MONKEY LOVE AND MURDER Launches Today!

Can you hear that? The applause, the ululation of the crowds?

Here at Novel Adventurers we’re throwing a virtual party—it’s the launch date of MONKEY LOVE AND MURDER, the debut novel from our very own Edith McClintock.

MONKEY LOVE, published by Five Star, takes place in Suriname and follows the adventures of Peace Corps Volunteer Emma Parks. In Library Journal’s view:

“This romantic-suspense debut is perfect for those seeking adventure mixed in with their mystery. McClintock creates a vivid jungle environment, a perfect venue for a closed-room mystery. Her characters run a little larger than life, making the story feel like a reality TV show. With a bit of Scott Smith’s tone, this would work for Hilary Davidson fans too.”

And from Kirkus Review:

“This debut from McClintock, who served in the Peace Corps and worked on a monkey research project, has the ring of authenticity, along with romance and a mystery that keeps you guessing.”

Regular blog readers will remember Edith, who’s been blogging with the Novel Adventurers since November 2011, for her posts about Suriname, Spain, Miami, and Eurasia. When not blogging about her travels or crafting fiction on Suriname or Miami politics, Edith works in conservation and development.

Congratulations, Edith!
Image by balloon storyteller/Flickr.com

So, while we’re all celebrating Edith’s achievement, now’s a perfect time to take a look at the sample chapter available on her website, like her Facebook page, and certainly, order a copy of MONKEY LOVE AND MURDER from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or The Book Depository.

Congratulations, Edith!

Off The Beaten Track: Teaching in Georgia

TaChalla Ferris served in Georgia from 2009 to 2011 where she taught English to primary and secondary school students as a team teacher with Georgian counterpart (CP) teachers. Currently, she works in a public library in DC and is studying to get her master’s in library science.

When I was on the soccer team in high school, I wasn’t the MVP. I was picked to be on the team because I never stopped trying. I can be very persistent, which can be a weakness as much as a strength.

In Peace Corps, one mistake I made was comparing my school with the schools of other volunteers. Big mistake, I know. But when I listened to the other volunteers’ experiences, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was doing all that I should and could do as a Peace Corps volunteer.

So I tried some of the activities other volunteers were doing, and one (but not just one) failed completely. I thought it would be great if I bought the seniors notebooks and once a week they would get a writing topic (some I made up, some chosen from the national exam they have to take) and we would spend class time correcting their essays (if you can call one paragraph an essay).

With students in Georgia

It worked in the beginning, but after a while they just did not like it. Attendance was very low because as seniors they were spending a lot of their time with their tutors during and after school hours. This was frustrating for me because here I was (a volunteer) willing to stay after school to help them, but they chose a different path. I was a little hurt. I thought there must be something wrong with me.

Later on, I learned that some of their tutors were also their teachers during school. So the students would play during the day, but in the afternoon they would go to their teacher’s house for private lessons (lessons they should have been learning during school, not after). Also, I think there was an issue of loyalty. The students were comfortable and familiar with their teachers.

So, it could have been me or it could have been a question of respect and loyalty. I suppose I will never know. However, I did not let this stop me! I still gave writing topics to my seniors every week because even if they weren’t doing the work at least they were giving the topic some consideration. The topics I chose were topics that demanded the use of their critical thinking skills. Maybe they didn’t think about it that day or the next, but the idea was planted in the back of their minds. Or at least I like to think so….

With students and counterpart teacher in Georgia

About 85% of my time in Peace Corps, I felt like a failure. I couldn’t get my students or my counterpart (CP) teachers motivated. Even my host siblings did not seem to care. Many times, I just wanted to fling my arms up in the air, call it quits, and go home. But I didn’t. I stuck it out. During those moments of frustration I wondered why I stayed, but deep down, I knew the answer. I couldn’t quit. I was afraid to. In the villages, the schools were in poor condition with outdated resources. Teachers were poorly paid, often with little training. If there was a chance I could help even one person, I was going to take it. 

And not every day was a bad day. There were many wonderful, rewarding moments as well. Such as a getting my class of 25 fourth graders to pay attention in class and do their homework (thanks to great teamwork with my CP), convincing one of my CPs to attend a teachers’ training conference in the capital by herself (she was really glad she went, in the end), and taking the female seniors to the Peace Corps office to meet the female staff for a chance to get advice on going to a university and choosing a career (they really enjoyed it). 

In short, school drove me crazy, but it never failed to do what a school always does: educate. I learned a lot! I hope the students and teachers did too.

Off The Beaten Track: Remembering Turkmenistan

Our guest this week is Heather Keyes. Heather now lives in New York City but spent a decade living abroad. She studied international health, spent several years working in international health market research, and now works in medical research, but has remained passionate about writing throughout her career. She believes she may hold some kind of exchange-student record (having been an exchange student in the AFS, Rotary, and Lions Club programs as well as having been a US Peace Corps Volunteer) and plans to write a book (or at least complete a short story) some day. The Tolkuchka market photos were taken by the friend Heather references in this blog entry (who prefers to remain anonymous online when permitted).

From 2000 to 2001, I lived in Lebap Velyat, in the eastern part of Turkmenistan. Before and since that time I’ve lived in New Zealand, South Africa, Norway, the Czech Republic, and Germany, though now I live in my home country (the USA). I’m not a big traveler—which surprises some given my history—but going places to work or study and spending multiple months or years is quite different to planning and taking trips, which is what I define as travel (at least in the sentence “I like to travel”). 

  

Tolkuchka Camel Market

I do not like to travel. I am (very) prone to motion sickness, I do not enjoy airports, planes, or buses, and I am terrible at (in no particular order): identifying what should be seen in/at a destination city; figuring out when a good time to visit would be; driving in a relaxed manner in any setting; altering my sleep schedule significantly; finding reasonably priced transportation; finding accommodation that isn’t overpriced as well as awful; picking restaurants that aren’t overpriced as well as awful; taking pictures; sending postcards; finding souvenirs that I or anyone would ever value; packing suitcases that don’t feel loaded with cement when carrying them; and being without filter coffee (or, as we call it back where I grew up in Minnesota: “coffee”). Because of these deficits—but also because I am well aware of the many interesting places that there are to see in our world—I am a major fan of this blog and I am grateful to friends of mine that indulge me with travel pictures and updates. I genuinely admire those who travel well and enjoy it (even though I know I’ll never be among them).

Tolkuchka Carpet Market

I spent the past weekend with a friend that I know from my time in Turkmenistan. We’ve now been friends for much longer than the time we spent there and many life events have occurred over this decade-plus of friendship. Nonetheless, when together, our conversations regularly take us back to Turkmenistan and this past weekend was no exception. As I rode the train (note the omission of train travel from my list of travel dislikes and deficits above) home to New York City on Sunday night, my mind was alive with memories from that time. As the week has progressed, those memories have spurred others, which have brought back even more.

Visions of camels and carpets and silk worms and mud ovens…that feeling of sinking your teeth into that fresh warm round bread or a ripe pomegranate… images of yurts, bazaars, flamboyant fabrics, and intricate embroidery… reflections on archeological ruins and nomadic peoples and history…memories of picking cotton and desert treks and spotting constellations in sky unimpeded by lights or humidity…thoughts of village parties and former colleagues (and even one former dictator) have been dancing through my head since my visit to my friend. I can feel the sun and the dust and that crunch of the salt underfoot when walking in (parts of) the desert.

Photo by Kerri-Jo Stewart

Re-remembering a place via a weekend of storytelling with someone ‘who was there’ was such a gift. The ability of the mind to collect and tuck away events as well as people, sites, smells, sounds, and stories astounds me. The ability of a friend associated with a time and place to access all those memories makes me grateful. I’m not sure that I’ll ever make it back to Turkmenistan, and I’m not sure that I need to, but something I will take from my experience there—and my experience this past weekend—is the greatest comfort that there is to the travel-challenged: a good adventure really can last a lifetime. 

So, go out and have one (or remember one)!

Couch Surfing and Homestays

By Edith McClintock 

I realize homestays and couch surfing are not always a preferred travel option when you’re working full-time, have only a few weeks off a year, and just want to relax. Staying in a stranger’s home is certainly riskier than the local Hilton. Your host’s house or apartment or cave or yurt might not be located in the most central spot for the tourist attractions. You might have to take a local bus or train or taxi.

And of course you’ll have to interact with people who might have very different views or personalities. Who might not speak the same language. Worse, there might be crying kids or bed bugs. They might want you to eat strange things. It’s often easier when you’re young, more flexible, and maybe care more about saving money.

But still, travel should occasionally be uncomfortable, whether physically or emotionally, and staying in someone’s house (even a stranger’s), in a neighborhood that isn’t predominantly populated by other tourists, is one of the best ways to explore a culture or language. Better, it’s an adventure.

Homestays

It’s not for everyone. As my first choice, it’s usually not even for me, despite nearly eight months living with host families around the world. I experienced my first homestay when I was sixteen and lived with a Spanish family in Tarragona, Spain for six weeks. There were ups and downs: my Spanish improved and I saw much of Northeastern Spain, but it was also intense and intrusive. And unforgettable.

A homestay is required during Peace Corps training, and in some countries for the entire two years of service since being accepted into a family is not only the best way to learn the language and culture, but often a key entry into communities built around extended family connections. So when I joined Peace Corps, I lived with a middle-class Javanese (from Indonesia) and Chinese couple and their kids for three months in Suriname. I did it again nearly ten years later, this time staying with a wealthy Georgian family on the outskirts of Tbilisi through Peace Corps Response.

Homestay programs abound for students and I highly recommend them. For adults, particularly for tourists, it’s a little more problematic. In my opinion, you’ll get more from a longer-term homestay when it’s not centered around money but rather cultural exchange, or maybe English lessons, or a service to the community. Of course you also don’t want to be a burden, especially in a poor community, so there needs to be a mutual benefit.

In Peace Corps, host families receive a stipend for food and maybe heating, but they are not paid to host the Peace Corps volunteer. In some communities, a homestay is not even the best option. A Mayan community I worked with in Belize, for instance, preferred a guesthouse model for visitors, in which tourists stayed at a village guesthouse and families rotated in taking care of the visitors, including cooking, cleaning and entertaining. Many more families benefited and the village as a whole could controlled the impacts.

While I am prejudiced towards a total immersion experience over renting a room (even if it means gaining ten pounds, which always seems to happen to me), what I recommend for adult travelers not volunteering or staying to learn a language, is to try couch surfing instead.

Couch Surfing

Feast night with my Georgian family, aka every night

The idea of couch surfing sounds a little scary. Maybe only for the young and broke. Or maybe for people looking for an international hook-up. I admit I had my doubts. But my experience couch surfing in the Middle East in 2010 was amazing. And really it wasn’t so different from what I’d done years ago on a backpacking trip through Europe, where we showed up on the doorsteps of 5^th cousins twice removed type family members, or friends of friends of friends, none of whom we knew.

I was happy to learn that many hosts provided a private room, not just a couch. They took us on sightseeing trips, gave us detailed directions on where to go and how to get around, and shared a lot about their lives over long dinners. It was hard to believe at first that they didn’t expect anything in return, that there was no catch.

As just a few examples, I stayed with a yuppie computer programmer a few blocks from the beach in Tel Aviv. In Jerusalem, with a professor who also ran a leadership/dialogue NGO for Jewish, Muslim, and Christian youth. In Jordan, with a Bedouin who hosted us in his cave in for five days. Who took us on hiking trips into Petra, an overnight camping trip to the desert with a swim in an oasis surrounded by palms and camels. Who let us take showers and use the Internet at his mother’s house. During the month-long trip, we interspersed couch surfing with hostels and hotels, but it’s definitely our couch surfing hosts who stand out as highlights.

Couch surfing cave in Wadi Musa, Jordan (near Petra)

The rules are simple. You create a profile at CouchSurfing.org with your preferences for hosting, couch surfing, or just meeting for coffee. Then you either start searching for places to stay along your travel route or wait for someone to contact you if you’re hosting. There is no money exchanged for accommodations, although it’s courtesy to bring a small gift or make or buy dinner one night for your host, pay for gas if they are driving you around.

Why would anyone let strangers come into their home you might wonder? Even going so far as to trust them with a key? Seriously, one guy gave us his key.

They do it for a love of culture, to meet people from around the world. Now I’m not Pollyannaish about such things, I’m sure there are plenty of side benefits for some, but you pick your host—so you can select only families, or women, or students, or professionals, or those highly rated by similar travelers. Whatever your preference, you’re likely to find it. 

Setting up a profile is free. Then people rank each other as both host and visitor, which becomes the internal policing mechanism. Other than that, it’s up to each host to decide how long a guest can stay, what they will and won’t provide, what they prefer in a guest.

It seems to work.

For more, visit my author website and/or personal blog, A Wandering Tale. Even better, order a copy of Monkey Love & Murder on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or the Book Depository (free shipping nearly anywhere in the world).

Off the Beaten Track: Peace Corps

Edith McClintock returns as our guest this week. She’s an American writer and traveler and makes her living in the environmental field. Her first mystery, Monkey Love and Murder, is set at a spider monkey research camp in the Amazon . Her second is the first in a series about Miami politics. She blogs about her travels off the beaten track at http://awanderingtale.com/.

I’m typing this in Tusheti National Park in the Republic of Georgia, my feet perched on a wood stump in a small detached kitchen as I wait for the wood burning fire to heat up my water. I spent thirty minutes lighting the damn thing, only my caffeine addiction insisting I not give up.

Tusheti is a spectacular alpine region along the southern slopes of the Caucasus Mountains bordering Dagestan and Chechnya. I’m visiting two friends who are living here for the summer. One of them, Tony, trekked up the muddy road this morning to get a bucket of water before leaving for his hour-long walk to work. I’ve already used half of it to wash a few sweaty clothes from yesterday’s hike. I want to use the rest to wash myself, but that leaves nothing for drinking or cleaning hands post-outhouse, so I will save the bathing for another day as I have no idea where to find more water.

Tony and Seth are working at the park headquarters on an ecotourism project. Like me, they’re former Peace Corps volunteers here for three months doing a Peace Corps Response project. Tony is living in what used to be a small park museum, with empty displays and a gorgeous view of the surrounding mountains.

Unlike “normal” Peace Corps, we applied for our jobs (mine is at the Ministry of Environment in Tbilisi). The living standards and salary are the same as Peace Corps, but psychologically it’s light-years away. If we were still in Peace Corps proper, we’d be in training for another month, still learning the language and culture and living with a host family. We’d probably be in culture shock—with two more years to go.

Most Peace Corps volunteers hop on a plane with two suitcases, arrive in their hither-to-fore unknown country, and don’t even learn their assignments until the end of training when they move to their village or town or park—home for the next two years. I was fortunate enough to at least know my assignment when I left for Peace Corps in Suriname, but that jump into the unknown was definitely the scariest thing I’ve ever done.

I learned a lot during those two years. Including the many flaws of Peace Corps as an organization. The volunteers are often young and unprepared for what they’ll face: the rules and gossip endless, the misunderstandings between staff and volunteers often insurmountable. But the more I see of development work around the world, the more I respect Peace Corps volunteers. Not so much for what they do, but how they live.

Few foreigners go deeper into a culture. Because the work and pay is usually at the community level, you have to adjust your attitude to money, to shopping, to what you really need to stay sane and happy. You learn to take local transportation, to haggle over prices, and eat only local foods.

Right before I left for my original two-year Peace Corps assignment, a good friend from Brazil asked me, “Why would you choose to live in the developing world? I escaped from that and thank god every day I made it to the U.S.!”

It’s a legitimate question about why any sane person, certainly anyone over the age of twenty-one would choose near poverty for two years or to place themselves under the rather capricious patriarchal system that is Peace Corps, “the organization”.

It’s certainly not to change the world. If you join Peace Corps thinking that, even in reference to your village or school, you’re destined for disappointment. I think most Peace Corps volunteers will agree it’s more about changing yourself.

It’s better to join for simple, personal reasons. Whether it’s a love of travel, or cultural immersion, or love for teaching, or love for your counterpart. Maybe you just want to work in the development field and need to pay your dues overseas. Or maybe you want to escape the fast-paced technological world. Everyone joins for a different reason. But rarely is it as altruistic as it might seem to outsiders.

For me, I’ve done it three times now (two years in Suriname as a Peace Corps volunteer and two three-month assignments through Peace Corps Response). I’ve done it for job reasons (wanting to work overseas again) but also for love. Love of the unknown, of the adventure, of disconnecting, of the random, amazing people you meet along the way—even people from your own country you might never have met because of age or class or politics.

I love developing a new appreciation for friends and family back home. For the simple pleasure of a hot bath. For turning on a faucet that produces clean fresh water. But most relevant right now, I love the easy access that comes with visiting other Peace Corps volunteers—Tusheti being a perfect example.

I’m here in a park I’d never heard of a few months ago. I’m a tourist visiting friends. Yet because of their friendship and connections and language skills, we can wander over mountain peaks, through alpine valleys scattered with wildflowers and ancient tower fortresses, and into a remote, nomadic village and have the local policemen invite us in for a feast (a supra) today, a local festival tomorrow, and who knows what the day after.