Dead People

Alright, maybe the title is a little dramatic. But the two exhibits we saw were centered on people who are dead. I wanted to see the Body Exhibit when it was in Los Angeles, but it didn’t happen. There is a lot of controversy and speculation about the people and how they died. Some believe the bodies are those of Chinese prisoners. That is refuted and it is said the bodies are unclaimed people. At any rate it was a fascinating exhibit and very educational.

It was to be another long day. We drove over to the Ferry and crossed to New York, then took a bus into the city.

The bodies are plastinized. According to a Live Science article from February 2006, the technique was created by German anatomist Gunther von Hagens. With plastination, an “embalmed body is drained of its natural fluids and injected with a polymer solution. The body is posed and then cured and hardened into position,” Those in favor of plastination see it not only as an opportunity to educate the public, but also as a “technology to be used right alongside the traditional methods of dissection taught in medical classrooms.” More information is available throughout the internet.

When I walked through the door and saw the first body I was taken aback. The first body was posed throwing a football. I was not prepared for this. Then I stopped to think about what I was seeing and realized it was posed to show the muscles in the body.

After seeing the first body and as I proceeded through the exhibit, it became increasingly interesting. There were exhibits of bone structure, muscles, and circulatory systems. They had a human heart with a by-pass valve and a knee that had been replaced and a spine with pins in it.

The exhibit included the brain and a vertical dissection of a body. There were lungs of smokers and lungs with emphysema and cancer. The body looks so fragile when viewed in small segments. It was an amazing experience to think this is how I look on the inside.

I was overwhelmed with information. There was so much that I became a little bored. But then I walked into a room that had a pregnant mother with the baby in the womb, fetuses at all stages of development. It was amazing, educational and I am fortunate to have this opportunity.

The next stop was the King Tut (Tutankhamun) Exhibit. All the years this has been around, and I had never seen it. Another thing I meant to do, but it just never happened.

The exhibit focuses on a 100 year history of the Egyption 18th Dynasty. King Tut ruled between 1341 BC – 1323 BC, A fascinating piece of history, the exhibit was organized in a timeline maze beginning with King Tut’s ancestors and ending in his death.

Discovered by Howard Carter in 1922, it is difficult to imagine what it must have been like to be one of the first people in thousands of years to enter the tomb. There was a film of people taking artifacts out of the tomb and placing them into trucks. As I watched the film, I silently wondered if maybe it would have been better undiscovered. Some things are sacred. A four minute video documents his discovery and excavation.

A few more hours of sightseeing we were off to Newark for Puerto Rican food. Another packed and long day!

I miss things like this. Going to the Getty during my last visit was so relaxing. Living in Saint Lucia has been amazing, but living without museums and amazing exhibits such as these has been difficult.

As I walked through the city I thought of the children. Imagine never being able to see the immense bones of a dinosaur recreated and standing in the middle of a hall. Imagine never being able to see masterpiece paintings or a sculpture of David. Is it a hardship to them? Maybe not.

Invisible

The temperature is well into the 90s. He wears his jacket inside out. Traces of fleece lining are seen but most of it has long ago disappeared from his weathered dirty jacket. A t-shirt hangs around his neck; he neglected to put his arms through it. It doesn’t matter because he has another t-shirt under that one. His hair is long and the matted dreads are caked with years of New York grime.

The world goes on around him oblivious to the person sitting atop an old plastic paint can. He fidgets and he inspects. He opens one of the four shopping bags that surround his paint can. He pulls out several coffee cups which he likely collected from the Starbucks trash can just outside the door. He carefully opens each container and pours left over coffee from one cup to another until he comes up with a half full container. He puts the lid back on each of the cups and returns them to his bag.

I sit on my barstool, sip my cold iced green tea and gaze out the large floor to ceiling window at a Starbucks in New York City. Van Morrison’s Bright Side of the Road plays in the background. The city is dense with buildings, cars and people.

A woman walks by with a cigarette in one hand and a cell phone in another. Another woman pushes a stroller while men in business suits hold containers of food and walk purposefully through the city.

An air-conditioning repair man parks his truck in the red and hurriedly leaves passing the man perched on the paint can. The parking patrol quickly swoops down on the air-conditioning truck left behind and gains a few dollars for the city.

Vendors move hot lunch carts about the city streets. A a city worker with a broom and dust pan sweeps a circle around him. The city hustles while the man fidgets. Here is yet another homeless person in this land of opportunity.

A familiar odor comes from the hot dog cart on one corner and on the opposite corner is an outdoor café jammed with customers eating sandwiches while intensely gazing into their IPhones and Blackberrys.

The homeless man pulls an old dirty Styrofoam container from a plastic bag, opens it and takes a bite of someones discarded lunch, then closes it and puts it back in the bag. The woman next to me finishes her latte and Panini, picks up her IPhone, throws it into her designer bag and walks out of the building and down the street.

An hour later the man sitting on the plastic paint bucket begins packing his things into his shopping bags after a final inspection. He stands up, puts on a larger dirty coat and wears it on over the dilapidated inside out fleece coat. He gathers up his bags and paint can and walks down the street and out of sight.

He never asked anyone for money or food. He fidgets. How does it come to this? Wall Street is within walking distance. The only living creatures that take notice are the pigeons who, oblivious to his dire situation, beg for a handout. There but for the grace of God, go I.

Trash

The city of New York is dense. I get that. People Density=a lot of trash. I get that. But they pick up everyday! What are they throwing away? Coming from a small island where resources are scarce, it makes me wonder. No judgment, I just wonder.

Huh?

Anyone who knows me would say, “the last place I will see Karen is behind a bar in Bartender’s school making a Long Island Iced Tea”. Will, here I am learning how to bartend! Who would have thought that during my time in Peace Corps I would have developed this skill! I wasn’t there long enough to get certified, but I do know how to make a killer Watermelon Chiller.

Resting and looking forward to another jam-packed day, we ordered in and sat on the balcony enjoying the incredible view. And, yes, there may have been some Watermelon Chillers involved.

Immigration

What must it have been like? To walk up to the tall doors and open them? When I came to Saint Lucia, I was alone but it isn’t the same. I was going home in two plus years. I had a job and purpose. What is it like for immigrants, like Kate my mother-in-law, to come to this land of opportunity? What kind of expectations do they bring? There is no ‘training’ to go through or someone to show you the ropes as you try to navigate through the doors and to a life in a new country and new culture.

Is there a contrast when they see the Statue of Liberty for the first time and five years later? Do they see the American Dream as a possibility or an illusion? There are so many questions. I wish I had taken the time to seek the answers when Kate was alive.

What is it like today, for new immigrants, possibly those from Saint Lucia coming to the United States? Since the beginning of Ellis Island, many laws have been enacted to protect immigrants from exploitation, however, quotas and 9/11 and the current depressed economy has also had an impact. I wonder what it is like to immigrate to the United States now.


We took the ferry to Ellis Island. We stood in the Great Hall, once used as the Registry Room and spoke to a Park Ranger and Historian. Imagine going through the quarantine and medical check process only to find one or two members of the family would be deported while others would find an open door.

Downstairs we looked at the exhibits depicting the people who came through those doors; the demographics, the luggage, the tired faces from days of steerage passage.


Looking at the exhibit and standing where so many first entered the United States has an impact.

Then I had a "huh?" moment: the “Barbie” exhibit. What? A Barbie Exhibit? I suppose there must have been a money exchange in there somewhere.

We sat on an outside bench watching the birds and giving our bodies a break from an incredibly awful snack that sounded like a good idea at the time. For anyone interested, I do not recommend putting big chunks of homemade Oreo Cookie Fudge on top of English Shortbread Cookies. And I certainly don't recommend that you eat the entire package of cookies. What were we thinking?

We took the ferry to see Liberty Island. What we found when we got there was that there is a four week wait to go into the statue where the museum is located. All we could do is walk around the parameter. We decided this was unacceptable and after a few minutes talking to the man who was taking tickets, the rope was lifted and we were inside.




The museum displayed the mold which was used to make her foot, and a replica of the foot and face were on display.

There were touching and emotional letters on display from those that immigrated and saw the statue for the first time.

By far, the most curious thing I saw was a poster of her. She points, saying “Make America a Better Place, Leave the Country”. It was so offensive – and then Janyn pointed out the tiny letters on the bottom left part of the poster: “Peace Corps Volunteer Campaign”. I'm still not sure how I feel about it.



We finished the day in New York City. We walked through the city and were just in time to see sunset on top of the Empire State Building.
Somehow we managed to talk the guy into giving us free 'radio guides'. We found them a little boring to use and gave them to others standing in line as we left. When we got to the elevator, the man who gave them to us asked for them back. Oops, we really should do a better job thinking things through. Dinner in Little Italy and a long walk through the city got us home by midnight.

A long, fun and tiring day, we were looking forward to a slower day in the morning; business first and then a most surprising activity!

New York

I am in Miami Airport. Anyone who knows me, understands this airport is my least favorite. (Reference The Secret of the Yellow Dots) Fortunately, my layover is only two hours and it takes an hour to get through customs and go through the ridiculous process of finding my luggage to re-check it to New York JFK, my final destination.

I have no watch and the Saint Lucia flip phone is packed away because there is little need for a non-working phone while I’m here in the United States. I can’t even pull it out to look cool. I look around for a snack to bring on the plane, but nothing is appealing. What time is it? Do I have time to stand in these insanely long lines?

I walk up to the first person I see with a watch and ask the time. She looks at me confused and says, “no English”. I reply, “Que hora es?” and she responds. It is only then I realize how ridiculous the situation is because I have no idea what she is saying in her reply.

It is July 4th and there are fireworks in the sky. It is a beautiful site landing in New York. After greeting my sister, Janyn, and gathering up my suitcase we proceeded to New Jersey. This is my first trip to New Jersey and New York. The George Washington Bridge is beautiful. It was close to midnight when we arrived at her condominium on the 23rd floor. Saint Lucia seemed like a long way away as we sat on the balcony and watched the fireworks for the next couple of hours.

Mexican Independence 200 Years

Tracy left the island and it was time to slow down a bit. Janyn and I spent slower days; we had a Banana Daquirie at Sandy Beach and went to the after school program. The last Thursday she was here was Corpus Christi day, a religious holiday.

Elvinette arranged for a large bus to take children to the Mexican Embassy. When she asked if we wanted to attend, we jumped at the idea. The Embassy had an exhibit celebrating it’s 200th anniversary of Independence from Spain.

I’ve become a night person since I retired from the corporate world in 2005. Before coming to Saint Lucia, I taught night classes. Since being here, I start my days after noon. So when Elvinette said we had to be in MoPo to meet the bus at 9:00 in the morning I knew it would be a small challenge.

The next morning Janyn and I arrived in MoPo just in time for a huge downpour. We took shelter and waited for the bus. As expected, the rain stopped as quickly as it started.

It was a happy bus ride. The children were singing songs and there was excitement in the air. For many children, opportunities to go outside the village are few and so the bus ride was high energy and just plain fun.

In less than an hour we drove past the sparkling Vigi Beach, past the airport and up a steep hill where the embassy overlooks the Castries Harbor. The Children got out of the bus and waited until everyone was ready to enter.

The Mexican Embassy is a tiny room and I wondered how long the exhibit would hold their attention.

We were in this room for a very long time. To my surprise the children enjoyed every moment.

The Mexican Ambassador was thrilled that we were there. He played with the children. They set up tables and played a game of Mexican Bingo and prizes were distributed. He showed them how to play with a top and the interaction was delightful.

The children took our camera and captured their moments.


Janyn and I were amazed at how captivated the children were at the Embassy. Confined to a small space for over two hours, they were well behaved and interested.

I thought of my own children and what it might have been like if I had taken them to this exhibit when they were young. Actually, just thinking about it gives me a headache. So lets move on.

We piled back into the bus and moved down the hill until we found a nice shady tree at the beach. We enjoyed a great picnic lunch. Of course, neither Janyn nor I thought far enough ahead to bring food, but we spotted a couple of food stands where we could buy something. Brenda would have none of that. There was plenty of food for us too. The children played American Football on the beach, collected shells and made sandcastles. The ice cream man stopped and scooped cups of cold dessert for us.


And so the day was over and it was time to pile back into the bus for the long ride home.

Janyn and I looked at each other and no words needed to be exchanged. We bid our friends a fond farewell and walked down a two mile stretch on the beach to do - well, what we do best.