Puerto Rico Jan 2018

A few weeks ago my boyfriend and I were in Puerto Rico for my cousin’s wedding. And everyone has been asking me the same questions I was asking her, prior to our going.

Is PR still there?
Can they still have a wedding?

How is the island doing?

Etc.

Hearing reports on the news is not the same as going there and talking to the people to hear their stories. We were in Puerto Rico for 4 nights. We talked to every cab and Uber driver, and every person we met along the way. And let me start by saying that everyone was incredibly nice, generous, strong, resilient, and hopeful. All qualities that I can’t imagine I would have in the same situation as them. They were all inspiring.

Flying in, you can see tons of homes covered in blue FEMA tarps where the roofs are very damaged. So you start to see the effects of the hurricanes before you even land.

As of Jan 11^th, 30-40% of the island still didn’t have power. But what the news doesn’t say, is that even the parts that have power, don’t have it consistently. The power grids become overloaded very quickly as they are repairing them. So people would get power for a few days, then off a few days, or hours, etc. So they couldn’t depend on it.

Evidently, the US government approved the rebuilding of the original infrastructure, but not improvements. So instead of making a more stable power grid, or burying the power lines, they can only put them back up the way they were, which seems counter-intuitive for the future.

The rain forest is still not open for tourism. But the wedding was in the rain forest (and yes, we got rained out of having the ceremony outdoors) and driving through the hills, you see that all the houses have no power, and all the power lines are falling down. I was actually shocked that we, in large busses, were allowed to drive through at all. The place where the wedding was, Hacienda Siesta Alegre was running on a generator. It’s a beautiful place, high upon the hill. I don’t know what it was like before the hurricanes, but the roof was so damaged (not enough for a FEMA blue tarp though) that shelter from the rain was challenging, since it was still raining on us inside.

Tourism is still up and flourishing. The cruise ships never stopped coming, which was a big blessing to PR. However, the increase in the number of ships has been a challenge for the tiny island, already crowded in the Old San Juan area. We were told that normally, there are always 3 cruise ships there. The max was 6. And the week after we left, Marti Gras there, they were expecting 12. We could not MOVE in our Uber in the area, so I can’t imagine there being 9 more ships there at once. But they’re very grateful for the business, because it’s the only thing keeping them going. One driver said that right after the hurricane, drivers would sit at the airport for sometimes 12 hours just hoping to get even one ride during the day.

Driving around the island was definitely a challenge. Almost all of the stop lights were out. So cars have to use the honor system to merge and turn. Very slow process, but they’re certainly used to it after 4 months. I will say, Uber is not welcomed there by cab drivers (understandable) and since the hotels have agreements with the cab companies, you can’t call an Uber at the hotel. You have to walk a few blocks away. And if you’re too close, the cab drivers start screaming at you. Our Uber got EGGED by a cab driver. And our driver didn’t even flinch. And, how’s this for synchronicity, when we called an Uber home maybe 6 hours later…we had the same driver.

We had a discussion with people about Puerto Rico becoming a state. They said it might have been more likely before the hurricanes. But with most of the natural resources being destroyed, it wouldn’t be financially beneficial to mainland USA for PR to be accepted as a state. So their chances lessened, just when they needed it the most. A huge percentage of pharmaceuticals and IV drips are produced in PR. And now that the plants have been damaged, the US is running extremely low on necessary supplies. Ask any hospital. And yet, our government doesn’t seem to understand the value, or basic decency of helping our territory. They think they’re doing a great job of getting things back to normal. But there will never be a return to normal. Only a new normal. And think about how YOU would feel without phone, TV, a computer, internet, or a refrigerator for 4 months or more. I don’t think anyone could work fast enough.

My hats and heart go out to you Puerto Rico. Thank you for letting me visit. 

RedCross.org

http://www.almostlikepraying.com/

Cannes Film Festival, 24 hours to get there.

Cannes Film Festival, Short Film Corner

Sat 5/14 to 5/15/16

 So a great short film I'm in, "Thank You Lisa" about end of life choices (I play the counselor/friend assisting the daughter to help her mom end her life) was accepted at the Cannes Short Film Festival's Short Film Corner in France. It's basically the biggest, most overwhelming film festival in the world, and the SFC is a tiny fest within the fest where young filmmakers (no laughing at the word "young") go and get to mingle with the higher ups. Marthe Einseth is the amazing writer/actress/producer who put together this film, along with director, Roy Arwas and his production team. And I'm really proud to be a part of it. Marthe and I decided to attend the festival together. This is her first festival. And she doesn't speak French. This is NOT my first festival, and I've been working intently on French so I won't get lost. Marthe has a great sense of direction. I do not. And she's the perfect companion/compliment to my travel tendencies. 

 I had a sense of impending doom instead of excitement as I left my NYC apartment at 7pm on Saturday, knowing I wouldn’t reach my next residence in Cannes, France until about 7pm the next day…for a 3 ½ day trip. Crazy.

  I travel a lot. And mostly on my own. But since I don’t have terribly good luck traveling in foreign countries on my own, I was a bit nervous. Or freaking out. But quietly. Inside my head.

 Leg 1: JFK to London Gatwick. No problem. Sean (my boyfriend) helped me roll my suitcase to the subway and I knew it’d be fairly easy the rest of the way. I hate overnight flights. But I am a fairly good sleeper, and I got some REM in, during the 7 hour flight.

 London Gatwick. OK. I choose this connection. I wanted English speaking, “smaller” airport. But because I booked on skypicker.com (which I’d never heard of), I had 2 different airlines. And that meant, I had to completely exit, going through customs (I have Global Entry and TSA Pre Check, but Gatwick doesn’t have that yet), getting my luggage, go back through security, and re-check in for my next flight. The airport lounge/shops/restaurants are great. I found my favorite, a revolving sushi bar. Super fast and I know I can eat there. The unique thing is that people stand around the sign that posts the gate, just like Penn Station or Port Authority. I checked my flight, and it would be another 30 minutes until the gate was posted. Really? I hadn’t changed my watch, and I’m not used to a 24 hour clock, but that was the only flight to Nice, British Airways. So I ate my sushi and then checked again. Now they’re announcing it on the loud speaker, and I can see on the board, as I run by, gate 104. Shoot. I’m at the completely wrong end of the terminal. So I giddyup. Get to gate 104 and it’s EasyJet, not British Airways. Weird. But I get in line. Dumb. Once I reach the gate person, she says I’m at the wrong place. Go find a BA person (no boards nearby). I find one, she looks it up…gate 574. Yup. That’s exactly where I was, 15 minutes ago. The exact opposite end, last gate. She says, “RUN!” So I run.

 Here’s the only lucky part. Because I checked baggage, they really didn’t want to leave without me. OR, they’d have to remove my bag from underneath for safety. So I come running. And they see me. The plane’s closed. The gate’s closed. BUT, they yell, “what’s your name?” “Kummel! 28A!” (they turn to their co-workers outside) “It’s her!” DAMN are you lucky. Open the door!”

 So that means, anyone on my plane that’s continuing to Cannes, is going to recognize me as THAT WOMAN that held their plane up and went to the wrong gate.

 I did have a whole row to myself, and did NOT burst into tears upon reaching my seat. Or throw up. But I would have, should I have missed my flight.

 The rest of the evening was mostly uneventful. Got the bus from Nice to Cannes. Got a cab to my Airbnb. Great apartment that straight up the hill from town. With a beautiful pool I’ll probably never get to use. I sat in the lovely back patio just to say I did. And I didn’t get too lost looking for a place, any place, to grab food for the evening. Martha, my filmmaking partner for this venture, joined me later on and we made a plan for Monday. 

France this Summer, sans gluten et lait.

I said, “I’m going to France!”

And everyone said, “Oh, wait til you taste the bread, the cheese, the wine!”

I said, “I can’t. I’m gluten free and dairy free. I can’t drink alcohol. And a whole bunch of other things.”

They pause for reflection, then say, “Why are you going to France?”

Good question. I had a vision of my boyfriend and me driving through the French countryside, through the gorgeous vineyards (with wine I can’t drink, and he doesn’t either), stopping at amazing places to eat along the way. I heard a rumor that things were changing and there’d be gluten free options for bread. Maybe dairy free options for cheese. But what about everything cooked in butter? Cooked in cream? I’m living on the edge. I booked the trip. 9 nights, 3 in Paris, 2 in Strasbourg, 2 in Beaune, and 2 in Annecy. Along the way, we hit Colmar, Dijon and Lyon too. THEN I did my research. I found about a dozen places in Paris that have gluten free options, or things well marked, you know the kind, destination stops for people like us, people who have to ask a million questions before we eat anything.

And oh yeah, I don’t speak French. At all.

So, add learning French to my preparation for an already lengthy preparation for this trip. I memorized the most important thing first, “Je suis allergic a gluten et lait.” I wasn’t emotionally prepared for the looks I got from every candy store worker, waiter, dining room attendant. They looked at me so sadly as if they’re thinking, “You poor girl. Why’d you come to France? There’s nothing to eat in this whole country for you.”

The good news is everyone knew what I said and they knew what it meant. The bad news is, only about ½ the waiters could actually figure out that cheese has milk in it. Butter is milk. Fried things encased in batter is gluten, and oh yeah, I can’t just peel that layer off. Occasionally I would find the nicest restaurant staff who would try their very best to make sure I could eat. But it was heartbreakingly few and far between.

The good news is, since July 1^st, 2015, (we went July 2^nd) every restaurant in France is required to have a list for the customers of all allergens in every dish. The bad news is, in about 20 meals, only 2 times was this offered to me. A waiter told me most restaurants are lazy and don’t have it yet.

The good news is, if you’re going to Paris, there are those dozen bakeries with gluten free options. But, unless you know the French schedule, everything’s always seemingly closed when you want to get there. Lunch is generally over by 2, and most places don’t reopen til 7pm for 2 to 3 hours. 3 of 5 places I bookmarked were closed when we tried to go. I was happily beside myself to find an Exki (a chain with really well marked food and several options, including the ONLY gluten free pastry I found, a tiny chocolate brownie) at the Paris airport when we flew home. So I ended up having lots of food stash in my carryon bag for the 8 hour flight back to New York City.

If you’re venturing past Paris, you’re going to have very few options depending on your food restrictions. There are plenty of macarons, but one person can only eat so many of those. And even a woman running a macaron stand (the American kind, not the French kind) told me to not eat anything there. At our 4 hotels, I had various reactions from my servers to my breakfast (breakfast is always included) requests. I had some amazing breads, but I also was brought a 1980’s rice cake. Some places had soy milk, some didn’t. No one went through the buffet telling me what I could eat safely.

If you speak French well, you might have a much better time finding food and communicating with the servers. I was told at the gorgeous, massive, candy store filled with 100% nothing I can eat, that the country’s definitely going in the direction of being more aware and creating more options. And that perhaps, in another 10 years, it will be easier for someone like me to travel in France. It was still beautiful. We still drove around. We met lovely French people every day who were only too happy to help us find our way, and then apologize for how bad their English is. Really? Lovely people. It’s all incredibly rich and yummy, and then makes me feel awful, lethargic and depressed. Not ever worth it. All my reviews of hotels and restaurants are on yelp. Many more photos are on facebook in folders of the town names. Bon voyage!

London Olympics Take 2

Everyone has been asking if (and assuming) I had an amazing time in London at the Olympics.

The Olympics said thank you, and what would I have done differently (always a dangerous question to ask me)?

And one person mentioned that I have a unique ability to compare, considering I have worked at 2 other Olympics (Athens 2004: beach volleyball) (Salt Lake City 2002: various venues).

So I’m going to try to combine all answers, in an upbeat and concise format, while completing my Olympic journal.

I’ve already said why I love the Olympics (see Olympic Diaries: Part One). Why I do this crazy thing as volunteer to work at the Olympics.

Here’s the quick, most recent answer. Working on Olympic level athletes is beyond inspiring. This time, although I did not massage many athletes at all (yes, very sad about that), I did massage one tennis player in particular. I was working on his legs and noticed an enormous scar. Enormous. I asked what had happened. He said, “Car accident when I was a kid.” Now, I’m telling you, that guy is lucky to be walking, let alone playing top level tennis. This is remarkable. And inspirational. That’s the kind of thing I see that makes me get my butt off the couch and exercise.

If you read my post: Olympic Experience: Week one, you’ll know the first week, I saw no athletes. All in all, I did not work as hard as I’d feared I would, and I did not work as much as I would have liked. I didn’t feel needed at all, which is quite surprising. I was expecting to have been massaging about 8 hours of my 11 hour shift. That is one of the things I would change. All volunteers, especially the foreign ones, have taken time off of their work and away from their loved ones to donate time, and sometimes at great expense to be there, and be used. And that didn’t happen. That’s unusual I think. And was really a lack of communication, or finding the right people to ask ahead.

I also feared I would leave England not making it to any Olympic events. And that’s what happened, except for one exception: rehearsal for the Opening Ceremony. My boss gave the staff tickets, thank goodness. I got to see the Olympic stadium, and the new area, and be at an amazing event, with 80,000 other people. Very moving. Of course, I didn’t get to see the parade of nations, since it was a rehearsal, but it was still extremely cool and I am very grateful for that. Getting tickets was just too challenging. I couldn’t get tickets for the events I wanted, which was a very commonly heard complaint.

One difference between the 3 Olympics: transportation. In London, I was given an Oyster Card, which is a transit card for their subway/trains/busses. I was TOLD that this is ONLY to be used to and from my shifts. In Salt Lake and Athens, we were told that this is part of our thank you gift, and we may use this for all public transportation while the Olympics are happening. I could not believe that they expected us to have come from another country and that they didn’t even want to cover transportation for the length of my stay.

Food: All 3 Olympics made similar choices about food. You get a voucher for lunch during your shift. Very limited choices, very limited quantities, especially for someone with a lot of food allergies. (See my blog post: Things I Don't Like To Talk about: Food Allergies) Very frustrating. But hey, I didn’t gain any weight!

What’s the Olympic day like? Briefly: I was working at the tennis event, held at Wimbledon. I work at the US Open in New York every year, so I knew this would be similar. My job is to massage the players and work with the physiotherapists. The treatment rooms are within the locker rooms. So that’s mainly where I was. It’s a big treatment room with lots of tables, and a few televisions to watch the matches or other Olympics. We hang out and wait for players to come in. Here’s the secret: In the Women’s locker room, it’s very quiet. No players hang out. They come in, they get treated, they leave. In the Men’s locker room: they come in, they stay, they sleep, they chat, they tease each other, they get massage, they eat. It’s almost always crowded and noisy, and I love it there. I mostly was working with the men.

Other than that, I spent a good part of my trip seeing friends and making new ones. I love London (and England). Love it. Great sites, great theater, great food, great people. I spent a ton of time in Borough Market and Covent Garden and walking the Thames. I spent 5 days in Amsterdam, Holland before returning to New York. I have wonderful friends there that I wanted to see, and it’s a very short flight, and much cheaper to fly back to NYC from there! I’ve posted a TON of photos on Facebook if you’re interested.

That’s the scoop! Will I do another Olympics? Probably not. But hey…you never know.

Thank you. Tamar

Olympic experience, week one

 OK. Let’s get a few things out of the way.

I’m sometimes easily disappointed. No matter how much I think, ‘don’t set yourself up with unrealistic expectations.” Or, “Whatever is supposed to happen, is what’s happening.” Or, ‘Sometimes the goals you reach, are not the goals you set.”. I’m still disappointed. 

I’m also reinventing my UK experience. I’ll explain more later.

Yesterday was a very good day. I adore my coworkers. The Physios I work with could not be any nicer or more welcoming, for which, I’m extremely grateful. My boss, Liz Nicholls, who’s in charge of the medical dept at the tennis venue (and a bunch others, but we’re lucky enough to have her with us our whole time) is sincerely one of the kindest, more generous, patient women I’ve ever met. I feel incredibly blessed to have her as my boss. She could have made my Olympic experience awful or wonderful, and she’s definitely doing her best to make it as good as possible. I got to see the first dress rehearsal of the opening ceremony last night because of her (2 physios, another massage therapist and myself) and I’ll be eternally grateful for that experience. The only thing I missed was the parade of nations. The rest was like Cirque Du Soleil on steroids and if you increased the budget by maybe 20 times.

My last Olympics, Athens 2004, I was stationed at Beach Volleyball. The way our schedules work out, I was usually the only massage therapist, and the only American on duty. My #1 memory of working there is of the first few days when the Greek medical staff would  gather about 10 feet from me, and talk in Greek all day, completely ignoring me (and not knowing I understood a little of what they said). It was a spectacularly lonely experience, and one I was scared to repeat. I know it surprises friends of mine to know that I’m incredibly shy, and I don’t easily introduce myself to others. So it took about 3 or more days to begin to make contact with the staff there. And even though in England, I was fairly certain that I would be better at 1) understanding what they were saying (still debatable to an extent) and 2) making friends. I didn’t want that to happen again. Sometimes, no matter how you attempt to convince yourself that you’ve grown up and changed, you still have old fears that creep into your psyche and doubt your abilities. My coworkers have been incredibly gracious and inclusive to me, both professionally and personally and I am very grateful for that. Plus, they’re genuinely lovely people to be around, and of course, tops at their craft and educational to be around, which is one of the perks of working the Olympics. Considering that after 4 days of work, I’ve only worked on 1 athlete, it was fun to spend several hours watching the physios practice their athletic taping skills.

That brings me to the source of bitterness, so forgive me for a short moment. I’ve worked for 4 days and massaged 1 athlete. There were no nets on the courts at Wimbledon until yesterday. When I arrived for my first day of work and found that no players had been seen yet, or probably would be seen for days, I was quietly seething. Each year, when I work at the US Open, we hit the pavement running. Our first days there are full practice days and packed with massages. I was a little nervous that I was working 9, 11ish hour days and how that much work might take a toll on my body. So having little work is definitely a blessing, but frustrating none-the-less. I’ve come a very far distance, at considerable expense, and I am clearly not needed yet. I have spent the past few days enjoying meeting my coworkers, wandering the incredibly beautiful grounds of Wimbledon, and eating too much. Again, very lucky. And yet, very frustrating. And actually incredibly exhausting for my body.

SIDE NOTE: I am shocked and horrified at the lack of accessibility for wheel chairs or mobility impaired people in this city. This metro system, although amazing and everywhere, is not ancient like New York and I think there is NO excuse for not having elevators and/or at least escalators at every station. Some of the trains have up to a foot of gap between the platform and the train, or a foot step up. Dangerous and disgraceful. And for the Olympic venues, they’ve made access nearly impossible. The walk portion of my commute is about 30 minutes because that’s as close as we could get. Last night the walk from the tube station to the Olympic Stadium was about the same, and then 3 flights of stairs to get to our seat. They just built that stadium. Where was the elevator? Was there an elevator? Unbelievable. My body is killing me these days. My knees, ankles and back are being beaten to death. But thank goodness I’m not on crutches or worse. I have no idea how I’d get around this city.

 I also said I was reinventing my England experience. The last time I was here, I was 25 years old. Major changes were happening in my life, and I took my savings to come to England and start studying massage, look at a school, see some shows, travel around, etc. As most of you know, I have no sense of direction. I’m lost almost every day of my life, in every city, GPS or not. The last time I was here, I did a fair amount of standing crying on street corners knowing, “I’m lost/I’ve missed the train/I’ve missed the store I needed/I might miss the show/I’ve missed meeting someone”. This time I was determined to NOT do that and actually ask for help (always a good rule that I’m still working on). Also, I was lonely and depressed last time, and I was afraid that would happen again. Traveling by yourself is just, simply, lonely. Anything cool, you want to share it. Anything that sucks, you wish you had someone to lean on. At 25, I wasn’t very good company for myself. These days, I hope I’ve improved. I still find myself on a lot of wrong street corners wondering where or if I've gone wrong. It took me 3 days coming home from work before I got home correctly. I even missed my town on the bus. Yes, my TOWN, not just my stop. But by the next day, I was giving other people directions. Let's hope they got where they were going.

So what’s the lesson? The experience to share? The point?

I don’t know. Ask for help. Enjoy your own company. Reinvent the experience. And get a good GPS.

All for now.