What's it all about?

I haven’t actually told you what a “typical” day looks like for me. And like you, there is no “typical“, but here is a sketch of one day, many others are similar.
When the birds start to sing around 6ish, I am aware of their “alarming” wonder. Truth is, they are not alarming at all, they are “wake-up-ing” wonderful sounds that provide natures alarm, better than an electronic buzzzzzzz or smooth jazz. Usually my thoughts wake me up from those wonderful early morning moments when the dreams of the night still have some imprint but are quickly fading and there is that lingering question, “why did I dream that?” According to ancient lore all dreams have meaning, we just have limited time or inclination to ponder or make-believe a meaning. Some mornings, in this distant place, with few stresses other than to show up at work, I ponder a while. Last nights dream was particularly “ponderable”. Maybe I’ll share it with you some day, maybe not.
The bedspread that has given me such misery has been relegated to a new role. Instead of the honor of covering my bones and flesh and assisting me with nightly dreams, it sits on the floor, folded in half-lengthwise, rolled up. It is my morning stretch mat. I have made peace with the spread, because as a mat, it is fine. I have put a cover on it, a seaside print, with palm trees. I have no particular stretch routine, instead I make up a new routine every morning, based on what my Abkhazian-stretch-needs-for-the-day seem to be. After stretching I shower.
I use an old stove coffee maker to make coffee, which for me is a little coffee in a lot of milk. No one else will go near the “dirty milk” especially my Italian doctor colleague Rossella.
Rossella is smart, young, we spend a lot of time together outside work because we enjoy one another’s company, but on the matter of coffee, we differ. She keeps trying to convince me to make REAL coffee, the kind that is dark, robust, thick, REAL Italian coffee. She says I should make real coffee, pour myself a little bit and add hot milk. She could have the remainder. Rosella is a get-up-at-the-last-minute- morning person, so if I would cooperate she would get to have her coffee made (by me) since I would only take a small amount and leave the rest for her. Perfect. Except, I want to make the little bit of coffee I drink, the way I want to make it. So THERE. We laugh, and occasionally I make it HER way and sometimes I make it MY way. Today, being Sunday, I made it MY way. I like watery coffee with lots of milk, YUMMMMM.
On the weekends Rossella and I go to the market and a bakery which happens to be next door(not good for the perpetual diet every woman in the world is on). But heck, it’s the weekend, and the bakery has a good, not too sweet, apple cake. We each buy one piece, 25 rubble, it is our weekend splurge. This weekend we have “the big wigs” in town for the mid-year budget review and program planning for the remainder of the year. I baked a coffee cake myself instead of going to the bakery because the bakery was closed, for some reason.
The market is crazy, busy with smells, sights that stimulate all senses. I take a backpack for carrying groceries. One day a gypsy stole my new prescription eyeglasses out of the back pack. It was one of those, crowded jams of people, where everyone is pushing to get to the next stall through the morass of people;there is lots of body contact. A perfect spot for a thief to execute their craft. I now carry my old, outdated prescription glasses (I brought in case of a disaster like this) in a more secure place. Fortunately, nothing else was taken. My glasses will be a huge disappointment back at the gypsy camp. One eye has had laser surgery, the other has not, so the prescription is bizarre. Oh well, the glasses were probably entertaining for a few minutes and now sit in a rubble pile. It is what it is.
During the workweek, I commute approximately 62 paces via foot across the street to the office. Some mornings I go early, fetch firewood, and make a fire in the fireplace in my office. It is nice for staff to come in and have a large blazing fire to warm themselves. I, of course, do it for my own pleasure as well. Some mornings I get on the internet for a couple of minutes to see if anyone has written me a note. Many mornings the internet is not working. Today, Sunday, it has rained all day. The internet does not work when it rains. That’s good. An excuse to ponder instead of focus on reports.
Work is a combination of patients and paper work, negotiations, compromises, planning, meetings, thinking. I like all. We work most days from 8:00 until 5ish. Most of the expats stay another hour or so to finish up work that is best done in solitude. Sometimes I go to the sea, then come back to the office. My office has a door that opens onto a little porch with nice trees, the trash pile, the chicken coop, the wood pile and a path to the shack where we eat lunch. It is a fantastic office that I share with all the HAP team members. Fortunately I have worked in hospitals, clinics, nursing homes where there is no privacy, quiet spaces. I don’t like it, but I can concentrate with distractions, other persons yammering….. You might see me mouthing words while I am thinking, it seems to help. Remember, I am working with Russians, Italians, French, Japanese, Armenian, Australian - there is no end to distractions and talking.
Right now I am preparing to handover the social component of HAP (Health Access Program). We are not going to close the whole program. After a visit from a Board Member in Paris, and in part due to my recommendation, we are going to keep the medical component of the Health Access Program and handover the social part to the Local Red Cross. Another day I will tell you about the curiosities involved in this handover. The political and security discussions, best left unspoken for now.
I am pleased the program will survive. This is good, needed work. The Abkhaz government is busy with many other priorities, like trying to create an independent country, generate revenue to survive their nascent status, and manage the little bit of funding that comes from Russia. They are unable to attend to their elderly. I am hopeful the Local Red Cross is able do the work. MSF has provided care for 15 years, buying and delivering food, assisting individuals with pensions, transporting those in need to the hospital, visiting the isolated, assessing needs, providing wood in the winter and heaters, blankets, house dresses, socks, minor home repairs. If the social needs are not met, it makes no difference that medical needs are met. Hunger will preempt patients interest in their high blood pressure every time.

Lunch is a shared event with all the staff in a shack behind the office. This is where Sveta reigns. She and I see ‘eye-to-eye’ now or better said ‘eye-to-boob’, her being much taller than I.

There is a team that works exclusively with Tb patients in the hospital, the prison, at their homes in remote ambulatory points. There are also administrative folks - the field coordinator, the bookkeeper, the logistician. There are house and office cleaners, Shamile, the all around fix-it guy. I have Russian lessons on Tues and Thurs eve. Dinner is expats sharing recipes and a willingness to try whatever is in the fridge, a mix and match of food and good conversation.

I write on the weekends mostly. I have little scraps of paper with images, words, thoughts and a few ink markings on my hands where I have “taken notes”. I use these scraps, this rubble to compose a new blog. I have a lot more notes than ever get written on the blog.

At night I read. I have read some good books. Here are my favorites so far:
Ahab’s Wife - don’t remember author -
The Enchantress of Florence - Salmon Rashdee
The City of Your Final Destination - Peter Cameron
Charlotte Gray - don’t remember author
The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
STIFF, The curious lives of human cadavers - Mary Roach

I have now received 4 packages:
First one was from Barrett and Diedra Travis 4 weeks ago- whahooooo a Russian dictionary (although, unfortunately my old prescription glasses are so bad, that I have a hard time reading the small print). The other handy Russian study tools are fantastic, and my first installation of chocolate.
The next package was from Janae - A fine piece of artwork from Maryn and chocolate.
The next package was from Annelle Mook - A card and chocolate.
And on May 22nd I received a mothers day package from Maryn - another beautiful painting and some Burts Bees goodies, foot cream, lipstick, lemon cuticle cream and chocolate.
I am very thankful for these gifts. When the transport car comes on Thursdays everyone is secretly wishing for a package.
I know others of you have sent packages. Maybe they are being transferred by donkey, or pig. Maybe they will arrive someday.

A favorite time of the day is walking back from the sea, hearing and seeing the little canal in front of my house. The water is flowing from the mountains. Most days the water is shimmering with a peach-colored streetlight reflection(when there is electricity) and the little trickle sound of the water is sweet. It is a color and a sensation that somehow touches me, makes me feel tender and fluid and quiet and content. Truth is there are so many places, so many moments that are full of awe.
I will take them as they come. Savor and let them pass.
Pleased for the next and the next moment.
I am ready to put the computer away and listen to the incessant rain.
Good evening all
My love,
g