For some 4 or 5 years i have been attempting this journey to Ecuador. i always had a great feeling about it and the pictures of tropical paradise and rows and rows of banana plants made me long. i made it. and even better, we made it, i come with my sweet Summer love.
I am staying on a farm, a 45 minute walk from a sweet little pueblo called Tumianuma in the south of Peru, close to Vilcabamba. It is the farm experience in many ways that we all might imagine.
Upon first arrival, Summer and I were shood away so that Tina could kill a chicken for lunch. Its the real deal. I started apprenticing on milking cows with my favorite farm hand, Carlos and another volunteer, Neta from Israel. Let me just say that there is something very odd and uncomfortable about pulling on a cow´s teet. But I am two days in to that. It is the first thing in the morning after feeding the chickens. And yesterday on day two, I got it. At first my competition with Carlos on the other side was going poorly, the saddest stream you could ever see was all I could get. But by day two, I could have shot Carlos´s ojos out with the pressure i was getting. Alright, a little exaggeration...but pretty good non the less. A few tips in case you are ever in a life or death milking situation, put a little milk already squeezed out on to the teet and it helps relax so that you can squeeze out more. also, it is not just squeeze motion but a squeeze and pull down motion.
In the late afternoon all of us volunteers grab long bamboo poles and chase the chickens back in to their coop.
Lately because it is a 9 day holiday here in Tumbianuma, the adorable chef sylvia is on vacation, unfortunately or fortunately for us because we have been in charge of the lunches which are the biggest meal of the day. There has been anywhere from 5 to 15 people for lunch and you usually have to make for at least an assumed 10 or so. We all sit around a large homemade wooden table with an awning outside. It has been mostly Summer, or me or Neta or any combo of the three hat have been making the lunches. We start right after breakfast our preperations. There is yucca grown on the farm amongst lettuce but as of right now most of the rest is brought in on horseback in large bulk sacks from town. First off, rice with every meal and I ean these boys pile it on, covering the whole plate. Then we make the rest up from there. I have been learning how to make cheese and bread with Neta. She is my new friend. I am sad that she will be leaving monday. Now I know, what is the point of making cheese if you don´t eat it, but the process is interesting to me and surprisingly easy. Bread...so much fun. I have followed along twice with Neta and I haope to convince her to make some with me before she goes for one last hands on. She is a pretty religious girl so last night she began her sabbath at sun down and will be on sabbath till today. So i helped her make the traditional braided bread. it turned out beautifully!
Summer really loves sitting in the lonely gardens, quietly weeding away. i usually join after our big lunch and lazy time for all. Awhile back Tina threw out some remaining seeds in to the garden that she thought were two out of date and so now about five of the rows are chaos. so we are weeding between a mix of arugula and carrots. there are also chves and garlic and more. we are going to be transplanting some more soon too.
As for the internet...Tina is very involved with Tumbianuma and she is making a internet shop by the church. However, the antenna and box up on top of one of the mountains is a project, mostly for Stephan, a french volunteer who has background in this sort of thing. it has been a lot of bus rides and parts searching but hopefully soon. the pueblo is proud of this an we can´t wait to help teach them more about the internet.
At night it is so peaceful and we all light candles and usually eat lftovers from the lunch and maybe a few other things. There is no refridgeration here so you have to eat things quickly. it is romantic cooking in candlelight in the little kitchen outside with one of those dutch doors. we laugh a lot. Tina has been away a lot on errands and births,she is also a midwife, so after all the farm hands go home it is just the volunteers left to their devices. It is Stephan, Neta, Summer, myself and Philipe, a columbian. It is a hodge podge of Spanish and english and occasional rants at the dogs for jumping at the table in hebrew.
Neta and I went down, 45 minutes in the dark with a dying flashlight to Tumbianuma for the first night of there festivities. It was all quite adorable. Little girls dressed up as a boy and girl couple dancing salsa...It was the best! The little ¨boy¨ dropped ¨his¨ hat and her hair came out...she scrambled. and the little girl dropped her tube top and she had to pull it back up and dance the rest of the time with her arms glued to her side...so precious. There was also traditional dance and some some warm sugarcane liquor to try. The walk back up was a little harder.
The dogs... There are four with all varied personalities. I have grown fond of little Tutti wh followed us down to the village and stayed by our sides the whole time. That is until fireworks went off and she ran off in the opposite direction of the farm. It wasn´t till well in to the next afternoon that she came back all wet, dirty and proud. Then there is Stoobie, who is kind of the asshole of the bunch and likes to get in everyones way and deman attention, but you gotta love him. And of course it is he who is the father of Nova´s puppies which are being born as I type. She lets me put my hands on her belly and I can feel the little pups move about. we all have a bet going on how many pups she will have. Please help me, I think siete and Summer bet seis. The last dog is Sonya who has a hurt paw right now. We have been dipping her paw in some water mixed with a local plant concoction. and last night we had to put a little sock on her and tape it up. it is so precious.
Our room is a dream. It reminds me of a treehouse that i stayed in in Dominica. We have hatch windows on the whole circumfrence practically so it is like being outside. It is all made of wood and upstair so it feels like a treehouse. We end our day cuddeling with good books.
Well hopefully by the next time you hear from me, I am an excellent gardner, bread baker and cook for multiple people. I love you all and I can´t wait to see you.
Traveling Home Each Time
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Freezing in Tilcara, Argentina
I cannot function within the perameters of cold or at least it feels this way. Summer and I are currently thawing in the ¨nice¨city of Salta, Argentina. we just came out of the freezer, known as Tilcara, an adorable pueblo of mostly indigenous people and hippies escaping their respective Argentine cities. We were passing through on our way to Bolivia, which we had heard was cold. As we got to Tilcara, just three hours south of the border however, we realized the reality of what cold really can be. Lets just say, we have a change of plans. On to Peru tomorrow and up to Ecuador where there are monkeys in the trees and sun on your back.
Okay, so I know most of us have those days or moments in life where we consider them our all time hardest times or biggest struggles. Depending on our demons, our karma or our pet peev, it could be a day sprung from a variety of sources. I consider myself a pretty tuff bird most of the time and pretty resiliant. After all, i actually enjoy the the more difficult of paths for almost any situation. I rejoice in hardship and doing things from scratch. I am an odd bird like that. but maybe the truest thing that holds me back on the physical realm is the cold. I met my match and i think i can speak for summer too when she says she too met hers.
Now one of the reasons I trave, is to see what the world is really like or gain a closer proximity to the truth. In the west we have restaraunts, charge cards, Wal-Marts, electricity and warm showers to always fall back on. Travelling gives you the real face of what people can go through each day just to survive, not even to have a nice time, but just survive.
We knew as soon as we rolled in to town, after dark, that it was cold from that moment but the following day proved to run us through the gauntlet of challenges within the blistering weather.
Let me start by saying that they most common phrase in the three days of Tilcara was, ¨que frio!¨ It seemed to bond the most odd combination of strangers to one another, the fact that if nothing else held true, not a one of us could feel our toes.
So the day after we arrived, the first thing we had to figure out was laundry. We hadn´t done it in a while and we were down to the bones of clothes. I know, not the time for this is what you are thinking and you are right. However, Erika, our hostal hostess said to just take it up the street and drop it off. it will only take three hours. so summer, being my little hero, combined the most perculiar arrangement of clothes to make herelf a suit to ward off the cold while delivering laundry. i have the picture to prove the get up. she rushed off and turns out that, big surprise, it would not be ready till the following night at 8 p.m. She dropped it off. we had no other real option. she then went out to find me some pants while i curled under a sleeping bag, two blankets and a comforter, in what came to be known as the dungeon. now in some parts of the world when it is 9 degrees below celsius, you would have some sort of retreat. but as you can imagine, this was not the case. summer came back with some pants for both of us and some veggies so i could make up a soup. and i did and we got along for the day between hiding under the pile of bedding and taking what turned out to be an actual hot shower. the kind of hot that when your digits are so numb and the hot water hits them, they burn.
we made it through the day barely and even managed to go out that night in what looked like pajamas. we even laughed at a hippie clown and swayed to some indigenous rhythms all in the freezing cold. it was the next day that blew it out of the water for me.
we decided that if we are going to make it in bolivia we must go seek out some hearty clothing. i hope you are not too sensitive because I have to be graphic, the story calls for it. I began to dress in the only few things I had when I felt a drip as Summer went to tease me and I laughed. I am not prone to peeing in my pants but I did have to go so I went to the bathroon and discovered that I had just bled through my only pair of underwear and long underwear. So here I was, bloody and frozen and with no warm place to go and no clean laundry to solve my problems. still in our pajama-like get ups and yes, me in my bloody underwear, we shivered our way around the sweet plaza where brown skin and pink cheeks, snotty noses and bundles of clothing were everywhere you looked. With only one pair of gloves between the two of us, we sifted through used cloths piles. This was right of the plaza, behind the touristy parts, where the locals go. This is where every middle class American´s old boxes of clothes from 1982 come. And we were elbow deep. I found a sweater, we found some socks and i found some corny but NEW underwear. We decided to stop at the a.t.m to get some more funds to get the other things we needed. We stood in a line, in a tunnel, where the wind swept just so that you felt like you just might die. We waited only to find that the persons just before us took out the last money in the whole pueblo...and it was saturday. in our icy palms, all we had was less than what it would take to even get our laundry. the clean underwear set us over the top. and we had groceries but also that morning, we woke to hammering. the kitchen was being taken apart so we had no way of cooking.
so let me remind you of what we did and didn´t have: no food, no clothes, no money. but i did have blood and summer at this point, did have a cold.
we went back, almost in tears, which probably would have frozen half way down our cheeks. i was able to shower and it was hot...a god save. we moped and thought about how to use our last pennies, to eat or be warm...to be or not to be. we were just shy 6 pesos so i thought we could maybe use the extra U.S. dollar that i had left to get our cloths out. summer didn´t seem to think so and this still didn´t solve our problem that we had nothing to eat. finally we decided to use the last of it to go eat. the veggie restraunt was right next door...one convenience. however, they were out of water. summer decided to truck back to the bank to see if money had come and it had! we were saved, even if we still had another 5 hours in our pajamas.
i sit and write this now from a hostel where there is little gas heaters. I can feel my toes again and I sat in the plaza yesterday for two hours during siesta moving each time the sunbeams did, chasing the sunshine. I found that i don´t really function so well in extreme feezing weather. but always in the back of my head, i knew there was a safe haven. i have the comfort of knowing that i can change my situation.
i think about all those earth tone, round faced Argentine natives that I froze my toes with in the waiting room at the bus station the following day. Even if we did wait from 7:30 a.m. till 5 in the afternoon in the same kind of temperatures, I found reprieve. I travel to get closer to what its like to not have a way out. to get closer to the faces of those that can´t travel to see the other side. they are too busy surviving in the cold, with no money, and no food.
i dedicate this little blog to those that are freezing at this moment. I wish them their next lifetime full of hot tubs and warm sunshine.
Okay, so I know most of us have those days or moments in life where we consider them our all time hardest times or biggest struggles. Depending on our demons, our karma or our pet peev, it could be a day sprung from a variety of sources. I consider myself a pretty tuff bird most of the time and pretty resiliant. After all, i actually enjoy the the more difficult of paths for almost any situation. I rejoice in hardship and doing things from scratch. I am an odd bird like that. but maybe the truest thing that holds me back on the physical realm is the cold. I met my match and i think i can speak for summer too when she says she too met hers.
Now one of the reasons I trave, is to see what the world is really like or gain a closer proximity to the truth. In the west we have restaraunts, charge cards, Wal-Marts, electricity and warm showers to always fall back on. Travelling gives you the real face of what people can go through each day just to survive, not even to have a nice time, but just survive.
We knew as soon as we rolled in to town, after dark, that it was cold from that moment but the following day proved to run us through the gauntlet of challenges within the blistering weather.
Let me start by saying that they most common phrase in the three days of Tilcara was, ¨que frio!¨ It seemed to bond the most odd combination of strangers to one another, the fact that if nothing else held true, not a one of us could feel our toes.
So the day after we arrived, the first thing we had to figure out was laundry. We hadn´t done it in a while and we were down to the bones of clothes. I know, not the time for this is what you are thinking and you are right. However, Erika, our hostal hostess said to just take it up the street and drop it off. it will only take three hours. so summer, being my little hero, combined the most perculiar arrangement of clothes to make herelf a suit to ward off the cold while delivering laundry. i have the picture to prove the get up. she rushed off and turns out that, big surprise, it would not be ready till the following night at 8 p.m. She dropped it off. we had no other real option. she then went out to find me some pants while i curled under a sleeping bag, two blankets and a comforter, in what came to be known as the dungeon. now in some parts of the world when it is 9 degrees below celsius, you would have some sort of retreat. but as you can imagine, this was not the case. summer came back with some pants for both of us and some veggies so i could make up a soup. and i did and we got along for the day between hiding under the pile of bedding and taking what turned out to be an actual hot shower. the kind of hot that when your digits are so numb and the hot water hits them, they burn.
we made it through the day barely and even managed to go out that night in what looked like pajamas. we even laughed at a hippie clown and swayed to some indigenous rhythms all in the freezing cold. it was the next day that blew it out of the water for me.
we decided that if we are going to make it in bolivia we must go seek out some hearty clothing. i hope you are not too sensitive because I have to be graphic, the story calls for it. I began to dress in the only few things I had when I felt a drip as Summer went to tease me and I laughed. I am not prone to peeing in my pants but I did have to go so I went to the bathroon and discovered that I had just bled through my only pair of underwear and long underwear. So here I was, bloody and frozen and with no warm place to go and no clean laundry to solve my problems. still in our pajama-like get ups and yes, me in my bloody underwear, we shivered our way around the sweet plaza where brown skin and pink cheeks, snotty noses and bundles of clothing were everywhere you looked. With only one pair of gloves between the two of us, we sifted through used cloths piles. This was right of the plaza, behind the touristy parts, where the locals go. This is where every middle class American´s old boxes of clothes from 1982 come. And we were elbow deep. I found a sweater, we found some socks and i found some corny but NEW underwear. We decided to stop at the a.t.m to get some more funds to get the other things we needed. We stood in a line, in a tunnel, where the wind swept just so that you felt like you just might die. We waited only to find that the persons just before us took out the last money in the whole pueblo...and it was saturday. in our icy palms, all we had was less than what it would take to even get our laundry. the clean underwear set us over the top. and we had groceries but also that morning, we woke to hammering. the kitchen was being taken apart so we had no way of cooking.
so let me remind you of what we did and didn´t have: no food, no clothes, no money. but i did have blood and summer at this point, did have a cold.
we went back, almost in tears, which probably would have frozen half way down our cheeks. i was able to shower and it was hot...a god save. we moped and thought about how to use our last pennies, to eat or be warm...to be or not to be. we were just shy 6 pesos so i thought we could maybe use the extra U.S. dollar that i had left to get our cloths out. summer didn´t seem to think so and this still didn´t solve our problem that we had nothing to eat. finally we decided to use the last of it to go eat. the veggie restraunt was right next door...one convenience. however, they were out of water. summer decided to truck back to the bank to see if money had come and it had! we were saved, even if we still had another 5 hours in our pajamas.
i sit and write this now from a hostel where there is little gas heaters. I can feel my toes again and I sat in the plaza yesterday for two hours during siesta moving each time the sunbeams did, chasing the sunshine. I found that i don´t really function so well in extreme feezing weather. but always in the back of my head, i knew there was a safe haven. i have the comfort of knowing that i can change my situation.
i think about all those earth tone, round faced Argentine natives that I froze my toes with in the waiting room at the bus station the following day. Even if we did wait from 7:30 a.m. till 5 in the afternoon in the same kind of temperatures, I found reprieve. I travel to get closer to what its like to not have a way out. to get closer to the faces of those that can´t travel to see the other side. they are too busy surviving in the cold, with no money, and no food.
i dedicate this little blog to those that are freezing at this moment. I wish them their next lifetime full of hot tubs and warm sunshine.
Friday, July 16, 2010
The Great Race through Argentina
Thats exactly what it has felt like. We never know when it is Monday or Friday, what city we are in or where we just came from. I think I last wrote you all in Cordoba. Since then we have traveled to Rosario, Buenos Aires, the Iguaza Falls and we are currently in the north western tip of Argentina in a town called...hold on let me check...Tilcara.
All of this rush in the anticipation of Bolivia. Living in the moment has neve been my strong suit. I tend to always see the future. In fairness, I am not a big dweller in the past but i am always looking for the next golden nugget that the future promises. However, we have managed to enjoy our time but we have had some things working against us. It is the middle of inter break in Argentina right now so all the spots are spilling with persons and the World Cup was going on so things were shut down.
Buenos Aires was filled with rain and tantrums in the showers, snobby and unhappy Argentines. The city was vast and stuffy with no room to breath. However the odds and end markets were like walking in to the turn of the century shops that were just a little dusty. I took advantage of the grey day and walked amidst giant tombs where Evita , herself was buried. The monuments also out did almost any others that I have seen. okay, except for maybe Paris.
Rosario was like a dream come true in a few ways. There is a great river running through the city that is wide as the day is long with marshes amidst. So all the museums and parks were along the little boardwalk thing along the river wich was sweet. And the Chinese love Rosario and Rosario has vegetarians so the Chinese open up little veggie resaurants with fake meat galore... The down side, all the art that everyone raved about was not for our eyes due to the holiday and Indepence day. So it was a lot of walking across the city from one part to the next only to find closed doors.
Iguazu Falls, after the 17 hour bus ride to get there, blew us away. There must not be such a mass of cascades anywhere in the world. The first steps in to the majestic beauty was breath taking. There were droves of people but the power was so great it was as though that drowned out the masses. I wish i could say my camera did it justice but i could only be so lucky. the beauty even had me daydreaming of my camera slipping down in to the white mist below me. all i could think of was how beautiful the death of that object...
and now, i sit typing after a thirty hour continual journey on buses in my new dorky pants with my woolen socks on. this place of Tilcara is precious and small. this area of argentina is all the natives with rounder browner faces and lots of bow legs and smiles. it snowed on the way up so we are gaining more closes for it is 20 degrees below celcius in bolivia which we shall pass in to two or three days.
just a little brief synopsis of the past 10 days or so. i will write again later when i dont have soup going and people waiting on the only computer. excuse all my messy errors. i havent the time for revising. love you all...
All of this rush in the anticipation of Bolivia. Living in the moment has neve been my strong suit. I tend to always see the future. In fairness, I am not a big dweller in the past but i am always looking for the next golden nugget that the future promises. However, we have managed to enjoy our time but we have had some things working against us. It is the middle of inter break in Argentina right now so all the spots are spilling with persons and the World Cup was going on so things were shut down.
Buenos Aires was filled with rain and tantrums in the showers, snobby and unhappy Argentines. The city was vast and stuffy with no room to breath. However the odds and end markets were like walking in to the turn of the century shops that were just a little dusty. I took advantage of the grey day and walked amidst giant tombs where Evita , herself was buried. The monuments also out did almost any others that I have seen. okay, except for maybe Paris.
Rosario was like a dream come true in a few ways. There is a great river running through the city that is wide as the day is long with marshes amidst. So all the museums and parks were along the little boardwalk thing along the river wich was sweet. And the Chinese love Rosario and Rosario has vegetarians so the Chinese open up little veggie resaurants with fake meat galore... The down side, all the art that everyone raved about was not for our eyes due to the holiday and Indepence day. So it was a lot of walking across the city from one part to the next only to find closed doors.
Iguazu Falls, after the 17 hour bus ride to get there, blew us away. There must not be such a mass of cascades anywhere in the world. The first steps in to the majestic beauty was breath taking. There were droves of people but the power was so great it was as though that drowned out the masses. I wish i could say my camera did it justice but i could only be so lucky. the beauty even had me daydreaming of my camera slipping down in to the white mist below me. all i could think of was how beautiful the death of that object...
and now, i sit typing after a thirty hour continual journey on buses in my new dorky pants with my woolen socks on. this place of Tilcara is precious and small. this area of argentina is all the natives with rounder browner faces and lots of bow legs and smiles. it snowed on the way up so we are gaining more closes for it is 20 degrees below celcius in bolivia which we shall pass in to two or three days.
just a little brief synopsis of the past 10 days or so. i will write again later when i dont have soup going and people waiting on the only computer. excuse all my messy errors. i havent the time for revising. love you all...
Monday, July 5, 2010
I didn´t know this trip too i would swim in so much silence
but i do now.
today, again, i have told my love, no mas engles! originally inspired by our friends that we met in Pisco Elqui, Charles and Latia. But we easily let it fall to the wayside due to the clambor for expression and the need for things to get done to make the next destination. but today, i know my position holds more weight. we will only spean in spanish we will. you have all witnessed my affirmation and can hold me to it.
summer picked up a book a few days ago in spanish about hitler. there are many theories that hitler never burned in to ashes but instead, fled to argentina like many of the other nazi generals, etc... the book she found was of exactly this subject. she decided today to tackle it, to translate. she speaks well but reading is a whole other story ( no pun intended). i bought my first South American literary works, a book of short stories by a nobel prize winning author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. as we sat down at a cafe for mate´and cafe´, i snuggled in to my exciting first short story. i eyed summer occassionaly from my periphial vision and admired her for taking on the struggle with translator in hand, all the way. if she could climb the next level, so could i.
but damn, how i lapped up my book in english, thinking each moment that i didn´t have to talk, i could just enjoy the journey of words. the more i sank my teeth in to the new book, the more i dreaded the next conversation. i felt sorry for those struggling toddlers taking their first steps and the little babies trying to just say what they want and it all comes out in a cry. and we as adults find it annoying to hear ¨that baby screaming behind me in the airplane¨. you know what, a big bird to those adults without patience. coming from an adult who has regressed to infancy, please, a call for patience.
the difference that compounds the feeling of infancy is that oh so adult sence of pride. yes, i am prideful like the next one. it is the reason, i sit in silence even when i understand the words coming at me. ¨what if i säy the wrong word?¨; what if i say the right word incorrectly?¨ these voices,in english,run through my head. at least as that child no one has made you feel stupid for saying or doing the wrong thing. at least as that child you haven´t felt the reality of utter sensitivity.
but maybe i digress too much. perhaps i linger on this computer with you all so that i don´t have to face the music when the earbugs are pulled from my lobes and the conversation goes on in the language i don´t know but so hunger to grasp.
i just had a random thought.always, even as a poet, i feel somewhat contrived in speaking lyrically with imagery too flowery or just too poetic. but perhaps it is the only serious space that i can express wonderment in the mundane. possible´, yes. as a matter of fact it is the space that i can just truly reveal those minor epiphanies opened in my daily life. i wish we could all walk around and converse as though we were in a shakespearean play or in a sharon olds poem. but maybe we can´t handle the consistancy of depth and the splattering of human raw guts with each word said.
pero, again i transgress. i long so hard to speak with all the flora and fauna of a blog or a poem just in common every day. but now as a prideful infant, i am left with nothing but crib talk.
my lovely summer calls, "listo", time for dinner. wish me luck in the conversations over food. thank god she has the patiance to hear me out in my stammers and calm me in my frustrations. i will try not to slip in to silence...
today, again, i have told my love, no mas engles! originally inspired by our friends that we met in Pisco Elqui, Charles and Latia. But we easily let it fall to the wayside due to the clambor for expression and the need for things to get done to make the next destination. but today, i know my position holds more weight. we will only spean in spanish we will. you have all witnessed my affirmation and can hold me to it.
summer picked up a book a few days ago in spanish about hitler. there are many theories that hitler never burned in to ashes but instead, fled to argentina like many of the other nazi generals, etc... the book she found was of exactly this subject. she decided today to tackle it, to translate. she speaks well but reading is a whole other story ( no pun intended). i bought my first South American literary works, a book of short stories by a nobel prize winning author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. as we sat down at a cafe for mate´and cafe´, i snuggled in to my exciting first short story. i eyed summer occassionaly from my periphial vision and admired her for taking on the struggle with translator in hand, all the way. if she could climb the next level, so could i.
but damn, how i lapped up my book in english, thinking each moment that i didn´t have to talk, i could just enjoy the journey of words. the more i sank my teeth in to the new book, the more i dreaded the next conversation. i felt sorry for those struggling toddlers taking their first steps and the little babies trying to just say what they want and it all comes out in a cry. and we as adults find it annoying to hear ¨that baby screaming behind me in the airplane¨. you know what, a big bird to those adults without patience. coming from an adult who has regressed to infancy, please, a call for patience.
the difference that compounds the feeling of infancy is that oh so adult sence of pride. yes, i am prideful like the next one. it is the reason, i sit in silence even when i understand the words coming at me. ¨what if i säy the wrong word?¨; what if i say the right word incorrectly?¨ these voices,in english,run through my head. at least as that child no one has made you feel stupid for saying or doing the wrong thing. at least as that child you haven´t felt the reality of utter sensitivity.
but maybe i digress too much. perhaps i linger on this computer with you all so that i don´t have to face the music when the earbugs are pulled from my lobes and the conversation goes on in the language i don´t know but so hunger to grasp.
i just had a random thought.always, even as a poet, i feel somewhat contrived in speaking lyrically with imagery too flowery or just too poetic. but perhaps it is the only serious space that i can express wonderment in the mundane. possible´, yes. as a matter of fact it is the space that i can just truly reveal those minor epiphanies opened in my daily life. i wish we could all walk around and converse as though we were in a shakespearean play or in a sharon olds poem. but maybe we can´t handle the consistancy of depth and the splattering of human raw guts with each word said.
pero, again i transgress. i long so hard to speak with all the flora and fauna of a blog or a poem just in common every day. but now as a prideful infant, i am left with nothing but crib talk.
my lovely summer calls, "listo", time for dinner. wish me luck in the conversations over food. thank god she has the patiance to hear me out in my stammers and calm me in my frustrations. i will try not to slip in to silence...
Saturday, July 3, 2010
i waited long for this computer for words that weren´t said
Today, after a huge German massacre on the Argentines in the World Cup, the streets grew barren. Summer saw grown men cry and all the shops, museums, restaurants closed. the city at 2 in the afternoon was 10 times more quiet than it was at 7:30 this morning as we first rolled out of the bus. the city mourns and so we too lost our life as tourists and gained our life as waxers.
in fits of hunger, lack of sleep and agitation, we bickered over the map in search of the one veggie restaurant known. our only meal thus far, four crackers and a 1" by 2" countainer of marmelade. our only sleep, bits between descending and winding through the mountains (i think) on a double decker bus with lights of passing cars flashing through the fogged up window panes. we never found the restaurant but as fate has it, we did find an unbelievable "Arab" cafe, which the old german highly recommended. we sat around nibbles of hummus ( at this point, an anomoly...a gift from the gods), tomato and cucumber salads, etc... This is where at the sight of food and a smidge of comfort, our shoulders fell and the muscles in our face let go. we began engaging. we began a conversation. it could really be any, but of course it wasn´t just any, because they never are on the road. they are strong, unforgettable in their essence, and passionate beyond the loops of home.
this started me thinking. we failed multiple times to find anything to "do" with our day due to the depressed Argentine football lovers. the gates locked and closed, we were alone amidst the ghosts. our words, our banter, our verbal display crashindoed through the vacant streets. two sides of the same coin, we tossed our solid opinions back and forth between ears and tongues. at some point, our destination was really a distraction. we were in the voyage; in the jungle of discovery; batting at the other and then retracting and sitting silent in the next street unfound, map to nose, thoughts simmering.
words: maybe the most valuable. our voice: unretractable.
after waiting for hours to get this computer in my hands, to spill my "profundities" on words and engagemant, i was interupted. a young British man started me in chatter that lead to depth. the kind of talk that you both somehow reach an end, only out of the sort of need for analytical meditation.
back to the computer. words...all that is said and wrestled with in verbal atmosphere amongst the vagabonds, locals, intellects, common woman and more. but this leads me to the negative space, what about those words unsaid?
those of faith, speechless at the gates of disbelief, the words tucked under their tongues and in their diaries; the lovers sweeping their frustrations of self identity below sweet words; politicians leaving their reality of self for the luxuries of plastic.
it is these words that come from the darkness, the mildewy crevices of our haphazard path that come up when put on the edge. as long as the gypsy spirit can tamper with our wires, we can whip these words from their isolation and throw them in the mix.
keep talking from the bottom up and from the inside out.
in fits of hunger, lack of sleep and agitation, we bickered over the map in search of the one veggie restaurant known. our only meal thus far, four crackers and a 1" by 2" countainer of marmelade. our only sleep, bits between descending and winding through the mountains (i think) on a double decker bus with lights of passing cars flashing through the fogged up window panes. we never found the restaurant but as fate has it, we did find an unbelievable "Arab" cafe, which the old german highly recommended. we sat around nibbles of hummus ( at this point, an anomoly...a gift from the gods), tomato and cucumber salads, etc... This is where at the sight of food and a smidge of comfort, our shoulders fell and the muscles in our face let go. we began engaging. we began a conversation. it could really be any, but of course it wasn´t just any, because they never are on the road. they are strong, unforgettable in their essence, and passionate beyond the loops of home.
this started me thinking. we failed multiple times to find anything to "do" with our day due to the depressed Argentine football lovers. the gates locked and closed, we were alone amidst the ghosts. our words, our banter, our verbal display crashindoed through the vacant streets. two sides of the same coin, we tossed our solid opinions back and forth between ears and tongues. at some point, our destination was really a distraction. we were in the voyage; in the jungle of discovery; batting at the other and then retracting and sitting silent in the next street unfound, map to nose, thoughts simmering.
words: maybe the most valuable. our voice: unretractable.
after waiting for hours to get this computer in my hands, to spill my "profundities" on words and engagemant, i was interupted. a young British man started me in chatter that lead to depth. the kind of talk that you both somehow reach an end, only out of the sort of need for analytical meditation.
back to the computer. words...all that is said and wrestled with in verbal atmosphere amongst the vagabonds, locals, intellects, common woman and more. but this leads me to the negative space, what about those words unsaid?
those of faith, speechless at the gates of disbelief, the words tucked under their tongues and in their diaries; the lovers sweeping their frustrations of self identity below sweet words; politicians leaving their reality of self for the luxuries of plastic.
it is these words that come from the darkness, the mildewy crevices of our haphazard path that come up when put on the edge. as long as the gypsy spirit can tamper with our wires, we can whip these words from their isolation and throw them in the mix.
keep talking from the bottom up and from the inside out.
One thing i know anytime something frustrating as shit happens is that i will learn something out of it. well multiply that times 20, when something frustrating as shit occurs in a country in which you are foreign to. not because it is a foreign country, thats where most of us go wrong, especially as americans. we are use to getting what we want with a snap of the finger and if that doesn't happen and we bitch loud enough, it should come. the real problem is being foreign to another's sytem. now most of losing my debit card was all on the process of the monopolies of the united states, in this case the huge monster of \bank of America. I spent 10 hours total on line with them and visa and my mom spent about another 3 hours on my behalf. that is a lot of internet fees and sheer pain and heartache...it could all seem lost but nothing ever is.
The story is long and bueracratic, that is all you really need to know. Most of the time spent listening to the same song loop again and again and being transfered to yet another person. But in the end there was some resolve. We must go to Santiago again, we had to anyways, and pick up the card at the designated DHL VERIFIED local. in a race against the clock, after finding out that the pass was open to argentina through the andes, we ran to get the card and make it back to the hostel for our stuff, to the bank exchange, and on to the bus.
1143 Cathadral Calle...easy right. nope, never is. there was no 1143 Cathadral, the address that apparently had to be verified in order to even print the new card. it was some ornate building with locked doors. so we, through more fits and rigging managed to confirm with a DHL location that apparently isn't a DHL location at 1043 Cathadral that our package is in fact in Santiago at the real DHL on calle San Francisco. he told us, only 500 pesos for a taxi there. we get in the nearest taxi and continue to sit in traffic for 15 or 20 minutes before making it out of the traffic and on to our destination. This 1 dollar ride cost 10 dollars. we arrive, the lady was a raving bitch...but...ahhhhhhhh! we now have a new card. we made it through the rest of the gauntlet in to the bus and on through the peace restoring Andes.
Like i said at the beginning, nothing is lost. i learned that your partner is more frustrating and so are you to them in times of stress. i also was reminded that in the end, it could be worse. i will never deal with bank of america again, except to withdrawl my money from their clutch. and that bullshit happens, and in our minds its larger than life, but in reality the sun is still shining and your partner still is the most perfect one to wake up next to. patience...patience...patience...
I am done with the ranting, i swear, i know that is two blogs in a row but thats because thats how long it lasted. now i am back under the good sky and in a new country with a new flavor. coming up...Argentina! we will see what its like when i walk back in to the streets and see all the depressed fans after their loss to germany in the world cup. it could be a problem considering every argentine is a fan. wish me luck! love you all...
The story is long and bueracratic, that is all you really need to know. Most of the time spent listening to the same song loop again and again and being transfered to yet another person. But in the end there was some resolve. We must go to Santiago again, we had to anyways, and pick up the card at the designated DHL VERIFIED local. in a race against the clock, after finding out that the pass was open to argentina through the andes, we ran to get the card and make it back to the hostel for our stuff, to the bank exchange, and on to the bus.
1143 Cathadral Calle...easy right. nope, never is. there was no 1143 Cathadral, the address that apparently had to be verified in order to even print the new card. it was some ornate building with locked doors. so we, through more fits and rigging managed to confirm with a DHL location that apparently isn't a DHL location at 1043 Cathadral that our package is in fact in Santiago at the real DHL on calle San Francisco. he told us, only 500 pesos for a taxi there. we get in the nearest taxi and continue to sit in traffic for 15 or 20 minutes before making it out of the traffic and on to our destination. This 1 dollar ride cost 10 dollars. we arrive, the lady was a raving bitch...but...ahhhhhhhh! we now have a new card. we made it through the rest of the gauntlet in to the bus and on through the peace restoring Andes.
Like i said at the beginning, nothing is lost. i learned that your partner is more frustrating and so are you to them in times of stress. i also was reminded that in the end, it could be worse. i will never deal with bank of america again, except to withdrawl my money from their clutch. and that bullshit happens, and in our minds its larger than life, but in reality the sun is still shining and your partner still is the most perfect one to wake up next to. patience...patience...patience...
I am done with the ranting, i swear, i know that is two blogs in a row but thats because thats how long it lasted. now i am back under the good sky and in a new country with a new flavor. coming up...Argentina! we will see what its like when i walk back in to the streets and see all the depressed fans after their loss to germany in the world cup. it could be a problem considering every argentine is a fan. wish me luck! love you all...
Monday, June 28, 2010
"Stuck" in my new favorite place
Where am i?
there are many answers to that.
i am in the most beautiful little pueblo at the almost ass end of the road up in some mountains...yes, still Pisco Elqui.
i am also in a freezing dingy internet cafe´on hold with the most unimaginable loop of a song to talk to yet another agent at Visa 911 who is supposedly connecting me with bank of america.
F.Y.I: Do not over take bank of america as your bank and do not ever lose your debit card in a foreign country if at all possible.
i can´t tell if i am shivering anymore from cold or from fury! three days of my mom trying to help me, me contacting them, them telling me lies,me finding out, them telling me more stories, the call being dropped, etc..., etc...
So because of all this we are stuck ironically in the most lovely place because we can only pay cash for our hostal. I sure wish I could just send Gaea here and get my money out of Bank of America and stay put.
There is some weird reason why this all happened that I am trying to understand. it is this bizarre juxtaposition of absolutely hair pulling, screeching frustration and peaceful tranquillity and simplicity, that which i desire. it is this kind of place on the earth that makes you realize why you don´t need an a.t.m. in town or a bank account even. i have even been making it without my local health food store, who would have thought? However, Mario at the vegetable market is pretty adorable and he has the most delicious local olives fresh from the tree. i am slightly addicted. summer may not admit it but i even witnessed her eat like five of them (shes now a closet olive lover).
well iam off after another grueling 3 hours on the phone with bank of america so i am going to meet my love, have some lunch and try and enjoy the rest of the day in the sunshine.
i love you all...
there are many answers to that.
i am in the most beautiful little pueblo at the almost ass end of the road up in some mountains...yes, still Pisco Elqui.
i am also in a freezing dingy internet cafe´on hold with the most unimaginable loop of a song to talk to yet another agent at Visa 911 who is supposedly connecting me with bank of america.
F.Y.I: Do not over take bank of america as your bank and do not ever lose your debit card in a foreign country if at all possible.
i can´t tell if i am shivering anymore from cold or from fury! three days of my mom trying to help me, me contacting them, them telling me lies,me finding out, them telling me more stories, the call being dropped, etc..., etc...
So because of all this we are stuck ironically in the most lovely place because we can only pay cash for our hostal. I sure wish I could just send Gaea here and get my money out of Bank of America and stay put.
There is some weird reason why this all happened that I am trying to understand. it is this bizarre juxtaposition of absolutely hair pulling, screeching frustration and peaceful tranquillity and simplicity, that which i desire. it is this kind of place on the earth that makes you realize why you don´t need an a.t.m. in town or a bank account even. i have even been making it without my local health food store, who would have thought? However, Mario at the vegetable market is pretty adorable and he has the most delicious local olives fresh from the tree. i am slightly addicted. summer may not admit it but i even witnessed her eat like five of them (shes now a closet olive lover).
well iam off after another grueling 3 hours on the phone with bank of america so i am going to meet my love, have some lunch and try and enjoy the rest of the day in the sunshine.
i love you all...
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Español en las montañas
Well arriving in little Pisco Equi, Chile was about the most rewarding end thus far but we are still babies on this journey yet. After staying in a squat house for four days in Valparaiso we had not showered and all of our winter clothes were filthy. It was back to being dirty traveling hippie kids.
guess I should start with watching POint Break with as we were cruising past the Chilean coast. Unbelievable! For all you outdoorsy types you have the best of both worlds. I could just see my mom relaxing on the raw coast on the beach over the sand dunes and my pa on the other side climbing through the Andes. Stunning views for seven hours straight, all the while with Patrick Swayze´s passion for the waves taunting us on. The buses in Chile are also pretty plush for very little pesos. Comparing my bus stops in Nepal where little women with aprons scooped rice on to a plater with their hands to this modern experience was quite a contrast. We stopped at a place that could be compared to a nice new truchk stop in the states. we had rice, a beet salad, corn and tomato salad and papas fritas. greasy but vegana (spanish for vegan). anyways after a butt numbing trip we got to La Serena, a coastal city, to the bust stop to take us on our last leg. bus was late, i lost my bus ticket, I couldn´t stand the smell of own self , Summer had to pee the whole trip, I was woozy on the dark mountain zigzag roads and we were starving by then and tired, but we made it two hours after the bus finally left.
you know when you build things up in your head, especially when contrasting it with your current experience. well, i thought this was going to be the mecca of all that was missing in comfort and tranquility. but guess what there is no pero (but), it was just that, minus the frigid shower.
we came in to this perfect little mini hostal with a clean kitchen and private room with even nice lighting (pretty sweet, huh dad?). we stripped off our offensive clothing, banished it to a corner in the room, we showered very quickly but we actually smelled good again. then we proceeded to the communal kitchen and cooked up some quinuoa and corn with an avo and tomato salad. it wasn´t bad for the last vegetables left at the mini market around the corner. we slept so soundly under blanket piles.
the next morning we walked outside to find these barren towering hills around us with snow tipped mountains towering over the hills. we are high, not sure how high but close to liberation in the sky if you will. which is why i was drawn here- the stars. Astronomy is the reason to be here plus it is considered to be a sort of spiritual mecca. there are observatories every hour or so in the surrounding hills. we have a date to visit one tentative for tonight but may be canceled like last night because of the clouds. last night though there was a halo around the moon.
we ended up walking down to the next village south of here yesterday to visit Gabriela Mistral´s museo, she was a famous Chilean poet that won the nobel prize. I don´t know her either but i am excited to check out one of her books of poetry. its been mostly about calm and peace an simplicity here.
last night i was cooking some beans and potatoes and corn for dinner while summer was outside making a fire. a couple came in to the hostal, which seeing as we were one of three tourists in town before the third one left, was a surprise. but to go even further, they walk in¨, "HOla", "HOla", "hello", "Hello". "you speak english?"; "me too"; "where are you from?"; "United States"; "Me too" ; "actually from Dallas"; "Me too". huh, weird. we laughed and they shut there door and that was it for last night. we haven´t run in to any kids from the states and we hardly run in to english speakers unless in a hostal. it is not as touristic here as most places i have traveled. well the fire faied due to wet wood and the black beans never fully cooked down but all in all, great evening under big skys.
this morning as i went for our little habatacion 3 plate of breakfast, i ran in to the girl from dallas. we all decided to eat breakfast together in the garden. long story short. we are all traveling for three months in south america. she is going to UTD for her masters and her husband is at UNT working on his masters. he grew up in denton, where they still live. she has a sister who is getting married to a muslim in Egypt soon (hello, my sisters in Egypt currently with her husband. her sister converted to islam and is a sufi ( a religion i just personally studied for the past year or so) and her sister was a comparitive religions major in school which is my passion. the girl we mets husband´s father is from bolivia and summer´s father is argentine. they both speak spanish and me and the girl are learning. we all blew our morning gracefully over tea and laughs and commom interests. they were very inspiring in many ways and mostly in the way that they are trying to only speak spanish with eachother in the house. that is what summer and i have tried but its a struggle.
we all agreed to go horseback riding in the valley tomorrow and go for a walk under the stars tonight after a group dinner and before a fire outside tonight. we all have agreed to speak spanish solamente while with eachother. we were all destined to be friends and inspire one another. i will tell you how it goes.
sorry for the long ass blog but i have been soaking in the goods and this is what i have learned so far. wish my luck in my second language. i need it. they are all ahead of me and i am definitely the most timid to speak but its getting better. i love you all.
ciao
guess I should start with watching POint Break with as we were cruising past the Chilean coast. Unbelievable! For all you outdoorsy types you have the best of both worlds. I could just see my mom relaxing on the raw coast on the beach over the sand dunes and my pa on the other side climbing through the Andes. Stunning views for seven hours straight, all the while with Patrick Swayze´s passion for the waves taunting us on. The buses in Chile are also pretty plush for very little pesos. Comparing my bus stops in Nepal where little women with aprons scooped rice on to a plater with their hands to this modern experience was quite a contrast. We stopped at a place that could be compared to a nice new truchk stop in the states. we had rice, a beet salad, corn and tomato salad and papas fritas. greasy but vegana (spanish for vegan). anyways after a butt numbing trip we got to La Serena, a coastal city, to the bust stop to take us on our last leg. bus was late, i lost my bus ticket, I couldn´t stand the smell of own self , Summer had to pee the whole trip, I was woozy on the dark mountain zigzag roads and we were starving by then and tired, but we made it two hours after the bus finally left.
you know when you build things up in your head, especially when contrasting it with your current experience. well, i thought this was going to be the mecca of all that was missing in comfort and tranquility. but guess what there is no pero (but), it was just that, minus the frigid shower.
we came in to this perfect little mini hostal with a clean kitchen and private room with even nice lighting (pretty sweet, huh dad?). we stripped off our offensive clothing, banished it to a corner in the room, we showered very quickly but we actually smelled good again. then we proceeded to the communal kitchen and cooked up some quinuoa and corn with an avo and tomato salad. it wasn´t bad for the last vegetables left at the mini market around the corner. we slept so soundly under blanket piles.
the next morning we walked outside to find these barren towering hills around us with snow tipped mountains towering over the hills. we are high, not sure how high but close to liberation in the sky if you will. which is why i was drawn here- the stars. Astronomy is the reason to be here plus it is considered to be a sort of spiritual mecca. there are observatories every hour or so in the surrounding hills. we have a date to visit one tentative for tonight but may be canceled like last night because of the clouds. last night though there was a halo around the moon.
we ended up walking down to the next village south of here yesterday to visit Gabriela Mistral´s museo, she was a famous Chilean poet that won the nobel prize. I don´t know her either but i am excited to check out one of her books of poetry. its been mostly about calm and peace an simplicity here.
last night i was cooking some beans and potatoes and corn for dinner while summer was outside making a fire. a couple came in to the hostal, which seeing as we were one of three tourists in town before the third one left, was a surprise. but to go even further, they walk in¨, "HOla", "HOla", "hello", "Hello". "you speak english?"; "me too"; "where are you from?"; "United States"; "Me too" ; "actually from Dallas"; "Me too". huh, weird. we laughed and they shut there door and that was it for last night. we haven´t run in to any kids from the states and we hardly run in to english speakers unless in a hostal. it is not as touristic here as most places i have traveled. well the fire faied due to wet wood and the black beans never fully cooked down but all in all, great evening under big skys.
this morning as i went for our little habatacion 3 plate of breakfast, i ran in to the girl from dallas. we all decided to eat breakfast together in the garden. long story short. we are all traveling for three months in south america. she is going to UTD for her masters and her husband is at UNT working on his masters. he grew up in denton, where they still live. she has a sister who is getting married to a muslim in Egypt soon (hello, my sisters in Egypt currently with her husband. her sister converted to islam and is a sufi ( a religion i just personally studied for the past year or so) and her sister was a comparitive religions major in school which is my passion. the girl we mets husband´s father is from bolivia and summer´s father is argentine. they both speak spanish and me and the girl are learning. we all blew our morning gracefully over tea and laughs and commom interests. they were very inspiring in many ways and mostly in the way that they are trying to only speak spanish with eachother in the house. that is what summer and i have tried but its a struggle.
we all agreed to go horseback riding in the valley tomorrow and go for a walk under the stars tonight after a group dinner and before a fire outside tonight. we all have agreed to speak spanish solamente while with eachother. we were all destined to be friends and inspire one another. i will tell you how it goes.
sorry for the long ass blog but i have been soaking in the goods and this is what i have learned so far. wish my luck in my second language. i need it. they are all ahead of me and i am definitely the most timid to speak but its getting better. i love you all.
ciao
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Valparaiso
Just barely two hours in the city and we were already perched on top of a tin roof having beers and conversation with new friends. It is open and loving, there is the right kind of fight here. People want change and hold art at high esteem. Just walking around the city you see spectacular graffiti art adding life to all the aging buildings. The streets are steep and most of the view looking down and out is at the sea. Its a port town. Summer said it best when she said it is like the San Francisco of South America. This is in the leaning and in the views and make up of the city.
¨Just speak¨ said one of our new compadres, Marcel. And he said this in English. Summer speaks so well that it is easy to just depend on her. But i am able to hear more in conversations and pick up more and more so my greatest struggle now is just to speak it without shame. I want to learn the language so BAD.
Two MacDonalds they put in this town and they straight up burned them down. if that is not a message i don´t know what is. Needless to say, there is no MacDonalds here.
We are staying in an old building with a bunch of artists and defiants. They are squating in the building. So there is a sense of freedom and revolution that rings true throughout the home.
A new favorite artist: Beto Martinez. I think he is local. You do not have to go in anywhere to find art. People wear it and dress there city in its awesomeness.
More bread and salsa at lunch today. It seems to be the national free appetizar.
LOve it. Love it. Love it.
What a special little secret hides in the edge of the south american continent!
till next time...
¨Just speak¨ said one of our new compadres, Marcel. And he said this in English. Summer speaks so well that it is easy to just depend on her. But i am able to hear more in conversations and pick up more and more so my greatest struggle now is just to speak it without shame. I want to learn the language so BAD.
Two MacDonalds they put in this town and they straight up burned them down. if that is not a message i don´t know what is. Needless to say, there is no MacDonalds here.
We are staying in an old building with a bunch of artists and defiants. They are squating in the building. So there is a sense of freedom and revolution that rings true throughout the home.
A new favorite artist: Beto Martinez. I think he is local. You do not have to go in anywhere to find art. People wear it and dress there city in its awesomeness.
More bread and salsa at lunch today. It seems to be the national free appetizar.
LOve it. Love it. Love it.
What a special little secret hides in the edge of the south american continent!
till next time...
Thursday, June 17, 2010
The Chance to just be Lovers
When the day is is open in the kind of way that it is while being on the road, we are able to just enjoy being. I mean I stood on top of San Cristobal and looked out over the sprawling smog covered city with towering mountains in the background, but that, even in all its magesty is not as sweet as giggling in a park with your lover.
Maybe that is one of the things wrong with today. Somewhere at the root of the greed and the intolerance, the desire for revenge and the material desires is really just the need to be captivated in a moment of simplicity. Maybe it is the longing to just be swept up in moments of love. in being so starved for these pockets of time and presence, we grasp for the insatiable.
where as we cannot live life forever unattached to the mundane world that we all are slave to, we can take a moment to remember what truly makes us happy.
by the way, santiago has vegan empanadas with carne de soya...who would have thunk it?
this city has been calming even in the bustle of all the feet and the rushing parades of persons passing through lights to get to the other side of the streets. there is a quiet here almost as though being in a dream when you are the third person observer and the characters in your dream all seem to have a point and destination, none of which involves yourself. brushing shoulders but never getting names.
off tomorrow afternoon to Valparaiso. apparently the city of home grown artists and young people on the edge. it looks colorful and charming. we will see...
i hope all is well with everyone. write to me and tell me of your own adventures.
Maybe that is one of the things wrong with today. Somewhere at the root of the greed and the intolerance, the desire for revenge and the material desires is really just the need to be captivated in a moment of simplicity. Maybe it is the longing to just be swept up in moments of love. in being so starved for these pockets of time and presence, we grasp for the insatiable.
where as we cannot live life forever unattached to the mundane world that we all are slave to, we can take a moment to remember what truly makes us happy.
by the way, santiago has vegan empanadas with carne de soya...who would have thunk it?
this city has been calming even in the bustle of all the feet and the rushing parades of persons passing through lights to get to the other side of the streets. there is a quiet here almost as though being in a dream when you are the third person observer and the characters in your dream all seem to have a point and destination, none of which involves yourself. brushing shoulders but never getting names.
off tomorrow afternoon to Valparaiso. apparently the city of home grown artists and young people on the edge. it looks colorful and charming. we will see...
i hope all is well with everyone. write to me and tell me of your own adventures.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
It Finally Happened...
There are many things with traveling that make life chaotic yet some how also create less complexity. well i just found the computer in my hands due to the fact that the rest of the travelers in the hostel finally found there way back out in to the frigid party. As i age or continue to parish slowly throughout the years, don´t worry i am not a fatalist or anything, i continue to grow closer to seeing more of the overall pattern of life verses the chapters in their singularity. and in the chapters of traveling verses the sections of more domestic comfort, i find myself in this no place, where anything goes. that use to exemplify itself in crazy wild possible catastraphes or far flung 3 a.m. adventures unknown to most of mankind. it has now manifest itself in a more spiritual sort of departure (or coming home if you will). i feel like someone has just given me my dusty wings back to skirt around another pearl that i had not yet uncovered. but dusting off the wings now is becoming old hat. and there is a sense of relief in that. i can bend towards the sun and then back again to the moon and never feel like i have cheated either lover.
in an exhibit today by a local chilean artist i was confronted by a mirror with the comment "¿donde estan?" amidst his profound layering of images. it was a series. in each piece the same question, and each time i was forced to perplex over the same question. i photographed back in a sort of dialouge with this unknown artist and in doing so i came a bit closer to answering the question that he posed.
however again in the end it all comes back around to the same quilted pattern. i have answered another big question only to find itself once again in a dank old closet seemingly unanswered.
i suppose the wine and the comradary with other vagrants has loosened me up a bit to really pull the meat from the subject. i owe much as much of us do to the great Dyonisis.
summer takes strongly to her watercolours and we both abandon slowly the chains of clear predictability and put on our wears for the unexpected and transformative.
thanks for listening if you did, and i say that to my own weary mind as well.
in an exhibit today by a local chilean artist i was confronted by a mirror with the comment "¿donde estan?" amidst his profound layering of images. it was a series. in each piece the same question, and each time i was forced to perplex over the same question. i photographed back in a sort of dialouge with this unknown artist and in doing so i came a bit closer to answering the question that he posed.
however again in the end it all comes back around to the same quilted pattern. i have answered another big question only to find itself once again in a dank old closet seemingly unanswered.
i suppose the wine and the comradary with other vagrants has loosened me up a bit to really pull the meat from the subject. i owe much as much of us do to the great Dyonisis.
summer takes strongly to her watercolours and we both abandon slowly the chains of clear predictability and put on our wears for the unexpected and transformative.
thanks for listening if you did, and i say that to my own weary mind as well.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Bienvenudo to Santiago
Well, after hours spending extra bundles of Chilean pesos to get in this new frontier and standing in crammed lines, we made it out in to the actual air of Chile. The flight was full and classic in its initial chaos but we had the most adorable curly headed toddler from Argentina in front of us for much entertainment. We slept litlle and in discomfort but that hasn´t stopped my energy still.
The city is invigorating in its freshness to me.
We are staying at the Eco Hostel, rated the cleanest in 2009 and that is certainly true. It is chilly in the air, winter all over again. Flying in over the massive mountain range was highly impressive. something even resonates stronger with me here than the rooftop of the world. it must be this very Metropolitan setting in front of nature´s icy beasts. on our bus ride to the metro we kept seeing piles of garbage and rubble which felt out of place for what the rest of the city appeared to be like until i realized that it must be remnents of the previous earthquake. there are many stray dogs roaming around which also seems a bit out of place. we went to eat at a vegetarian restaurant where the first foreign thing really popped up for me. they had a standing counter in the front so that instead of a sit down bar to eat at, you could just stand, eat and run. this demonstrates the serious bustle of the city. people however seem neither exceptionally friendly or grouchy.
We stumbled in to a gorgeous forestry park with various trees from all over the world. one of the prettiest parks ever! then we went to The Bella Artes Museum and saw various excellent exhibits from a theatre photographer´s work to one of my new favorite artists by the name of Francisco DeGoya from Spain. His drawings are thought provoking and elegant, though morose. The show was a Latin American exhibit. We also climbed up to Cerro Santa Lucia which is like a gigantic boulder that now houses a castle on top, a park, fountains, and secret little spots to catch some incredible views. I experimented with my camera a little more up top so i hope to download the pictures for you all before we take off to Valparaiso in a few days.
The day has been full and i know that this trip will prove to be another sweet adventure in my book. And I have the best traveling companion a lady could ask for.
Tomorrow more to come and hopefully after getting a little more rest. Love you all.
The city is invigorating in its freshness to me.
We are staying at the Eco Hostel, rated the cleanest in 2009 and that is certainly true. It is chilly in the air, winter all over again. Flying in over the massive mountain range was highly impressive. something even resonates stronger with me here than the rooftop of the world. it must be this very Metropolitan setting in front of nature´s icy beasts. on our bus ride to the metro we kept seeing piles of garbage and rubble which felt out of place for what the rest of the city appeared to be like until i realized that it must be remnents of the previous earthquake. there are many stray dogs roaming around which also seems a bit out of place. we went to eat at a vegetarian restaurant where the first foreign thing really popped up for me. they had a standing counter in the front so that instead of a sit down bar to eat at, you could just stand, eat and run. this demonstrates the serious bustle of the city. people however seem neither exceptionally friendly or grouchy.
We stumbled in to a gorgeous forestry park with various trees from all over the world. one of the prettiest parks ever! then we went to The Bella Artes Museum and saw various excellent exhibits from a theatre photographer´s work to one of my new favorite artists by the name of Francisco DeGoya from Spain. His drawings are thought provoking and elegant, though morose. The show was a Latin American exhibit. We also climbed up to Cerro Santa Lucia which is like a gigantic boulder that now houses a castle on top, a park, fountains, and secret little spots to catch some incredible views. I experimented with my camera a little more up top so i hope to download the pictures for you all before we take off to Valparaiso in a few days.
The day has been full and i know that this trip will prove to be another sweet adventure in my book. And I have the best traveling companion a lady could ask for.
Tomorrow more to come and hopefully after getting a little more rest. Love you all.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
New Mexico's Finest
this month in santa fe has been full.
but much of it could be summed up to life on the portal, in fact the very place i write this from. gaea is looking up at me with a half ass little sliver of an eye and summer is finishing her book beside me. dad is inside watching news. it has been the four of us bunched up together.
we have been surrounded by many minds this month. Here is what they have given or shown me:
kely (intrigue and numerology),
laura (energy and silliness),
dad (positive vibes and cheeriness),
christopher (good memories, good trekking),
sharon (bright mind, sweetness),
aysha (sincerity, generosity),
david (passion, political history),
ted (wisdom, inspiration),
barbara (graciousness, good gardening tips),
michael (depth, creativity),
tamara (sweetness, openess),
siena (humor and acute intelligence),
john (playfullness, sarcasm),
brandy (dedication, my morning tea),
ruby (smiles, patience),
Paul (silence, fresh outlook),
Tina (funny!, light heartedness),
Cristina (fun, down to earthness),
Judith (fervor, inspiration)
Gaea (calm, wisdom),
Paux Paux (unending authentic love, patience)
and check out what we have been putting in our tummies (all vegan and made in roseman's bad ass kitchen!):
enchiladas with sour cream/spinach sauce,
adzuki beans and rice (cooking rice at altitude is a bitch),
quinuo,
salads every day,
mac n, cheese,
pizza,
roasted asparagus,
and so much more but my mind is failing me now. we also cheated for Ted's fantastic 80th party with sour cream, cheese, and chocolate cake. On Dad's birthday we cheated with
i have stood in the same position for four hours every morning for the past two weeks and taken in yet a vast section of the universe in that time, Ted Flicker's mind and life. From stories of ancient Hollywood to the politics of love. I am posing as Mary, the "favored one" of God, to whome a special son I am to bear. Who ever heard of a naked mary!? not i...but there i have been all the while.
this trip, and really since the oils pill happened when we were still in new orleans, has brought me closer to the news for better or worse. it all seems so armaggeden! its atrocious but it has made me look up out of my own life more and be concerned. it has inspired both summer and i in to action. after south america we will work on a clean up crew. i have, i think, struck a balance with the whole news bullshit. every day became too much. i was getting to cynical and too jaded and teary-faced. now, once a week i catch up and listen to MPR in between. one word sums up what the news is speaking to me: REVOLUTION!!!
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