Travel

A Play Date With Freedom

June 15, 2011

This article was originally published on Black Atlas, a unique online community that offers travel insights from an African-American perspective. Click here to see the original post.

You should have seen my Dad’s face. His expression reminded me of my own the first time I saw Michael Jackson’s Thriller video at age 8. I had just informed him that I was going for a ride on my new scooter. I mean yeah, it was a rental, I had no insurance, and only knew conversational, find-my-way-out-of-the-Bronx Spanish, but I was determined to see the coast of Cozumel that day. Alone.

As I pulled away from the hotel driveway the scooter left a huge cloud of dust behind me, luckily disguising to onlookers the fact that I had no idea what I was doing. I awkwardly screeched down the road, through a red light and into the grass several times before I got the handle of it and finally let go. Of everything. I released my fear of getting kidnapped by Mexican pirates and let the wind against my face blow away every remnant of tension left in my muscles. I set my iPod to Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten” and smiled at the morning sun as I allowed Speed Racer (yes, that was her name for the day) to go as fast as her little engine would allow.

I made a few stops along the way allowing my inner child to fancy herself in whatever fascinating little treasures she encountered on the way. I found a quiet cove on the shore that called out to my toes, inviting them for a play date in its cool clear water. Further down the road I stopped to watch little party boats sail by and smiled with gratitude that I was not confined to a small vessel of loud inebriated tourists. After about an hour, the early morning sun had begun roasting my shoulders so I decided to seek shelter at a beachside bar tucked away from the road and indulged myself in a delicious breakfast of warm tortilla chips and fresh salsa.

I didn’t have a GPS to pinpoint my location on the Mexican shoreline or a cell phone to call home. But as I feasted on fresh pico de gallo and stared out at the Atlantic Ocean, these normally essential gadgets seemed frivolous. Time and location faded away into the faint horns of the salsa music playing at the bar while responsibility and schedules blew away with the cool breeze. It was one of the best mornings of my entire life and the photos I took that day will be framed and placed in my grandchildren’s bedroom as a reminder of what life has in store for them. I can’t wait to see their faces when they find out the bikini-clad girl on the scooter is grandma.

Travel

Jamaica Medical Outreach Diary – Part 2

June 14, 2011

So, after a few days organizing our supplies and getting acquainted with the neighborhood, we set up our first makeshift doctor’s office at a house in the mountains of Portland. There were 2 doctors, a nurse (Mrs. Keen), and us students from the International Medical Outreach program, available to run basic check-ups, run simple tests and prescribe medicine when necessary.

Below are my notes written one evening back at the hospital where were staying, on June 27, 2000.

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Okay, I am going to jump to Wednesday because I’m tired of catching up. Today we are at Fruitful Vale. It is usually packed to the brim but the word did not get out early enough and that is such a shame. There are so many sick people that are missing out on free medicine. I could kick whoever is at the top of the message that is trickled down through the healthcare system that we were coming.

However, this has been my best day yet. Today was my first day working with Mrs. Keen [Dr. Keen’s mother who is a nurse] She is phenomenal. I listened to her minister to several people. One girl was 21 and Mrs. Keen was talking to her about how she has wasted so many years since she finished high school at age 16. And how she is so bright and should be in college. And she did all of this during routine intake. We were just sitting there during intake, testing blood pressure and blood sugar, and as I was doing a patient I heard what she was talking about. Mrs. Keen got the girl’s cousin, mother and grandmother involved, telling the Mom she should push her daughter and telling the grandmother she should push her daughter to push her granddaughter. She talked about how young girls get pregnant and how she should save herself and how guys talk about girls after they’ve had them. Everything she said was so true but I never would have struck up that conversation during triage.

Another girl, age 16, Mrs. Keen asked her what she was going to do with her life. It was so wonderful to hear the girl say that she didn’t have a boyfriend because she wants to do well in school and wants to be a nurse then a doctor. It was amazing. Mrs. Keen says basic education here in Jamaica is good. People do well in the states.

This lady (she had to be like 70-80) almost passed out. I wanted to cry but couldn’t because she was right there and that would frighten everybody. It was probably her blood sugar but since our [blood sugar testings machine] strip code did not match the machine code, we had to stop blood sugar testing. That bothers me. In Columbia I know Dr. Johnson or Dr. Gallman probably have tons of supplies but they are just sitting there useless.

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I ended the letter so abruptly I suspect I was exhausted from the day’s work and fell asleep. Many of these stories I did not remember until reading this journal and I’m so glad I thought to write these things down. Tomorrow I will finish the series with the vivid memories I still carry with me to this day. Some nearly brought me to tears of frustration and others still bring me to tears of joy, but they are all part of a experience that I encourage anyone interested in medicine to plan for themselves.

Click here to view more photos from the trip
Travel

Jamaica Medical Outreach Diary: Part One

June 13, 2011

Picture this. It’s June of 2000. I’m a geeky 20 year old pre-med Biology student at Florida State University who has never left the country without Mom and Dad, and my first trip is in a few hours. I’m headed to some of the most destitute neighborhoods in the mountains of Jamaica to do medical missionary work as a part of the International Medical Outreach program. I had never been to Jamaica, never had a Red Stripe or a jerk anything. Poor thing. I had not lived! LOL! But seriously, finding this makeshift diary in my sacred box of keepsakes this past weekend brought back so many touching memories, and has allowed me to reflect on my growth not just as a traveler, but as a woman, over the past 13 years. Though I bid farewell to my medical aspirations not long after this trip, my desire to help people in situations less fortunate than my own has not changed and reminded me why I need to plan a Heal the World trip for 2012.

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June 27, 2000
 
Okay, it’s day 4 and I have finally found time to write some things down. It has been nonstop action since we got here. I guess I’ll try to go back to day 1.
 
To my surprise I woke up in enough time to get to the airport at 7:30ish on a Saturday morning. I called Chad [the bf] at 6:30 and of course threw myself off like 20 minutes then came back to my apartment twice because I had left something but hey, it’s expected. When I first got to the airport, it felt a little strange to see everybody. International Medical Outreach is a year long thing and I haven’t been able to put 100% into everything this year or even go to the packing parties over the summer [the packing parties were when the team would get together and pack medical supplies that had been donated for our trip] So I felt kind of like a slacker and wondered if anybody had any resentment. From what I could see, however, that wasn’t the case. So that was a relief.
 
Left to Right: Shannon, Tim, Greer, Aaron and me
During our layover in Miami, Tim and Aaron left the airport to get lunch with Wayne and they almost missed the plane. Shannon and Greer were upset and actually wanted to leave their stuff and get on the plane! Since I’m mother Theresa I was appalled but they ended up making it in time.
 
The doctors on our trip: Dr. Keen and Wayne
As soon as we got to Jamaica, we went to the Mineral Bath. They had a cold one and a hot one. It was then that I realized Dr. Keen was really deep. He was like, “This trip is going to change your life” and was talking about how many lives we would touch and we would be affected by it and everything. He’s a pretty deep guy. Next we went to Lime Cay. It’s an island and we took this motor boat over there. The ride was off the chain!! Even I, Tracey Daredevil Coleman was scared! It was choppy water and the boat would just skip over the waves. 
 
Awkward phase

Lime Cay was okay. Not much to see. The water was pretty when we got back to the mainland. We all went to the bar and tried Red Stripe beer and some bammy. The bammy was good – like a fried bread type of deal. The beer made me tipsy and I didn’t like that because I couldn’t really appreciate the surroundings as we drove around the island. [Okay let’s talk about why one Red Stripe made me tipsy? I CLEARLY did not drink enough in college. Such a nerd lol…]

We went to this mall and I got roti for dinner. It was stuffed with goat. Okay I guess you can tell that food is a big part of Jamaica. And I love to eat. So I guess I’ll be high tailing it around Lake Ella when I get back! After the grocery store we went home to the hospital. 
 
On Sunday we went to the Jerk Festival in Boston. I liked it but most everybody felt that it was too chaotic. I’m used to mobs of Black people at events like Kappa Luau and parties and barbecues and stuff. You have to wait forever for food and it’s hot and all but I guess that’s really frustrating to some people. So we went to Dragon Beach.  I didn’t feel like swimming so I got a drink and relaxed. The goat I ordered was good and I had Eti-oti apple juice with dinner.The days are FULL here. Nonstop from 6 AM to 12 PM. No rest. I guess that’s how you get the most out of life.
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Check back tomorrow for the second half of this story from my 21 year old point of view. You’ll hear about my first encounter with patients, my frustration with the medical system in Jamaica and why nurses  are equally powerful in changing lives as doctors.
Travel

The Other Martha’s Vineyard

June 9, 2011

I drove an hour to New Haven, spent the night, got up at 6 AM, drove 3 hours to Cape Cod, parked the car, took a shuttle bus to a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard and didn’t see one glimpse of Martha Stewart? Where was she? And all of her rich pretentious friends? I mean surely this is the place where they all congregate, especially on a long weekend like Memorial Day weekend. I came expecting to see their cashmere cardigans perfectly tied over their svelte shoulders with Louis Vuitton special edition purses in hand, glaring at my wild afro and orange tie-dye onesie in silent objection of my intrusion into one of America’s most exclusive communities.

However, the warm comfort that greeted me as I stepped off the ferry in Oak Bluffs was so different from the exclusivity that I had expected. I’ve read about people like Henry Louis Gates, Oprah Winfrey, The Kennedys, The Clintons and my favorite first family, the Obamas, having houses on the Vineyard so I figured it was some aristocratic, country club community. Now that I’ve been there, I see why these community leaders retreat to this quaint little town. It’s like going home, no matter where you are from, because “home” everywhere has some of the same comforting qualities.

My friends and I stayed in a quiet little neighborhood within walking distance from the main strip, in a house owned by a Black woman who has lived there for years. The simple fact that a Black woman owned the house surprised me but I had no prior knowledge of the rich heritage of the Inkwell community. Apparently Oak Bluffs Beach and the beautiful Victorian houses adjacent to Ocean Park have strong links to African American heritage dating all the way back to the Revolutionary War.

The Polar Bears of Martha’s Vineyard

My friend and I took a peaceful walk through the neighborhood our first morning there and one of the first things I noticed was that the houses all had porches. I couldn’t believe how nostalgic seeing these porches would be for me, as they were a staple of architecture in my neighborhood growing up. It reminded me of afternoons running barefoot around the porch with my cousins, rocking in the rocking chairs, swinging on the banisters and exhausting ourselves into an inevitable yet reluctant naptime. As we passed these porches, the families who had already gathered with their morning papers and coffee would smile and wave as if we were their nieces who had come home for the weekend.

Even the birds on the Vineyard are welcoming. They sang little tunes every morning and followed us to the park, serenading us on the swings as we revisited our own childhood, pushing ourselves as high as we could go (before we got scared and stopped lol). When we were done they escorted us down the road to a wooden bench overlooking the fog covered bay, and brought their volume down just a notch so they wouldn’t drown out the soothing rhythm of the waves beating against the rocks below.

Once we were ready to head back, they sweetly cooed as we walked back through the neighborhood and as we headed down the bustling strip for brunch they waved goodbye, opting to stay in the quiet neighborhood and guard our homes while we were away.

We spent the remainder of the weekend doing more of what can be classified as nothing. Some rode bikes to a neighboring town called Edgartown, surpassing the level of physical exertion that I had planned for the weekend (level 0). Others laid out on the beach and met some international cuties worthy of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. (Seriously. I wanted to touch their faces to see if they were real). Some of us sprawled out on the green and had those long provocative discussions you remember from late nights at your first dorm, while others played basketball in the neighborhood lots. At nights we would link up with more friends who had also come for the weekend, inevitably engaging in some sort of freshman year tomfooloery that involved playing cards, liquor and ridiculous dares that those poor birds outside should have never had to witness.


It felt like college. Or home. Or both. There was a simplistic level of comfort that was so unexpected but welcome in ways I can’t properly articulate. Oak Bluffs reminded me of some simple comforts that I want for my children someday. Barefoot freedom. Unsolicited kindness. Swings with sand underneath to cradle tender knees that fall. (It’s beyond me how the kids at NYC playgrounds fall on that scary rubber asphalt stuff. It’s hard out here in these streets for a 5 year old.) Though my vacation home will more than likely be in the South or the Caribbean, just like our house in Oak Bluffs, it will be in a neighborhood where people smile without warning, trust without suspicion and treat everyone that walks by like family. Because family is life and the more people you can call family in the community of your life, the richer it will be.

Travel

My Martha’s Vineyard Fave Five

June 6, 2011

People have been asking me about specific places I went in Oak Bluffs to help plan potential trips of their own, so I figured I’d put together a quick and dirty list of places you MUST visit when you go. Here are my fave 5:

5. The Green
I’m not sure if this is the official name for it because when I entered it into The Google nothing came up. But it’s a sprawling area of grass and benches and gazebos and frizbees and giggling children and blankets and napping and understated happiness. Grab your blanket, the concealed libation of your choice, and a fully loaded iPod for an afternoon of unprecedented relaxation. If you’re extra hippie like myself, take your shoes off and allow your toes to be tickled by some of the prettiest and cleanest grass I’ve ever seen. It was like the grass didn’t even have dirt underneath it. Or had been run through the dishwasher or something. I wanted to dance barefoot and run through an imaginary sprinkler of purified Poland Spring water to the soundtrack of this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_rXZFSHknE

4. Smoke’n Bones
If you like onion rings you need to go to this place. No, this is not their specialty but I remember stalking everyone’s onion rings like a champ. I’d sneak up on the basket when its owners were engaged in conversation and steal a few concentric rings, positioning them on my plate as if they were part of my order and acting as if the robbery never took place. The rib basket was the special of the day and the ribs were tender and well seasoned. The cornbread chunk that came with it could feed a small family for a week in some third world country and was sweet and perfectly buttery. But of all the items I sampled, the onion rings were doing the absolute most for my tummy and I’m grateful for their brief cameo during my vacation.

3.  Biscuits
Guess what? I’m not even sending you there for the biscuits. Just keeping it real. I’m from South Carolina where we have places like Bojangles, whose biscuits are a virtual Electric Slide all up and down your tastebuds. However, this restaurant has the best grits I have had north of the Mason-Dixon line. If I were a licker of bowls I would have done it right there in my seat by the window, but my mother warned me about doing that in public so I opted for the unassuming “clean scrape” that leaves just a few grains in the bowl so it doesn’t appear licked.

 

2. Sanctuary
I wrote about the effect this store had on me last week. You could be the most pessimistic Scrooge on Earth who goes around kicking puppies in your spare time but upon walking into this store, you’re guaranteed to find at least one thing that warms your spirit. From gratitude rocks to wisdom cards, there are enough tangible expressions of positive energy in this store to last a lifetime. Or at least until your next trip to the Vineyard 🙂

1. Ben and Bills Ice Cream Shop
So, I rarely eat ice cream so I can’t really compare it to any shops in New York except the 31 flavors that I grew up on. However, this was the best ice cream to ever grace my palate. Oh. Em. Gee. Like, I didn’t want the cone to finish. I wanted it to refill itself each time I got to that coveted bottom of the cone with a fresh new “kiddie” scoop (which by the way, I wonder what size kids grow on the Vineyard b/c the scoop was massive). I sampled the lobster ice cream just to say I did it, and surprisingly, it was good. In a sweet, seafood and butter kind of way….(you gotta trust me on this one lol) I also sampled the Grape Nuts flavor which was also delightful. But when it was time to order the real deal, I always ordered the Butter Pecan which was just…sinful. If you only eat out once the entire trip, go get a sugar cone from Ben and Bills. You’ll thank me, The Universe, Ben, Bill and their families for making this unforgettable moment in your life possible.

Travel

Unexpected Inspiration in Martha’s Vineyard

May 31, 2011

It’s funny how we view the Self Help/Motivational aisle of the bookstore as the section for those hairy legged women who quote excerpts from The Secret and perform chants in those convoluted yoga poses every day at sunrise. We even parody their theories on positive thinking, resigning these types of people as flighty hippies stuck in the era of peace signs, free love and unshaven armpits.

However, as soon as our loved ones suffer hard times or tragedy, the first thing we do is run out to Target or Hallmark to grab a card with some positive words of comfort and encouragement. All of a sudden we feel the need to channel our inner Yogi, delving deep into our peaceful selves in search of the perfect words to help that person (or their bereaved family) get through their hard times. It’s so easy to wait until one of life’s alarm clocks wakes us up from the rat race of our respective lives to show our love, support and encouragement for the people in our lives, and honestly it’s understandable. We all do it. We’re busy. We’re tired. We’ll do it tomorrow. Okay, maybe this weekend. Okay I promise I’ll call on Monday. Then tomorrow comes, followed by Monday. And our good intentions of showing our appreciation for the people we love get lost somewhere between our inbox and our DVR.

When I came upon an unassuming little gift shop called Sanctuary on the strip in Oak Bluffs yesterday, I didn’t really pay it any mind. I think I saw a windchime and some potted plants in the window and wrote it off as the old cat lady store, where you go to find a nice embroidered blanket for Fifi’s bed. However, once I took a peek into the door it was like a magnet of positive energy pulled me inside, beckoning me to take a closer look at the treasures within.


Within the first few minutes I was caught in a frenzy of indecision because I wanted every single thing I saw. So many of the little signs embodied my personal mantra on life and I wanted as many reminders as my Brooklyn apartment could hold. Soon I had a massive pile of little treasures on the counter by the register, teetering on the brink of a “you break it you buy it” disaster and was almost ready to make my purchases when I started noticing gifts that would be perfect for other people. All of a sudden I switched gears, returning many of my things to the shelves and running around the store excitedly picking out gifts with tailored messages for my friends and family:

Just in time for Father’s Day, I bought my Dad this wooden stenciled piece of art that I hope will remind him of the faith that he instilled in me as a child.

For my Mom, who has the family’s green thumb, I bought these lighthearted flower signs that I hope bring a smile to her face as she waters her latest botanical creations.

My Godparents have always been an inspiration to me as a model for that cross-country, long haul everlasting love we all seek. They have a passion for each other that rivals some newlyweds and after 50 years together they still write love notes to each other. They now have a huge family of children and now grandchildren that were all like big brothers and sisters to me growing up. This sign sums up where it all began and I can’t wait to give it to them when I go home in a few weeks!

For my Aunt, who is one of the most thoughtful and giving people I know,  I bought this simple ceramic plate to remind her of how much she means to me not because of the things she does but for who she is. And for my friend who invited me on this trip, I purchased a cute sign that reads “I like to cook with wine, sometimes I put it in the food” as an early housewarming gift that I hope encourages her not to cook more, but to drink more wine because that’s what life is really all about. Wine.

When I asked the store clerk why she and her husband opened the store, her response nearly brought tears to my eyes. She had been “thinking about it” for almost 20 years and once her father passed away she decided to move forward with it. Her story encouraged me in ways she will never understand, and has motivated to continue bringing to life dreams that I have been “thinking about” for quite some time. I hope in writing this story about their lovely store and beautifully warm and welcoming smiles that I’ve done my part in spreading the love they seek to share with an even wider audience. And as outlined in the flap of this wonderful book that I bought  for myself, you don’t need a special occasion to share a message with a loved one:

“Everyday life is laced with special occasions, not just here and there, or now and then – but everywhere and all the time….Feel the sun on your face and the wind in your hair. Be thrilled with you make a new friend. Be swept away if you’ve found new love…. Roll around on the floor with the kids. Look forward to all your birthday mornings. And with every sunrise start your life anew. For it’s true: The more you love life, the more it will love you right back.”

Their items are available on their website and if you plan to hit Martha’s Vineyard this summer, definitely check them out and tell Rita that the girl with the big ‘fro who wouldn’t stop taking pictures sent you there 🙂