Greenpeace spirit

I am forever grateful to Providence for sending me straight into Greenpeace's activist embrace. My first night there at the ship, they invite me to join an action team. Put me on food. Now, I don't know Thai, and I don't know what Thai people like to eat, but that didn't stop me from keeping 10-35 people fed - Thai, American, Filipino, Indonesian. A rollickin' good time. These folks know how to have fun. There's way more time kickin' around, doing nothing, than I'm accustomed to in the United States. It's a bit hard to get used to - if I'm not doing something, aren't I simply useless? Not in Thailand; it just operates differently. And my new Filipino compatriots have tempted me with stories of beaches on their 7,000 islands. Their sense of humor is notable. I'd never been drawn to the Philippines before; now, I'm wondering how to transport myself there.

Here's a note from a blog entry I did for the Greenpeace warehouse on our first night at a protest camp in front of BLCP, a coal-fired power plant (yuck, yuck). We ended up blockading on the third day. I stayed low-profile, joining only when necessary. No need to get booted from Thailand, on top of Canada! My lovely role was spooning watermelon, boiled eggs, rice dishes, and white bread with marmelade (not all at the same time) into people's mouths as they were held immobile by heavy lockboxes. It was actually endearing, to feed nearly perfect strangers in such an intimate gesture.

I'm now at the Tsunami Center. Tomorrow I begin working in the hottest, nastiest, most dangerous construction site - on a previous swamp. Sounds fun. But honestly, the group seems phenomenal. I'm excited to be a part of something this big to help rebuild Khao Lok, the area hardest hit by the Tsunami.

BLOG ENTRY:

We were all getting settled in comfortably for the night. All but a half-dozen of us had gone back to the cabin to take a shower and change. Those of us that were left witnessed the changing of the shifts. Hundreds of men, maybe a thousand or more, started to stream out of the gates. They loaded up by the dozens into the backs of trucks, looking uncomfortable, boxed in, faces covered by another's elbos or hand. They watched us curiously, presumably they had imagined we would be gone by now.

But here we were, bellies full. We'd had a delicious spread for dinner. I started with dessert first, a monstrous portion of sticky rice and mango, which I nearly finished before the sweetness became too much. And then a wickedly spicy green bean and seafood concoction with rice. A slow burn from the chilies was warming my body from my center outwards, combatting the cool breeze that kicked up in the evening.

The sky was a mottled blue and the tiniest sliver of moon eeked its way into existence under the weight of all the ominous color. Our windmill whirred in the background, producing the energy to watch a chinese fighting movie dubbed in Thai. We ate green mangoes, fruits dusted in sugary powder, drank iced tea. And settled in for a peaceful night, relishing the protection of tents while our climbers battled the cold and brisk wind.

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