these three words were the summary of my first class on 'policy and the environment.' My teacher, a old compenero, (who does not believe in global warming) has lived with the Zapatistas, defended their rights, critisised our ever advancing global economic systems, and challenges me to understand what is reality and what is an abstraction in my life. hope, surprise, and friendship. here, my friends, is to the 21st century.
i am saturated in an environment of both simple and complex thought. i am steadily learning to think with my own brain, to give birth the thought that lives deep within an unknown area of myself. not my brain, but my soul. to expel my empathy, to learn and to express what is true to me.
my school writings are reflective of my attempts to disregard all hesitation. To write from a pure and honest state of existence, bare and open to criticism. I am humbled daily by the words of my fellows, my teachers, the strangers on the street. I am loving, the beauty of the earth, the pain of my mistakes, the reality of collective thought, the love that exists from all of you, created and fragile and that which travels with me. i am so accompanied by your thoughts that you have shared with me. i feel that you, my friends, are with me, in me, conversing with me daily. i miss you so very much.
i feel like i have learned a lot of things in the past two weeks, in this, probable most academic environment i have lived. in it, we are trying to be intellectuals. we are, for the most part, serious, thinkers, and critics. perhaps the most important thought to fill me, so far, is that answers are no answer. i plan to live my questions and indeed to continue asking them. maybe, 'one day, without even noticing it, i will live into my answers.'
my friends, i love you, god bless, and i love you
timm
"we want you to be for us, like the shade of the tree"
Monday, September 29, 2008
A Thumbnail Sketch of My Brain
My love affair began in 2005 when I finished high school and moved to Montpelier, Vermont to serve as an Americorps member. I swear, love was literally in the air. The green rolling hills that turn bright orange and red before being overtaken by sheets of white; the small towns that have one post office, one town hall, and eleven beautiful old churches; and the multitude of cows that seemingly outnumber humans at a ratio of 10 to 1 make New England my personal utopia. Although the Pioneer Valley of Western Mass has its own personality distinct from the rest of the Northeast, the land has nevertheless renewed my deep-seated passion for rural New England.
The Five College Consortium (Smith, Mt. Holyoke, UMass, Hampshire, and Amherst) is situated in the Pioneer Valley. The Valley is essentially a vast area of farmland dotted with small towns, which are populated by back-to-the-landers and participants in the Five College Consortium. Intellectual discourse permeates every physical and abstract space here with specific attention paid to food politics, globalization, and environmentalism. Unfortunately, broad focus on national and global systems sometimes overshadows localized issues of homelessness and racism, and those who do not have the privilege to climb the ivory tower are left disillusioned by the so-called progressives.
I digress. I am not sure how I got off on that tangent when I wanted to talk about my intense love for this land. I guess the truth is that I am aware that this region is not everyone's utopia and therefore cannot truly be a utopia. I have been meeting with community organizers in town who advocate for the homeless population here, and they have uncovered for me some important narratives that have been previously pushed under the rug. I am also enrolled in a community based research class that applies theories of globalization, global land politics, and objectives of transnational feminist movements to a very small farmer's market, which is located in a low income neighborhood 45 minutes south of here. The professor is incredible and the course coincides perfectly with everything that I want to be doing, but I still cannot help feeling that the process of fitting a localized movement into big theories of global systems can only result in a contrived product of intellectual masturbation. In the professor's defense, she is conscious of all inherent power dynamics and possible disconnects that may be a part of this research, and she leads clear discussions about the ways in which we can navigate these issues so as to make our work useful to the community.
While I am on the subject of classes, I want to briefly mention my other three classes. I am taking micro-econ, which is pretty self-explanatory. The timing for taking an econ course could not have been better since my professor will spend entire class periods lecturing on current events. I actually feel like I have some vague idea of what is going down on Wall Street. I am also taking a seminar with seven other students, which meets once a week and is primarily based in outside research. The topic for this class is "Women in World War I." We are specifically studying the Smith College Relief Unit, which was a group of 47 Smith alums who made up the first women's relief unit from the US to go into Europe at the end of WWI. This course is very cool, because we are doing research in the archives, which I have never done before, and we will be learning more about the school's history. My final class is a class about Zionism and Israel. The topic is cool, and the professor is very smart, but I think she is having a hard time teaching to a group of students who are new to the topic. I have recently realized how difficult it is to study politics and government of a region without first studying history.
Incidentally (completely), my bike and I are developing quite the bond. Yesterday, I rode down the bike trail from Northampton to Hadley, where Tyler lives, and then we rode together to Amherst. The bike trail is incredible. It is a converted railroad track, so there are no cars, it is almost completely flat, and the entire route is shaded by big trees. Just past the rows of trees are endless acres of small farms. At one point, the bike path intersects with the Connecticut River, and the trail continues onto an old steel bridge that offers beautiful views of the river below. Tyler and I wound up staying later than I expected at Amherst, because we were invited by a high school friend of mine to eat at the Amherst dining hall. So, we wound up riding home in complete darkness (with the exception of Tyler's bike light). That ride was amazing. We saw one other person for the entire 8-9 mile ride. The cool night air was so refreshing, and our leisurely pace gave me some time to relax before facing my ever-accumulating list of homework assignments.
I know that this blog entry is very scattered, but if I tried to structure my thoughts into any kind of linear form, I would never finish this post. I have way too much on my mind, and I want to write about everything.
Thank you to everyone who has been posting recently. Keep it up. Hales, I forgot to mention how much I laughed when you reminded us of the hula hoop night. That was classic.
Oh yea! Tyler and I introduced BGB to Smith College on Thursday night. I have to say that the reception was lukewarm, but I got into it...
Peace to the world,
Sars
The Five College Consortium (Smith, Mt. Holyoke, UMass, Hampshire, and Amherst) is situated in the Pioneer Valley. The Valley is essentially a vast area of farmland dotted with small towns, which are populated by back-to-the-landers and participants in the Five College Consortium. Intellectual discourse permeates every physical and abstract space here with specific attention paid to food politics, globalization, and environmentalism. Unfortunately, broad focus on national and global systems sometimes overshadows localized issues of homelessness and racism, and those who do not have the privilege to climb the ivory tower are left disillusioned by the so-called progressives.
I digress. I am not sure how I got off on that tangent when I wanted to talk about my intense love for this land. I guess the truth is that I am aware that this region is not everyone's utopia and therefore cannot truly be a utopia. I have been meeting with community organizers in town who advocate for the homeless population here, and they have uncovered for me some important narratives that have been previously pushed under the rug. I am also enrolled in a community based research class that applies theories of globalization, global land politics, and objectives of transnational feminist movements to a very small farmer's market, which is located in a low income neighborhood 45 minutes south of here. The professor is incredible and the course coincides perfectly with everything that I want to be doing, but I still cannot help feeling that the process of fitting a localized movement into big theories of global systems can only result in a contrived product of intellectual masturbation. In the professor's defense, she is conscious of all inherent power dynamics and possible disconnects that may be a part of this research, and she leads clear discussions about the ways in which we can navigate these issues so as to make our work useful to the community.
While I am on the subject of classes, I want to briefly mention my other three classes. I am taking micro-econ, which is pretty self-explanatory. The timing for taking an econ course could not have been better since my professor will spend entire class periods lecturing on current events. I actually feel like I have some vague idea of what is going down on Wall Street. I am also taking a seminar with seven other students, which meets once a week and is primarily based in outside research. The topic for this class is "Women in World War I." We are specifically studying the Smith College Relief Unit, which was a group of 47 Smith alums who made up the first women's relief unit from the US to go into Europe at the end of WWI. This course is very cool, because we are doing research in the archives, which I have never done before, and we will be learning more about the school's history. My final class is a class about Zionism and Israel. The topic is cool, and the professor is very smart, but I think she is having a hard time teaching to a group of students who are new to the topic. I have recently realized how difficult it is to study politics and government of a region without first studying history.
Incidentally (completely), my bike and I are developing quite the bond. Yesterday, I rode down the bike trail from Northampton to Hadley, where Tyler lives, and then we rode together to Amherst. The bike trail is incredible. It is a converted railroad track, so there are no cars, it is almost completely flat, and the entire route is shaded by big trees. Just past the rows of trees are endless acres of small farms. At one point, the bike path intersects with the Connecticut River, and the trail continues onto an old steel bridge that offers beautiful views of the river below. Tyler and I wound up staying later than I expected at Amherst, because we were invited by a high school friend of mine to eat at the Amherst dining hall. So, we wound up riding home in complete darkness (with the exception of Tyler's bike light). That ride was amazing. We saw one other person for the entire 8-9 mile ride. The cool night air was so refreshing, and our leisurely pace gave me some time to relax before facing my ever-accumulating list of homework assignments.
I know that this blog entry is very scattered, but if I tried to structure my thoughts into any kind of linear form, I would never finish this post. I have way too much on my mind, and I want to write about everything.
Thank you to everyone who has been posting recently. Keep it up. Hales, I forgot to mention how much I laughed when you reminded us of the hula hoop night. That was classic.
Oh yea! Tyler and I introduced BGB to Smith College on Thursday night. I have to say that the reception was lukewarm, but I got into it...
Peace to the world,
Sars
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Mezcal
26 September 2008
Many of you probably already know all this, but today I learned how to make salsa with my abuelita!! Here is the recipe that I took down as we cooked:
Salsa de Chile Pasillo- (this chile has a really nice smoky flavor that when combined with tomatoes is not very spicy. It is by far my favorite type of salsa I have ever tasted… not sure if they even sell these chiles in the U.S. but if there is a southern Mexico community nearby I think it is worth the trouble of going there and asking if they sell them. You pronounce it like “paseeyo”)
You will need:
4-6 Dried Pasillo Chiles (Pasillo Chile Seco). They are about 4 inches long. When fresh they are green, but they should be bought DRIED and when dried are a blackish dark dark red.)
1-2 cups of little green tomatoes. Not tomatillos, these tomatoes are a little bigger, but not as big as a roma. They come with a papery shell that you need to remove.
Clove of garlic.
First clean the tomatoes and then let them boil in a little pot with water that doesn’t fully cover them, just sits in there around them. Boil them until they turn yellow (about 10 min).
Then, take your chiles and break them up by hand into quarter size pieces. The seeds inside should fall out onto the plate, but some little buggers will stick to the sides which is ok.
Toast the chiles on a flat pan without oil. Stir em around for 5 min until they’re a bit crispy.
Put all this goodness (without the water) into a blender with a garlic clove or two and a tiny bit of salt. You can add salt later if not good enough for you. Pulse in the blender so it’s still a little chunky.
While making this, be careful because the aroma of the chiles can irritate your eyes. It’s deceiving because they don’t SMELL spicy… but I licked my fingers before I washed my hands and I was super duper in pain.
When I’m not making salsa with my abuelita I’m either in class or reading for class. I wish I was joking. But it’s actually been amazing. We are reading great stuff and having the most intellectually stimulating conversations, some of which have literally brought tears to my eyes for their depth, clarity and intelligence. I’m constantly in awe of my compañeras for being so bright. One book we are reading for class is called The Other Game by Phil Dahl-Bredine. It’s a narrative about a Catholic minister who lives in the Mixteca part of Oaxaca and how that experience has led him to reflect on his life in the U.S. There are occasional faults in the book from an academic perspective, but it sparks some really lively discussion in class and for that I am appreciative. For the most part, we talk about “development” and what that term implies.
For example, one question that we grapple with on nearly a daily basis is What are ALL the effects of a group of white missionaries/students/tourists/anthropologists coming into a traditional, rural, indigenous community to “help develop”? There are good things, like where there wasn’t a school before a school now stands, but there are obviously terrible things too, like promoting a westernized, unsustainable way of life to people who have survived (and FLOURISHED) for thousands of years with out this help. Missionary trips, government aid programs, and even many NON governmental aid programs will never fix the problems in Latin America. That same school that American high school students built in Tijuana, for example, probably remains empty because there are no teachers. Or because it’s too costly as an indigenous housewife to allow your children to go to school when they could be home helping. Ivan Illich, an author we have read in class, addresses this and says that the “good intentions” of the church mission trip (as just one example) in actuality only serve to make the white people feel good about themselves, so therefore this “aid” or “charity” (it goes by many names) is the most selfish act a person can make. Questions such as these are particularly riveting to me because I, as well as many of you all, have been involved in just such “mission trips.” Even SIT, the program I’m paying for runs contrary to these beliefs in a lot of ways. I’m not sure where I stand on this discussion, but I love that I’m being exposed to these ideas because they are giving me a much clearer picture of reality than I think I could ever get in Medford Oregon.
I know that came off as a little ranty, but I’ve just been reflecting a lot on it here, and I encourage you all to do the same as you hear about “international development”, Globalization, and “poverty” in the media.
On a lighter note, today I went to a palenque, or a place where they make mezcal, with Ted, Brian and Katy and my friend Gerardo who is from here. Now I’ve seen mezcal making in Mexico, wine making in Italy, beer making in Oregon, and whisky making in Scotland. The next place I visit better have a regional drink…
You don’t notice much difference between the pueblos that hug the outskirts of Oaxaca. For the most part they all have very similar characteristics: a two lane highway with speed bumps, stray dogs, and roadside stands. The roadside stands advertise “comida”, or lunch, tire changes, soft drinks, and usually some cute little artisan thing: carved and painted animals, woven shirts, rugs, or pottery. But coming into Matatlan, you can’t help but notice the additional fare. On every hand painted sign outside these tienditas is Mezcal in big, bright letters. Before you know it you reach a large sign that stretches over the highway boasting “Matatlan: Mezcal capital of the world”. Its here in Matatlan that I had the extreme pleasure of meeting Enrique and Georgina, our guides through their palenque.
Enrique’s great grandfather first started making mezcal in about 1840, and has since passed the trade down four generations. Enrique and Georgina met in school studying chemistry. While this professional education has helped them perfect the distillation from a scientific perspective, they admit they still receive advice all the time from the experts (Dad and Grandpa).
Mezcal is made from the maguey cactus, the same cactus that tequila is made from. The maguey cactus has to be between 8 and 12 years old, and then they come in with machetes and chop off all of the giant points and get down to the “heart” or “piña” of it. The piña at this point weighs around 500 lbs!!!! It’s hauled out and taken to a giant hole in the ground and cooked in there for a few days. When they uncover it the cactus is dark red and has the stringy look like pieces of wood. But it is really sweet tasting and delicious to eat. Next, they grind the chunks with this big stone wheel that is pulled by a horse named Popeye. Once all ground up it is put into a big vat and it just sits there and ferments for four days. Then, the next to last step is putting it into another underground oven, and this one has a lid that collects all the vapor coming off the ground maguey. The vapor travels through the lid, a tube, and then down a coil sitting in a vat of water which cools the vapor and condenses it to make liquid. You’re left with mezcal blanco, the strongest and least flavorful. Add a grub that lives in the dirt around the cactus to the mezcal blanco, and you get “gusano.” To make Reposado the mezcal blanco sits in white oak barrels for 4 months. To make “Sublime Añejo”, the cream of the crop, it sits in oak barrels for about 2 years.
While many tourists are forewarned about the strength of mezcal, I find it incredibly smooth and flavorful, much like a good whisky. My guess is that these tourists take a full shot all at once, which any Mexican will tell you is a terrible idea. If you pay any attention at all to the locals you quickly learn to “respect” the mezcal. You’ll be served a full shot at a bar, but you’re supposed to take it in thirds with the help of chile, salt and lime. At the palenque we sat around with our hosts and tried all the varieties, and I ate something I never thought I would eat. The gusano, or grubby wormy thingy that lives in the dirt is red when alive, but after sitting in a bottle of mezcal it turns white. People here fry up the worms and eat them all crushed up and saltified. Or, if you’re particularly adventurous (or stupid) you can do what we did and eat the worm from the bottle. Horrifyingly crunchy, the gusano tastes only of the mezcal that killed it. It was a pretty gnarly sight though seeing a bottle filled to the top with mezcal and red, pink, and white worms, then proceeding to accept a shot of that liquid. Probably wouldn’t do it in U.S., but what the heck, I’m in Mexico.
Depending on the types of wood you use in the ovens and barrels, it takes on this complex smoky flavor that totally illustrates the saying around here: “Por todo lo mal, mezcal; Por todo bien, también” (For everything bad, mezcal; for everything good, as well.)
Tomorrow morning I leave for Mexico City, or the D.F., and will be there for 8 days. We’re staying in a working class neighborhood on the outskirts with families for 3 nights, and then we’re going to the center to take in all of the museums and markets. I’ll definitely write again once I’m back.
Don’t forget to register to vote (unless you’re a republican) and, as my mom says, don’t miss the “laugh riot” that is the vice-presidential debate on Thursday night. Wish I could see it…thank God for YouTube.
Love, Dana
I've forgotten how to write in english...observe
Alright…here it goes…a brief synopsis of my life in Ecuador for the past two weeks.
So I pretty much love it here. I’ve made some really sweet friends and I feel like I’m always doing something new and exciting….hmm that sounds really formal and boring. Let’s see..
Two weekends ago I went to the beach with the Willamette crew and several of my friends from Quito. We spent the first afternoon playing in the sand and drinking Pedrito Coco to the sound of a mind game called La cajita musical (The music box). If was so interesting and challenging to play a mind game in spanish-probabaly one of the times that I’ve felt the stupidest here- but how else are you supposed to learn? After dinner our program director informed us that the beach is very very dangerous after dark and that no one was to be out past 6 pm…ha. So that night we danced across the beach that was lined with discotecas and eventually ended up swimming in the ocean for hours. It was a beautiful and unforgettable night. The next day we watched a surfing tournament, swam, and tried to understand our friends’ jokes in Spanish. That night we went out again. This night was a little more relaxing spent mainly conversing about philosophy and the beautiful things in life. However the night didn’t end as we all would have hoped. We decided to relive the previous night by swimming in the ocean again…leaving all our clothes and Kailey’s purse on the shore. As you’ve probably all predicted some young teenagers came up and stole Kailey’s purse which contained $60, her house keys, directions to her house, and both of our cell phones. The worst part is we watched it happen and didn’t do anything…
Last weekend was filled with music… something I’ve really been neglecting since I’ve been here due to the fact that I don’t want to listen to music in English and I don’t have any in Spanish. On Wednesday we watched my friend’s band play at a concert to support the new Ecuadorian constitution (very interesting. You should all read about it online!). Then on Friday we went to a Jazz concert in one of the grand plazas in the historic district of Quito. On Sunday we went to Quitofest, a three day long festival. We listened to a reggae group and two electro-funk bands. I’ve revived my love for live music and free concerts. I just love the contagious energy and the common love and expression of ideas….sigh
This Thursday I went to a small town called Mindo with a couple of friends. We passed our time drinking tequila, walking along the river, swimming in the rather dirty river and laughing at silly jokes. Last night we went “camping” in my friend’s back yard. We set up the tent, made a cozy bed and told scary stories that ended up being not so scary (the element of suspense is hard to capture in another language) so we just ended up laughing all night. It was incredible.
I know this wasn’t the most exciting post ever but I’m going to try to update more often….so much to tell, so little time. (so lazy!) Ooh as far as classes go I’m taking Ceramics, Soccer and The psychology of sexuality and attraction. I’m also working at a high school teaching English and Environmental stuff and at a hospital working with kids with leukemia. It’s all very interesting.
Oh and I've been spending a significant amount of time with my three nephews that live in an apartment below my house...here's a pic of a great night that we spent together-Dana I though you might like this...
I love you guys- e-hug! I love and miss you all!
So I pretty much love it here. I’ve made some really sweet friends and I feel like I’m always doing something new and exciting….hmm that sounds really formal and boring. Let’s see..
Two weekends ago I went to the beach with the Willamette crew and several of my friends from Quito. We spent the first afternoon playing in the sand and drinking Pedrito Coco to the sound of a mind game called La cajita musical (The music box). If was so interesting and challenging to play a mind game in spanish-probabaly one of the times that I’ve felt the stupidest here- but how else are you supposed to learn? After dinner our program director informed us that the beach is very very dangerous after dark and that no one was to be out past 6 pm…ha. So that night we danced across the beach that was lined with discotecas and eventually ended up swimming in the ocean for hours. It was a beautiful and unforgettable night. The next day we watched a surfing tournament, swam, and tried to understand our friends’ jokes in Spanish. That night we went out again. This night was a little more relaxing spent mainly conversing about philosophy and the beautiful things in life. However the night didn’t end as we all would have hoped. We decided to relive the previous night by swimming in the ocean again…leaving all our clothes and Kailey’s purse on the shore. As you’ve probably all predicted some young teenagers came up and stole Kailey’s purse which contained $60, her house keys, directions to her house, and both of our cell phones. The worst part is we watched it happen and didn’t do anything…
Last weekend was filled with music… something I’ve really been neglecting since I’ve been here due to the fact that I don’t want to listen to music in English and I don’t have any in Spanish. On Wednesday we watched my friend’s band play at a concert to support the new Ecuadorian constitution (very interesting. You should all read about it online!). Then on Friday we went to a Jazz concert in one of the grand plazas in the historic district of Quito. On Sunday we went to Quitofest, a three day long festival. We listened to a reggae group and two electro-funk bands. I’ve revived my love for live music and free concerts. I just love the contagious energy and the common love and expression of ideas….sigh
This Thursday I went to a small town called Mindo with a couple of friends. We passed our time drinking tequila, walking along the river, swimming in the rather dirty river and laughing at silly jokes. Last night we went “camping” in my friend’s back yard. We set up the tent, made a cozy bed and told scary stories that ended up being not so scary (the element of suspense is hard to capture in another language) so we just ended up laughing all night. It was incredible.
I know this wasn’t the most exciting post ever but I’m going to try to update more often….so much to tell, so little time. (so lazy!) Ooh as far as classes go I’m taking Ceramics, Soccer and The psychology of sexuality and attraction. I’m also working at a high school teaching English and Environmental stuff and at a hospital working with kids with leukemia. It’s all very interesting.
Oh and I've been spending a significant amount of time with my three nephews that live in an apartment below my house...here's a pic of a great night that we spent together-Dana I though you might like this...
I love you guys- e-hug! I love and miss you all!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Sup Sup from Willamette
Hi guys! Thanks to those have written lately. I really enjoyed reading the past few posts.
I am entering my fourth week here at Willamette. Alot has happened during these past few weeks so I will try to edit it down into something interesting and educational to read. So, here goes-
I arrived in Salem after a lazy drive across the West. I spent some time in New Mexico where I played with my young cousins and learned life lessons and ate bomb food thanks to my grandma. I also got to see my dad and his wife in Colorado where we climbed Quandry Peak as a family. It was my first 14,000 ft. mountain and I feel as if I am now ready for Everest. Anyone up for the challenge?
I got here late on Friday and was greeted by my new housemates John, Dan, Shawn, and Andyroo. It was so nice to see their smiling faces and tour my new house! Unfortunately, I was the last to arrive so I got stuck with the smallest room! However, I am pretty much done decorating now and it is very cozy with a beautiful view of our large yard. The boys also gave me the upstairs bathroom for my own personal use, which is quite heavenly. I am so happy to have a place of my own after two years of being robbed from my freedom in the dorms. I can't wait for everyone to come over when you all return! Anyways, I digress,... after the boys helped me lug my bags upstairs, people began streaming in to say their hellos for the rest of the evening. Obviously I can't remember everyone I saw that first night, but the highlights were when Dana, Elliot, Taylor, and Pat arrived on their bicycles. With beers in hand, hugs were distributed all around. It was a great moment. The next week went on alot like this...night after night of seeing everyone in their new places, normally accompanied by meals made by the hosts. Tom Salina, Sam Brown, and Luke Johnson live down the block, so many nights would be split between his and ours with music always coming from their garage or kids in the hot tub and a mess of voices coming from ours. Friends going abroad came and went-Hayley, Ian, Dana, Harry, Wes, Sam Kuhn. I wish that everyone had come for the first two weeks of celebration but I was overjoyed with the presence of those that did come.
Things have settled down now and we are all students at the grind again. I am taking Chemistry, Geographic Information Systems, Middle Eastern Archeaology, and Woodcuts. My classes are great so far but obviously are alot of work. The last two weekends, like always, have been godsends for relaxation. Last weekend was the first rugby game. It was an afternoon game between Willamette students and the "Old Boys" or Willamette Alumni. Mia and I worked diligently to clean the house the night before so that we could have the drink up at my place. Luckily it was a great day so we had a BBQ and played botchi ball in the yard to celebrate the new season after the game was over. The drink up turned into an all night party with different groups coming and going all night, including at one point, the entire greek system. I would walk around the house and then realize I knew no one besides my house mates. That same weekend, we made a trip to Three Pools to bask in the sun and cliff dive. After five trips to the pools, I finally worked up the courage to dive from the highest point. It was such a rush and the highlight of the weekend.
This last weekend Morgan took me to the Oregon Coast. We stayed in a family friends place at Rockaway Beach. We watched the sun set and made a bonfire on which we roasted marshmallows. The next morning we did some 'shrooms and had a grand adventure which consisted of hiking in the forest and then on the beach. We made sandcastles, watched the birds and people, and wrote chinese symbols in the sand until the sun went down on the second day. I bought a kite the last day from the ice cream man and played with it for hours. I never wanted to leave but Morgan wouldn't be convinced to stay. I am already thinking I might want to live and do some ecological work on the Coast this summer (Megan, I am thinking about the Washington Coast but would you come hang out with me?). I thought alot about our journeys to the Coast over the last two years. I am so glad that you shared your home with us so many times Megan! I told Morgan about the incidences with almost losing Hayley to the ocean and all the way losing Claire's shoes to the sand. I thought about the night before Meg's birthday when Kailey, Dana, Marleta, and I came to pre-party. We smoked in the flower drying cabin and talked all night. I told him about taking bathes with Kailey and Dana in the hugest bathtub ever and eating the hugest salmon ever caught by miss megan fish whisperer herself. These are all little things but they will always be with me!
Willamette isn't the same without all of you in it. I hope you are all having a great time but think of us some moments during your downtime. I hope this shed some light on life at Willamette from my point of view!
I am entering my fourth week here at Willamette. Alot has happened during these past few weeks so I will try to edit it down into something interesting and educational to read. So, here goes-
I arrived in Salem after a lazy drive across the West. I spent some time in New Mexico where I played with my young cousins and learned life lessons and ate bomb food thanks to my grandma. I also got to see my dad and his wife in Colorado where we climbed Quandry Peak as a family. It was my first 14,000 ft. mountain and I feel as if I am now ready for Everest. Anyone up for the challenge?
I got here late on Friday and was greeted by my new housemates John, Dan, Shawn, and Andyroo. It was so nice to see their smiling faces and tour my new house! Unfortunately, I was the last to arrive so I got stuck with the smallest room! However, I am pretty much done decorating now and it is very cozy with a beautiful view of our large yard. The boys also gave me the upstairs bathroom for my own personal use, which is quite heavenly. I am so happy to have a place of my own after two years of being robbed from my freedom in the dorms. I can't wait for everyone to come over when you all return! Anyways, I digress,... after the boys helped me lug my bags upstairs, people began streaming in to say their hellos for the rest of the evening. Obviously I can't remember everyone I saw that first night, but the highlights were when Dana, Elliot, Taylor, and Pat arrived on their bicycles. With beers in hand, hugs were distributed all around. It was a great moment. The next week went on alot like this...night after night of seeing everyone in their new places, normally accompanied by meals made by the hosts. Tom Salina, Sam Brown, and Luke Johnson live down the block, so many nights would be split between his and ours with music always coming from their garage or kids in the hot tub and a mess of voices coming from ours. Friends going abroad came and went-Hayley, Ian, Dana, Harry, Wes, Sam Kuhn. I wish that everyone had come for the first two weeks of celebration but I was overjoyed with the presence of those that did come.
Things have settled down now and we are all students at the grind again. I am taking Chemistry, Geographic Information Systems, Middle Eastern Archeaology, and Woodcuts. My classes are great so far but obviously are alot of work. The last two weekends, like always, have been godsends for relaxation. Last weekend was the first rugby game. It was an afternoon game between Willamette students and the "Old Boys" or Willamette Alumni. Mia and I worked diligently to clean the house the night before so that we could have the drink up at my place. Luckily it was a great day so we had a BBQ and played botchi ball in the yard to celebrate the new season after the game was over. The drink up turned into an all night party with different groups coming and going all night, including at one point, the entire greek system. I would walk around the house and then realize I knew no one besides my house mates. That same weekend, we made a trip to Three Pools to bask in the sun and cliff dive. After five trips to the pools, I finally worked up the courage to dive from the highest point. It was such a rush and the highlight of the weekend.
This last weekend Morgan took me to the Oregon Coast. We stayed in a family friends place at Rockaway Beach. We watched the sun set and made a bonfire on which we roasted marshmallows. The next morning we did some 'shrooms and had a grand adventure which consisted of hiking in the forest and then on the beach. We made sandcastles, watched the birds and people, and wrote chinese symbols in the sand until the sun went down on the second day. I bought a kite the last day from the ice cream man and played with it for hours. I never wanted to leave but Morgan wouldn't be convinced to stay. I am already thinking I might want to live and do some ecological work on the Coast this summer (Megan, I am thinking about the Washington Coast but would you come hang out with me?). I thought alot about our journeys to the Coast over the last two years. I am so glad that you shared your home with us so many times Megan! I told Morgan about the incidences with almost losing Hayley to the ocean and all the way losing Claire's shoes to the sand. I thought about the night before Meg's birthday when Kailey, Dana, Marleta, and I came to pre-party. We smoked in the flower drying cabin and talked all night. I told him about taking bathes with Kailey and Dana in the hugest bathtub ever and eating the hugest salmon ever caught by miss megan fish whisperer herself. These are all little things but they will always be with me!
Willamette isn't the same without all of you in it. I hope you are all having a great time but think of us some moments during your downtime. I hope this shed some light on life at Willamette from my point of view!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
WTF hayley weed???
WTF hayley weed???
I checked my email a couple days ago and there was a message from Hayley Weed saying she had just checked into a hostel in Oaxaca and I should email her to hang out. I looked at the time and she had sent it 10 min before. Luckily I knew exactly where her hostel was because it’s adjacent to the SIT classroom. I ran down the street and caught her coming out of the hostel, looking at a map trying to decide where her first jaunt around Oaxaca should be. We screamed, we jumped up and down and hugged!! It’s amazing how many Willamette kids are in Oaxaca. Apart from Hayley, there is Brian Alexander, Katy Giombolini, and Ted Richardson. Ever since Hayley got into town we’ve been coordinating times when we could hang out. The next day after I saw here, we went up to these bad ass ancient ruins called Monte Albán. They are from a time when the Mixtec people ruled the land. The main features are probably the ancient ball court and this wacky shaped building in the center that was reserved for the wisest astrologers and teachers to observe the sky. And I soon understood why the sky would be so thought provoking. I tried my hardest to take in the immenseness of the ruins themselves, but found it hard because in the sky the clouds were upstaging them. Every day at 6pm rain falls over Oaxaca. Usually it only lasts for around a half an hour, but this day the rain was encouraged by tropical storm Ike that hit Texas and the clouds accumulated to form massive structures in the air. We climbed up these tall stairs and looked down over the layout. It was hard to breathe because of the view. We had a really good view of Oaxaca City from our lookout point on the stairs, and you could see the rain falling from the clouds not ten miles away. We knew it would start where we were soon, but we waited until the guards at Monte Alban kicked us out at closing time. We drove back down and had to wait inside a hostels lobby while rain literally pounded on the roof and thunder so deep it shook the walls roared through town. After an hour of waiting we decided we needed to brave what was left of the rain and run the eight blocks to my homestay.
My homestay literally couldn’t be more ideal. My mom, Meche, is a divorced 50 something who lives in an awesome two story apartment in the center of town with her 28yr old daughter and her husband, and her ancient mother, Zocorra. They are all outgoing, active and social, getting together with extended family and friends nearly every day. And if this couldn’t be good enough, my host sister gave birth to twin baby girls three days ago! So now Alejandra and Natalia are stealing our attention all day (and night) long.
The night of September 15 was Noche Mexicana, or Noche Libre, or Dia del Grito, or Mexican Independence Day, whichever name you choose. The Zocalo, or town square, is filled to capacity with people dressed in red white and green and the governor of Oaxaca comes and yells “Viva Mexico!!” and everyone yells back “VIVA!”. He also yells the names of the founding fathers of Mexico and a few one line goals for the year. There are people of all ages milling around, children blowing horns, teenagers spraying everyone with silly string, and old people walking arm in arm under a shawl the colors of a Mexican flag. I went with my friend Girardo and we oohed and aahed as the highlight of the night erupted overhead: FIREWORKS. Here, Mexicans go all out. HUGE fireworks BLASTED the colors of the country into the air DIRECTLY overhead. Occasionally we were pelted by the remnants of the fireworks that had just erupted not 50 meters from us in the air.
I just got back from an excursion to the Mixteca Alta, a mainly indigenous area of Oaxaca state that is an hour and a half north of the city. I went with my group from SIT and we visited an organization called CEDICAM, Centro de Desarrollo Integral de la Mixteca. This organization focuses on sustainable farming practices that help build autonomy in the region. The main problems in this area are drought, and the rain that does fall has tended to wipe away any of the farmable land with it. It didn’t used to be like this. Before, there were way more trees but campesinos were encouraged to adopt western farming methods that destroyed their land. Now, CEDICAM is helping to restore the forests, and to implement large terraces into the landscape that collect the rain and dirt as it flows down the hills. They also build greenhouses and cisterns for people in the community, and show them how to compost and use natural fertilizers. We stayed with a group of four families and helped them build a greenhouse. We got to hang out with this little niña named Karla and we ate great food. All of the food was grown from their own land, and a lot of it was picked the day we ate it. For this poor community of farmers, having prolific gardens is the only way to not only survive but also to allow them to indulge in a few creature comforts such as electricity to use their electric tools and new shoes for Karla’s first year of school. They told us they hadn’t bought any vegetables other than garlic and onions for 5 months. Even though the regions main problem is drought, at this time of year they are definitely not lacking in water. It rained or misted the whole time we were there and it was COLD.
Now I’m back at my homestay having just enjoyed a hot shower and clean clothes. Tomorrow I have Spanish class for four hours in the morning, and then I have the afternoon free. I’m fighting off a cold so I’ll probably rest, but who knows. Oaxaca is a small enough city that you will run into someone you know on the streets and that usually leads me to stay out longer than I had intended…
I’ll keep you updated from Mexico.
Love Dana
I checked my email a couple days ago and there was a message from Hayley Weed saying she had just checked into a hostel in Oaxaca and I should email her to hang out. I looked at the time and she had sent it 10 min before. Luckily I knew exactly where her hostel was because it’s adjacent to the SIT classroom. I ran down the street and caught her coming out of the hostel, looking at a map trying to decide where her first jaunt around Oaxaca should be. We screamed, we jumped up and down and hugged!! It’s amazing how many Willamette kids are in Oaxaca. Apart from Hayley, there is Brian Alexander, Katy Giombolini, and Ted Richardson. Ever since Hayley got into town we’ve been coordinating times when we could hang out. The next day after I saw here, we went up to these bad ass ancient ruins called Monte Albán. They are from a time when the Mixtec people ruled the land. The main features are probably the ancient ball court and this wacky shaped building in the center that was reserved for the wisest astrologers and teachers to observe the sky. And I soon understood why the sky would be so thought provoking. I tried my hardest to take in the immenseness of the ruins themselves, but found it hard because in the sky the clouds were upstaging them. Every day at 6pm rain falls over Oaxaca. Usually it only lasts for around a half an hour, but this day the rain was encouraged by tropical storm Ike that hit Texas and the clouds accumulated to form massive structures in the air. We climbed up these tall stairs and looked down over the layout. It was hard to breathe because of the view. We had a really good view of Oaxaca City from our lookout point on the stairs, and you could see the rain falling from the clouds not ten miles away. We knew it would start where we were soon, but we waited until the guards at Monte Alban kicked us out at closing time. We drove back down and had to wait inside a hostels lobby while rain literally pounded on the roof and thunder so deep it shook the walls roared through town. After an hour of waiting we decided we needed to brave what was left of the rain and run the eight blocks to my homestay.
My homestay literally couldn’t be more ideal. My mom, Meche, is a divorced 50 something who lives in an awesome two story apartment in the center of town with her 28yr old daughter and her husband, and her ancient mother, Zocorra. They are all outgoing, active and social, getting together with extended family and friends nearly every day. And if this couldn’t be good enough, my host sister gave birth to twin baby girls three days ago! So now Alejandra and Natalia are stealing our attention all day (and night) long.
The night of September 15 was Noche Mexicana, or Noche Libre, or Dia del Grito, or Mexican Independence Day, whichever name you choose. The Zocalo, or town square, is filled to capacity with people dressed in red white and green and the governor of Oaxaca comes and yells “Viva Mexico!!” and everyone yells back “VIVA!”. He also yells the names of the founding fathers of Mexico and a few one line goals for the year. There are people of all ages milling around, children blowing horns, teenagers spraying everyone with silly string, and old people walking arm in arm under a shawl the colors of a Mexican flag. I went with my friend Girardo and we oohed and aahed as the highlight of the night erupted overhead: FIREWORKS. Here, Mexicans go all out. HUGE fireworks BLASTED the colors of the country into the air DIRECTLY overhead. Occasionally we were pelted by the remnants of the fireworks that had just erupted not 50 meters from us in the air.
I just got back from an excursion to the Mixteca Alta, a mainly indigenous area of Oaxaca state that is an hour and a half north of the city. I went with my group from SIT and we visited an organization called CEDICAM, Centro de Desarrollo Integral de la Mixteca. This organization focuses on sustainable farming practices that help build autonomy in the region. The main problems in this area are drought, and the rain that does fall has tended to wipe away any of the farmable land with it. It didn’t used to be like this. Before, there were way more trees but campesinos were encouraged to adopt western farming methods that destroyed their land. Now, CEDICAM is helping to restore the forests, and to implement large terraces into the landscape that collect the rain and dirt as it flows down the hills. They also build greenhouses and cisterns for people in the community, and show them how to compost and use natural fertilizers. We stayed with a group of four families and helped them build a greenhouse. We got to hang out with this little niña named Karla and we ate great food. All of the food was grown from their own land, and a lot of it was picked the day we ate it. For this poor community of farmers, having prolific gardens is the only way to not only survive but also to allow them to indulge in a few creature comforts such as electricity to use their electric tools and new shoes for Karla’s first year of school. They told us they hadn’t bought any vegetables other than garlic and onions for 5 months. Even though the regions main problem is drought, at this time of year they are definitely not lacking in water. It rained or misted the whole time we were there and it was COLD.
Now I’m back at my homestay having just enjoyed a hot shower and clean clothes. Tomorrow I have Spanish class for four hours in the morning, and then I have the afternoon free. I’m fighting off a cold so I’ll probably rest, but who knows. Oaxaca is a small enough city that you will run into someone you know on the streets and that usually leads me to stay out longer than I had intended…
I’ll keep you updated from Mexico.
Love Dana
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Word from Florence
Dearest Friends,
I would really like to here some news from Willamette/Mexico/Equator/Massachusetts/Denmark/Scotland/???/
Outerspace/where ever you are! please. Also, I noticed some people just joined the blog, so start writing!
I would really like to hear some news from my fellow traveling bearcatz! So update, do it now…
My bedroom
I would really like to here some news from Willamette/Mexico/Equator/Massachusetts/Denmark/Scotland/???/
Outerspace/where ever you are! please. Also, I noticed some people just joined the blog, so start writing!
Claire
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Smith College
Smithies in short: gay/bisexual/pansexual/choosing not to put labels on sexuality and love, incredibly intelligent, naked at every opportunity, world travelers, is there a word that is far left of liberal?, articulate, international, enormously accepting, did I mention really naked?, beautiful women, transmen, and transgender students
The campus: deceptively large for its small student body; teeming with history; full of giant old trees and brick buildings covered in ivy; marked by an offshoot of the Connecticut River in which Smithies can kayak, canoe and swim; it has forty-some houses occupied by students, a couple of which will turn 300 years old the year that I graduate; and it is right in the heart of Northampton, lesbian capital of the country
I'm trying to figure out how I can possibly narrate the experience I have had thus far, and all of my words fall short of capturing this oh so queer (pun intended) intellectual paradise. (I literally live on Paradise St.)
Okay, who remembers Willamette's convocation at the beginning of the year? During my freshman year, Steven Pinker came and spoke to our class. He gave one of my favorite speeches I have heard in college. It was eloquent, interesting, and thought-provoking, but I now realize that it was also so square. A word you hear a lot at Smith is "tradition," and our convocation is one of everyone's favorite traditions. Convocation occurs the night before classes begin, and the entire student body attends this event either in costume or naked. (I wore an American flag and some fake lamb's wool.) The president of the college and various faculty members sit on stage, decked out in their wizard-like professor robes, in front of the student choir, which is in various stages of undress. Everyone is in a euphoric state of intoxication, shouting in celebration. The soccer team runs around the auditorium throughout the night in their jerseys and pride flags. Various faculty members take turns at the podium, welcoming Smithies back to school. They exclude no group in these speeches, making sure to welcome the trans community, the anarchists, the international students, the clothed and the naked, Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Pagans, and more demographics than I could ever remember. When the dean welcomes "those who are registered to vote" back to campus, the entire school begins chanting "O-bam-a!"
This is a beautiful, brilliant place. On a daily basis, I am moved almost to tears by this unusual and ridiculous community that surrounds me, my new community.
I want to write about classes, but I know that I have written too much already. Expect more later.
I think about you all every day, and as I read this blog, I am amazed by all of you, excelling in your new (and old) environments. You are all a part of who I am today, and I thank you for that.
Yours on the Right Coast,
Sars
The campus: deceptively large for its small student body; teeming with history; full of giant old trees and brick buildings covered in ivy; marked by an offshoot of the Connecticut River in which Smithies can kayak, canoe and swim; it has forty-some houses occupied by students, a couple of which will turn 300 years old the year that I graduate; and it is right in the heart of Northampton, lesbian capital of the country
I'm trying to figure out how I can possibly narrate the experience I have had thus far, and all of my words fall short of capturing this oh so queer (pun intended) intellectual paradise. (I literally live on Paradise St.)
Okay, who remembers Willamette's convocation at the beginning of the year? During my freshman year, Steven Pinker came and spoke to our class. He gave one of my favorite speeches I have heard in college. It was eloquent, interesting, and thought-provoking, but I now realize that it was also so square. A word you hear a lot at Smith is "tradition," and our convocation is one of everyone's favorite traditions. Convocation occurs the night before classes begin, and the entire student body attends this event either in costume or naked. (I wore an American flag and some fake lamb's wool.) The president of the college and various faculty members sit on stage, decked out in their wizard-like professor robes, in front of the student choir, which is in various stages of undress. Everyone is in a euphoric state of intoxication, shouting in celebration. The soccer team runs around the auditorium throughout the night in their jerseys and pride flags. Various faculty members take turns at the podium, welcoming Smithies back to school. They exclude no group in these speeches, making sure to welcome the trans community, the anarchists, the international students, the clothed and the naked, Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Pagans, and more demographics than I could ever remember. When the dean welcomes "those who are registered to vote" back to campus, the entire school begins chanting "O-bam-a!"
This is a beautiful, brilliant place. On a daily basis, I am moved almost to tears by this unusual and ridiculous community that surrounds me, my new community.
I want to write about classes, but I know that I have written too much already. Expect more later.
I think about you all every day, and as I read this blog, I am amazed by all of you, excelling in your new (and old) environments. You are all a part of who I am today, and I thank you for that.
Yours on the Right Coast,
Sars
Monday, September 1, 2008
How many NorCal kids does it take to screw in a lightbulb?*
A photo I took of a vendor at the Yolo County Fair.Dearest Friends,
Yours Truly,
Claire H. Lindsay-McGinn
P.S. I added a sidebar with all the addresses of y'all that were recently posted so they could easily located for some grand letter writing. Please add to the list! or give them to me and I will add to the list using my minimal, but effective, html skillzzzz.
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