Thanksgiving but on January 9th 2010.

I have traveled.

I have grown.

I have moved past very difficult things in my life.

All to bring me here in Australia.

It doesn't feel perfect or that it's completely right but I am thankful to be here. To be with Dimitri and his family and to see a new way of life.

I am thankful to have had the chance to see my niece before I left.

I am thankful to have my family and friends support and encouragement along the way.

I am thankful for my friends. Good ones are hard to come by. So I want them to know how much I love them.



I am thankful that my life has a path even if I'm not sure what or where it will take me.

I am thankful for the things I have seen. India being the most important so far.

I am thankful for skype. I NEED to see my loved ones. It helps sooooooo much.

I am thankful for sunsets. This one is in Thailand.



I am thankful for 2009 to end. It was a hard year.

And I am thankful to be alive. Before you know it, it can be gone.

I am thankful.

A small bump in the road...

Lack of internet and phone... Susan in the hospital. We have hit a bump in the road. We are on the road to recovery as we have arrived in Thailand. Going for an hour and a half massage. Something I need more then food or water. Thanksgiving I spent eating Domino's pizza alone in the hotel while Susan was passed out in a hospital bed. Too much time to think. Missing the Mercy Home and the girls. Missing our families. But now back on the road. And with our spirits back there is more to come of this journey. To be continued...

With love,

Trinea

India... The Never ending story.

For all bad things must come some good, right? I know my last blog was the harsh reality of this place. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel. There is hope. And some people have already put in hard work and donated to this charity to provide for these girls. One man, the main founder of this non profit, is Mark Finelli. He has put this foundation together to start the production of a new building. A fresh start. It has come to my knowledge that a struggle for the Mercy Home is the security. A girl a few years back, one girl who was mute and shy left at some point during the day. With only seven Sisters and some gone from time to time they had no idea how or when or where she went. They involved the police and a search took place, but she was no where to be found. The concern was that she had no way to communicate. Not for food or water or for her return. And sadly she was found a month later dead, only to be recognized by her night gown. The new building is in the shape of an octagon with a court yard in the center and only two ways in or out. Here the girls with have a cleaner, safer, set up to call home.



The past few days we have been having some trouble with a few of the girls fighting. Battles. Hitting and scratching then bleeding and crying. You can imagine with 70 girls in one area that this will happen. However, there is one staff nurse and she took four girls to the hospital tonight as a result. Not only because of the injuries but because of the new angry behavior. Jency is one of the issues. She is about 15 years old and has become one stuck to my hip. She loves to pull on our dresses or try to pull off my necklace. Her behavior is not too much different from a three or four year old. She can speak some and she has learned to word "no" as I am constantly battling with what trouble she is causing next. Sadly she has no family. They are considered gypsies and the Sisters have no recollection of their names or how to contact them. They do not even have a date of birth for her. Essentially she is alone. I would take her if I could.



There is one girl if I could put in my pocket or luggage I would in a second. Meet Maya or how they spell it here Maiye. I absolutely adore her. She is a dancing queen and is usually the leader of the dance group they have for different shows. The girls have visiting groups of students or religious festivals where they need to perform a routine. And Maya is in the front row. Mostly all she does is hold pom-poms and march to the one song they have on tape "Barbie Girl". Yes I almost dropped to the floor laughing when I saw this the first time. But she lights up the stage. Almost a one man show as the rest of the girls just follow what she does. But her smile is so beautiful. She too has no family. She was found by a police officer sleeping in a Hindu Temple. They have no information for her what so ever. They did try to put Maya into school as she seems so bright, however she was remembering nothing. They think she is around 16 years old and when and if I can get enough money, I will find her the place that can help her. She generally just wants to sit right next to me and be a little girl. It could break my heart to leave her. Sigh.



Father Francis takes Susan and I to mass with him often. Father runs six villages here and attending mass with him is similar to what I imagine it's like to be a movie star. At first we are stared at, mostly because we are white and some have never seen a white person before. But then Father welcome's us for coming to India instead of some remote island for vacation. He explains what we are doing here and that the people should learn from us and try to get more educated and help others in need. Unfortunately most of them are below poverty levels and their living is not much different from the girls. The people have a strong faith. Most of India is Hindu but where we are in the south they have a strong Catholic community. The Indian's are very warm people. At first I was scared at how they would react to us. But they are some of the kindest people I have ever met. After the mass ends Father tells them it's ok to talk to us and to shake our hands as we don't bite. The children are funny and speak in some English. Grabbing our hands and saying "I am black and you are white". Yes I am aware of this I explain:) The adults, mostly the elders kiss our hands and pinch our cheeks. Maybe we bring them joy or hope I'm not sure, but it feels like we make their day by just existing. I wish for them too. I pray for their lives. For their happiness. It feels similar to the Mercy Home. I’m Helpless. And sadly in India it seems like the never ending story.



Please replace one coffee or McDonald's run for a $5 dollar donation. Thanksgiving is coming. Be thankful you can spare 5 dollars for someone in the world to eat tomorrow! Thank you for all of your kind words and support. It helps me so much.

India.. No Mercy.

Reality. Struggling. Heartbreak. Volunteering. Sigh. If there was only a way to make this possible without days of sadness and horribleness, because today for me was hard. I would have given anything to leave and go home and I would have given my arm or leg to take some of these girls with me. For the first time I felt helpless. Some of these girls just do not belong here. They are here because they have no where else to go. And others are just in their own world. How do you help these girls? Am I helping enough? Am I even helping at all?



It’s heartbreaking. And today my heart did break. I knew this day would come.When regardless of your intentions you feel you have not even moved a pebble in a field of boulders. Everyday we go work with the girls. We work on letters and numbers. We learn different parts of the body. We dance in circles. I thank God for dancing because it is their favorite activity and this always brings my spirits up. It’s so wonderful to see them laugh and giggle. But then there is the down side. The side I feel I just cant do enough. They say when you volunteer that it’s best to try not to get attached, but I am not that kind of person. I try, honestly I do. But truly my heart is breaking. Today I had to go for a run. Yes a run down the little road in this little village. I had to get away from it all. To be alone for five minutes and breathe. I want to be here. I want to help. But my emotions got to me today so much that I had to put my I pod on and break into my own world. I came back determined. So I will begin to show you their faces, tell stories, show their lives.



Meet Maria Selvi. She is an older woman maybe in her mid 40's. She was once married and completely normal but has some sort of fainting problem. Her husband could not take care of her so here she is. I've been told her heart is weak and she has a hard time standing or moving a lot. I have not seen this yet. However I have seen her write full sentences in English and Tamil. She carries a journal that she has written all of the songs she has learned. She loves to sing and helps us a lot to translate the words we are teaching and songs we sing. She I would say is sort of like a big sister or mother to some. A guide maybe. For me it is hard because I know she does not belong here. She doesn't. I wish to God for her to have a doctor come and put her where she belongs. Somewhere else where she can be treated. Somewhere that she can expand her knowledge. Does this place even exist here? I have been told there are other places similar to here but there is not really a middle ground. It's this or a hospital and she doesn't belong in the hospital. So where does she go? She is so smart. And she is so positive. She carries herself as a woman. She is full of life.



Then meet Sophie. A gem of sorts. She is fully in a world of her own. She does speak some Tamil and pretends to sneeze to get attention but for the most part she seems considerably out. It’s so fun to be around her because she spends 70% of the time laughing. At what? Who knows but I love to laugh with her. I love to see her spirit. It's so big. So colorful. She is in her late 20's. You would never know because she looks maybe 16 and acts maybe 7 years old. They cut their hair short when they are unable to take care of themselves. So a lot of the girls are hairless. There are close to 70 girls yet most of them look like boys because of their short hair. I did see a picture today before they had short hair. They had bangs and pony tails. They were so beautiful. Even though Sophie can do very little she makes me very happy. She makes me smile.



I knew coming into this trip I would do, feel and see things that were difficult. But today I feel sad. I feel helpless. I feel angry that people in our world have to live like this. Even just in this country. In India they lack everything. They lack education. They lack money. They lack food and water. I’m not sure what it is like in Africa, I can only imagine. But I do know that somehow we are all missing this country. We are missing the chance to be better humans and to make the world better. Because they need it here. So terribly. They need help. In our country we take things for granted. Things like family. Things like food or pillows. Things like bug spray, hair brushes, tables and chairs. All things we never even consider unavailable because it is. We as American's have anything and everything at our finger tips. It takes for something to be gone to miss it. And these people can’t even imagine a life of pillow top beds or a hot shower. They don't even know this type of thing exists in the world. Maybe it’s better for that right now. But please take some time today and maybe not worry about how bad your bills are. How you need a new couch or car. That you have not had your hair or nails done in a while. Look up a non-profit in a third world country. One that makes you want to help. Donate. See what they need. See how you can help even if just a little. You will be a better person for it. Show your children. Get them involved. Schools. Show teachers. Try to get them to donate with their students as a project. Maybe at your work place. $5 a month per employee. Here it will cost about $135 one time to get on doctor to come in and diagnose these girls. Something I am considering donating myself. Please just make everyone aware that there are people in this world struggling way more then they are. Way more then you are. I’m sorry for the sadness of this post but it's my reality right now. I'm living this.

www.mercyhomefoundation.com

India... One day at a time.

For those of you that don't know what I'm up to these days or wonder what part of the world I am in now can find me in a little village in the very south of India near the city of Karungulam. I am working for a non-profit the Mercy Home Foundation that specializes in the housing and care taking of mentally and physically disabled women and girls. It is not something I was looking for but something that found me. Here is how it began…

My trip here took about five days down from the city of Delhi and prepared me a little for what I might be seeing. The level of poverty is unlike anything imaginable. The world as I know it is very different from the world here. People live on the streets. 200% more homeless then in America. Shacks and covered boxes or any material strong enough to hold up fabric provide shelter from the bugs. Flies and mosquitoes are also 200 times what we have back home. Maybe from the amount of garbage covering the ground or the monsoon season rain, the bugs here are intolerable.


Delhi being a bigger city here was extremely dirty. Parts were nice but for the most part it seemed we were living on top of a giant landfill. Smog looked like a smoke haze and the roads consisted of cars, tuk tuks, ox-pulled carts, and scooters. Families of four (little little children) would fit, helmet less, on a 2 seated scooter. Along the road side you can find a place to get a shave (the mirror on the fence and the seat outside next to the traffic), flower stands (they LOVE flowers here and all wear them in their hair everyday, I love this), different food stands, bananas (here there are many different types and sizes of bananas), and people always on the go walking barefoot.

During these five days we made our way to the Taj Mahal, about four hours away from Delhi. A place so beautiful and symmetrical yet smaller then I expected. During the drive there, is when I feared for my life. Driving in this country is a free-for-all. Lines and road hold no meaning. We maybe spent 99% of our time three cars wide on a two lane road, most of the time on the center line. I’m not sure of the traffic rules or how they get drivers licenses but I know for sure that there were no police enforcing any driving laws nor did our cab driver fear for his life. Dodging bikers, cows (these roam very freely here and are worshiped by the Hindu religion), and red light runners from the other direction, I am shocked to say we only had one run in with a biker who fell into us as he was avoiding a pack of bulls owning his side of the road.


There are no pastures for these animals and they are part of the traffic regularly. We also drove along side a camel driven carriage and a man on his way to who knows where by elephant. I tell you every time we got in the car was an adventure and more then once I considered taking Dramamine for the motion sickness.

Father Francis and the seven Sisters of the Sisters of Sacred Heart of Jesus have become our family. The Father worked in New Jersey for seven years and speaks perfect English thankfully. Susan, a girl I worked with in Rome is here with me as well and we are here to help work with the girls improving their speech, physical movement, and spirits. The village here is away from most civilization. We do have energy (most of the time) and are very taken care of by the sisters, however eating here has been quite a challenge. Spice is in everything. Curry is in at least two meals a day. Not loving either of these two things I have eaten lots of bananas. The Sisters make us plain eggs and potatoes as well, but other then that my stomach has not been settled
much.

Upon arrival to the Mercy Home we were greeted by a celebration. The girls showered us with scarves, flowers, and kisses. Some played the drums and trumpet as we walked through the front gate. It was more then surreal and I fought back tears as I realized the impact we would have. The girls lives here is a very sad story. In this culture a child with this illness can hinder the chances for the other children in the family to get married as easily. These types of illnesses are thought to be hereditary and with these family members it makes it more difficult to essentially sell this family verses one without a member of this disorder. However even with the living conditions of the people in the rest of the country these girls suffer terribly. Currently they live like animals. Sleeping on the floor with no pillows or sheets of any sort, two buildings with open windows for the flies to come out or in this case in as they please, and no tables to sit at and eat dinner. Minimal cleaning material (the bath is a large water well outside that they all gather around) and I'm not sure if some have ever brushed their teeth. The levels of mental disability range greatly. They really need a doctor to come even once to asses their illness. Some might have retardation, some mental shock, and some maybe autism. They have never been correctly diagnosed and are given medicine for sleep and relaxation unless one is physically ill with a fever or cut. Some can read to a point but some are brain dead and just kind of sit there. Could they actually have something going on in there? I wonder everyday. And then there are some I think really belong in a school. They are all there but maybe have just a set back. Some are so smart. I was horrified when I first realized how they were living.


The Sisters and the convent are doing everything they can with the limited money they are provided for medical care and facilities. The Mercy Home Foundation is currently building a building to better accommodate these girls. There are still a lot of things needed. Beds of some type just to get them off the floor, tiles for the floor so it is not just gravel, and medical attentions are really just the beginning. It is hard reality for me right now but I'm taking it one day at a time.

3 more weeks of Italy.

With only three weeks left I cant believe I have made it. Honestly. There were more then a handful of times I thought about giving up on this journey and going back home, but now that I am on the end stretch I can not believe I have conquered living abroad for a year! I came to Italy with excitement and desire and the world at my finger tips. I came not knowing exactly what to expect or how I was going to survive this experience. However I was humbled to the fullest. I had a very big case of homesickness and isolation as it was my first time having a language barrier. Now I speak some Italian and it is very helpful, but at first I felt extremely embarrassed. I also had a really hard time adjusting to this new lifestyle. Americans are hard workers. Or at least most of us are. Here in Italy they spend little time sleeping however, they spend a lot of time doing nothing. A lot of time is spent on smoking cigarettes and sitting around. Customer service is NOT their priority. In fact on many occasions I have felt as though any question I have or reason to ask for help has been a very big annoyance to the current employee. It's a very strange feeling. In America we have places we can call to complain for bad customer service or a lack of kind treatment. Here it is to be expected.

Italians are a kind breed once you have proven yourself to them. My two male bosses, one 24-years-old and the other 28-years-old took me in. They began to teach me the ways of this country. I was lucky in this case. After three months of living here I was illegal, and my one boss is a son to a high end mafia man. This I did not know before I began this work but soon after I met him I could see plain as day just how high powered he was. With this I also realized how protected I was. More then once police were in to check documents and I was always over looked and smiled at kindly. A Brazilian girl from a bar down the street was sent back and banned from Italy for 10 years for being the same illegal as I was. That could have been me!! Now these two men are two of my best friends here and I would even consider them my family. They also took in my sister. She never worked for them once but she never paid for a drink and they never even asked a thing of her from me. Kisses and hugs were always given almost as if she was their sister as well. Something I hope I never forget.

Living abroad is 100% different then being a traveling tourist. There is no way to explain it to someone who has never done it. There is no comparison. It is something that now I can grow from. The first year anywhere is the hardest and when it is now time to go back it feels like I am just beginning. I am ready to go home that is for sure. But now I have a life here. Now I can speak the language. Now I understand the ways of this country. And I will miss it dearly.

Ohhhh Italy. (Sigh)

Meet Franco. This little old man finds time to just sit back and smell the roses. He works at one of the little flower shops located everywhere in Rome. At all points in time (3 am) there is a place to buy flowers. He speaks no English but I can communicate with him for the most part. I watch him as much as I can. He is really very funny but is close to loosing his life and it's very sad but is a huge realization as to why I will never smoke the way he does or drink all day everyday.

Sometimes there are moments that I feel Italy is a 19 year-old boy and I want to pat him on the head. Obviously Italy is not a young country but it is very behind. Italians say it is their culture and that they don't want to change, but sometimes its better to grow up a little. There are just some things worth changing. I have learned that Italians are very stubborn and set in their ways. It does not matter if Rome as a city is struggling financially and that there are so many ways to help this situation. They have the option to really cater to the tourists. To make a few changes and bring in some money. But nope... its a law here that the stores are forced to close down for a period of two to three hours as it is their nap time. It just makes me a little crazy sometimes. I want to love it here so much. I do love it, there are just some things I have to learn to deal with. Living abroad makes everything change in your mind. Everything you knew before seems different. You see things that were really wonderful about where you came from. You also see things that you never imagined. Rome is beautiful! The city is very busy but there a places that you just have to stop and look at. A few things that I walk by every day and take for granted.


The Colosseum is something I see everyday and as with anything you see all the time has lost its way of taking my breath away. However there are times when I realize... WOW... I am next to the Colosseum! So beautiful.