people keep calling me. There's nothing I can do." Then she started telling Leslie why she (the psych) couldn't do anything and my wife says, "I don't have time for this," and brought the conversation to a close.
Why aren't we more politic? Often we are, but we've been confronted by this sloth and ineptitude and injustice for sooooo long. I mean, it's bleeding amazing. Once I was taking Van (pronounce like "vun"), a Vietnamese woman with advanced cancer to Parkland and the translator cancelled at the last minute and so with the woman in my truck, stopped by a multicultural assistance center and to see if their Vietnamese translator could help. There were about four staff people sitting around a table folding paper cranes for a peace festival or something like that. The director (her name was Sunny - ain't that cute) said, Sorry we can't help. We have to fold 5000 (or some number) of these by tomorrow for the peace festival. Bizzaroworld. I just walked out, dizzy with rage. What could I say?   
Today, Leslie took her Dad to visit Maryam. Now there's an unreconstructed Alabama man in the mix, if only briefly. This was a good thing, all the way around.

~One Love~

3/18 - She arose gracefully and walked toward me to step on the roach I had just flicked off my leg
That happened yesterday at an apartment where I was with a man and two women, one of them dying. I wish I could post a photo. Such beauty. Leslie is IT in this deal - I'm just helping out on the margin. Has to be a women because the woman who is dying is Muslim. Every time I turn around, and especially in matters of faith it seems to me that Leslie is there. Today in Sunday school Dan said (teaching from 1 John), "We are to love in deed and truth, not just word and speech ... we ought to lay down our lives for one another." And so, there is Leslie, caring in deed and truth, laying down her life for another - a true, living manifestation of agape.
Maryam is coming home today. She is having increased pain and difficulty swallowing (the latter is an ominous sign in the context of advanced cancer). Her brother was decompensating yesterday when Leslie was at the hospital. I don't know how that unfolded in the end. Leslie and I have been talking about our lives and the people we know - Caroline, Maryam, Jeff, Ron, Marisa, Alison ... I wonder, will the circle be unbroken? Will we hear the angels sing along? Muslims believe in angels. Sometimes in a dream ... 
A Pure Heart
I wish I was a sacrifice, and somehow still lived on

3/19 - An email from Leslie to Diane and Marisa
Hi friends,
Maryam was discharged today about 1:00. I saw her yesterday and had a long visit + began trying to make arrangements to have A____ (brother) admitted at Green Oaks as his condition continues to deteriorate. Maryam and N____ both want him hospitalized and put back on his meds but he has continued to refuse to go into the Baylor ER altho staff have assured the family that he would be admitted. I did not go to the apt today as they were waiting for the Hospice Nurse so I don’t know if N____ and her husband who arrived yesterday were able to take him to Green Oaks after I left yesterday- that was their plan when I left about 4:30.
So see how this sounds for a plan:
Tomorrow while Nora and I finish with patients and close the clinic, maybe the 2 of you could visit her and see that everything is in place with Hospice (I have the # for Vitas but don’t know what Social Worker and Nurse are assigned). I will plan to go on Friday and over the weekend. We need to visit whenever we can- she has begun to have increasing symptoms as the cancer spreads throughout her body. Two days ago, she began having severe pain in her right leg, a result of it spreading to the bones in that leg, and yesterday she began to have difficulty swallowing. So Min predicts that she has only a short time (when pushed for an estimate, she told me 4-6 weeks and maybe less). As the cancer progresses, Min says that she will decline rapidly so we need to schedule ourselves to go by any day we can. If we share and you take Thursday/Friday beginning next week, I’ll take the rest. It is a great comfort to both Maryam and N____ to have us so I think we must do whatever we can.
I’ll bring the phone numbers and address tomorrow and we’ll work out the details. Diane, Maryam loved the flowers that you brought and tells me often how much she loves us.
If either of you are praying people, now would be the time. My hear breaks for this family, scattered all over the world, who in the end don’t even have their Muslim brothers and sisters to support them. To my knowledge (and Min’s) there has only been one visitor from the mosque in Richardson and that was at least 2 weeks ago. Of course, we haven’t discussed the irony that this beautiful Muslim girl would die surrounded by a Jewish doctor, a Hindu Nurse, a fellow wounded soul from Burma and her Christian friends from Agape.
I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for your help.  
Leslie

As an aside, I brought a Burmese woman to her home a month or so ago from an appointment at Parkland re the breast mass she has - which turns out to be encysted worms (we're following up on that). When we got to her apartment, her two girls, ages 6 and 8 were standing outside on this misty day, wet, and there were three or four Anglo and Hispanic children on their bikes, a few feet from the girls, just sitting there looking at them. The life of refugees.

3/22 - Guns and Roses, Maryam
Katy Road Pink (found rose), Duchesse de Brabant (1857, Teddy Roosevelt's favorite boutonniere rose), and Belinda's Dream (1992) are blooming out front.
My ancestors fought in the Civil war (Confederacy, of course). My grandad was in WWI, I think not in heavy fighting. My Dad was wounded in Sicily in WWII. Uncle Lee fought in Korea and Vietnam - infantry and cavalry, wounded. I fought in Vietnam, wounded. That's enough - not my son!
Diane and Leslie were at Maryam's today, making food stamps happen (and it was not easy). Students, Megan & Stephani also went - took some Ensure. She's been in bed for several days. I think Maryam really likes Leslie being there. Leslie calls her "honey." 

3/27 - Song of the day, 30 days, it's raining
Missa Solemnis (Sanctus), Beethoven, 1819-1823.
Here is Leslie's summary report of the first 30 days with Maryam: On 2/21 a home visit was made by Baylor students to a young Sudanese woman who is a friend of our Burmese outreach worker. The students were unable to determine the cause of the patient’s pain and she was taken to the Baylor ER. The patient was admitted to the hospital from the ER and was diagnosed with breast cancer metastatic to brain, bones, liver, and lungs. She was discharged 3/14 and is at home with hospice care. I visit most days and am coordinating hospice and volunteer services, food stamp application and other social services, and volunteers. She has been okayed for emergency food stamps and we have gotten a working refrigerator in the apartment – both of which required significant effort. Her brother, who has schizophrenia and has been tortured, quit taking his antipsychotic medications the day his sister went to the hospital. He has been increasingly agitated, or conversely, showing signs of catatonia. We were able to get a home visit from ADAPT and he is back on his medications and is improving. Diane M, a professor of social work and one of our Friday volunteers visits the family on Fridays and two of the Baylor students visit every Wednesday and Thursday.

3/30 - Rage Against The Machine (but it's not really the machine)
So, Leslie has been working on getting food stamps for Maryam. A couple of days ago I wrote that Maryam was okayed for emergency food stamps. There was a hang-up with getting her cousin to be the person to use the card, but that seemed worked out as well. Today, Leslie went to the food stamp office for the final stamp of the stamps for the cousin and was told that Maryam had to come to the office to sign the papers (not allowed for Leslie to take the papers to her to sign) even though she has spent little time out of the bedroom for several weeks and a ride in the car is out of the question. First, the food stamp people said no way could this happen without her there. Then they said, since it was an emergency (what with her dying and all), they could send a caseworker to her apartment next week. Leslie was reduced to tears, which is pretty amazing for her. Leslie called the "human services" (more like inhuman services) regional office and they understood the urgency and by the time she was off the phone, someone had been assigned to go over there this day. And now, the application for the cousin to use the card is in the mail to Austin. Here is the real issue: no way could this have happened without Leslie - no way would they get help until after Maryam is dead, when, of course, they would no longer be eligible (Lenny Bruce, call home - we've got a good one for you). 
Rage, Rage, RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE     
Honor Role: the apartment manager made things happen on her first day on the job. The man at the regional office who gets the picture. Diane, who calmly does her thing. Megan and Stephani, all things bright and beautiful. Adrian, the oncology social worker, who understands social work. Dr. F, who understands the human condition and knows what to do. Marisa, who is always ready (except she's laid up right now - get well soon, your tribe needs you).
But, like I said, it's not really the machine. It's people - people who don't see, who don't feel, who don't want to be bothered.

Tree of Life by (((Caterina Martinico, http://caterina-artfullmusings.blogspot.com/)))

4/3 - Who would have thought?
This weekend Maryam told Leslie she was having severe dental pain. Leslie and I made some calls and today (Tuesday), Leslie talked with a dentist who agreed to take care of Maryam. The dentist is talking with the palliative care doctor and we are ready to go. So now, we also have a Catholic Arab (a dentist) who grew up in Israel working with a Jewish doctor, a Presbyterian great heart, et al. to help a Muslim woman. As Mother Teresa said, something beautiful for God
I don't mean to go on and on and on about this, but truly, my wife is amazing. Sometimes, like today, when I found out about the dentist I was thinking, it's almost like she isn't real. How could anyone do what she does? I thought about her face, and how she is, and was just overwhelmed. Something beautiful, truly.

4/3 - Hallelujah
The other day I was looking at a photo of Maryam's cousin and Hallelujah was playing and I was thinking, truly, Hallelujah.
Maryam got to the dentist today, after several days delay. Leslie had to find a dentist (see 4/3), get medical records, wait on people and she's going, "grrrr, slow people drive me crazy." So today, Good Friday, about 7:20am it all came together and at 12:30 away we all went to a different dentist (slight change in plans - thank you Debbie!). Though Maryam did not want to lose her tooth, out it had to come. There was a slight complication with the extraction and the original dentist (see below) got involved. So now the dental problem is out of the way and now a Jewish dentist is part of this amazing grace. After the dentist we went to "the Arab store" for some food. Leslie and I ended up with some good olives and some flat bread. It's been a great day. Leslie's world circling, unfolding...
My sense is more and more people coming to see Maryam, like the Ethiopian woman who works at the 7-11 on Gaston and a young Sudanese man we met today. Next week the plan is for Megan, Stephani, Maryam, her cousin, and Leslie to go to the little Pakistani cafe next to the Indo-Pak Market. Leslie and I went there about a year ago - it's a happening place, oh, no doubt about it.

4/11 - To Maryam
Lying in the bed,
A little smaller each day
Slender once, thinner now
Mocha framing numinous eyes
                     
Quick mind, quick speech
Clear thin voice
Following each thought
Through this strange land
Where everyone everywhere every time
Has gone each time like the first time

Fearful
Smiling in the face of fear
We’ll not speak of this now
Now that we’re here
Here like all before
Here like never before

Last week seeing your sister
With drawn face
Open to her sadness and pain
When I came unexpected
Around the corner
Before she could cover her soul

We are flesh, blood, bone, skin
The carriages of our souls
Rolling through
These streets this life
This pain, this joy
This longing

You know and I know
What’s real (and what's not)
But we can wait for awhile
No need to rush to where we are going

4/11 - Burmese child
Caroline brought a Burmese (Karen) mother and her 8 year-old girl to the clinic today. The child has a life-long history of low-grade fever, her stools are clay-colored, and the stools have visible worms according to the mother. The family has been in the U.S. for 5 months. Nice work, refugee agency. For more than 25 years I've pulled people out of the depths of your inability to provide decent services for those unfortunate enough to be your so-called "clients." I cannot express the extent of my contempt and loathing for you. 
By the way, Maryam is another of this refugee agency's "clients." Leslie asked someone there if anyone from the agency had been to see her. No.

4/16, 4/17 - Grace unfolding and the trip begins
Leslie got a check and more today from a Muslim women's organization. The check will go to the dentists who volunteered their time to help Maryam. But there is more. The same organization got enough money together to cover all costs of funeral and burial when Maryam dies. Grace unfolding ...
When the secrets all are told
And the petals all unfold

Maryam's cousin - I keep calling her that because I won't use her real name here and didn't know another name to call her here - will see our psychiatrist this week. Ahh, but now I have a name: Nabila (meaning noble - yes, that works). She is there (in a small 1 bedroom apartment) 24/7, and not just with her dying cousin, but also her very mentally ill other cousin. Nabila lives in another state, been married for just a few months and now this. What an extraordinary person! Strong and sweet - an honor and blessing to know her.
Maryam is a refugee because she was a leader of a women's rights group in bleeding Sudan. Sudan, whose government sponsors the slaughter of 100s of thousands in Darfur. Sudan, where the value of a life is zero. What a price people pay for freedom and dignity. Women's rights - we should all feel humbled - well, I do anyway.

4/25 - Here is something one of my students wrote
Megan, week 5: I think we were able to form/recognize a spiritual connection this week.  Stephani was sitting on something that looked like a blanket, and I asked Nabila what it was – she told me they were their prayer mats.  So, we started talking about prayer – how we pray, things we pray for – and then, there was a warm pause – not an awkward, uncomfortable silence, but one that communicated something.  I smiled and was comforted that Maryam and Nabila have this source of power and encouragement.  I like to think that we pray to the same God.  Even though we may sometimes pray and practice in different ways, we are still able to share our burdens and find peace in a spiritual being – what a comfort to know that Maryam and Nabila can experience this.  We went to the Arboretum and had a wonderful time.  Maryam said she loved the fresh air (they were pushing her in a wheelchair).  She forced us to get ice cream – I think it’s funny (not in an ethnocentric way mind you) that in their culture that it is considered polite to forcedly insist that your guest eat – the more pushy you are the more polite you are (that just makes me laugh).  I will miss them.  I would love to keep in touch, but understand that I can’t make promises that I may not be able to keep.  They have changed my life…really…this is one of the first times that I have really formed a relationship with a hurting person, who is not in my usual circle, and not been on a mission trip.  This habit, this choice (to choose to love people in this way) can be a part of my daily life – a reality that I want so bad.  And, I have been blessed.  I think about them all the time, and hope that I will not just think but do.

4/25 - Here is something another of my students wrote
Stephani, week 4: This week with Maryam was very emotional and deep.  On Wednesday we were able to really talk to her about how discovering she had cancer made her feel.  She actually almost started to cry and it took all I had to hold back the tears.  It's amazing how much she is opening up to us as we spend more time with her.  I am so glad that we got an opportunity to talk about important issues like what she expects out of life these next few weeks.  I'm not sure if she truly comprehends what is going to happen as the days go by.  I didn't feel it was the right time to attempt to explain the path of her cancer and that it will lead to death.  I think everyone has the right to embrace illness and death at their own pace and I think Maryam will come to that in time.  So Wednesday was a very emotional day for me because we talked about the "valley of the shadow of death" and that is never easy.  Thursday was a much easier day and we talked about some fun things.  I am amazed at how universal conversations are for girls and how much fun it is sitting with Maryam, Nabila, and Megan laughing and sharing our lives together.  Next week we plan on going to lunch with Maryam and Nabila and we are all looking forward to that!

5/9/2007 - Clarification
A lot has happened since the last post. I don't know where to start except to say, first, we're fine - Leslie's fine, I'm fine. The past few days have been beyond stressful. Last week Leslie had a chest xray and then this Monday her doctor called to say that there was a suspicious finding and he had made her an appointment to have a CT scan Wednesday. Neither of us are under any illusions about lung cancer (almost always a poor prognosis disease), so this hit very very hard. I'm thinking a really good outcome would be tuberculosis. We're both pretty well oriented to life and values, but still, there was a clarifying element to these waiting days. Except for seeing David, for me, the trip suddenly had zero importance. The clinic seemed a burden. Work was just work. All that mattered was (and is) Leslie and David. We kept planning for the trip, but it was like going through the motions - still, we're all about keepin' on truckin'. 
Today, Leslie went for the CT scan - by herself - because that's the way she is. She called about 10:30 to say she is fine. The abnormality is from an old rib fracture. I'm giddy and weak and ecstatic all at once. 
Yesterday (Tuesday) I went to see Maryam and Nabila. A really great thing is that Maryam's Mom is here now - just came in from Egypt. Maryam looked wonderful. She's normally very pretty, but for the past several months has not looked at all well. But yesterday, she looked so good. Her Mom is kind of severe looking. Dressed mostly in black, shapeless full length Muslim woman dress, plain military-looking glasses. I guess she heard that Americans like to shake hands, so she stuck her hand out for a brief handshake. After that she sat on the couch next to Maryam reading. We talked more than usual and I stayed longer than on most visits. We talked a lot about Nabila's husband and how this situation has clarified and strengthened their relationship. Being a Muslim man, he does not have to let his wife stay away for any length of time, much less for months. They are newlyweds - what stress this is. But he has and gracefully. He also has dropped out of school to make more money to support this family of his. I'm sorry to say I haven't met him. This was an emotional conversation.  
Something happened while I was there. At one point Maryam went to the kitchen, slowly, with her walker, leaving Nabila, the Mom, and I in the living room. I looked at Nabila and said something like, "I don't want to talk too much; I don't want to answer questions. I want to ask you to pray for Leslie." She looked at me quizzically for a moment and said, "I will pray for her." Why did I ask this one person to pray for my wife? It's hard to say except that I experience her as extraordinarily strong and somehow closer to God than most other people I know.
When Maryam was in the hospital I said to her and Nabila that Leslie and I were in this (with them) for the long haul if they wanted and I would not proselytize. I told them if I said something about praying for them it was prayer only for their well-being and not an intro to anything. And that's how it has played out. The interesting thing has been that our relationship has been spiritually affirming for me, and I hope for them as well. And we have talked a fair amount about spiritual matters. Here, again, is what Megan, one of my students wrote (week 5): I think we were able to form/recognize a spiritual connection this week.  Stephani was sitting on something that looked like a blanket, and I asked Nabila what it was – she told me they were their prayer mats.  So, we started talking about prayer – how we pray, things we pray for – and then, there was a warm pause – not an awkward, uncomfortable silence, but one that communicated something.  I smiled and was comforted that Maryam and Nabila have this source of power and encouragement. 
Maryam and Nabila are moving to Colorado next week. Leslie and I are leaving for Asia next week. Looking back on these few months, it seems to me that a lot has been accomplished - almost all by or through Leslie: rent paid, food, dental care, active and enormously helpful involvement of Muslim women's group, Maryam's Mom coming to the US, help for her brother, and so on. Some beautiful non-essential things happened, too: going out to eat, the arboretum, flowers ... I think we've all learned a lot and made some serious connections.
Last week I told Leslie that of all the people I know, I admire her and Dan Foster more than anyone else.

5/13/2007
I just got back from my last visit with Maryam, Nabila, and Maryam's brother. They're leaving for Colorado this Tuesday - and Leslie and I are leaving the same day for Asia. M was in bed, her Mom was sitting on a prayer rug on the floor (reading? praying?), a visiting cousin was in a chair, and I was on another bed. Suitcases piled around. M's brother wandering in and out, but looking very good. He just got out of the state hospital and is back on his meds - much clearer now (Thanks, Diane). I said my farewells and it was emotional, but then they said, "Wait, we're fixing you tea." So I waited and had some tea and rose water flavored dessert and again said goodbye (I told Maryam I'd see her over yonder in the sweet bye & bye - I don't know if she believes it, but oh well, we'll see) and left. 
It's been quite a ride. Steadfast - justice, mercy, truth, strength, beauty ...
Maryam died a few weeks later.