Taking it Global

Once, seven years ago, I had dreams to volunteer overseas and save the world as every wide-eyed suburban twelth-grader would. Except at that time, you have no real skills to offer to anyone in need, besides our adorable ideals, chronic acne and a diary of teen angst poems. The UN, Red Cross and developing world do not need this extra burden. So, I put this dream aside and filed it in the back of my mind with all my forgotten New Year's Resolutions of 1998 (be less awkward) and 2001 (make realistic new year's resolutions).

Just recently, these thoughts came back to me. The shocks of the Haitian, Chilean and Chinese earthquakes were felt in the concerned eyes of everyone watching these breaking news stories from television sets around the world. You take a moment to realize how much communities can really need help more than anything else. I remembered what I meant to do with my life now that I could help, when I couldn't before.

In three and a half months time, I will be in Tanzania working with a small group of Canadians to create solutions for community development with a focus on engaging youth in sexual heath, HIV/AIDS awareness and gender equality.
In December, I'll be in Vanuatu working with local youth in organizing infrastructure, environmental education and community mobilization programs.

To say I'm excited is an understatement.
To say I'm finally living out the dream I had in high-school... this is only the beginning.

If you happen to stumble upon this blog, please consider making a donation to support these programs by Youth Challenge International, which is a registered Canadian charity. So all Canadian donations are eligible for a tax receipt (over $25).
Here is a link to my personal fundraising page: http://yci.tigweb.org/ind/jessicayip
It is run by Taking It Global. Payments are accepted by credit card through Paypal.
Any amount of donation is greatly appreciated or please help spread the word to your friends, family or anyone who you think may be interested!

Thank you!




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Worthing, really.

"This is the ghetto."
I held his arm tight - but not so tight that my veins would start throbbing and attract any more attention to myself. It's hard though when I am obviously a tourist, and more obviously ASIAN, walking between the houses of the wait staff who serve my drinks and spit in my meals and mutter "fuck you" as they bring it to my table. That I don't mind. Don't mind it so much in comparison to this. My only reply to Chris was "uh-huh" then my right foot slipped on the mud because talking became one of too many things to do at once: 1. walking, 2. being scared, 3. trying not to look scared, 4. maintaining a calm and non-intrusive gaze, 5. I am also hung over and sweating rum and cokes out of my face.

The ghetto seems miles away from the ice-cream coloured colonial style mansions lined up along the beach, but actually it's just a few strides off the main road.

To say they had a look of surprise in their eyes seeing me is an understatement. There was also confusion, slight disdain - but mostly from the women, who look familiar, like the ones who ignore me when I try to order food - and the this-is-all-just-too-fucking-weird-for-me look.

But I came invited. We were walking towards Chris' house because he wants to give me a photo of him to take back home. Everything else aside, this is a nice gesture, and I couldn't refuse.

Their homes are not lined up one by one to follow some non-existent housing frontage city bylaw. They are staggered. A handful of these face each other to share some courtyard of leftover bins, rackets and posts for some makeshift cricket field. And other homes are positioned randomly along some worn-out path. Each of them are 4 adjoining walls sheltered under grooved metal roofs, rusted from rain, age and poverty. Don't get me wrong. I am not passing judgement. The majority of the people in this world live this way. This is shelter. People can find real comfort elsewhere. Comfort exists beyond ready to assemble Ikea furniture, matching linens, any linens, or a home entertainment system. Comfort can be inviting a stranger to your home, built from the basics and decorated with souvenirs over generations, to look at your photographs from your travels on a hot afternoon, and nothing else.

If I could have it my way, I would just have it this way.

But my flights out in 2 hours. Shit.



 
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"Do you know Kung Fu?"

Wise and unassuming words from an adorable little girl at Oistins fish market today.
Kelly and I were sent to get fish for tonight's dinner, but i spent more time dancing to "American Boy" with her than waiting in line for freshly caught Marlin.



















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Brownies & Pear Cider in sunny Union Park

We had a nice stroll around all the stands. Most of the vendors sold locally produced baked goods, vegetables, wines, sausages, cheeses and milk! I wish I could take a cherry pie on the plane back home with me.









The best brownie I've ever had.

This photo does not do justice to how delicious the pear cider is.



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Gyros at midnight - live from New York

We came here from a hookah bar in Astoria.
Sammy's was voted best food vendor in 2006. I really wish we had great street food available back home in Vancouver.











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Happy hour on Rivington

Dad and I rushed in immediately when we both saw the sandwich sign outside: beers $3
Drinking heineken on a warm spring day with dad in New York will be one of my most favorite moments.



Also I had a really good stawberry cupcake at sugar sweet sunshine






And... I had a mini croissant sandwich and fraziar cake from ceci cela patisserie earlier today. Hmm... my pants feel tighter...









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Here's what I ate today

I started my trip out with Cathay Pacific's awesome fruit platter option as a kind of palette cleanser before my arriving to new York. It sucked but was just what I expected of airline food. This may have been the least suckiest airline meal I've ever had. So I was off to a good start.





First stop on my list - Chinatown, Queens. I'm in love with the Ridiculously large and juicy pork dumplings in Flushing Mall. We also had the cumin lamb burger from the Xian Food Stand that Anthony Bourdain featured in an episode. I'd like to come back for the hand-pulled noodles...





One al pastor taco from a vendor right outside of Jackson Heights station.



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I have an iPhone

I am typing on it and listening to jay-z. I can do this at work, at the library, or on the toilet, which is where I do most of my writing - hence this crappy blog that no one reads.


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More April 11, 2009: happy hour

It's a shame that happy hour doesn't happen in Vancouver. It's a godsend that I don't have discount beer available to me back home. Or I'd be an unemployed, scantily clad burden to my family.
i started my glorious alcohol induced "hour" at 7pm. I got back just before 6am. Needless to say I was too tired to try surfing this morning. And the too-early-to-rise mature estrogen types had me awake before 8am. I berated my intoxicated consciousness for a couple of hours on my lumpy hostel bed before rising to Kelly's concerned texts.

Things could really get out of hand after she leaves town tonight.




 
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April 11, 2009: I've got balls

"You've got balls."
That's what he said.
He was Edward. A friendly L.A. local - the friendly type that I figured is a complete rarity after two days of staying here.
Edward also happened to be a surfing instructor. And I was embarressingly in need of help. You see, the board knocked me on the top of my head on the first wave that I didn't catch. If I were no so thick-headed, I would have ended up in a hospital making good use of my travel insurance coverage.
I didn't manage to pop-up on many waves, but my testicular fortitude kept me out there for a few hours. Now I'm dead tired again and will be back to tackle them. I just hope happy hour doesn't ruin my plans for tomorrow.




 
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April 10, 2009: s'alright

My first morning in LA began with the murmurs of my dorm mates quietly scrambling off their bunks to line up for the shower. I waited in bed and saw through dry eyes, the overcast daylight slowly make it's way through the single window. The snooze alarm kept ringing as I kept tossing in bed, dreading the hangover that was creeping in my mind to ruin my day.
Some hours before, I had found my way back from a stranger's house, narrowly avoiding my own drunk-sex horror story - the kind that I tend to tell my doctors too often.
By 10, I stumbled out the door to Kelly's hotel and was greeted with a hug that proceeded into a well-deserved lecture about my drinking. Devestating hangover aside, I was ready to seize the day and experience the credit-driven consumer glory that is L.A.
Thankfully Shannon ordered a rental after we gave up on trying to figure out L.A.'s public transit system. After an americano and Jamba Oatmeal (fucking delicious), we hit up WeHo's shopping spots in our mid-size Corolla. Navigating from Robertson to La Brea to Fairfax with a Lonely Planet map and a collective need for retail therapy. But the best parts of the day were spent at Roscoe's and Canter's Jewish Deli.
If I'm lucky I'll get back to La Brea before Monday and get inked at High voltage. But now I'm exhausted after 48 hours of disrupted sleep, drinking an dehydration. It's nearly eleven. And I'm going to bed to get the energy to ride the waves in Malibu tomorrow.




 
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Herro... Are you lost?

Sitemeter reports that the last fifty or so visits to this poor excuse for a blog have been linked in by the Hello Kitty hat post.

That shit is old news Hungary and France. And you know it's mega lame if some dude in Buttfuck, Alabama is looking it up to.

Sorry that you've been misled to random hormonal blog entries instead. I don't have any more information on this hat. Except that it would look really, really good on me.




 
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Mauritian Sunset by Sandy Smith

Hmm... I've seen the real thing (analog version) and it just doesn't quite compare.
I think this display took all of the computers in Mauritius to make. Because only ever saw 2 of them, but there were lots of chicken rotis.

But it's a nice work nonetheless. I'm a bit upset I've returned from that beautiful island without any inspired pieces of art...




 
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2008 so far...

The year began with really bad sex - no really bed almost sex. I could only make a premature (ha.) assumption that it was a sign of bad things to come (ha.ha.)

But it feels so good to be corrected. 2008 has been great and much more than I expected it could ever be. I travelled across the globe and finally took the time to see how beautiful BC is:

February: Queen Charlottes, BC:
I kept my promise and made a weekend trip to visit Maja and her tastefully decorated trailer in Skidegate.
Fresh pacific crab and ice cold Pilsner on Copper Bay.
Quadding on abandoned logging roads and almost running into a deer.
Seeing the pristine beauty at the edge of Haida Gwaii, and the remnants of an aboriginal civilization. British Imperialism is serious business.




May: Tofino, BC:
Learned to surf
Ate everything at Breakers
Looked like a ganguo
Rubbed aloe vera on burnt skin for a week after






June: Mauritius
Got into trouble
Got engaged
Swam in the Indian Ocean
Ate the best lobster ever
Learned what I'm made of.

& Hong Kong:
Hugged my grandma
Ate french toast
Earned my "Right to Abode"



Summer:
Hiked the Chief - Squamish
Paddled on Green Lake - Whistler
Picnic-ed in Potholes - Sooke




Now there's only 4 months left and so much more that I still want to do. But my depleted bank account is an obstacle that might just stop me. Just not before Maui in October. I only hope to wash up on the shores of Antigua before the year's up.




 
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Herro...

I want this right now. I want it. I wanna wear to the side and then big smile, peace sign and pigeon toed all fucking day. It will be the best thing that I will ever do with my life.




 
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