Friday, April 13, 2012

Gabs culinary adventures

My favorite traditional food in Botswana is dumbling. It's unclear to me what the name actually implies, since they are undoubtedly dumplings. They are giant doughy bread balls that soak up plates full of sauce. Another great part about dumbling is that once you make the dough, you can steam it to make dumbling, or cook it flat and dry in a skillet to make phaphata (giant English muffins), or roll it and balls and deep fry it to make fat cakes. When I told my favorite waiter in the hospital cafeteria that I love the dumbling, he wrote out this recipe for me.
Here's the result from my first dumbling party! Great success!


Here are a few other favorites:


1) Chili bites. I bought these at the grocery when seeing the mixture in a box only cost about 20 cents. How could I pass that up? They basically tasted like falafel.
2) Carrot Cake Pancakes. Sarah's creation. The best part was the cream cheese "topping". Breakfast of champions.
3) Lime Slushies. We discovered about a month ago that our lemon tree in the front yard was actually a lime tree. No wonder the lemons were never getting ripe. We had been blaming Ryan Wells for picking all the fruit before it got ripe, but turns out he just realized they were limes before we did.



4) Digesting. Matt and Tessa's house. Not too shabby.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Addicted

5 hrs 51 minutes! I felt unstoppable. Literally felt like I could do anything for a little under 6 hrs. Unfortunately, the most beautiful marathon in the world was engulfed in a heavy downpour for about 5 hrs, so I didn't see much other than splashing water and my IPOD dying from water damage, but it was so worth it. Amazing feeling of accomplishment!! Thanks to everyone who has encouraged me!






Wednesday, April 4, 2012

ULTRAMARATHON

Off to Cape Town tomorrow to run 56km along South Africa's beautiful southern coastline!

Of course, what would a trip this year be without disaster. The lesson I've learned this time is to never trust an airline called Velvet Air. They liquidated a few weeks ago and kept promising they'd resume flights soon, but a couple days ago, Sarah and I finally decided it was time to bite the bullet and buy new tickets. British Airways it is! Thank goodness for the Brits! The worst part is that we have to spend 30 hrs in Johannesburg, so Sarah and I will be preparing for our race on bunkbeds tomorrow in a hostel next to the airport.

Cape Town plans include carb loading at a local Italian restaurant, touring the Cape of Good Hope if my legs have any energy after the race, a fancy dinner at La Colombe (one of the world's top restaurants!), and cage diving with sharks!!

Wish me luck!!!!!!

Monday, March 26, 2012

Pictures, Pictures, Pictures!

Chobe Sunset Cruise. Isn't our boat (seen below) fantastic? Sarah and I each had our own bedrooms and sitting areas complete with cable tv and wifi capabilities. As our luxury items, I chose to be fanned by palm leaves, while Sarah opted to be massaged with smoothed diamonds.

Okay, so this is not our boat. The disgustingly wealthy people on this house boat were trailed by a raft piled with crates and laundry lines that served as servants quarters. I also guarantee that unlike us, they did not worry about the size of their boat being a hazard in hippo and croc-infested waters, and they did not deal with this stress by pulling warm alcoholic "sundowners" from a cooler below their feet.

At any rate, we had a fanastic cruise through Chobe National Park, passing beautiful birds, monitor lizards, and enormous herds of large game.

Here are some pictures from our game drive through Chobe on our final morning...after we found a company willing to actually pick us up. Among the animals that were new to us were the giant marabou storks (as tall as humans and known as possibly the ugliest birds alive). They love to eat trash.

And of course, another gem from our flight home to Gabs....

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Chobe and Victoria Falls

Okay, okay. I owe you a whirlwind tour of my past month in Botswana.

A few weekends ago, Sarah and I finally made our way up to Kasane in northern Botswana, where we stayed for two nights to explore the Chobe River on a boat cruise, jump across the border to see Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, and go on a morning game drive in Chobe National Park. Of course with our travel luck, that didn't quite happen. Sarah's chronic malarialesque-abdomino-itis-immunodecificency was acting up on the plane, causing her to accidentally drop her passport. The passport continued its comfortable Air Botswana journey on to Lusaka, Zambia, where, by nothing short of a miracle, it was actually recovered and sent back to Gabs. After speaking to approximately 73 Air Botswana representatives in every country in Southern Africa, Sarah managed to convince them to hand it over to Ryan Davis in Gabs.

In Kasane, the troubleshooting adventure was just beginning! We continued our epic tour de Botswana police stations and immigration offices to see if Sarah could still cross into Zimbabwe for an afternoon to see Vic Falls. This usually meant Sarah and one of our hotel managers would disappear into an official-looking back room somewhere while I stayed in the lobby listening to police chiefs try to bait me with terrifying stories of riverboat robberies.

Sarah managed to get a print-out copy of her passport "certified", meaning a police official stamped every sheet with the word "certified". Somehow, Botswana considers this process to legitimize just about anything. Nevermind the fact that they never actually saw a real copy of Sarah's passport or other form of identification. Unfortunately, the Kasane immigration office (pic below) said, "You will have no trouble going, but you will have trouble coming back." For some reason I will never understand, Sarah's first reaction was, "That sounds like an adventure." Ultimately though, I went to Victoria Falls alone while Sarah unsuccessfuly attempted to shop at the one store in Kasane. Pobrecita.

I ended up on a private tour of Victoria Falls in which my guide Stan drove us 2 hrs each way across the border to the falls. Check out my private 15-seater van pictured below. I learned a lot about Stan, particularly about his GERD. He had always thought was a milk allergy, but I explained to the best of my abilities why his diet and lifestyle might be contributing to his GERD. I heard most of Stan's life story over lunch on the curb outside the grocery store. When he had asked where I wanted to go for lunch in Victoria Falls, suggesting the fancy restaurant at The Kingdom hotel, I replied that I'd rather eat something "really cheap and local," thinking maybe he'd know of a great corner lunch booth or something. Nope, we ate at the grocery store, but he was right that it was cheap. I let go of the whole "GERD" thing when Stan ordered chili beef with chili sauce.
Victoria Falls was pretty incredible, but to be honest, I think if you've seen one waterfall, you've kind of seen them all. I did not find this wonder of the world to be any more impressive than Niagara Falls, except for the fact that there were monkeys everywhere and no restrictions about how close you can get to the edge of the terrifyingly slippery cliff. In fact, the path along the Zimbabwean side of the falls takes you to "Danger Point," where jumping from rock to slippery rock to get a better view of your possible death is encouraged. As you near Danger Point, you also get completely soaked from all the mist, which was pretty awesome. I had all my belongings double-wrapped in plastic bags in anticipation of this.

My strategy on this solo adventure was to offer to take as many family photos of Zimbabwean families as I could so that they'd offer to take pictures of me. This had interesting results, because instead of a family member simply taking a picture of me with the waterfall, it was assumed I'd rather have a husband or teenage son in the photo with me with our arms around each other. I now have a collection of photos of me, a random Zimbabwean dude, and Victoria Falls.
If Sarah's travel luck were not already bad enough, our game drive the next morning forgot about us. We waited at our hotel gate at 5:30am in the dark, but no one showed. After many phone calls and poor Sarah thinking she'd flown across the country for only a 3 hr boat cruise and a lot of cat naps in a mosquito net, we finally found a company who was willing to give us a private game drive in the nick of time to catch our flight home. The drive through Chobe was incredible. I'll put some pictures from the game drive and sunset river cruise in the next post, but here's a preview.

Ultimately, Sarah made it onto the plane back to Gabs with a police statement and a certified photocopy of her passport, but without an actual passport. That's definitely its own kind of Bots success if you ask me.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Top 10 Things I Love about Botswana

1) Working and talking with the Ministry of Health convinces me I’m in Harry Potter.


2) Our study nurse Mma Molapisi greets me each day by stroking either my breasts or butt.


3) It’s assumed I will eat everything with my hands.


4) The Dingo drives like a dream even after potholes and speed bumps knock off at least one clanky thing per week.


5) The movie theater has a popcorn condiment stand with 4 different gallon-sized shaker bottles of monosodium glutamate: 1) Salt and Vinegar 2) Chicken flavor 3) Beef flavor and 4) Original.


6) A full plate of lunch in the hospital cafeteria is $4, but a full plate without the two small cubes of beef is $0.25


7) Batswana men in caps and goggles exercise in the pool by sitting on the wall for an hour and then hitting the steam room.


8) The phrase: “There are no crocs” translates to: “There are many small crocs.”


9) If medicine doesn’t work out, I can strike gold teaching 3-yr-olds to blow bubbles underwater.


10) There is not a single place in the city or in the bush where it’s inappropriate to get drunk and dance on tables.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

BFF with the President

Finding those before-and-after pictures of the trailer too good not to share, I emailed them to a couple colleagues in our office. This morning I was informed that I shouldn't freak out, but the former hospital administrator had received them, and he forwarded them to the President of Botswana. Apparently the administrator had been instrumental in getting the trailers donated, and he found the state of things unacceptable.


I guess Ian Khama and I are just destined to be in each other's lives.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

SOOO PAINFUL

"Sooo painful." This is my mentor's favorite line to use when the Botswana medical system makes things interesting. Whether it's the radiology department misplacing the codebook that identifies all x-rays ever taken at Princess Marina Hospital, the electronic medical records system crashing for a week due to a leak in the roof that damaged the server, or 85% of all medical charts mysteriously disappearing before they reach the medical records department, we simply say, "So painful."



I had my ultimate painful moment yesterday. I returned to the trailer of emergency department records to start documenting more cases of pneumonia. Remember the trailer/dumpster of records? I'll refresh your memory:

And here's what I found when I opened the door yesterday:
My jaw dropped. "SO PAINFUL." Those are not emergency department records forming that barricade between me and my research. Those are thousands of "old hospital charts" with the word "CONFIDENTIAL" across the front.


I picked up one box to try to clear a trail to the back, and it immediately collapsed into a mush of flimsy cardboard, and the confidential records spewed all over the place. I wiped my sweaty forehead and trudged back into the ED. Head nurse Mma Malatsi was in the middle of computer training, and she was livid to hear that all her boxes were hidden behind a monstrosity.

Apparently, she told medical records they could use the extra space as long as the ED records were placed off to the side. As you can see, that did not happen.



My next stop was to the medical records department, where I had to take several deep breaths before opening the door, because I get at least one marriage proposal per day from either the director or one of his interns (By the way, if anyone asks, my husband lives in New York City). Here's how our conversation went:

"Hi Josiah! How are you?"

"Emly! You never come to see us anymore. How are you doing in A&E (ED)?"

"I'm fine. I was just trying to get some of the A&E boxes, but they are all blocked in! Do you think it will be possible to get to my records?"

"No, I don't think it will be possible."

"Well, I can move them myself, but is there someone who can help me?"

"No, there is no one."

"Okay, thank you, well then I can move them myself?"

"Yes, you can take all the medical records out and then put them back in."

"Tanki rra. Gosiame."

"Okay, Emly! Come say hi to us again soon! You never come anymore!"


After asking around the office about how best to handle this situation, it was decided that tomorrow, Miseki, gardener-slash-poolboy, and I will be sharing in the manual labor of taking out the new medical records, switching them with the ED records, and then putting them all back in. Poor Miseki is about 5'5" and has no idea what is in store for him.


On the bright side, look what just got fixed in the ED office! Now I will be able to see all the medical records...that I can no longer access. So. Painful.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Gabs hold out of the century!

Lame (pronounced La-may) was right--the Beef Baron was a palace. As we drove towards the Grand Palm Hotel, past manicured lawns with spotlights, I knew I wasn't in Kansas, Botswana anymore. Two valets met us at the front drive and ushered us into the front lobby, which could have been mistaken for any Hilton. I leapt for joy when I saw multiple vases of quality fake flowers and heard background jazz music that didn't involve the more popular "nn-tsss, nn-tsss" beat you'd typically expect to hear in a drug den but instead hear in restaurants, gyms, offices, bathrooms, etc. Lame and I brought along buddy Dagan, an internal medicine attending working in Botswana for Harvard's new education program. He works in Molepolole, which is about an hour outside of Gabs, and he oversees anywhere from 1 to 6 Beth Israel residents visiting at a time. Dages takes great care of his residents, driving them to and from Molepolole and showing them the Gabs activities and nightlife (which basically means he goes to the yacht club a lot). I don't know what they'd do without him...or wait, I do, because while he was still attending in the US in January to keep his academic title, my phone inherited the blessing of residents calling with flat tires and bad direction sense.

Anyway, after many many meals of gristley, overcooked beef, this steak was perfect. When I stated that, Lame responded, "I know. I can't believe someone thought I was taking you to the Cattle Baron." Apparently, the Beef Baron should never be confused with the Cattle Baron, which is a "dingy place" in Lame's opinion.
The rest of bachelorette weekend was relaxing and fun. I taught a swim lesson to a Penn ID doc's 3-yr-old son, and despite the tummy ache and sob-fest at the end of the lesson, I don't think I failed completely. All I have to say is thank God for Finding Nemo and noodle horsies.

Dages, Lame, and Marlow have been doing a great job keeping me company, but I gotta say, "Sarah come back to meeeeeeeeee!!" I miss my roomie! What am I going to do when I have to let her go back to Baltimore!? I may have to schedule my electives next year based on this newfound co-dependency.

...If you've made it to the end of this blog, and you're asking yourself why an entire narrative was just devoted to a cheesy hotel, please refer to posts: "Bots loves its meat" and "Momfari Part:1" for some perspective.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Bachelorette pad weekend

World AIDS conference submission success! Such a great feeling! We show that the percentage of adult pneumonia patients presenting to the emergency department with HIV is just as high as in TB, which is pretty shocking.

My sad news is that last week my hip started hurting after running, and I've diagnosed myself with trochanteric bursitis. I haven't run in a week, so I'm getting pretty stir crazy and worried about the ultramarathon. However, I've yet again proved how versatile spandex can be after turning my birthday outfit into a series of dynabands for muscle training.

Another bummer is that I was planning on running the Mafikeng marathon in South Africa this weekend with my French running buddy Renaud, but I backed out so I wouldn't kill my bursa. I didn't back out in time to make it onto the road trip my friends are taking to Mozambique this weekend, so instead, I'm sleeping, dog sitting, and going on a ladies night with my friend Lame to the Beef Baron, which is apparently the nicest restaurant in town according to her. I'm thinking this might require some photo documentation.

Back to the dog-sitting. Marlow is insane. We just went for our first walk using her choke collar, which is supposed to encourage her not to yank my arm off. Instead, she just choked herself every time she wanted to eat fire-starter or bottle shards. Don't worry Ryan--no glass in her stomach, but I can't make any promises about the mysterious animal fur.

On the other hand, walking down the street with a giant, crazy dog was the most empowered I have ever felt in Botswana. People here are TERRIFIED of dogs, and for good reason. Anyone with anything inside their house to protect always has a giant, viscious dog in the front yard ready to bite any stranger's face off. The most popular guard dog is the Boerboel, which can shift from a giant teddy bear to the embodiment of a nightmare in miliseconds. I just googled "Boerboel" and found this: http://www.isdog.net/3002/Boerboel-300x298-Boerboel.html

Anyway, when I walk towards people on the street with Marlow, they unfailingly make a quarter-mile arc around us while staring at Marlow in terror. For me, it's a far cry from constantly worrying about being mugged.

Aside from occasionally trying to bite my face off and chasing her own tail, Marlow is pretty good at getting what she wants. I was sitting on the Ryans' high bar stools today, and Marlow kept coming up and resting her chin on my leg and looking up at me pleadingly. When I indulged her, she tried to bite my face off. I'll get the hang of it soon I hope...

Monday, February 13, 2012

Title of word document I just received:

Pneumonia-HIV-Severity of Illness Abstract - meeting draft-haas Emily comments_more haas comments-moreEmily-AHFcomments.docx.

This is getting fun!

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Email subject lines I never thought I would be instructed to send

"URGENT: When is the latest possible time we can send you this draft?"

Research is nuts...

And...one more Shake Shake shout-out!

Friday, February 10, 2012

Crunch Time and a Chibuku-full Aftermath

Research is insane. I apparently never understood the meaning of the term "crunch time" until now. When it's crunch time for a med school exam, at least you know that the exam will happen, and that whatever work you did or did not put in will be reflected. Not true with research! My crunch time means collecting lab values from 800 charts, cleaning my database, running the statistics, putting this into an abstract, and then driving around Botswana asking co-authors to review it, ALL WITHIN THE NEXT 3 DAYS! And if that doesn't happen, well shoot, we're out of luck and a lot of sleep.

The toughest part for me is that I'm so bogged down in the actual data collection process, that I don't have the kind of time I need to be asking the bigger questions and running the statistics. I am worried a career in research would always feel like a race to the finish line without the necessary time to process everything. However, it's pretty funny to say that after spending my first 4 months complaining about the system being so slow and having nothing to do. Now with data and a deadline, I'm losing my mind and desperate for things to slow down.

Anyway, I really hope I can pull this off this weekend. Wish me luck and send some encouragement as I sit alone swearing at my computer and possibly architecting some new curse words involving STATA code.

Here's what I'll be doing Wednesday night at 2am after my abstract gets submitted.
Chibuku, also known as Shake-Shake, is the traditional brew in Botswana. It's fermented Sorghum, and you know you have a good carton when it's nearly exploding with gas. It has the consistency of milk that's gone bad to the point of having chewy particles, but it tastes more like a mixture of yogurt and vomit. I was told once that it's the perfect snack because it's both food and drink.



This particular night, Matt and Tessa were having a homeless party due to their short-lived homelessness, so rest assured, my look was only an attempt to be loony tunes homelesss lady with a wand and lots of cats.