The flight home, all in all, was a bit of a disaster but one of the brightest parts was while boarding the second leg at Frankfurt International Airport. This is an airport I despise and will do my best to avoid at all costs. Over the years any encounter with the Frankfurt Airport has left me in two minds. One is clearly frustration while the other is endearment.
If the truth be told it would appear that I have a mini love-hate relationship with an airport.
I remember one flight, back in 1988, from Rio to London which had a stop-over in Frankfurt. In Rio I had been lounging on the beach thinking my flight was at 6:30pm. At 2pm I was still soaking in the days rays when I realized my flight really left three hours earlier.
All hell broke loose and my Brazilian friends accused me of being an honorary Brazilian but noted that this may not be working so much in my favor at this time. We raced
to the airport with me changing clothes en-route in the cramped two-door Honda.
As we approached the terminal a friend jumped out, ran to the security line and desperately pleaded with the officer to allow me through even though my gate had closed. Given this was 1988 and not Continue reading Disappearing Lisa
The final days of my Himalayan Medical journey are coming to an end. The only people left from the original ten are Tracy, Sarah, Amanda, and me. The rest have already returned to the US.
I spent some time playing tour guide to Tracy and Sarah and showed them around Delhi. Taking them to the sights and bringing them to restaurants I had visited in the past; ones that were special to me.
We also took a day to marvel at the Taj Mahal in the city of Agra. It is one of those buildings that absolutely lives up to its billing; maybe even surpasses it.
Evenings have been spent playing cards; the television is on but primarily as background noise. The mood of the last few days, for everyone, has been somber. We missed the camaraderie and for the first time in a month our group was no longer.
It has been a special time for us all.
We all had different reasons for doing the trip and more often than not the reason was much more about something at home, a personal trouble, rather than a burning desire to save the world. This applied to me as much as anyone. Continue reading Bring on the Slumdog
None of us had ever done this before; flown to a developing country with a yearning to help both our fellow-man and ourselves. The earthquake tsunami one-two punch had produced a paradigm shift for many and brought together this tiny band of medical experts…and me.
At the very first expedition meeting in New Delhi, held in a hotel room at the top of a spiral staircase, one of the topics of conversation was journaling; we all had one.
Everyone was full of intentions to capture in writing the events which were to unfold over the next few weeks. It would be a routine exercise to recreate the happenings of the day and share them with friends and family back home; to deliver a fair and accurate description of our experiences so that these could not only be secure in our memories but safe from future confusion or dilution.
As the expedition went from a pre-conceived notion to harsh reality the journaling and “experience recreation” became an after-thought. Of the ten of us not a single journal was ever opened for the purposes of writing or rehashing an experience. Of the ten of us barely a word was ever written. Continue reading Everyone’s A Writer