Ghana loves Obama

On my recent travels I've noticed a lot of support for candidate Obama - billboards proclaiming "Africa loves Obama", t-shirts saying "Haitians for Obama".


Well now that he's the President-elect there's a whole new wardrobe out there. Shirts, buttons, and hats... and a few campaign buttons I left behind.


It's kind of amazing to see a U.S. President embraced overseas. Rather refreshing.

Akwaaba

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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I haven't done one of these posts in a long time (and it's not Wednesday - so sue me) but since I'm on the road I thought I would post a travel story.

I'm currently in Ghana for a few days. 6 days to be exact. Hardly enough time to see anything and considering I'll be in meetings the whole time I don't know that I'll have much to report on besides the inside of conference rooms.

I arrived here this morning and walked off the plane to the lovely smell of West Africa. It's not so much a bad smell as a very distinctive one. Something like burning peat. Not too different from rural Ireland.

The most shocking things to me so far have been the safety issues - or really lack thereof. Given my recent trip to Haiti and my future trip to Nigeria (returning to both places again later this fall) I am so used to being on guard walking through the airport. I plain forgot that I could even wander outside the hotel without an escort while I'm here.

Weather is hot and humid - not unlike DC. The upside is that we get ocean breezes. Helps keep the mosquitoes at bay.

Looking forward to a fun week!

The Hospital

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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It's Wednesday so I thought I would make this entry about travel - and as I'm currently in Haiti, this is the topic. Rather than give you my impressions after having been here only a few days, and also having had a rather confined existence, instead I will take you on a tour of the University Hospital that I visited today. Small patch of earth, but a big tour in other ways.

We went to learn more about their monitoring and evaluation systems - in layman's terms, we were interested in data. Collection, storage, use.

Our visit was focused on HIV and thus, the tour I describe takes place almost entirely in that area of the hospital - with the exceptions noted below.

We began by walking through the waiting area for HIV services. Packed to gills but thankfully chairs and a TV provided by the US! The TV was supposed to have a loop of health education videos but I think someone had changed it to soccer (futbol). Forget about privacy or confidentiality here. You are here for one reason and one reason only - you suspect you have HIV or you know you do.

Next we visited the counseling & testing area. A room full of chairs for those receiving pre-test counseling - a group exercise. A small room for testing, a small room for post-test counseling. You could smell the fresh paint in the Haitian heat.

Next we went to the service areas down the hall - a room for internal medicine, one for pediatrics, one for M&E folks like myself. Some additional rooms for similar activities. They are expanding - doubling the number of rooms to accommodate the increased patient load.

After a tour of the HIV ward we went over to the maternal and child health area - where mothers and children, regardless of HIV status (known or unknown) came in for services. Lots of moms waiting on chairs with sleepy sloth-like infants on their laps. The sweetest faces you'll ever see.

And after that it was the pediatric ward - children in rooms with paint peeling off the walls. Mothers attending to them. A few nurses to adminster medicines. In another room, babies in bassinets, tubes coming out of their tiny little bodies. None above 3lbs. This was the special section for infants whose mothers are HIV-positive. Their status is unknown.

I have to stop writing now. I need a drink.

Ayiti

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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From one extreme to the other. A couple of weeks ago I was in a lush, chilly climate with abundant natural beauty and a bit too much food. Next week it's off to the polar opposite - a deforested, hot climate with not such pretty scenery and a severe food crisis. Off to Haiti. But not before a brief weekend in Vermont for a friend's wedding.

For my job I'm supporting the work of our team (and a few other countries, but info on those will come at a later date). I'll be honest, I had to sort of be coerced into taking on this country. I was the only person on our team who spoke French - and I'm far far far from fluent. But there it is, my asset turns out to be a fatal flaw.

I've spent the past few months reading up on the place and am now pretty excited about my adventure. In addition to the expediter who will get me through the airport upon my arrival, I'll be driven around in a LAM (lightly armored vehicle) and prohibited from going anywhere on my own. It's a weird sort of existence.

As much as I love the airport expediter (would love that here in the US!) the rest of it is a bit unsettling - a fancy new hotel, plentiful and tasty food, frigid air-conditioning. Strange situation to be in when food riots make the evening news at home.

Despite all the dire news, there are some real things to get excited about. For instance:

* the HIV prevalence rate has fallen in the past few years from 3.6% to 2.2% - all in the face of increasing poverty and social unrest. And even as high as that rate is (Europe is .3 and the US .6) that's a lot lower than other countries who are much more prosperous (Botswana, South Africa...)

Should be an interesting trip - I'll post more when I return

à bientôt!

Alaska

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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I've been a bit slow to recap on Alaska - it was a great trip and I have hundreds of photos to post so it's tough choosing among them.

Luckily, due in part to SMID's haranguing, I have become much better about actually taking photos. I used to go places and just not bother. Not so much not bother, but rather, not know what to do. So many of the places I go to don't really lend themselves to tourist photos. I specialize in proof-that-I've-been-there photos. Like crime scenes.

So after many years of not taking photos of marketplaces (how do you capture the smells?) and villages (how do you capture the dust?) I have made a concerted effort to take any photos. Digital cameras help too. I love being able to see if I got the right shot and retaking it several (several) times.

I can't post all the postcard pictures here so let me just focus on a few things:

1. Alaska is prehistoric. I don't mean there are dinosaurs roaming the streets. But looking at the HUGE snow-capped mountains and glaciers you definitely get a sense that this place was formed by continents splitting and crashing thousands of years ago.

2. Alaska is isolated. For much of the state, and some of the "bigger" towns there is no way in or out but by plane or boat. Or as one of our biking guides said "I s'pose you could hike".

3. Alaska is warm. 50-60 degree temps and all I needed were a couple of t-shirts and a light jacket. We had our cold days, but nothing worse than a summer in San Francisco (as Mark Twain would say). Oh, and the people are warm too.

Dateline Klondike

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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Okay - just back from Alaska. Lots of travel tales in there but for right now I'm tired and have to go to bed.

Here's something to occupy you until I get the chance to post.

Traveling Companion

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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In my myriad of travels over the years I've had the pleasure and displeasure of traveling with others. There is something about traveling with another person which can make you hate them or love them - let's hope it's the latter. Traveling alone can also have its plusses and minuses too.

I've traveled a bit on my own at various times - either for plesaure or work - and have found it to be both freeing and confining. After a stint on a kibbutz one summer I took off and backpacked around Israel by myself. No pesky companion to keep me from rising early to hike up Masada and see the sunrise. Alas, no companion either to accompany me out at night to walk around Jerusalem's Old City or to accompany me around the wall of the city. Both situations place a single person at risk of mugging or worse. I also ran into a similar problem while traveling for work in Morocco - a single woman out alone at night is thought to be a prostitute. Not sure what I would have been subjected to had I tested this theory.

On the flip side, traveling alone often afforded me the opportunity to meet new people, as I was not bound to any particular companion. In Benin for work, I spent most evenings at the hotel tiki bar by the pool chatting with the bartenders (in French!). Joining me were several other work travelers - an American selling a plane to the head of state and an Australian commodities trader loading a ship with cottonseed. I learned a lot about international commerce! In Savannah, I sat at the communal tables at Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House and met conventioneers and couples touring the town.

My travels with my sister are legendary and in some ways I found a new friend - we got to know each other in ways that staying at home don't reveal. How fast are you willing to run for a train? Would you eat something you couldn't pronounce or recognize? In how many languages can you say "ooh, that jacket is so cute, I wonder what it costs?". Two friends of mine and I backpacked around Europe on a tiny amount of money but we survived with each other's help. When one friend accidentally put contact lens cleaning solution in her eye, we other two navigated the Greek bus and medical system - in German! To this day, I don't doubt any one of us would travel miles to help the others.

Nowadays I'm traveling with my husband and it's been a learning experience. We complement each other well - something we had to learn over time. He's a planner and I'm more laid-back. There was some friction at first but then we realized how well we work together - one made the reservations, the other agreed not to criticize the choices. Hasn't steered me wrong yet.

Cruisin'

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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Yours truly is going to be out of town for a little while - about 10 days - for an Alaska cruise. No doubt future posts will be filled with stories about icebergs and polar bears or whatever else is there. Black bears? Moose? Maybe I need to do some research before I go.

Leading up to this trip, people have been asking me "are you EXCITED?" - maybe less of a question and more of a statement. Well yes and no. I'm sure the natural beauty of Alaska is something else - or so I'm told. And I do like nature. Love Switzerland's Alps and Glacier National Park's winding roads and Ireland's cliffs.

But what is fascinating obsessing me more these days is the cruise itself. I've never been on a cruise ship before - unless you count the overnight ferry from Italy to Greece where I slept on the floor with my backpacking buddies. I've been on river "cruises" - a three-hour tour. A three-hour tour. But never a floating hotel.

I'm not really a cruise person. That I know of. While people I know have been on many cruises - mostly Caribbean and warm weather - it's not necessarily a vacation I would choose for myself. I'm used to hauling my bag from hotel to hotel. Struggling to lift it onto a train (sometimes as it pulls out of the station). Packing and unpacking at each destination. Relearning my surroundings every few days. Finding decent restaurants. Walking miles between monuments.

Hmmm....might be a nice change of pace.

Jenn in France

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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My sister Jenn made it to France! She just moved from Indonesia - quite the series of flights. With a cat, no less. She'll be staying with Mom and stepdad for awhile until she figures out her next move - in France somewhere doing something.

I have fond memories of hanging out in France and Europe with Jenn. Way back when, oh about 15 years ago, we went on a trip there - just before I went to grad school.

On our flight over there we were crammed into our seats waiting for dinner. The steward comes by and says "chicken or beef". Jenn's reply "the chicken, how is that prepared?". His response "it's airline food, it's microwaved". Gotta love her gift for conversation.

During the flight over I come to find out that shen had not really ever traveled alone in Europe, without our parents. By this time I had backpacked around Europe with little money and had done quite well (I survived!). I would show her how to read the Eurail schedule and she would duly chase after departing trains - demonstrated by the time when such a thing occurred as we ran around the Bern bahnhof and leapt onto a moving train. Like something out of a movie. Only nothing romantic about it.

We learned that we could both communicate in French. Both. As in together. She would ask the questions and I would listen for the answers. This worked quite well, except one short bus trip where the driver didn't cooperate with our little 2-person act. So we ended up seeing the town twice. No big loss, it was very pretty.

Her gift for languages was also evident on a trip to Italy. Her love of food, sense of style, and appreciation of art were in abundance. As well as her ability to mix up words. While she had nailed down "please!" she couldn't quite recall the difference between "door" and "check". My follow up was "we'd like the check first please. And then we'll go out your door."

And since our first travels together she has been to more places, and lived in more countries than I ever will. I like to think I was her teacher. And now I'm her student.

Fear of Flying

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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This week's post isn't about places I've been - it's about the journey. As they say, sometimes that's the more important part of the experience.

Not when you're afraid to fly.

As a child I can remember loving air travel. Airports were amazing - those boards that went clickety clack with different destinations could keep me captivated for hours. days. Trips to Kennedy airport to pick up visitors were magical.

Once on the plane I easily passed out. More often than not, I would miss dinner and breakfast on our trips to Europe. Mom always made sure that the chocolate from my breakfast tray was saved (loved KLM!). On the flight to England for my semester abroad in college I fell asleep before takeoff and woke after landing. All night long, boisterous college students laughed and talked around me. Who knew?

I remember when it all changed. Shortly after the crash of Swissair Flight 111 I started to get panicked on flights. It was mild fear at first and continued as such for several years. Sometime in the last 4 years it escalated.

I now understood what a full on panic attack felt like. It wasn't nausea that gripped me, it was sheer terror. Any little bump or noise would increase my already rapid heartbeat. My face burned, my palms and the bottom of my feet were sweaty. I didn't want to get off the plane, I just wanted it to land. Now.

As you can imagine, this hasn't made my travel-heavy life any easier. On our honeymoon in Tanzania we took small planes everywhere - very small. Somehow I felt okay. I felt closer to the ground and that was comforting.

Other flights have not gone as well. I've tried different psychological techniques and medication - both work at times. Sheer exhaustion seems to work the best. I can fall asleep. I don't need to know what's going on. I just don't need to know.

Alas, this fear doesn't exactly work with my career - but then the career chose me long before I feared flying. I won't stay home for something like this. I want to see the world.

And so it goes... just keep breathing.

Wanderlust

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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I was talking with a niece (for lack of a better familial term) recently about her upcoming summer plans. She is completing her second year of college and is planning on going to Ireland for the summer - a few weeks of "learning" and travel through her university. Next spring she hopes to spend a semester in London. I must have overwhelmed her with my excitement - so thrilled for her to go on this adventure! Oh, how I miss those days.

Sort of.

I told her stories of my summer in Nigeria (did I mention the malaria?) - and how I bummed around London for a week on my way home. Little money, little food but I was so excited to be doing it "on my own".

I told her stories of the subsequent spring semester in England where I also backpacked around Europe - again, little money, little food. But somehow I made it work. At one point I had nothing but a Eurail pass, 25 cents and a box of cookies. Luckily, I was on the last leg of my trip - eager to meet my parents in Germany. Oh the joy I felt when I finally hauled myself through the door after 20 hours of train travel - and there on the table was FOOD! Vegetables! Meat! WINE! And yet, that endless train ride is not at all a painful memory.

At the end of the semester I wasn't willing to come home - crossing the Atlantic seemed like such a final act. I would have completed my time overseas, headed back to a boring job at home. I was not ready.

I found myself a summer gig volunteering on a kibbutz in Israel - hard work but 3 square meals! Picking pears, working on a potato combine, backpacking around the country - again, little money, little food (off the kibbutz). Absolutely one of the most rewarding jobs I ever had.

And as I sat there and told these tales to our niece with all the excitement and joy and I could ever feel - I kept thinking, "could I do that again?".

No. My older self loves my comfy bed, warm shower, and FOOD.

But I can't wait to see her pictures!

Bordeaux

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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There comes a time in everyone's life when they get that phone call from their parents. "We're retiring to..." Boca Raton? Warm weather. Early Bird Specials. There's something to be said for that.

My mother and stepfather who lived in England for several years (he's British) called me several years back to announce their plans.

"Bordeaux".
"As in France?".
"Yes, they have nice wine there. And good weather. And good health care."

Fine by me!

They have spent the past few years in their new home mostly renovating it. It's a nice old farmhouse that really reminded you of, well, a farmhouse. Rustic sink. Barn. That sort of stuff. It is now a lovely house with a gourmet kitchen and an upstairs suite for visitors.

Instead of the trek to the $5.95 buffet that I would be making if they lived in Florida, I'm trekking down the hill to the wine co-op to fill our 10 liter jug with the village red. Life is good!

The first time I met my husband he overheard me at a party talking about how my mother was moving to Bordeaux. He interrupted the conversation, injecting "what?! why aren't you there now?!".

A couple of years later when I brought him to meet my parents I thought he would dump me afterwards - he got his trip to Bordeaux, what did he need me for after that? Instead, he proposed. Guess he wasn't sufficiently scared off by my mother. Maybe he was too drunk to notice. Maybe he figured he could someday inherit a farmhouse in France and retire there.




Where will you be retiring to?

South Beach Miami

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

On a lighter note than previous Wayfaring posts, I thought I'd blog about Miami this week.

For the big birthday weekend my husband wanted to take me somewhere - Paris? No, too cold, too far. What I wanted more than anything else was warm sand in my toes. Seriously, that was the exact criteria. Oh, and minimal travel time, no connections, and minimal time zone changes. Miami it was.

South Beach is a mixture of cultures - Cuban, art deco, funky - if you count those as separate cultures. Let me tell you a little about each of these.

Cuban - Miami has a large Cuban population and it was in full evidence this past weekend. As we were walking to Puerto Sagua for Cuban sandwiches (I love any sandwich with pickles) we kind of ran into Jon Secada, the Latin pop star. And his friends, one of whom invented the Macarena. They were filming something for someone (TV?) and somehow we we were asked if we wanted to meet Jon...and dance the Macarena. Here we are. I think I did pretty well.

Art Deco - At some point, someone had the good sense to preserve all the beautiful art deco buildings in the neighborhood. It's a wonderful place to walk around once you've spent enough time on the beach.

Funky - South Beach day and nightlife is a a motley collection of eccentricities. Our hotel had theme rooms - now I know you're thinking jungle or bordello - and you might be right. They also had rooms, such as ours, that was decorated based on a 50's car theme. The bathroom fixtures, the ceiling fan, everything. You can fight to get into a chi-chi club, watch scantily clad women parading down Ocean Drive, or get a temporary tattoo at midnight after too many mojitos.

Notice it's a flower - for Flower Child

Burning My Brain

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

I was tossing around a bunch of ideas for this week's Wayfaring Wednesday and then I realized I was tossing them all around in my brain. Which 20 years ago, was on fire.

During college I became very interested in African studies - this was very exciting for me as I had spent a few years not really sure of what I wanted to do. I had a major but I didn't have a clear passion for the subject. After taking an African history course in which I hated the teaching assistant, but loved the class, I knew this was for me.

The summer between my junior and senior years of college I decided to go on a trip to Africa - keep in mind, this was the late 1980's - not everyone was doing it. The one program I found was 6 weeks in Nigeria studying at the University of Ibadan with other American students.

It was a great trip in many ways - I dove into the unknown, went to a country I'd barely heard of, with people I'd never met.

Upon my return to the U.S. I started to come down with weird symptoms. Blurred vision at first and then the fever hit - easily reaching 104 degrees. Ibuprofen would break it and soon it was back up again. My parents took me to my infectious disease specialist in NY City (doesn't everyone have one of those?) - and to make a long story short, I ended up hospitalized for a week with malaria. Later I would discover, cerebral malaria. Not good.

Fortunately for me, my mom is a critical care nurse and was able to take me home after the first week - I spent the second week housebound with round the clock supervision. The fevers had stopped but now I was experiencing severe shaking - my muscles were so out of whack that my arms and legs shook uncontrollably. Try eating like that! Getting fork to mouth was impossible.

After the end of two weeks, I was much improved. And at the end of it all, after the scorching fever, the vomiting, the uncontrollable shaking - the near-death experience, I wanted to go back to Africa.

So that's how I figured out my future career - took a bit of burning my brain to do it.

Did you ever go to a place which confirmed something for you?

Guantanamo Bay

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

In the past five years, the phrase "Guantanamo Bay" has taken on new connotations. I grew up knowing its nickname Gitmo, more recently it has been dubbed Camp X-Ray (one of three detention camps contained in the naval base).

To me it is terra firma - the place of my birth. During the Vietnam War, Dad was given the choice of a tour in Southeast Asia or a stint (with his family) at the naval hospital at Gitmo. Obviously he chose the latter. The better choice, anyone would agree. I am a US citizen by birth, eligible to run for President - as much as John McCain is.

My passport merely reads "Cuba" - no specific location that might explain the circumstances of my birth. Upon returning to the US from travels abroad I am occasionally asked how I obtained my citizenship, or for how long I've held it. Try answering that question intelligibly with jet lag.

The stories from those years were both humorous and scary. A sort of gallows humor I suppose. 98 degrees on Christmas Day, cockroaches nearly as big as your hand. Bored drunken soldiers driving over land crabs in a game called "crunch crunch".

These days the name doesn't conjure up quite the same feelings. While my curiosity about the place has not waned, it has taken on a new dimension. I no longer wear the cool t-shirt emblazoned with "Guantanamo" and a red star that my friend made for my birthday years ago.

I always got strange looks when I told people where I was born. The strange looks are now followed by a solemn, "oh".

Did you know they have a Starbucks? Seems prying detainees with a venti latte is an effective means of interrogation.

The Palace of the King of Pobe

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

I was in Benin for work and spent most of my time in the sort of capital, Cotonou, at the US government offices. As with any work trip I always try to fit in a site visit - staring at a computer all day doesn't exactly give you a sense of what you're doing - what is your purpose.

Fortunately a meeting of different partners (the US government term for grantees or contractors - doesn't it sound lovely? though misleading...) was taking place north of Cotonou in one of the provinces.

Several hours later by Range Rover (thank goodness for Beninoise drivers who can navigate potholes that would swallow a Mac truck) we arrived in the village of Pobe (pronounced Poe Bay). We toured around the village and checked out the building in which we were going to host our meeting. We had a concrete building with chairs etc - quite a nice village.

But before we could do anything, we had to visit with the King. It's his town, we had to pay our respects. We were ushered into the palace amongst a crowd of excited screaming children (all his I suspect) and were seated in some plush chairs to greet the King. As is custom, we removed our shoes and waited politely until he made his entrance. As is custom, he was wearing big sunglasses. Funny how even the most remote places have access to Ray-Bans.

Our meeting with the King was very pleasant. He thanked us for coming. We thanked him for hosting us. He hoped we would support his village financially, we chuckled. He was a pretty cool King.

Have you ever met royalty? Of the British or other variety? Perhaps a Kennedy?

(I'm the fourth from the left - in black)

The Home of Dum Dum Pops and Etch-A-Sketch

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

I've had the pleasure of driving cross country twice. Once with mom and once with my sister. There's nothing like the thrill of seeing all the quirkiness that America has to offer. Jackalope in South Dakota, Dorothy's house in Kansas. A multitude of java huts scattered around the northern Nevada desert. That last one is just plain weird.

On one trip going west to east with my sister we stopped off in Chicago to meet one of her friends - and to take their car back east as a favor. They would be spending the summer there and since we were going that way - and had spent about 2 weeks sharing the same car, we were happy to oblige.

In Bryan, OH we pulled off the highway for lunch and hopped back on. And off. Seems that the timing chain on my car had died (broken? snapped?). The car basically came to a dead stop and I pulled over onto the shoulder. Having literally just gone through the entrance toll - and Bryan not being a particularly busy entrance, I was fine. Alas, my sister who was ahead of me in the other car got about 1/2 mile down the road before she realized I was no longer in her rearview mirror. She pulled off, came back around and found me. We called the police who came and took me away - I was literally sitting in the back seat of an Ohio State trooper's car - it would have made a great photo - while the tow truck took dear Sacajawea (we named the car that since she had taken my sister and brother - the "white men" - to the Pacific) away.

Since the car would be there overnight we checked into a hotel and went out looking for fun and adventure. You'd think a small town situated on the Ohio Turnpike between South Bend and Toledo would be hurting for activity. You'd be WRONG! Bryan, Ohio is home to both Etch-A-Sketch AND Dum Dum lollipops. Everybody knows Etch-A-Sketch and if you've ever spent anytime in a doctor's waiting room (or have a doctor for a dad) you know Dum Dum's.

We checked out the Etch-A-Sketch factory and asked to take a tour. No dice. No tours. Okay. So we went outside and took photos of us crying in front of the place. We then went over to Dum Dum's hoping for better luck. Alas, you had to be a school group to go on a tour. Bummer. Again, we took photos of ourselves crying outside the factory. Didn't they understand I had eaten every flavor at least 50 times?

So much for Bryan, OH. A sleepy town with such enormous potential for tourism.

Have you ever had your car break down somewhere? What did you do? Any adventure?

Wayfaring Wednesday

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

For this week, I'm going to ask the readers out there to tell me the wackiest place they've ever been (And if I can figure out that link thing too I'll start including that).

What is it? Tell me the wackiest place you've ever been. Think broadly - maybe the NYC subway in the 70's, Florida in a snowstorm, France during a rail strike (oh wait, that's normal)...


To get you started here are a few of mine:

1. The Home of Dum Dum Pops and Etch-A-Sketch
2. Guantanamo Bay
3. The Palace of the King of Pobe

More on each of these in later posts.

Inquiring minds want to know...

A Little Geography Quiz

I got such a positive response to my geography post - half-joking - that I thought it was time for another geography teaching moment. Maybe I'll make this a regular thing.

For work and play I travel to lots of interesting places around the globe. Recently I started a new job where it is expected that I will be covering a few countries for our team. Every day I would come home from work and my husband would ask "what did you get? what did you get?" and I had to answer "I don't know yet".

Well now I know. Maybe you can guess:

1. You would never get a tourist visa for either of these countries.

2. Both countries' average highs hover around 90 degrees F - every month of the year.

3. One country requires French-speaking skills, but not so much the French spoken in Paris. Cross the border and you need to speak Spanish.

4. The other country has a name very similar to its neighbor to the north - which when mispronounced sounds like a racial slur (it's fun to watch people struggle with that one!)

5. I'll be taking malaria medication. And hopefully this time it will work.

Can you guess them?

Geography

I am a geography geek. I could peruse an atlas for hours. And so it was with great interest that I came upon this map.



Funny, they forgot to mark the Starbucks at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.