Compartmentalization

Well, according to Wikipedia, which is the source for all that is good and right, compartmentalization is defined as this:

Compartmentalizing is the act of splitting an idea or concept up into (sometimes more or less arbitrary) parts, and trying to enforce thought processes which are inhibiting attempts to allow these parts to mix together again. This process is performed in an attempt to simplify things, and to defend against anxiety...compartmentalizing experiences prevents conflict stemming from the incompatibility of the two polarized aspects of self or other'. Often, 'when the individual is confronted with the contradictions in behavior, thought, or affect, he/she regards the differences with bland denial or indifference'.

^{And now that I haven't ascended into heaven or been raptured or died from some foreign disease that's incompatible with life in the United States, I decided the time has come to finish up this blog and give it some closure.}

^{So why have I named my closing post compartmentalization? Because I kind of feel like I never left. Coming back has been weird in the sense that it hasn't been weird at all.} 

^{I guess my culture shock, if there was any, took the form of materialism and in the first three days I was back, I managed to spend the equivalent of a month's allowance in Madagascar, found myself in a nail salon for 3 hours for like the second time in my life, and have been really confused about why people want to see me because I don't really feel like any time has passed.} 

^{So as I type this with strange acrylic pink nails, that are not my own and should not be on any part of my body, I can't really think of anything concrete to say about concluding Madagascar. When I think about the experience, it kind of comes back like the memory of a dream, a little fuzzy and more like an emotion or feeling than a tangible thing that happened. This is why I've started off with the spiel about compartmentalization... I don't know how to reconcile there and here because living there feels like a completely different life, with different people and different challenges.} 

^{Sometimes little things will happen that will flash me back there, like this morning when I had to clean out a vase at work and a centipede ran out of it into the sink. I was struck with a vivid flashback to the night that a malicious centipede bit me on the arm and it was the most painful bite I've ever received, making my arm feel like it was on fire for about 10 hours. And now, I'm back here with this new and intense fear of centipedes that is hard for me to understand unless I allow the two worlds to merge... which I haven't.}

^{I wonder if in the future things will mesh together better, or if Madagascar will become one of those things I did that I don't remember until someone reminds me. I know that might sound silly, but if out of the blue you ask me if I've been to Greece, my first reaction is always no ...even though I was there for 5 weeks. I never brought it back to my life here and now it just sits in a weird place in my head that I don't think about. How do you make something real and integrated into your life, when it has nothing to do with the reality that you know?} 

^{So that's where I'm at... 99 entries later and I feel like I never left and this blog and some pictures on my computer are the only remnants of my trip. Maybe that's a bit dramatic. I know there's 16 other people who are now scattered around the country who could prove to me that I went to Madagascar and what we did was real... but they're not here and I'm back to life as I knew it. This bothers me and I feel kind of hollow about it. But for the time being when I get that inevitable question that I hate oh so very much, I'm sticking with my vague and nothingness response of "It was awesome, I'm really glad I went." So, for the love of God, please, do not ask me this question. Go with something specific. Literally, ANYTHING, that is not "How was Madagascar?" Ok that's all. How could I close out my blog without a mini rant?}

^{For now, I'm just staying on the surface, going through the motions, and taking my time to figure things out.}

^{That's all I've got for now. Somewhere down the line, maybe a month, a couple months, a year, I'll conclude this with the 100th and hopefully have something a little more... Tangible? Coherent? Optimistic?  Who knows. Until then... thanks for reading :)}

Paris

Paris has been strange. I feel like it's a good middle ground from Madagascar to the United States, but it has still felt funny and weird. Because I don't have the energy to write out a long one of these due to, what I believe is a parasite I've named Marques living in my intestines, here's a couple quick thoughts on the experience so far.

Like typical girls in Paris, we've spent more money on clothes than food and have compensated for the high European prices by splitting everything, only eating baguettes and street-side crepes and living in grungy backpacker world.

Yesterday, at the Eiffel Tower, a man jumped to his death 50 feet from where we were standing. It was shocking and sad. After much ethical debating, we decided we would still ascend the tower. It was beautiful, but still sad.

Our hostel is so typical European college backpacker. Everyone speaks English. No one is over 30. People roller blade out of here. It's never quiet. We're locked out from 12-4 because of "cleaning." The shower is a harsh and unpleasant experience. We're living in a room with 4 other people, bunk bed style. They don't provide sheets. There's only one key for the entire room.
...the funny thing is every part of it is nicer than anywhere I stayed in Madagascar.

We've managed to see all of the quintessential Parisian sights in three days, thanks to Rick Steve and are leaving for Amsterdam in the morning.

I have been sick the entire time and become an whiny and discontented child after 8 PM. I found an anti-parasitic at my 4th pharmacy today and will be taking that soon... here's hoping the situation improves.

Paris is beautiful in the spring, but the entire world and their mother is/are (grammar quandary!) here too.

Ramble, Process Time

I have a feeling that the next couple of entries are going to be messy rambles that don’t have points and are serving the purpose of allowing me to process. I believe in the idea that you have to leave a place to really understand how you feel about it and what it has done to you. Distance is good. So as I sit here in time zone limbo, sick as a dog, I being the processing.

I’m going to use one of my favorite journal strategies to get the ball rolling. I call it the two-minute blitz. I think of a topic and then I have two minutes to write about it. No filtering. No over-thinking. Here we goooo:

1.       Learning Malagasy – I feel very disappointed in myself and frustrated that I didn’t put more of an effort to learn the local language. I acquired some basic phrases, some expressions I thought were funny and then I stopped. I gave up. I spoke French or I didn’t speak at all. I think I feel most guilty about this in the village. I know I had rough circumstances, but the more time I put between myself and that experience, the more I realize how I mentally shut off around day 4 and just…quit. I’m not a quitter but I just quit. This is hard to accept. 2 minutes!

2.       The Food – It’s funny how quickly a lot of us adjusted to eating the typical foods here. Even after bitching about the amount of rice that people ate and the lack of nutritional diversity in their meals, I still found myself order plates that come with rice when I had an option. I currently feel weird about the thought of returning to an American diet. I am ready to never eat meat again. I have eaten my quota of zebu (a cow with a funny hump) for my entire life. Give me tofu. Give me raw vegetables. But maybe also give me some rice… Two!

3.       Doing Research – This one kind of connects to just what I want to do in life. Before coming here, I thought I probably wanted to teach at the college level. I thought I probably wanted to do research. And now I feel like I’ve gone through a tailspin. I didn’t really enjoy my month of Independent Study Project and after being with a group of unorthodox people who are most likely not going to take traditional life paths, I’m realizing that maybe it’s totally OK for me to do that too. Unfortunately, this opens up a mess of possibilities and I feel confused and overwhelmed about the future.

4.       Being Sick – Not to sound like an exaggerator, but I was actually sick for about 80% of the program. Sometimes it was just indigestion and other times it was food poisoning accompanied by other fun surprises like parasites or sun poisoning or hair loss and other things that I’m not even telling you about. I’ve lost faith in Malagasy hospitals and doctors. I just want to feel normal again. I want to not constantly feel worn down and ill. It sucks and severely impacted my perception of Madagascar. Oops 2:10.

5.       The group – I can’t begin to explain my feelings about this one in two minutes because this might have been the most impactful part of my experience, which is funny because it has nothing to directly do with Madagascar. But after spending 4 months with people who were turned out exactly like everyone expected, “Michelle, who goes to Madagascar? I kind of think you’re going to be with a bunch of people who are… who are just like you. That’s going to be really interesting and really weird.” And it was. It was the first time in my life I’ve ever fit into a group and as much as I found a niche at Villanova and other places, sometimes I felt out of place and it’s awesome to know that there’s people out there that I just didn’t know existed. I’m the most sad to leave them.

6.       Study Abroad – I recently had the thought that yes, I will be leaving Madagascar and it will be end of a chapter of my life, but then I realized that this is bigger than I realized. For two and a half years I’ve thought about study abroad. Everyone who goes abroad has their study abroad experiences and it’s something I’ve looked forward to doing. But now it’s over and I have no idea how the time passed so quickly. It’s weird to think… study abroad is over. Not just Madagascar, but something that I’ve been hyping in my mind for years is forever over. I can never do that again, under the same circumstances. And it was everything that I wanted it to be, I would never do anything differently. So that’s awesome.

7.       Madagascar – I’m really nervous to go back to the United States because of the question “How was it?” If you ask me this vague and meaningless question, I will probably give a dead face look until you feel uncomfortable and talk about something else. But really, I don’t even know where to begin with describing this experience. I don’t want to just remember the “crazy” things or being sick or eating rice because it was so much more than that. It’s hard for me to think about the fact that most of the people I’m going to meet in my life will have no foundation or base with Madagascar. It’s like always starting from zero with this place. I can’t just drop that into a conversation without always getting a weird look. And now it’s this huge part of my life that feels fady (taboo) to talk about.

8.       Lemurs – On a lighter note, lemurs. Lemurs are like, cool… but they’re also just kind of like monkeys that are native to Madagascar. I think it’s kind of silly when people only think of lemurs when they hear Madagascar, but I suppose that’s more a product of shitty publicity and poor international media about Madagascar, which I’m not saying is a shocking or surprising because this place is small, corrupt and in the middle of nowhere. It’s not even really Africa. It’s kind of like Asia… but not. I still love it. But yeah, lemurs, kind of cool, not at all descriptive of Madagascar.

9.       Hygiene – I kind of…….forget what “normal” hygiene standards are. I think I might have taken the prize for that in the group… which is “gross” but also, it just doesn’t matter here. As you might have noticed from what is currently my profile picture, my lack of hygiene climaxed in me traveling home from Sainte Marie looking like a mix between Ke$ha and a gypsy. But who really cares? Also, sometimes I think about this blog and people’s perception of me… I’m am like the opposite of datable. Soo, sooo un-datable and slightly repulsive. Mmmmmmmm, call me!

10.   The window seat on an airplane – WAH. The men sitting next to me are both asleep and have not gotten up to go to the bathroom on their own, once. This makes me the annoying American who’s muttering in French to them and carrying my bag of vomit past them as I classily walk to the bathroom. PUT ME ON AN AISLE. I will never make this seating choice mistake again. I hate sleeping plane men. I’m so unhappy on this flight.

11.   Norms – This one is kind of like the hygiene post, but external. I have gotten used to SO MANY THINGS because of this damn country. I ignore the cockroaches in the shower, only glance occasionally at the half dollar sized spider in the corner of my room, can sit on Taxi-Brousses without much complaint for 20 hours, don’t really think much of bedbugs, am confused when bathrooms have toilet paper, a seat and an actual toilet (where did these come from!?), automatically walk with one hand over my bag to avoid pick pockets, anticipate that hotel staff will go through my stuff (occasionally take pictures of their penises) and maybe steal stuff or maybe not, hand-washing my clothes is expected, I’ll eat bread that has been covered in flies, I scoop around the ants in the jelly jar, and why would you do anything but shower with cold bucket water? I went over 2 minutes. Gotta stop there.

I feel good about that processing sesh. Hope it wasn’t too jumbled. I’m sleepy and am going to try to sleep like my sleeping plane men who never move because they’re not throwing up every hour or don’t probably have little baby worms living in their intestines. In the Reunion airport CC and I decided my nickname could be: Hotely Biby Kely (translates to : Hotely – Malagasy hotel or eating establishment, Biby – insect, Kely – little, therefore Biby Kely – means little insect, and can be used to describe parasites and I am a hotel or eating establishment for them, hence, Hotely Biby Kely) Yeah that’s really gross. Me and my new puppy will have so much in common, as he was recently de-wormed as well. BEST FRIENDS.

Madagascar’s Farewell

It wouldn’t have been a proper goodbye between me and my study abroad experience if I had left in good health. No, no, instead, Madagascar waited. It waited until I had physically left the country and then it attacked.

In the beginning of my 4 hour layover which proceeded an 11 hour flight, I said hello to another round of food poisoning or maybe worms or some sort of mysterious stomach bug. With Madagascar… it could really be a lot of things. The kind of stomach bug that makes me vomit every two hours. The kind stomach bug that wants to come out of every orifice I have whenever it says so.

So here I am, sitting in my airplane, in the window seat, wishing desperately that I was in an aisle, when of course, in the way that fate likes to work, an adorable Reunionain sits next to me.

Attractive men never sit next to me on planes! They don’t! But no, on the plane ride where I’m about to be throwing up into bags for 11 hours, Laurence takes his seat. We chat and then I awkwardly drop of the conversation to build a vomit fort.

And now we’re 3 hours in and the situation has only gotten worse. I’ve constructed a small tent with my airplane blanket and have been ducking into it and throwing up into a Ziploc bag. Unfortunately the bag is nearly full (of pretty much only water and stomach bile or whatever is still left in me, so it’s not that gross) so now I’m going to have to smuggle this bag of vomit to the bathroom where I’ll be rinsing it out and reusing it.

I am so unhappy.

And that’s where I’m at… possibly the lowest point of my study abroad experience and now I have to truck through a week of Paris before seeing my doctor. I want to cry, crawl in a hole and never eat again. Help.

[7 hours later…]

I’m hopeful that the vomiting has stopped, but it’s hard to be certain. So far the count is at 7. I have now added to the list of life happenings: Using an airline barf bag, using a Ziploc bag as a vomit bag, cleaning out a Ziploc bag in an airplane bathroom and mastering the art of silent puking. Yay! (That was the most sarcastic “yay” I’ve ever written by the way.) I am at one of my most miserable states in life.

Somewhere in the middle of the flight, I got so desperate that I tried to call my mom with an airplane phone. It was bad when I read the line that said “10 dollars a minute” and thought… yeah it’s worth it. 10 dollars! That’s 20,000 Ariary! More money than you need to feed yourself for a couple days in Madagascar. I’m feeling a bit heartbroken to have left. It’s starting to set in… even when I know that because of Madagascar, I’m throwing up my entire life into bags in the window seat, I still miss it horribly. That might be grounds for an abusive relationship.

I can’t stop drinking water. I’m so thirsty, but it makes me throw up. But I keep drinking it… trying to pace myself with little baby sips and then the part of me that hates self-control and moderation tips the entire cup down my throat and it’s gone. Commence cycle of stomach pains, nausea and vomiting.

This is happened seven times. I want to cry.

I am not happy. Tsy faly.

PS. The vomiting appears to have stopped! J I am significantly less miserable, but still mal au ventre. Wah. 

I actually left…

Stress, stress. Panic, panic.

We’re sitting on the runway. We’re waiting. We’re leaving.

When did we get to this point? Where did study abroad go?

I feel a little bit overwhelmed, but mostly dead and emotionless. It’s not hitting me. I’m not processing what it means to leave. All I know is that I have a sad feeling somewhere and I’m not sure what to expect when I get somewhere else.

[shut off computer for take off]

Whenever I’m on planes going somewhere, I have this weird habit of thinking about the plane ride home. I imagine it in vivid detail, what it will be like, what I will be wearing, the feeling of seating in these seats again. It’s the one thing that I can know at that point, so I think about how, in X amount of days I’m going to be on a plane again, things will have happened, I will feel something towards what is currently an unknown and time will have passed. I know that this isn’t the most productive or beneficial habit because it just causes me to live in the future and miss things going on in the present. But I still do it and I still find it really weird when I really am on that return plane.

But here I am. Sitting in seat 7A next to two old French men, who from the looks of it, didn’t enjoy their plane food. I thought it was phenomenal, partly because I’ve been eating rice and loka (anything that’s not rice) for 4 months, but also because that food was just good. But, as I’m sitting on the return plane, I’m…. I’m… confused? Emotionless? Processing? Nothing really. I’m just functioning on a very shallow level. A level  that doesn’t include thinking beyond “this food is good” “these seats are SO comfortable” “there’s cheese in the meal!” No comparisons. No analyzing. No deeper thought. Maybe I’m hoping that the crazy turbulence happening right now will only result in minor typos and not death.

This entry really isn’t saying much… but it’s all I’m capable of saying about the feeling of leaving Madagascar. I don’t know.. I’m upset. But for a lot of reasons that are beyond the physical leaving of this crazy, crazy country. I’m afraid of coming home.

Pictures with Geese

This one doesn’t really need a description… sometimes I see weird photo opportunities and force people to play along. Today’s theme was “Take a picture with the angry geese!”

We also like to pretend like we’re vampires with high collars…

And pirates at a pirate cemetery…

(I openly acknowledge that I am just gorgeous in both of these pictures)

And fall asleep like small children on boats.

And we do lots of other things, but I’m leaving it with that for now. 

Coral: 3 Michelle: 0

Throughout our time in Madagascar, I have been made fun of for my unfortunate health and occasional bad luck in Madagascar by the rest of the group. I’m in the process of making a final list of Madagascar vs. Michelle (let me spoil the surprise and tell you that Madagascar wins by a landslide, but I did what I could) but this game can also be applied to small scale occurrences. This is the Coral vs. Michelle battle. Watch:

[a1] In a snorkeling mishap I found myself trapped in shallow water surrounded by coral and sea urchins. I don’t want to sound like a total whiner… but it was rather traumatic and I threw a petit pity party when I got back to shore. But still… 3 days later I have these blistering bumps on my knee that look like a disgusting contagious disease. No, no, I just tumbled onto some burning coral. AND IT ITCHES. Coral: 1

Sliced my toe on coral… it just really hurt. Coral: 2

And cut a little baby hole in the bottom of my foot from the traumatic shallow water incident, that will only be refered as that for the rest of time. This was unbelievably inconvenient for walking around the dirtiest city in the world. Oh, and it hurts like a bitch. Coral: 3

I can only hope that like some corals, this one instantly died after assaulting me. Sorry, I’m usually pro-environment… but this guy was just malicious. Maybe Michelle: 1, maybe.