Never underestimate the wiles or giles of a woman on a mission!
My last night in Paris, hopefully not my last, but if it is, it will be the best.
Mom, you will be so proud of me!
This afternoon, after arranging for the multitude of tasks that must be accomplished at customs tomorrow, including carrying 2 laptops (I'm not kidding), extra checked luggage, medicines, a labeler???????, expats personal mail to be delivered to Georgia....... I recognized this was my last night, and I have NOTHING to wear.
I was OK wearing pants to the opera, but somehow, I knew I NEEDED a dress tonight!
So, I just HAPPENED to find a second-hand shop and for $10 I got a black skirt, with a VERY long slit up the side, and for an extra $10, I got two pairs of shoes. You ask why????? I couldn' t decide, so I didn't, until I walked part way back to the hotel, and realized one pair was JUST NOT RIGHT, and besides they didn't quite fit.
I left the shoes on the sidewalk for some woman to have a surreal experience. A FREE PAIR OF SHOES, just sitting in front of her!!!!!!!!!!
And, now I am on my way to a Thai restaurant (that I was told was incredible).
And so in honor of a friend who loves Thai and frequently goes to a local Thai restaurant on a Friday night, and all other adventuresome spirits this Friday night, WHAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
I'm going out, an unescorted woman ( at least for now) in Paris, with a sexy skirt, fabulous shoes worth about 5 bucks, and a song in my heart!
OK, so really,
au voir,
genie
Friday, March 13, 2009
THE STAMP
I am a doctor, for Pete's sake, and I am used to being the one doing the comforting, officiating news kindly, be it good or bad news.
Today, I was the comforted, vulnerable, listening one.
She, the doctor, crafted just enough well spoken accented words to to explain, "all's well". The liver, kidney tests are fine. I have antibodies to measles, hepatitis A&B ( good), HIV negative (good), blood type AB positive........
What caused me to flinch was THE STAMP.
The kind of stamp you pneumatically press down on the paper, and leave a seal, official, firm.
The Date, vendredi 13 Mars 2009
The Place, Institute Pasteur
The Result, THE TRUTH.
I was taken aback by this gentle doctor, she seemed not that different from my usual doctor-demeanor, kind, comforting, but when she pressed THE STAMP, it was with force, quick, clean, final, like a sword. A master at her craft, practiced. She had me in a trance, infact I didn't feel a thing. The stamp was of course not on my body, it was on the paper I now carry with me, but the stamp was as powerful as any vaccination I have ever received.
"You Are Well, You Are Protected" said The Stamp.
Her handshake, (unlike my "goodbye" to patients which is often a hug), was not like The Stamp. It was as I expected soft, kind, officious. A signature of The Visit, a confirmation of The Truth.
But the "thunk" of THE STAMP still vibrated in my soul.
Her parting words were, " wear a mask".
She did not say motheringly "don't forget to wear a mask" or "remember, wear your mask to protect yourself", she simply, quietly, clearly said " wear a mask".
And then she said, "have a good mission".
I will be, I am already, a better doctor, of that I am sure.
AND, tomorrow morning I leave the Paris hotel that has been home these past 8 days at 5am to depart on an early flight to Tbilisi, Georgia.
STAMPED papers in hand, ready for what lies ahead.
Au revoir
Dr. Genie
Today, I was the comforted, vulnerable, listening one.
She, the doctor, crafted just enough well spoken accented words to to explain, "all's well". The liver, kidney tests are fine. I have antibodies to measles, hepatitis A&B ( good), HIV negative (good), blood type AB positive........
What caused me to flinch was THE STAMP.
The kind of stamp you pneumatically press down on the paper, and leave a seal, official, firm.
The Date, vendredi 13 Mars 2009
The Place, Institute Pasteur
The Result, THE TRUTH.
I was taken aback by this gentle doctor, she seemed not that different from my usual doctor-demeanor, kind, comforting, but when she pressed THE STAMP, it was with force, quick, clean, final, like a sword. A master at her craft, practiced. She had me in a trance, infact I didn't feel a thing. The stamp was of course not on my body, it was on the paper I now carry with me, but the stamp was as powerful as any vaccination I have ever received.
"You Are Well, You Are Protected" said The Stamp.
Her handshake, (unlike my "goodbye" to patients which is often a hug), was not like The Stamp. It was as I expected soft, kind, officious. A signature of The Visit, a confirmation of The Truth.
But the "thunk" of THE STAMP still vibrated in my soul.
Her parting words were, " wear a mask".
She did not say motheringly "don't forget to wear a mask" or "remember, wear your mask to protect yourself", she simply, quietly, clearly said " wear a mask".
And then she said, "have a good mission".
I will be, I am already, a better doctor, of that I am sure.
AND, tomorrow morning I leave the Paris hotel that has been home these past 8 days at 5am to depart on an early flight to Tbilisi, Georgia.
STAMPED papers in hand, ready for what lies ahead.
Au revoir
Dr. Genie
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
OSCE
Probably you don't know what OSCE is either.
I had planned to talk about my assignment today-think of that!
You ask "Does Genie actually remember she is on this journey to work, not to go to the opera, and walk aimlessly around paris?"
But in the first sentence of a monthly report from Abkhazia, it read "Russia has blocked extension of the OSCE mission's mandate........." and so I thought who is OSCE?
I read further, "Jan 21 - meeting with Knut Vollebeck, High Commissionner of OSCE for national minorities. On that occasion, issues of delivering passports........."
I have to find out what OSCE is, and PACE, and other such mysteries;
I now know:
OSCE is Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, an ad hoc organization under the UN whose mission is to be a primary instrument for early warnings, conflict prevention and crisis management. We, MSF, work closely with OSCE in the region where I will be stationed.
PACE Parlimentary Assembly of the Council Europe. A representative has been in the region, and will be there again this week overseeing border security and critical issues related to displaced persons.
Now you know about what I know.
Briefly, the reports I read speak of tense "handoffs" at borders ( I will be a "handoff" in a few days, at a bridge, from one car to the next car, between two places, Georgia, Abkhazia). Political jostlings, murders of leaders in restuarants in Sukhumi, criminals released ( for divisive purposes), staff morale low......."the aid coming into the area must be used for huamitarian purposes, not political purposes".
There is the actual work, that you and I will know more about soon, but for now THE CONTEXT into which I will be headed is grim. I am not there yet, but from this desk in Paris, PEACE seems like such an important banner to hold.
Many of you have given me symbols of protection, good luck pieces, prayers..... to each of these and those in addition that I don't know about, thank you, merci beaucoup.
genie
I had planned to talk about my assignment today-think of that!
You ask "Does Genie actually remember she is on this journey to work, not to go to the opera, and walk aimlessly around paris?"
But in the first sentence of a monthly report from Abkhazia, it read "Russia has blocked extension of the OSCE mission's mandate........." and so I thought who is OSCE?
I read further, "Jan 21 - meeting with Knut Vollebeck, High Commissionner of OSCE for national minorities. On that occasion, issues of delivering passports........."
I have to find out what OSCE is, and PACE, and other such mysteries;
I now know:
OSCE is Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, an ad hoc organization under the UN whose mission is to be a primary instrument for early warnings, conflict prevention and crisis management. We, MSF, work closely with OSCE in the region where I will be stationed.
PACE Parlimentary Assembly of the Council Europe. A representative has been in the region, and will be there again this week overseeing border security and critical issues related to displaced persons.
Now you know about what I know.
Briefly, the reports I read speak of tense "handoffs" at borders ( I will be a "handoff" in a few days, at a bridge, from one car to the next car, between two places, Georgia, Abkhazia). Political jostlings, murders of leaders in restuarants in Sukhumi, criminals released ( for divisive purposes), staff morale low......."the aid coming into the area must be used for huamitarian purposes, not political purposes".
There is the actual work, that you and I will know more about soon, but for now THE CONTEXT into which I will be headed is grim. I am not there yet, but from this desk in Paris, PEACE seems like such an important banner to hold.
Many of you have given me symbols of protection, good luck pieces, prayers..... to each of these and those in addition that I don't know about, thank you, merci beaucoup.
genie
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Shower
Not the weather, the one in the toilette.
The weather is more like the parisean "cloud-hands" wringing every last little eensy-beensy drop out of themselves. Drippy, writhing. Who cares
Showers in europe have hand held shower heads, with floppy tubing. I have one in our european-like shower at home. The curiosity is that in my little hotel bathroom the thingy on the wall to hold the handheld shower head is not RIGHT. I am sure it is upside down, or else houdini is the only one capable of figuring out how to get the showerhead to stay in a position where the water is pointed DOWN instead of UP.
So, I have figured out how to make this work for me. While sudsing up and shampooing, I put the showerhead and flimsy tubing between my legs. ( I guess I could turn off the shower while doing so, and then turn it back on when rinsing, but that wouldn' be any fun, given what I have discovered).
I now understand the goofiness and the burden of having a droopy thing between ones legs.
I am so glad to be a girl most of the time. But these brief moments in the shower of being a "sort-of boy" are really quite enjoyable.
For you gals, I highly recommend you try this, if you havn't already! Noone will ever know!
The Pequod
Yesterday, 10 hours of wonderful pavement pounding from Bastille to the Arc dè Triomphe and back to Bastille, with lots and lots of diversions to gallariès.
One picture in a small gallery took my breath away. I sat and caught my breath for 30 minutes while gazing. It was abstract, but clear as could be to me there was a ship, the Pequod, and next to it a whale, THE WHALE. Having just finished Ahab's Wife, or the Star Gazer by Sena J Naslund, a remarkable novel, a must-read, I am filled with oceans and whaler ships, love and loss, wisdom and pure delight.
And there in front of me was a large, exquisite painting , the embodiment of the novel, in one piece of art.
I am still enjoying the "banquet of beauty".
The weather is more like the parisean "cloud-hands" wringing every last little eensy-beensy drop out of themselves. Drippy, writhing. Who cares
Showers in europe have hand held shower heads, with floppy tubing. I have one in our european-like shower at home. The curiosity is that in my little hotel bathroom the thingy on the wall to hold the handheld shower head is not RIGHT. I am sure it is upside down, or else houdini is the only one capable of figuring out how to get the showerhead to stay in a position where the water is pointed DOWN instead of UP.
So, I have figured out how to make this work for me. While sudsing up and shampooing, I put the showerhead and flimsy tubing between my legs. ( I guess I could turn off the shower while doing so, and then turn it back on when rinsing, but that wouldn' be any fun, given what I have discovered).
I now understand the goofiness and the burden of having a droopy thing between ones legs.
I am so glad to be a girl most of the time. But these brief moments in the shower of being a "sort-of boy" are really quite enjoyable.
For you gals, I highly recommend you try this, if you havn't already! Noone will ever know!
The Pequod
Yesterday, 10 hours of wonderful pavement pounding from Bastille to the Arc dè Triomphe and back to Bastille, with lots and lots of diversions to gallariès.
One picture in a small gallery took my breath away. I sat and caught my breath for 30 minutes while gazing. It was abstract, but clear as could be to me there was a ship, the Pequod, and next to it a whale, THE WHALE. Having just finished Ahab's Wife, or the Star Gazer by Sena J Naslund, a remarkable novel, a must-read, I am filled with oceans and whaler ships, love and loss, wisdom and pure delight.
And there in front of me was a large, exquisite painting , the embodiment of the novel, in one piece of art.
I am still enjoying the "banquet of beauty".
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Confessions, Next Life, Fever
Confessions
So I spent my perdiem, 5 of the 8 days anyway, on Opera tickets.
I can eat Cliff bars. I can't enjoy Werther at the Opera Bastille next month.
So I wander aimlessly through the streets, seeking nothing, breathing everything, exhaling contentment.
So I devour crepes, sip dark cafè, smell Parisiene parfume on beautiful women, fresh bread.
So I am boasting on this good fortune,
I confess.
Fever
Not me, everyone, everywhere, the Pariseines.
Busying about, brisk-paced, shopping bags brimming, passionate kisses, fevered in these sun-filled early days of spring.
The cold rain has paused, and so the intent to sieze the sunshine.
Let the fever penetrate the pregnant blossoms of the flowers, so they like the fever will break.
Let the fever live, so the winter can die. Let the fever break into spring.
My Next Life
In my next life I will be a crepe, a chocolate, banana crepe, warm, soft, thin, with the most delicious insides imaginable.
Someone will handle me with desire, and consume me slowly, reverently, and voilà, I am transformed.
Yes, a crepe I will be, and someone will say in a silly voice
"I think that I shall never see a crepe as lovely as she".
Genie, March 7
So I spent my perdiem, 5 of the 8 days anyway, on Opera tickets.
I can eat Cliff bars. I can't enjoy Werther at the Opera Bastille next month.
So I wander aimlessly through the streets, seeking nothing, breathing everything, exhaling contentment.
So I devour crepes, sip dark cafè, smell Parisiene parfume on beautiful women, fresh bread.
So I am boasting on this good fortune,
I confess.
Fever
Not me, everyone, everywhere, the Pariseines.
Busying about, brisk-paced, shopping bags brimming, passionate kisses, fevered in these sun-filled early days of spring.
The cold rain has paused, and so the intent to sieze the sunshine.
Let the fever penetrate the pregnant blossoms of the flowers, so they like the fever will break.
Let the fever live, so the winter can die. Let the fever break into spring.
My Next Life
In my next life I will be a crepe, a chocolate, banana crepe, warm, soft, thin, with the most delicious insides imaginable.
Someone will handle me with desire, and consume me slowly, reverently, and voilà, I am transformed.
Yes, a crepe I will be, and someone will say in a silly voice
"I think that I shall never see a crepe as lovely as she".
Genie, March 7
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Dancing
Life is really dancing after all, right? Steps, missteps, learning to pause, then swinging feverishly.
The great news is I am to remain in Paris for another 8 days, with free time to explore and consume all the chocolate I can, in good conscience. The not-so-great news is NO FRENCH WINE. The reason for no wine is rather complex. I`ll explain.
2 days before my departure I received word that my Quantiferon test was positive. Interpreted, simply, I have had exposure to the tubercule bacillus (Tb). I do not have active Tb, I am not contageous, I am not sick. My immune system has had a close encounter with Tb, probably while I was in Niger 2 years ago on another humanitarian aid mission. Exposure to Tb is a risk for all healthcare workers, even in the US, with 1-3% testing positive during a career, without going to Africa, Abkhazia.
I consulted with a Tb specialist and started on prophylaxis (preventive medicines for future active disease) the day I left for my assignment. There was no reason to change my plans.
All MSF France workers ( I work for France now) going into areas with multidrug resistant Tb are required to go to the Pasteur Institute. My meeting was yesterday afternoon. The specialist required that I obtain tests in addition to the ones I have already had, to start on even more meds, and to remain in Paris for another 8 days to repeat tests before going into the field. Different doctors, different protocols, same goal, to protect me first of all so that I might be of service to others.
The meds are hard on the liver, hence NO WINE. I am sure that Paris without wine will be even more glorious. My per diem of 25€ ( approx 32dollars) will allow for delicious bruchetta, chocolate, and regular trips to cafes all over town.
So, any friends, family who wish to join me (free lodging in the tiny hotel Paris Voltaire) are warmly invited to sit at the cafes with me.
And so, as are most dances, with twists, turns, deliciously slow moments, and wildly wonderful moments, I am dancing this one in Paris. What dance to move me into new spaces, new places, is yet to come.
Bonjour, genie
The great news is I am to remain in Paris for another 8 days, with free time to explore and consume all the chocolate I can, in good conscience. The not-so-great news is NO FRENCH WINE. The reason for no wine is rather complex. I`ll explain.
2 days before my departure I received word that my Quantiferon test was positive. Interpreted, simply, I have had exposure to the tubercule bacillus (Tb). I do not have active Tb, I am not contageous, I am not sick. My immune system has had a close encounter with Tb, probably while I was in Niger 2 years ago on another humanitarian aid mission. Exposure to Tb is a risk for all healthcare workers, even in the US, with 1-3% testing positive during a career, without going to Africa, Abkhazia.
I consulted with a Tb specialist and started on prophylaxis (preventive medicines for future active disease) the day I left for my assignment. There was no reason to change my plans.
All MSF France workers ( I work for France now) going into areas with multidrug resistant Tb are required to go to the Pasteur Institute. My meeting was yesterday afternoon. The specialist required that I obtain tests in addition to the ones I have already had, to start on even more meds, and to remain in Paris for another 8 days to repeat tests before going into the field. Different doctors, different protocols, same goal, to protect me first of all so that I might be of service to others.
The meds are hard on the liver, hence NO WINE. I am sure that Paris without wine will be even more glorious. My per diem of 25€ ( approx 32dollars) will allow for delicious bruchetta, chocolate, and regular trips to cafes all over town.
So, any friends, family who wish to join me (free lodging in the tiny hotel Paris Voltaire) are warmly invited to sit at the cafes with me.
And so, as are most dances, with twists, turns, deliciously slow moments, and wildly wonderful moments, I am dancing this one in Paris. What dance to move me into new spaces, new places, is yet to come.
Bonjour, genie
Monday, March 2, 2009
I awoke this morning in a New York hotel where I walked down the hall to the shower, noticed the necklace Sam gave me was not on my neck. Back to the room.... there it was on the floor. The chain was broken with the tiny diamond "G" intact. I was sure this was the first indication that I am shedding some things. Not really a loss, but a reminder of what's to come. Changes.
Later after walking to the MSF office for my first briefing with the snow blowing wildly, I stepped in a puddle of slush, dropped my backpack (don't ask), arrived covered in frozen slush-snow. Tolerance.
I ran into Rob, a fellow that I met during orientation last fall. He too is going on his first assignment, to Darfur. He was holding up a lovely Smartwool sweater, and said, "this will just fit you, it shrunk in the washer last night, and it will do me no good, enjoy". And so, I shed one precious item, and pick up another. Maybe that's what we all do every day. Loss and gain, old and new. Open.
Turns out Rob isn't going to Darfur after all. Because of the anticipated announcement this week regarding the criminal court tribunal there will be no MSF folks going, for now. So, after a couple of hours, I hear he is headed to Nigeria, a meningitis outbreak. Patience.
For all the incredible love and support over these past few weeks, I say WOW and thanks.
I go with all the stuff that a person can possibly want..... chocolate, extra socks, good reading, iPod with good music and poetry read by loved ones, more love than anyone could ever ask for, and a new sweater.
Bless us all, genie
Later after walking to the MSF office for my first briefing with the snow blowing wildly, I stepped in a puddle of slush, dropped my backpack (don't ask), arrived covered in frozen slush-snow. Tolerance.
I ran into Rob, a fellow that I met during orientation last fall. He too is going on his first assignment, to Darfur. He was holding up a lovely Smartwool sweater, and said, "this will just fit you, it shrunk in the washer last night, and it will do me no good, enjoy". And so, I shed one precious item, and pick up another. Maybe that's what we all do every day. Loss and gain, old and new. Open.
Turns out Rob isn't going to Darfur after all. Because of the anticipated announcement this week regarding the criminal court tribunal there will be no MSF folks going, for now. So, after a couple of hours, I hear he is headed to Nigeria, a meningitis outbreak. Patience.
For all the incredible love and support over these past few weeks, I say WOW and thanks.
I go with all the stuff that a person can possibly want..... chocolate, extra socks, good reading, iPod with good music and poetry read by loved ones, more love than anyone could ever ask for, and a new sweater.
Bless us all, genie
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