Muchas Gracias!!!

Dear Friends,

You are all so beautiful and I seriously feel so blessed for having had the chance to enter a while in your lifes. Besides, you write in the most fantastic way ever, I wish I could express myself halfway the way you do! In contrast, I am sure my writing will have you all thinking I need a couple of hours at the writing center.. but anyways!

You are all such an inspiration and ... I learn so much when reading from you and I just feel relieved that this blog was created! and just hoping that I will have the opportunity to share with you all again!

My life this semester has just one adjective: hectic. That is not that great and I just wish I could jump into your stories and share them with you for a moment. I don´t even know if it is worth it to tell you my stories because they are just so different from all the adventures you are all having!

I am in senior year, apparently this is the way it should be at uni... but I was seriously not expecting it. Academicallywise my classmates and I are accomplishing a couple of good things, we just did a campaign to fundraise to build a "puente peatonal" ( a bridge for people to cross over the road) in a place that was needed and I have organized a couple of events, one with Tango dancers and the other one with a comediant that talks about the weird and funny situations that people find themselves in when they arrive to Ecuador, it is very funny! all these as part of my events class!

Anyways! Even though we don´t celebrate thanksgiving here, I love the fact that you guys have a day to be thankful...

I just hope you will have a beautiful amazing evening with friends.

All of you changed my life in different beautiful ways and I feel so blessed and happy for that... I miss you all so much and I miss my life in Salem sharing time with you, sorry for repeating this so many times... limitations of language don´t let me express completely how lucky I feel and I just hope that some of this happiness and love I feel for you my friends will get to you -i weirdly think that repetition might make it-!

I will be celebrating here too in my own way having you in my mind!!! hopefully Hilde and I will make sushi on Saturday too! :)

Love you so much!!!! (just in case you didn´t get that already)

Lucía

p.s. I am so glad that Obama won!!! and yes... it seems like the whole world does... we do have a new hope that things can be better and at the same time it must be so difficult to be the next president of the U.S.! Pobrecito!!!

I'm so so sorry

I just have to preface this with I'm so so sorry that this is so so long. I was writing this for my family, and I just kept thinking of things I had to include until all of a sudden I was at 6 pages. I really wanted to post it here, even though I know that few of you will actually take the time to read it all, because it was too much effort to go back and edit it and thin it down. So here is my recap in it's full entirety, and again, please do not feel like you need to read it. Maybe after finals and everything you can take the time to read it....It's long, and probably boring.

But I thought it was extremely interesting. Dare I say it changed my life?

So here’s an explanation of what I did in Chiapas, el Istmo, y La Costa.

First, we traveled all night long to San Cristobal de Las Casas, 12 hours on a very very windy road, two hours into which my seat neighbor threw up into a bag. When we got to San Cristobal at 8 the next morning, we were greeted by Julio, one of the nicest, humblest, wisest people I think I will ever know. Because he’s so well connected with social activists in San Cristobal he served as our guide and chauffer that week. We got put into our home stays that morning, and I lived with a woman named Cheri in her lovely house downtown.


These first few days in San Cristobal were really eye opening because up until this point I had really only known Oaxaca City and had a very short stay in Mexico City which was so big it is nearly impossible to get to know. In San Cristobal my first impressions were the diversity of languages and peoples, and the immense disparity of wealth. Now, Oaxaca City is by all definitions a tourist city. It’s not uncommon to be in a café with ALL white people if you know where to go, but in San Cristobal I invented a game in which I would TRY to meet someone from Chiapas. There are people from all over Europe, Asia, Africa, the Americas and they probably constitute 75% of the people you see on the streets and in the shops. The other 25% I would say were the poorest citizens of Mexico, the indigenous men and women from the Chiapan highlands who speak nothing but tzotzil and other native languages. People talk about Oaxaca as a city with a large indigenous community, and that may be true, but it was still markedly different. In the markets in the city all you hear are indigenous languages, and they usually have someone of a younger generation translating your purchase into Spanish. On the streets young girls and boys, all below the age 10 because that’s when they actually have to start REAL work, run up to you and try to sell you bracelets, belts, or big beautiful scarves. They all wear traditional garments and run around without shoes.

That first day in San Cristobal was a sunny, t-shirt weather day, but after that the city showed her true colors and it was misty and cold, very much like Seattle weather. I have a good friend from Willamette studying abroad there, so we met up and walked around and looked at churches. Besides that, we were pretty busy meeting with different NGO’s and social activists to talk about stuff like the economic crisis (or should I say the collapse of imperialist capitalism) in the United States, militarization of the Chiapan highlands, the Zapatista struggle, alternative models of education and traditional indigenous medicine.

On the fourth day of that week we had the extreme privilege of going to two of the most remarkable places I’ve been to. Following a serpentine road way up into the cold wet mountains we arrived first at Acteal. Acteal is a very small community who out of necessity formed a non-violent religious social movement called “las Abejas” or, the Bees, in 1992. They fight against the government stealing land from the indigenous communities who have lived there for centuries, the exact same goals as the Zapatistas, (which makes it interesting that they were formed two years before the world met the EZLN) only through prayer and peaceful protests. Because of their “radical and dangerous” activities, the Mexican government took several people as political prisoners in 1997. On December 22, 1997, 45 members of this communities, many also Abejas, were praying in their little church in Acteal when they were surrounded by paramilitaries and continuously shot at. 15 children, 21 women (4 of which were pregnant) and 9 men were shot and killed, the pregnant women torn open to ensure death to their unborn children, and an additional 25 were injured. We met with the leader of this organization and he told us a long history of the organization and so many of its activities, only mentioning the massacre for a brief 10 minutes. We were sitting on this large cement platform, and at the end of his hour long talk he asked us, “So you want to go down and see our cemetery?” and we realized then that platform we sat on was the roof to a very large tomb. We went below and saw the 45 spaces marked off with small name placards. Lining the walls were photos of the dead, crosses, paintings, tributes, more crosses and candles. I at this point lost it. I know that many of my compañeras also felt the way I did, but my emotion manifested itself in liquid form. I became a puddle of snot and tears as I tried to gulp down my loud hollow sobs.

After the massacre, that same day, the bodies were rounded up and put into pick-up trucks to be burned or dumped in mass graves. But it was too late- there had been witnesses, and the witnesses called the press, a much more effective law enforcer than the police here in México. The media arrived, and the police followed, and the paramilitaries ran and hid. They took the bodies to be autopsied and then returned them to Acteal, and the half-assed investigation began. Of course nothing was ever found, no one was ever tried, and no one is in jail except for more Abejas.

So who are the paramilitaries? They’re not government supported in theory, yet they do a lot of the government’s dirty work. What happens is that the government tries to come into the mountains and steal land. The people there protest. The government installs military bases in “strategic zones” (next to natural resources). The people who live in the communities end up walking by these military bases everyday, and they begin to get to know the military men. Once they become friends, when no ones around they might start playing around with guns, and the young indigenous men think, “That looks like fun! I want to be in the army too!” And the military responds, “well you’ll need a bunch of years of training… but if you want to help us out, I can let you borrow my gun and train you a little bit… and then you can help us out with some exercises,” all the while indoctrinating their pro-government beliefs. The young indigenous men train unofficially, and when the time is right their enlisted to help in a project, totally out of the government’s hands, and yet representative of what the government would like to be done. The young indigenous men attack their own community for being “radical” or “narcotraficos”.
I know that this explanation of paramilitary forces is very vague and incredulous, but this is how it was told to me. I encourage you all to do your own research to fill in the gaps of this explanation.

After Acteal, we stopped and had a great big lunch in a little rural town. All 20 of us ate the same three things: scrambled eggs with sausage, quesadillas and “meat” tacos (it’s always a mystery…) plus drinks, salsa, tortillas, avocados. Then we kept traveling and arrived deep in the clouds to Oventik, a Zapatista Caracol. The Zapatistas are a social movement against the Mexican government. The roots go way back, but the world first heard of the Zapatistas on New Year’s Day 1994 when they took armed control of various cities in Chiapas. They demanded that the government give them total control of their region, citing various constitutional guarantees that protect indigenous land rights. They took up arms because they had tried for so many years to get their demands through the lawful means, but always without success. The first 12 days were violent, many people lost their lives, but the vast majority the poor, indigenous farmers who made up the Zapatista National Liberation Army, or as it’s known by its Spanish initials, the EZLN. After that the EZLN retreated back into the jungle, completely hidden. They haven’t taken up arms since, so the critique that we all hear that they are a violent radical movement should be discredited. They had meetings with all levels of the government after that and finally came to some agreements, called “Los Acherons de San Andres”. These are agreements that the government signed on, and yet NONE of them have ever been met. Finally, frustrated with working “through” the law when it never has worked, they declared complete autonomy. They created autonomous regions where there are large Zapatista strongholds. They accept no aid from the government in these regions—no schools, hospitals, or funds. They set up their own form of government which is truly democratic. Decisions are only made after every single person in the community comes to agreement, which you can imagine is a very long and tedious process. They do this through assemblies where everyone speaks and is heard. They take hours, and several meetings to really come to decisions, but the beauty of it is everyone agrees, not the 51% majority that leaves 49% of people really unhappy like we practice in our country. In the Zapatista government, at these assemblies people are also elected as representatives of the community. These representatives then meet up in what is called the “Junta de Buen Gobierno” or “The Good Government Collective for every region which is based inside “El Caracol,” or “Shell,” and begin to implement decisions made at the assemblies. The Caracol has actually more than one translation: it means shell, snail, spiral, and horn. All of these have beautiful symbolism for what the caracol represents in their communities. The motto of their government, la Junta, is “mandar por obedecer,” which means “command by obeying,” because the representatives never just invent projects or decide what to do without consulting with the greater community. Or more than just consulting, without waiting to hear what the community actually wants. The Junta positions rotate, but it’s kind of complicated so I don’t really understand how it all works. I know that they are in la Junta for 1 week at a time, in that time they live at the Caracol. They are only allowed to be representatives for 3 years before they’re switched out completely. This method ensures that everyone is truly represented and prevents an abuse of power. Inside the Caracol, like the one we went to at Oventik, there are the government buildings, basically just wooden buildings with chairs inside, a totally autonomous school and medical center, and then cooperatives where artisans make beautiful products and the money goes directly to them and their communities.
Why do they wear masks? Lou Anne wants to know. Well for various reasons, symbolic and practical:
1. During their armed rebellion, and even now, it was obviously very useful to be anonymous.
2. The mask, symbolically, erases their individual identity so that they may be one collective Zapatista unit. That’s why when they are in positions of power they all wear the mask, or as it’s called in Spanish, la pasamontaña (pass through the mountain).
3. When only your eyes show it’s nearly impossible to lie, because, as Julio says, “the eyes are the windows to the soul.” This, albeit symbolic, tactic represents the need for truth. And it is really acted upon. The Zapatistas have never lied or misconstrued their aims and strategies to the Mexican government or the general public. They only ask to not be lied to as well.
4. IT’S REALLY COLD IN CHIAPAS!!!!!!!!!!
The EZLN first “declared war” on that day in 1994 with their “first declaration.” They keep adding more declarations, and now they’re up to the 6th, which was announced this year. Each one basically outlines what their vision is for Mexico and for the world, which all fall in line with their main motto, “un mundo donde quepan muchos mundos,” or “one world where many worlds have a place”. This phrase is painted in murals all over their villages, and I think it’s really beautiful. IT doesn’t tell anyone else how to live their life or how to form their society, but just requests a chance for their own little world to have the right to exist. In the first declaration, they clearly gave rights to all kinds of people; for the first time for many indigenous women in this region they had the right to be sold into marriage, the right to join the army, the right to be in peace. The army’s official position on women is that even though they only make up 40% of the actual soldiers, they must represent 60% of the top positions. This is intentionally an unequal representation of women because the EZLN values their voices and ideas, and is also responding to a culture where women have always had way less than equal treatment.

Right now, the Zapatistas are also working on their “otra campaña,” or “other campaign,” which they launched in 2006. In 2006, especially in the state of Oaxaca but all over Mexico, there were a bunch of shady and fraudulent elections. So at this time, Subcomandante Marcos, the spokesperson for the movement, went all around Mexico campaigning for a different world, a different form of politics. He gives very eloquent speeches and is one of Latin America’s most prolific writers. He calls himself the “SUBcomandante” because he’s below the people’s command, he leads by obeying.
When we got to the caracol we had to show our passports before they would let us in, and Julio, our wonderful host, explained who we were and why we were there. Julio himself has been to the caracol many times, but the people receiving us didn’t know that because of the rotating positions. Also, because they were all wearing masks, he didn’t know if he’d ever met any of them before either. That same night we got permission to meet with the Junta. They are the people in masks in my picture. Julio introduced us and why we were there, to learn from their way of life. We wanted to ask questions, he explained, so they told us to compile a list of questions and submit it that same night and then the next day we will regroup and they’ll give us a little lecture.

We went back to the dirt-floored auditorium where we slept on the ground that night to start deciding what we wanted to ask. It was hard to do because no one wanted to ask something stupid, but at the same time we didn’t want our questions to be so lofty and academic. As this process started, a girl from our program was feeling rather ill. She thought it was probably just the twisty car trip, but then threw up inside on the dirt floor. A few of us rushed to help her clean up and she began eating a little bit and resting. Then, another girl said, “It’s probably just from being around Megan while she threw up, but I’m feeling pretty nauseous….” And moments later she too was throwing up on the floor inside the auditorium. A few more of us were feeling pretty gross at this point, but we held it together and made the list of questions. By the time we all got settled in our sleeping bags on the dirt floor or on wooden benches (me curled up with a little stray kitten…so cute and I escaped flea free!) another girl had thrown up. I slept like a little baby, and when I woke up I discovered that HALF of our group had been violently ill throughout the night, several of them throwing up inside where we were sleeping and many making desperate and rushed trips to the bathroom. It was in this state that we met again with the Junta, a few of the girls reluctantly opting out of the visit. The Junta answered our questions for about an hour, and then we unfortunately had to take off right away to care for our victims of food poisoning. * the craziest thing about the food poisoning was that we all ate literally from each others plates and yet some of us never got sick at all, like me. I think it’s because I’ve been so gung-ho from the start in tasting all the different tacos and juices on the streets in Mexico that my stomach developed pretty strong bacteria. I was one of four who never had…ehem…intestinal difficulties.

From Chiapas we went to the Istmo of Oaxaca. If you look at a map of Oaxaca you’ll see how the Eastern edge just out into Chiapas a bit. Well there is a city there called Juchitán (hoo-chee-tahn). First we visited an organization that works with the Muxe population. Muxe’s are men who are gay and also cross dress. In the indigenous culture they make up practically a third gender, and they’re really well respected because also in the culture men and men can’t get married and live together but they can have long open relationships, and so every parent hopes that they’ll have at least one Muxe son to stay home and take care of them until they die. Juchitán is a prominent trade spot, and has been for centuries, and the Muxe’s have a very active role in the economic activities of the area.

Then we went to the outskirts of the city where most of the land is under ejido control. Ejido’s were created after the Mexican Revolution as a land reform that gave more to peasants. They’re communally owned properties where many families live and cultivate. If you are an ejido owner it’s very easy to pass your portion down to your descendants, so all of the ejidos have been owned communally for a really long time (especially because before the Mexican revolution, indigenous people’s already “owned” communally the same terrains. It was just made into “law” after the revolution.). This part of the Mexico is also one of the windiest places in the world. Well lately, as part of a development plan, the government has been getting these ejido land owners to sign over their lands to transnational corporations. The project we specifically focused on was by a Spanish company called Iberola (?) who builds wind farms. They went door to door getting signatures on contracts from peasants, 90% of whom were illiterate. They completely tricked them, saying that they would be able to use their land the exact same way before, that they would get the profits from the windmills, and that they would be providing jobs and a renewable source of energy to their community. Unfortunately, the restrictions listed on another part of the contract, only available through legal pressure, stated that they couldn’t grow trees, couldn’t use any creeks on the land, couldn’t build any structures, couldn’t graze their cattle, couldn’t grow corn, the energy generated was actually to be used for bigger cities around the area (some plans are in the works to transport it all the way to the U.S. border), the windmills don’t generate profit until after the three year mark (curiously the contracts are on three year time frames..). Not to mention the problems with the technology: the wind farms are negatively impacting migratory bird patterns, killing bats who eat insects which cause more plagues on their crops, the noise of the blades hurts people’s ears, especially when they’re still developing, there is the “strobe-light-effect” of the sun being reflected off the blades which has led to seizures, the bases have to be supported by half a kilometer of in ground cement, so they’re filling giant holes in the ground with cement. A few times they’ve proposed a sight to put the windmill, dug the hole, and then changed their mind, so now there are very dangerous holes where farmers have found carcasses of cattle and horses. This is all proposed by the government, and yet the profits don’t ever go to the people, they go to transnational corporations. The government is making a path for businesses to generate profits, even at the expense of its own citizens. We met with an organization that educates the community about these issues so that they can halt the expansion of the wind farms. They’re also trying to get lawyers for the ejido owners so that they can take these issues to court.

Hearing about all these issues was a huge blow to me as an environmentalist. I’ve always thought wind energy is a great idea and with the right technology it could really change the world. That still might be true, but it’s making me question Who is going to develop this technology? The government or businesses? And if businesses do it, and if their main goal is to earn money, how are we going to respect communities and protect their rights to say no to transnational corporations? These wind farms are actually bad for the environment, they’re bad for people’s health, and they’re breaking up well established and well integrated communities, all for the sake of profit.

After the Istmo, we went down to Zipolite and Puerto Escondido, two gorgeous coastal towns, where we had three days of vacation. Now I’ve got a suntan.

Now we’re all starting our independent study projects that last one month. I’m working with a non-governmental organization called INSO, which in English means the institute of Oaxacan nature and society. I've wrote up a lesson plan that teaches the kids about the Oaxacan environment, or at least calls their attention to a few environmental problems, and have been going to 6th grade classes for an hour and a half everyday to do the activity. It's been interesting and challenging, and I'm really happy to be doing what I'm doing.

So sorry my email is 6 pages long. I hope that you all read some or part of it!

Love, Dana

Schedules?

Hey all you bearcatz returning to WU next semester (and anyone else taking classes anywhere), whats your class schedule? Anyone? eh? anything interesting?
-Claire

sometimes a great notion

huddled around a flickering television on the third floor of the hostel, Americans, Tanzanians, Europeans, essentially all members of hostel woke up early to watch as the final votes were counted, the final electoral ballots casted, and John McCain accept the decision of the people of united states. His speech was bland, dried of emotion, color, and sensitivity. McCain announced his defeat and stepped aside for the new president. Obama came to the screen with a confidence in air and a stone like expression as he filled the ears of those who have supported him with the strong belief and sensation that change is possible. Tears streamed from faces of all nations. I sat next to people i did not know, grasping another inclination of the importance of Obama and the voice that so many people identify with. Whatever elections mean, whatever significance that they actually have, one politician to the next, it is certainly undeniable the feeling that i have in my gut listening to his acceptance speech. I do not know what will become of this, if the kind of institutional change that needs to take place will, but now there is a notion, something that has been dutifully and appropriately labeled with a single simple word: hope.
certainly monumental
my time in Africa is almost at a close, two months travels by in the blink of an eye with only memories and an ever growing beard to show for it. This has, to say the least, been a awe inspiring, thought provoking, one intellectual stimulant to the next, time. every experience has come so quickly with little time to synthesis or let the emotional dust settle to understand to full capacity what in the world (no pun intended), is going on. I wish there was a way for me to describe in great detail, but unfortunately i cannot bring myself to write something that would be substantial enough to feel good about. Life continues, and at the close of my time in Tanzania i can lift my chin high, face the east and see 6 more months of awakening yet tiresome travel. I feel again, the absence of a home, and as i read through the blog for the first time of having access to the internet in close to 6 weeks, again i am reminded of how much i love each and all of you. until paths cross and minds meet, and our lives continue to quiver us into new identities, i wish whole heartedly, the best for all.
with a continuing growing love,
hakuna matata
timm

The Beyond

I am in the Mark O. Hatfied Library(Narc O. Hatfield if you may), a place that really needs no introduction at all, procrastinating, an activity that really needs no introduction at all, my creative writing paper for archaeology.  I haven't typed a sentence of it actually.  I do however have some ideas floating around my head and I thought that an easier assignment would jog the brain.  The work load this year has been relatively balanced and I don't feel the need to walk to my dorm room and hug my manatees in a grief stricken panic anymore.  It may not be the professors tenderness more than the fact that I have learned how to manage my time better.  It is easier to be on top of assignments when all ya'll are spread across the continents.  I am quite proud of my scholarly zeal this semester but I would no doubt rather be living in a state of constant chaos with each and every one of you.  It says "chaos" as my middle name on my birth certificate ya know.

I feel as if the black hole is swallowing my creativity.  That is the name that I have given my house.  Many have you alluded to me, on skype etc., that you have heard reports on my unhappiness with my living situation.  It is not that I am unhappy per-say but my housemates and I have very different definitions on having a good time.  There is only so much herb I can smoke and so many commercials I can watch before I call it quits and live the one and only life I've gots.   It reads a bit dramatic I know, but I never realized that when mixed together these two ingredients create zombies.  I love my house for enabling me to cook and clean and have people over whenever I want for small gatherings or ragers.  I love my house minus the zombies.  So this leads me to ask, what are your plans for living arrangements next semester?

Momma Gail came to Oregon for Parent Family Weekend in early October.  I was determined to show her a good time because she had to share the trip with my father last year and ended up leaving early. We spent the first night of her trip in the Portland area with my brother and his girlfriend Caitlin.  We went to the pumpkin patch on Sauvee Island and then ate dinner in a small town 30 minutes outside of Portland that was on the Columbia.  It was a quaint night for the family to reconnect.  The following morning we stopped at the Saturday Market and quickly left to roll into Salem in time for the Rugby game mid afternoon.  I tried to convince my mom to come to the drink up afterwards but she politely declined.  We spent the rest of the day looking around campus and doing activities that are important to me but too menial to describe here. 

 The highlights of the weekend were having a dessert party with Morgan's and Monbo's families at The Ram and a wine tour in the Salem hills.  While at the Ram, we ordered way too much food even with each dessert split between two people.  We ended up swapping food around the table which was a great way to get everyone out of their seats and into a conversation.  They all got along great and the moment made me feel truly happy.  It is always heart warming to see people together with no other agenda than enjoying the moment.  My mom has rediscovered her passion for wine in the past two years.  Grapes of any good quality do not grow in Oklahoma because of the harsh seasons so her amazement at the sprawling vineyard in the Willamette Valley made her really happy.  Willamette Valley Vineyards is perched high in the valley.  We could see trees for miles, the city of Salem, and small patches carved out for agriculture.  It was a beautiful day.  The grapes were being harvested and put into fermentation tanks.  Other grapes were being removed from the tanks and mooshed with poles before their final journey to the glass bottle.  After our little tour that highlighted this and that, the drinking commenced.  We tried sip after sip of wine accompanied by strawberries and cheese.  I just stood by her and said, "Yes momma, I like that one too." 

In other news, Obama is the new president.  I refuse to write him a "get out of office free" card but I am very happy to be alive for this momentous occasion in the history of The United States. Hopefully he can restore hope in a country that lost it for so many years.  I am sure the study-abroaders can breath a sigh of relief and have another reason to say but but but.....when teased for the failures of our ruling class. 

Halloween was a spooooky rager.  I was the Queen of Hearts chopping off the heads of all those who deserved it with my flamingo bat.  I handed out candy to all the darling children that came to the door.  All of the kids had such great manners.  I would tell them to take as much as they wanted and their eyes would get really big for about a second and then they would check themselves and grab two pieces.  Good job mommies and and daddies of the Salem area for teaching self discipline to the tiny people of America.  Jenna Baker and crew had a party complete with beer and sppookkkkkkky decorations.  Pictures hopefully soon!  I used Emily's camera to capture the madness throughout the night but most of the turned out crappy becuase I was a wastedass.  

I have been thinking about you all so much lately.  I can barely believe that some of you will be returning in a few months.  We are going to have so so so much fun when you get back!  We have to capitalize on it now because in little more than a year we will all be graduating.  I know it seems like forever but it really hits me now that no one lives in the dorms.  For those of you who are not returning, I love you more than words can describe and I hope you do come back to the Willamette community sometime before 2010!

To Infinity and Beyond,

Mary "Chaos" Lugg 

 

Oy gevalt

Geez my friends, do I miss you.

It has been a tremendously odd semester so far. For example, none of you are here - weird. I am still out of the Bistro which came as a huge disappointment for me because that is where I remember all of you best. The weather just got rainy the other day which is bizarre, as since it is Oregon it should've been real wet already. I had to find a new home for the Captain as he was discovered during fire inspections, another blow to the old friends who are now gone. He was just starting to get so fat and lazy, you would have all loved it.

All of this, I think, contributes to how f'ed life has been. I can't seem to sleep when I want to and can quite easily when I am not expecting to. No joke, I actually fell asleep into my bowl of soup a few weeks ago. In the middle of the day. In these odd sleep patterns I find myself making up my days in my dreams, which is to say my dream life has become very entangled in my waking life, to the point where I cannot differentiate between the two. This has led me to believe that I can still play the drums like I could over the summer, leading to a disastrous performance with Bo for our concert. Embarrassing!

You would all love this year's international students - they come from some new places including Finland and there's a guy from New Zealand. It's been a blast getting to know them. For example, the first one and a half months at WU we didn't miss a single happy hour at the Ram. Holy shit, it was nuts! And as a testament to how crummy the Ram is, they STILL don't know our names with a very few shining exceptions. Either case, it's been great with these kooky folks and, of course, everyone else we love is still here kickin'. You would all flip shit at the sight of Andy, Mary, Dan, Gallager and Sean's place, holy crow.

Um, I miss y'all dearly and am going mad without you, but I am glad to hear that you all seem to be doing very well in your places on the planet. I am up all sorts of odd hours of the night and day and I'd love to hear your voices so put me down on your skype'sup - the name's christoffer.monaco, ya got it?

cucurrucucu paloma

Megan recommended that I listen to this song, cucurrucucu paloma, from the movie Habla con Ella. I think its really beautiful.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AA6G0Fq7d5U&feature=related

I love you all.

Hayley

It's been too long, non?

Well hey,

The Obama win has left me thinking of home a lot these last couple of days and I decided it's about time I send you all another email. I must say I haven't missed home like I did on November 4th (and 5th for me) since my first few days in Aalborg. I wish I could have been in the midst of election day chaos, passion and celebration. Don't get me wrong, I had a fantastic celebration with my American and international friends. A small group of us camped out at a friend's flat, stayed up all night watching the results of the campaign on a laptop and celebrated every time we moved a little closer to victory. The final results for the presidential race came at about 5:30am and that's when the real celebration began. My American friends and I put on a silly show for the others in the room--dancing, jumping up and down, hugging, laughing, screaming, crying--for about two hours straight. We watched McCain's concession speech, which I was impressed by. The only thing that irked me, was when his crowd booed at the mention of Obama's name. For such a powerful moment in history, I felt it was a little immature and harsh. But Barack Obama's acceptance speech, as cliche as it may sound, moved me. I have never in my life felt so proud of Americans. I have never felt proud of BEING an American until now, though I have always wanted to be. I completely understand that the change we need isn't miraculously here because Barack Obama is our new president, but the man inspires me and he has obviously inspired so many other Americans. That is what will bring about change. He builds the will in people and the people make the change. He has also--overnight--lifted such a scarred reputation off the shoulders of our country. The world was holding its breath and is now so happy with our choice. People everywhere are celebrating. Kenya even made (Thursday) a national holiday for what Obama has accomplished. I've witnessed it myself. I'm around international students all day long and am constantly questioned about my country's politics. Usually I feel a bit embarrassed or wary of saying that I'm an American, but already (two days after the election) I'm seeing people's faces brighten when they hear it. Anyway, I'm proud of the way he campaigned and I'm proud of Americans for electing him (by a landslide). Though I don't envy the man; he's got a lot of work to do.

As for everything else, the Danish life has settled inside of me. I like it here. During the first couple of weeks, as I watched international students trickle into Aalborg, I began to realize that I was not alone in my stresses over adjustment to the new life. The confusion and homesickness I recognized in everyone around me made me understand that it's just a phase you go through when you move away from everything familiar and things do pick up quickly. I learned that I was placed in a very lucky spot--right downtown. The uni is about 5 km from my flat and most people live out there. That means that they have to take the bus into town to do anything, and the busses don't run very late. My four flatmates are all beautiful, warmhearted and fun. One is from Italy (she and I love to exchange recipes..mm Italian cooking), one from Russia and two from Norway. We've grown into a sort of family at this point and are always watching out for each other. I've learned that I can't leave for the weekend without telling them or they'll practically send out a search mission. 

I've made great friends from all over the world and have learned much more from conversations with them than I have in the classroom. We are constantly asking about each other's home country, or traditions or even use of language. My Aussie friend has a different word for everything: counter=bench, dinner=tea, hick=bogan, to lift is to hoik and so on; Italians take their food very seriously and the Danish love to drink. I've also learned a lot about the U.S. by simply explaining it to others. At home, when I was surrounded by Americans, I never felt confident that I knew much about the system or the nation's history. I think in the U.S., we aren't constantly discussing or thinking about the everyday aspects of American life. Here I find myself describing the political system, the traditions and history to my international friends who are always inquiring and I realize that I know more than I thought. So, I spend most of my time meeting new people and learning about the world (or taking a walk around the city). One very popular thing to do here among international students is to throw dinner parties. Almost every other day I am invited to or hosting an international dinner for friends. I've had everything from Norwegian porridge to authentic Italian lasagna to moose (my vegetarianism has definitely suffered here) and I've made plenty of dishes for everyone as well. The funny eggs and chocolate chip cookies were a big hit. 

The Danes are another story. I found that their community is much harder to breech than expected. Then Danes are a very comfortable and content people. When they have found their niche, they don't feel the need to branch out. This isn't to say they are mean or selfish people. They are just shy in a sense and if you take the first step in getting to know them, they are very kind and welcoming. In fact, the Danes describe themselves with the word hygge, which means cozy, content, secure, familiar, etc. About a month ago I was invited on a trip out to a beach cabin that the university arranges for new Danish students every year. On this trip, I got to know many Danes and finally understood the meaning of hygge. Though I am generalizing, it's proved true with all of my Danish friends. They are very friendly, but you have to break into their niche to know it.

I have travelled a bit already. In the beginning I went somewhere every weekend. I don't think I spent one weekend in Aalborg for about a month straight. I went to Germany twice; one story you know, and the other trip was to visit a very good friend (Felice DuBois for those of you who know her). Another friend of mine stopped by on his trip around Europe and we spent a weekend in Amsterdam, which was incredible. We took a tour of the beautiful city and then a night tour of the Red Light District which was my favorite part of the trip. I learned so much about how prostitution works in The Netherlands, and have a completely different perspective on it than I did before. We also visited the Anne Frank House, the Van Gogh Museum, a Sex Museum and other places. Another weekend I spent discovering Denmark's hip and artsy city Arhus where I checked out a great exhibit called Music To See (a compilation of music videos from famous producers), the Old Town and some great festivals. I also visited the very tip of Denmark, a beautiful coastal town called Skagen, where I climbed in old German bunkers from WWII and stood at the point where the Baltic Sea and the North Sea meet. I didn't expect to actually see two bodies of water colliding, but I swear the waves ran right into each other from either side. For our Fall Break, six friends and I road-tripped through Norway, which at this point was my favorite trip of all. We spent the entire week in little cabins and hiking through magnificent scenery. Picture Glacier National Park in the fall--the mountains were on fire. Norway in a nutshell is mountains, fjords, massive waterfalls and tunnels. Absolutely beautiful. However, the Norway trip is a long story that would make this already ridiculously long email much much longer. So ask me about it sometime if you're interested. This month I've got way too much school work to be traveling, but I will again in December. I have plane tickets to London where I will spend a day and then take a train to Edinburgh (to see Ian!) for three days. On the 20th I am flying to Prague where I'll be for a few days. Then I'm going to Brittany, France (to see Genna Hall!!) for Christmas and Paris for New Years. Yes, I am excited!

But, again, this email is much too long. I'll try to update more often, because there is so much to tell. I miss you all very very much and I'm looking forward seeing all of you in a couple of months. For now, I'm going to enjoy the hygge of Danish wintertime and get back to writing my papers!

One last note..GOBAMA!!!

Ciao.

P.S. my friend made this great joke about Norway: one person says to the other "You going to Norway?" and the other says "No(r)way! I can't afjord it!!"

Obamarama shall never end!! We did it guys!!

Never have I been so proud to be a Virginian

We were waiting in line to see our next president.

OBAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Beach livin/ i love you

So... Hayley is now a professional boogie boarder.
Elsa now builds internationaly-renowned sand castles.

Thoughts on feelings

vice cream

Dearest Friends,

I have so much to say but I am having a hard time putting it into words! I am going to write about some feelings I have feeling. I will start with the good. I really love studying art all the time. Art school makes me feel not as worthless as Willamette sometimes makes me feel. I feel as though each day has purpose as I work on my projects. It feels right. I am often unsatisfied with my work, but I am satisfied with the fact that I am creating. It has really given me the chance to ponder up some ideas for my senior thesis. (I can’t fully describe all these ideas to you because they are all still floating around in pieces in my head, but I can tell you that it might involve etching and maybe screen-printing and hopefully books and perhaps some ideas of nostalgia and memory! Or maybe not…something to sort out at a later date). I am always inspired by the work of my classmates and I challenged to work harder. It is a good feeling. Other good feelings include: Gelato in my mouth, listening to my growing music collection, drawing the evenings with my roommates (extra good), pausing to look up at the Duomo on the walk to school, getting email from people that I care about, and hearing encouragement with my art studies.

Now on to the bad: One bad feeling that I have been experiencing lately is homesickness. I often feel guilty when I long to be in my own bed at home when I am living a fantasy life of art school in Florence. (So much that I am having reoccurring dreams about waking up at home and thinking I didn’t do anything while in Italy!) I want so badly to live each moment in the present, but it is something that I simply can not do. I feel childish for these thoughts because I have never been afflicted with homesickness (I never understood the kids at summer camp who couldn’t make it the whole two weeks without their parents) but the feeling is there and I can’t deny it. Some days I just really want a burrito and my bike and you. I am curious to know if you experience these feelings. I also wonder that if it is the knowledge that this situation is incredibly temporary makes these feelings more intense. Other bad feelings include: money stress, not getting any mail from people that I care about, being hung-over (Happy Halloween) and thinking about the economy crashing and burning. I know that seems like some bad feelings, but they must be experienced to make the good ones better.

I hope y’all are feelin’ some feelings! And sorry for getting so touchy feely on you. Har har har

You friend,

Claire H. Lindsay-McGinn

P.S. Keep checking out my flickr page, I put up some silly art.