My Star-crossed Day

I generally feel on top of the world.  I mean, I circumnavigated the world in 90 days, conquered the Mongolian dessert, braved the Siberian permafrost, and survived a bed bug infestation in Ukraine.  For some bizarre and inexplicable reason, this past Saturday I felt something no one should ever feel - defeat. 

It is true that worse things have happend to more amazing people, and I will attest that my group of friends had a great time and nothing went infinitely wrong.  There is no real explanation why, on Sauturday night, I anxiously counted down the minutes until midnight.  I am not a superstitious person, but I am positive that my stars and planets were not aligned on May 14th.

The day started off just fine.  It was the day after everyone's last final and we were going to celebrate by inner-tubing down this river located far south of Austin in New Braunfels.  My previous experience tubing with my friends in California led me to the logical conclusion that it would be an epic journey.  One year, we planned a tame 5 mile float in Healdsburg, but on the way to our entrance point we took a wrong turn.  We jumped into the river about 15 miles away from our end destination.  We realized how cold it was getting when the beer ran out, so we started calling out to our land-bound neighbors.  "Where's Healdsburg?" we would cry out.  In response, we received mocking laughs and sympathetic head shakes.  We realized our attempt to float to our friend's house was fruitless, so we all waded out of the water and blazed a trail through a local vineyard.  The owner saw our pathetic group of crying women and men wearing their boxers as shoes.  As Blanche would have put it, "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers."  He was our guardian angel; we would have spent hours in the cold hiking to our cars without him.  It was quite the Independence Day river trip.

This year's trip was much more regimented. We drove down to New Braunfels, rented our tubes, and jumped into a groomed river filled with hundreds of oddly shaped bodies, tattoos and personalities.  Although my bad luck started earlier in the day, it hit its peak soon after we hit the water.  Nat and I lost our group after funneling through a tube shoot that catapulted me and Nat into a wall.  In trying to catch up, we didn't realize there was a dangerous man-made 3ft waterfall.  At the fall, one of our friends got trampled by strangers, Nat bumped his head very hard, and I got assaulted.  Don't really need to get into the details, but a middle-aged man decided to take advantage of my half-drowned and mildly panicked state to make a move.  It took me a while to float over to Nat and scout for some cops, but by the time we led them to the scene and I gave an account, he had slowly creep away.  I watched this pervert escape, to live another day free to molest unsuspecting women.  

This violating episode combined with a few other scattered encounters left me afraid to even drive home at the end of the day.  A part of me seriously feared that I would get into a catastrophic car accident.  I felt generally defeated and couldn't wait for the day to just end.  Luckily for me it could have been worse.  At least I have an amazingly supportive and loving boyfriend and hysterical friends to laugh about this incident with. 

In Loving Memory of Rosa Garcia-Viteri

My Family before UCLA vs Cal football game, 2004

Robert and Rosa Viteri are some of my parent’s oldest and dearest friends.  After years of unwavering friendship, they would become my older sister's God parents.  About 24 years ago,  we were all sitting around the pool behind the Viteri home when they decided to find a nickname for the newest born, little Erica Mari.  They came up with the phrase “Qui, Qui, Qui! Erica Mari!”  Today, you may not know me by "Qui," my original nickname.  For obvious reasons, the attempt at shortening my already short name failed.  Four years later, my parents successfully tried again with my little sister, Elizabeth.  She still uses my old nickname with pride and it suits her better than it ever could have suited me.  I tell this story because last weekend, I attended the funeral of my aunt, Rosa Garcia-Viteri.  It is my deepest sentiment that when someone good passes away, we should honor that person by telling her stories and celebrating her life.

Robert Viteri and my father had competing bicycle routes when they were kids growing up in Los Angeles and often fought over the $0.35 a month clients.  They later attended the same high school and eventually reinforced their relationship while attending Pomona College.  Robert Viteri went on one blind date with Rosa Garcia and they hit it off instantly.  After four hours of conversing at a local pub, it was a given that there would be a second date.  The friend that had set them up called Rosa at work a few days later to ask when she and Robert were going out again, but apparently Robert never called her to make plans.  When speaking about that phone call, Rosa always said, “[My friend] couldn’t get off the phone fast enough!”  Robert got an upset ring minutes later asking why he never asked Rosa out again.  Robert explained that his plan was to call her on Thursday to invite her out on Friday.  It's a good thing his friend had encouraged him to call her as soon as possible, because everyone who knows Robert knows he is late to everything!  The second date only solidified what everyone believed to be love at first sight.  After that they became inseparable. 

A few months into their relationship, the unthinkable happened: Rosa found a lump in her left breast.  She was dumfounded because she was in the best shape of her life, and cancer had not run in her family at all.  She remembered the moment she realized how bad the cancer really was when her doctor’s eyes got three sizes bigger during her exam.  This fledgling relationship seemed like it would end before it even had a chance to mature.  Most cancer diagnosis like Rosa's result in less than two years of life, but this did not stop the soul mates from loving each other.  A mutual friend stated at the funeral that after she had gotten her test results, Robert had talked to him in confidence about Rosa’s diagnosis and possible grim future.  Robert never once asked if he should stay with her or even if marry her, but rather asked, “Will I be good enough for her?”  Two years later they got married and began battling the disease together.

 

Rosa Viteri fought off the cancer five separate times over the next 27 years.  I will always remember her for her fighting spirit, love of UCLA, and her ability to see the light in any dark situation.  She had the happiness and enthusiasm for life that many completely healthy individuals lack.  She won the prestigious Susan G. Komen Survivor of the Month Award and gave hope to hundreds of young women who faced similar bleak medical diagnosis by speaking at a myriad of fundraisers over the years.  After giving an inspiring speech at one particular fundraiser, one woman ran through the crowd to speak to her.  Rosa had given this young woman hope, because like Rosa, she had been diagnosed with cancer at such a young age.  Rosa was a beacon of hope and managed to touch every individual she ever came in contact with.    

Robert and Rosa were only one short month away from celebrating their 25^th wedding anniversary, and cherished every minute of their time together.  If Rosa was put on this Earth to give hope to friends and strangers alike, Robert was put on this Earth to be her rock and support her every step of the way.  I am still in awe and proud of the loving and supportive relationship they had, for surely without each other, Rosa would not have lived long enough to touch the lives of so many people.  At the funeral service, it was apparent the effect she had on all those in her life.  There were so many people that most of the chapel was standing room only.  This is because for Rosa, regardless of how well you knew her, you were her sister or her best friend.  There was no in between.  She loved everyone to her fullest capacity, and it showed.  I only hope that someday, people will say about me half of the amazing things that were said at my Tia Rosa’s funeral.  My new goal in life is to keep my aunt's memory alive by embodying her selfless and compassionate ideals. 

I know you are looking down on us and smiling, Tia.  We all love you and will never forget the impact you had on all of us. 

See you later, alligator.  In a while, crocodile.     

In Loving Memory of Rosa Garcia-Viteri

Article about my Tia Rosa: Ford Selects Three Latina Breast Cancer Survivors for National Education Awareness Campaign

Time has passed, and I am still glowing

Reactor #4 and a radiation meter

Well, not like the glowing in the dark type glowing, but Chernobyl is still kind of haunting me over a week after my visit.  Germany has been my in between country.  Ukraine, Germany, Ukraine.  I didn't really have much time to process my visit to Reactor 4, as I was with Claudia, then immediately running off the Germany.  Really, I think I have been putting off this post for much too long.  I refused to really think about it too much.  Everyone, what happened on April 26rd, 1986 should never be forgotten.  It is a perfect example of what happens when a super-power possesses technology that it does not understand nor have in complete control.  After the reactor exploded, it took the officials almost two full days to order the evacuation, and by then most residents had already been exposed to large amounts of radiation.  It is said that the amount of radiation released is about 400 times the amount of radiation released by the U.S.' atomic bomb on Hiroshima.  The Soviet's in Moscow did not even know there was a problem in their territory until the Swedish reported unusually high levels of radiation above their territory.  The Soviets were unprepared to handle an accident of this magnitude and when it happened, too proud to admit something so horrible could ever happen in the powerful USSR.  Generations to follow would suffer the consequences of this pompous pride and unwillingness to admit culpability.  To this day, the Former Soviet Union has done no studies to figure out the health effects this tragedy had on their people and those in continental Europe; 70% of the fallout is said to have landed on Belarus.  I find it unfair that hardly anyone ever talks about it to this day.  I wandered the ruins of the city of Pripyat less than two miles from the explosion site in order to help preserve its memory and spread the world.  It may now be a ghost town, but I endeavor to make sure its spirit lives on.

Tattered school books in an abandoned school

I went to an abandoned school and saw book after book for learning material for the boys and girls of Pripyat.  It was eerie to see the learning material.  Two things that were especially surprising to me: 1. They were learning English even back then.  The American children never even came close to even thinking about learning a word of Russian.  2. The children had a music room, art room, science room, and a war room... They learned about different types of warfare, important battles and other historical armament.  I found it very chilling to see an entire room devoted to war paraphernalia.

Platform Diving Boards at the public swimming pool

This platform diving board was especially interesting to me.  Did you know that this public swimming pool located in Pripyat was in use until 1996?  Actually, Reactor #1 (just around the corner from Reactor #4) was in use until 2001.  I can't believe that people still worked in the immediate area of Reactor #4, and still spent time relaxing that this pool.

Bumper Car

The city was built in 1970 to home the workers of the nuclear reactors and their families.  I am sure it must have been a lot of fun to come to this amusement park before the reactor went haywire.

The Famous Ferris Wheel

We continued our tour around the city and I found this bit of graffiti.  There were so many looters after the city was evacuated.  There is not so much graffiti littering the walls of what was once such a proud city.

Creepy Graffiti

Memorial to the Firefighters 

I feel so bad for the firefighters who were first sent in to put out the reactor's flames. Can you imagine showing up with all of your gear, putting water over the flames, only to realize that this is unlike any fire you have ever seen.  Water does nothing; the flames keep burning.  All 28 firefighters died shortly thereafter of ARS (Acute Radiation Syndrome).  The specific plan that was laid out by the officials to stop the spread of the radiation was tedious.  It involved many steps.  They started by pouring lead and sand bags (yes, sand bags) on to the gaping hole that was constantly spewing poisonous gas.  They later realized another huge problem: if the hot molten radiation lava would continue to burn down into the ground below the reactor and touch the water found there, another even larger explosion would surely follow.  To stop the follow of lava down, 600,000 "volunteers" sporting nothing more than a paint mask were ordered to dig a tunnel leading beneath the reactor.  Because they realized that one would get ARS from prolonged exposure, everyone would take 20 minute shifts.  The amount of radiation in the air was 15,000 more than the average humans yearly allotment.  After that tunnel was completed and the path leading to the water was built, it was decided that a sarcophagus would need to be built surrounding the reactor.  Radioactive solids would have to be removed from the roof first.  Robots but after only a few minutes, their computers would short circuit.  People were once again sent to the scene, only allowed to work a matter of seconds before being rushed back down.  Meanwhile, decontamination teams were sent to spray down buildings; cut down trees and bushes and bury them in concrete.  It was a sickening process, and I will admit I do not even remember ever last bit of their plan.  Many people lost their lives, or suffered for the rest of their lives.  Without them, Europe would have continued to have been plagued with this invisible enemy.


 I am still very emotional and passionate about my experience last week in Ukraine.  Although incredibly depressing and grisly, I am so glad I had the chance to see the city of Pripyat and Chernobyl.  Not only has it made me even more appreciative of my health and life in the United States, but also I feel like I am one step closer to figuring out what I should do with my life.

Keeeev!

We successfully made it to the capital of Ukraine, Kiev.  Our hostel is clean, the host is nice and the city itself is gorgeous.  I love walking around this city with Claudia.  She has a connection to this city that I will never have: her grandparents fell in love after meeting at the Kiev University many years ago.   Maybe someday I will retrace my own roots, possibly after the drug and gang wars have subsided in Mexico and Guatemala.  Until then, I will enjoy this Eastern European culture.

Kiev is a beautiful city full of elaborate churches, classic architecture and cobble stone streets.  We did a walking tour of the city and made our way past the following sites.  That night, we classed it up by going to the ballet.

Night View of the Street outside of our Hostel

Side Street View

Outside the Fortress

Classy Night at the Ballet

Entrance to Lavra Caves

The ballet tickets were purchased that morning and were under $3 each.  Men, take note that you can wine and dine your lady and live like royalty in this country.  The Lavra Caves under the cathedrals were an unbelievable site.  We purchased candles at the entrance, and made our way into the dimly lit tunnels.  There were icons, shrines, and cases that held many different remains of holy saints.  I didn't really appreciate seeing the shriveled hands although I do have great respect for the people who travel all over the world to pray there.  Claudia told me that went the Soviets came to take the saints away, the loaded trucks did not work.  As soon as the unloaded the trucks and returned the bodies to their resting places, they started up again.  That must have freaked the Soviets out, right?

What I find most interesting about this country is that it constantly reminds me why I studied International Political Economy at UC Berkeley.  My emphasis in Soviet History and Politics was not just so I could justify the incorporation of my fur hats and Soviet belt to all the themed parties I attended.  I know it can be annoying that I actually have an answer to the “Why are you studying Russian?” question.  I study Russian so I can learn more about this part of history that is often glazed over or overshadowed by other tragic events and totalitarian regimes.  History is a funny thing; it is only history if someone studies it or cares to talk about it.  To me, studying the effects of the Soviet Union on populations like those of Ukraine is extremely important.  

Famine Memorial

On a lighter note: Do not order hot chocolate at a Cafe in Ukraine.  You will get a cup of, literally hot chocolate.

Catacombs

As an American, I think it is extremely important to spend time traveling the world and studying different languages and learning about the history of different people.  The catacombs under Odessa are a perfect example of a part of history that is important never to forget.  Claudia and I were privileged enough to take a private tour from an English-speaking tour guide yesterday.

The catacombs are partially natural and partially man-made.  The Black Sea contributed to large deposits of minerals and lime stone to form under the city.  Over a million years of natural erosion left a labyrinth of cavities and caves up to 50 meters underground.  The city inhabitants realized that lime stone is a strong rock that they could use to erect buildings.  Wooden buildings here are rare, as sturdy trees were not native of the area and importing wood proved to be too expensive.  The people excavated the limestone, and what was left was a large unchartered network of walkways that if stretched would reach from Odessa to St. Petersburg, Russia.

What a beautiful bedroom

Smugglers evaded taxation by using the tunnels to get their goods from Odessa’s port to their final destination.  During the Second World War, the tunnels were used to hide the people from air raids and attacks from the Romanians who fought with Hitler to gain a piece of land from Ukraine if the Nazis succeeded in their quest for domination of Europe. 

Lenin and Stalin: the Charismatic Leaders

There are many different levels, and we only went down about 15 meters, but just thinking about what these caves were like before the times of electricity was mind boggling.  The guard keepers were on duty for no more than one hour, because after being in an area in complete silence and complete darkness, one would start to have hallucinations. 

Remnants of a woman's mirror

During the war, the women of the catacombs served as messengers and made occasional trips to the surface; they would wear makeup, not to be vain and look beautiful, but to give their skin a more natural hue.  After one week without sunlight, their skin would start to lighten, and eventually turn gray – an obvious give away to the enemies that she was from the catacombs. 

End of the Tour Museum

It was a humbling experience to learn about how people were chased underground and lived underground for two years.  

Read this book before your next flight: "The Survivors Club" by Ben Sherwood

I recently finished reading one of my train books that I brought to entertain me during my journey along the longest railway in the world.  The Survivors Club, New York Times best seller by Ben Sherwood, was enlightening, enthralling and extremely exciting.  How is that for alliteration?  The chapters attempt to answer the question “When disasters strike, who survives and who doesn’t?  Who is truly bound to be a member of the illustrious Survivors Club?”  Having a bit of what my mom called “wander lust” I figured this book would be a stellar piece of reading material to bring along just in case I get into any trouble along the way.  

Train Ride from Beijing

Since ringing in the New Year 2010, I have been on seven different flights (not including transfers and connecting flights) and still plan on taking five more before the next New Year’s kiss I receive. 

As I said earlier, I have been flying since before I can physically remember.  How is it then, than according to this book, I would be one of the first to perish if my airplane crashed?  After all, I have been on so many flights, I practically have the steward speech memorized.  Apparently, my over confidence is just my problem. 

You’re chances of dying in an airplane accident is one in sixty million.  “On average that means you could fly every day for the next 164,000 years before you would perish in a crash,” according to The Survivors Club.  In the unlikely event that you do get into an accident, there are specific precautions that can actually save your life.  For example, frequent flier status may actually work to my disadvantage – I would be one of those people who would be up all night with the thought, “I will just sleep on the plane tomorrow morning.”  I would be spacing out, as I recited in my head the safety speech.  I wouldn’t take into account where they emergency exits are, nor would I be awake during takeoff and landing, the two most critical times during a flight.  I might even go into shock if something did go wrong; after all, how many flights have I been on where nothing happened?

There are tips that this book taught me to always remember the next time I find my seat on the plane.  Never think that your life is out of your hands when flying; I know it can be easier to be a fatalist than accept the notion that not everyone perishes instantly if your plane crashes.  Always listen to the safety speech, sit within five seats of the emergency exit (during a plane crash, people only move on average five seats from where they were sitting), memorize an alternate route in case the exit is blocked, check for that silly looking life vest under your seat, never fall asleep during takeoff or landing, get moving even if the flight attendants are not capable of telling you what to do and, finally, do not panic.  My last bit of advice is to remember the chapter “Ninety Seconds to Save Your Life.”  If the plane is on fire, you have 90 seconds, rarely more, to get the heck off.

 

I will admit that I have a morbid personality, and I often describe myself as slightly obsessive, but this book was more hopefully than depressing.  There are so many amazing people in this world, who have suffered and thrived when confronted with challenges that are unfathomable to me.  As soon as I have more reliable Internet, I plan on taking the Survivors Profile test.  I will find out which of the five survivor archetypes I fit in and what my top survivor skills are. 

We are all survivors, but there are basic skills that we can learn and hone that may come into play on that fateful day when all hell breaks loose.  I highly recommend this book that has changed my outlook on life, and may just save yours. 

UPDATE:


According to my online exam:

I am a FIGHTER!

My main skills: PURPOSE, HOPE and RESILIENCE

Your Survivor Type: FIGHTER

Your Survivor IQ tells you precisely which kind you are. After analyzing your answers, it’s clear that you’re a Fighter. To deserve this description, you don’t have to punch like Muhammad Ali or refuse to surrender like John McCain. While fighters come in every size and shape, they share one critical trait: They attack adversity head on with purpose and determination. Against any odds, they’re driven to succeed and won’t stop till they achieve their goals. When you’re a Fighter, you never stop attacking. Even at your lowest, you still find a way to bounce back and counterpunch. You have a passion for life and seize every day with zest and zeal. You’ve got the willpower and determination to struggle, resist and overcome even in the face of formidable opposition. Maybe you’re courageous and brave. Maybe you’re aggressive and competitive. Maybe you’re stubborn and unyielding. No matter, you get pumped up by the heat of battle. You push yourself to be the best. You’re motivated by a sense of purpose or a calling greater than yourself. You’re here on earth for a reason that’s worth real sacrifice. You’re resilient, tenacious and often feel stronger because you’ve endured hardship in the past. When you get knocked down, you bounce back again. You’re indomitable, psychologically tough and you can endure more physical pain and suffering than most. You keep going when others have given up and you battle to the very end. Above all, you’re a Fighter. " My initial reaction was to place myself into this category.  I am proud to be a fighter, and will continue to prepare myself for the day when I need to put my survivor skills to use.  Until then, I will continue to walk the streets at night, with vigilance in mind and switch blade in hand.