If anyone still reads this, I am Marco Fiallo a Willamette student, I opened a hostel in Quito and would appreciate it if you would be able to help spread the word to anyone coming to Quito, Ecuador. the name of the hostel is Community Hostel, and you can find us on the web at www.communityhostel.com . Our mission is to help form a community for the traveler, while helping the local community! we try to provide this community by allowing travelers to break bread and share there experiences, and we also give a portion of our profits to the local communities!

come visit The Dalles

Hey Friends,

Do you remember Michal Kawka and I?

He was the Polish exchange student with the great dance moves. We are living in The Dalles, Oregon, and we would love to see you. Come and visit. We are just moving into a new apartment next month with lots of room to host and play music and drink tea.

We have had some adventures in Chicken Raising, Bike Riding, small-town-living, and big-time-dreaming.

Give us a call! 541-965-2902 -- Anya

Oregon Country Fair

Who is going to OCF? It is an amazing weekend in Veneta, OR (Just outside Eugene...) Here are a few videos I took last year:








Hope all is well for everyone! (and hope to see you soon!)

Moose, beluga and Elvis spotted

Hello all!

I'm back up in Alaska, relaxing at my friend Kendra's house with her wonderful family for one final day before work begins. It's day three and I've already seen a moose in mid-town Anchorage, belugas fishing alongside Turnagain Arm, and Elvis strutting his stuff downtown last night. I had a wonderful week visiting friends at Willamette and tying up loose ends there: all of my boxes (and skis) have been sorted through, I said my goodbyes and even got a wave and smile from President Pelton himself. I figure that's as good a sign as any to move on to the next chapter.

Although my goodbye to Willamette was awfully bittersweet when it came right down to it, my spirits rose immensely once I arrived at my gate for my flight. I noticed the crowd around me was quite different from the left-coasters I'd been seeing all week. Here I found many of my fellow travelers to be wearing Xtra-tuffs, Carhartts, cammo backpacks and the like. Aah, Alaska. I couldn't help but grin. I half-expected to see a moose rack in the overhead bin.

As I look forward to this upcoming season and start to consider once again my options for the fall, one thing that has really stuck with me from my recent travels is the value of close friends. I really enjoyed being around my family all fall, and getting to hang out with college friends after nearly a year's absence felt so nice after being in unfamiliar territory for two months. I find myself craving the familiar much more than I expected: the travel bug apparently has petered out for now, at least. I've been looking a bit at schools in Maine where I could do something a little more science-y, perhaps marine biology, as well as still considering the baking and pastry program in Vermont. But most of all I hope I end up not too far from my family and at least a couple of good friends. We'll see where that takes me.

hey all,

  so currently i am in Mexico, el D.F. to be exact, staying in a small colonia by the name of Santo Domingo. 38 years ago the land that im on right now was little more than bare volcanic rock but it was "invaded literally overnight by thousands of people and settled against the will of the government. Over the course of two years the people made roads established their buildings, and finally got recognition by the government as an establishment for land owning. Now the place is super lively all hours of the day, there are three tortillarillas around the corner from my house so i can constantly smell the odor of hot corn pancakes wafting to the air. Some of you might know what im talking about though, Dana, Katy, i believe you know a couple of my friends, Mojdeh and Gustavo Esteva? I heards that they help out the SIT programs as well and that our programs are actually pretty similar in Mexico. Gustavo is our coordinator and teaches two sections in our academics, and Mojdeh pretty much runs the show, her hair is blue now, what color was her hair when you all were here?

   New Zealand was amazing and i know that the justice to be done in explaining my time there will not take place over the internet, but some highlights have to be mentioned. The coordinator of the program was an environmental lawyer named Peter Horsley.  a wacky enthusiastic and read down to earth guy. One of the benefits of New Zealand being such a small country, it literally has more sheep than people, is that a well connected man like Peter knew everyone. We had guest lectures from some amazing activists, political figures including spending an entire day in the green party's office, and corporate CEO's. But not only were we exposed to the contemporary Pakeha culture (pakeha culture being the Mauri word for other, most commonly associated with european but not exclusive of other pacific islanders) we spent time living on a muri a Mouri village and traditional homestead. We took part in rituals, ceremonies, conversations, visited sacred sites, climbed mountains swam in lakes. Our Anthropologist professor was named Jessica, a Mauri woman, took us painstakingly through the hardships and battles fought for Mauri rights and above all, the battle for Mauri female voices. We learned all about the flaws and injustices within the field of anthropology, who it privileges, whose voice it represents, through a very personalized perspective. New Zealand shocked me in ways that have never before rattled me. It was an experience that loosened the dirt around my roots a little more, stunned me with its natural beauty, and brought tears to my eyes.   

more to come from mexico soon

trobb

Sup Sup Revival

Keep the Sup Sup Spirit alive! I know a lot of you Bearcatz are back in WU-town now, but I still want to know what is happening in your lives! Please post!

I just moved into a wonderful, warm, happy co-op where I make art and cook and wear costumes and deconstruct social constructs with seventeen passionate and beautiful women (12 of whom happen to be Jewish). There are six women and gender studies majors in the house, which is very different from the 80-some person dorm I lived in last semester where I was the sole SWG major. What a life! So much spontaneous music making and political conversation and tea and coffee and freshly baked bread and granola! And beer! And maybe a little too much rice and beans. And pictures of naked women drawn with chalk on the walls.

Just to give you an idea of the incredible energy that is Hopkins House, I will tell you a short anecdote. Last semester, I brought my friend from Jordan House (where I lived at the time) to meet my friends at Hopkins. She had been pretty stressed with homework and, you know, her general existence and whatnot, so she wasn't planning on staying for long. We wound up having a really great conversation with the people there about grassroots activism and local issues, and she wound up staying for quite some time. When I saw her later that night and asked how she liked Hopkins, she said, "Sarah, I came home and I wrote a poem."

Hopkins is such a welcoming, energized, creative space, and I really hope that I can share it with some of you one day. It really reminds me so much of all of you and all of the happygoofybrilliantmagical times that we've shared.

Perklunk!

Sars

P.S. I just noticed Dana's new middle name. Danes, I dig how you are really embracing B.I.E. and incorporating it into your identity.

Oh to be back at Willamette

Well, I never wrote much abroad, I think Dana's reflections about Oaxaca were similar to my own thoughts.  It is weird being back here, now, after having spent so much time in another, very different place.  Mexico seems like a dream now, if it were not for the photos and talking with friends I probably could convince myself that it was indeed a dream.  And so what, if it was a dream does it make a difference?  I have changed, regardless of the past, my current perspective on life has been altered.  Willamette does not feel the same to me.  There are so many unfamiliar places.  I feel as though I have to start over in a place that I thought I knew, a place that use to be familiar.   I guess I am okay with that, life continues, always new and always interesting.  I am glad to see faces that I have not seen in awhile, to be in the company of people that know me; but, it is still strange.  I have never felt so free to create, to encounter new people, to live! and yet so displaced and alone.  Luckily there are some cool cats hanging around.  Enough of this reflective nonsense.  Let us keep on!  I enjoy hearing about the many people who are still abroad and learning so much.

viva! 

supdate

friends,
soo, wehere in the world is timm robb? who? who knew? i am here,
Aotorea, now they call it New Zealand, it is an island and island life has
swept this awesome place. I just arrived not two days ago, i haven’t
slept in about four so this may be a ramble, however, it is my best and i
feel as though i have not ramble adequately enough for this blog and for
all of you whom i love, so as they say, ramble on...
I spent the past two months in India, an amazing place that is so
different in all of its locations, cities, beach towns, rural areas,
forests, forests within cities, cities within forests that generalizations
are unbearable. I started in New Delhi the capitol city. Upon arriving
such sites as this city had to offer where so far from any that i had seen
before. I walked through the streets, through religious ceremonies, to
street food carts, through thick auto traffic crowding streets, through
thick cattle herding through the streets. Everything: cows aplenty adorned
with painted hooves and horns for beautification, camels spitting wildly
like tobacco chewing grandfathers, elephants carrying unfathomable loads
on their backs. Walking down the street one sees enough to contemplate for
the eternity of one’s life. Once a boy no more than three ran in front of
me, pulled down his trousers and released a bowl onto the sidewalk before
my footsteps. Transportation is dominated by the auto rick-Shaw: three
wheeled, one to  nine passenger carts that crews through the expansive
streets of the city. they are cheap, you can take them (and i did, daily)
from one end of the city to the other for less than two dollars. The
cities air pollution is nearly unbearable turning your throats soar and
your boogers black. The smog choked air is most emblematic at sunrise and
sunset when you can stare at the sun with your naked eye, gloat at its
perfect shape and glamour through the thickness of smog that protects your
eyes from its overbearing intensity.
Delhi is also a collection of all the separate cultures that exist in
plurality throughout the country. It is unspeakable the variety of culture
and people that exist here, but Delhi seems to combined all of these into
a rhythmic blend of beautiful images, colors and smells. Every truck that
passes on the street is adorned with beautiful flowers, paintings, and
depictions of gods. Everything on the street are colored fantastically,
pulling your eyes attention in all directions at once. It was a city that
made me feel at home in a vast sea of differences. i could not have been
farther from my home, but something in the autonomy that exists in the
stare of the people, made me feel seen, not as an American, or westerner,
but as if they were acknowledging the budda within me, as they say,
Namaste.
Our crew of 25 traveled outside of Delhi, visiting the Taj Mahaul, and
then settling in a rural community to study and learn the complexities of
the cotton industry in India. We stayed at a Gandhian ashram, studied his
philosophies as we practiced his communalism. Later I traveled to
Dharmsala in the north part of the country. I spent ten days alone, fairly
isolated in a town settled in the foothills of the Himalayas. I hiked,
read, and wrote alone in a cabin, basking in my loneliness. I met and
befriended a Tibetan monk who took me to the top of a mountain. WE became
friends in a way i have never know friendship to exist before. we swapped
broken english sentences in exchange for companionship. After this point
our crew re-met in Mumbai for a few days before spending the rest of the
time on a small farm north of the city. The farm bordered a river within
which i swam everyday in the mid afternoon heat.
The attacks on Mumbai were hyped by the media to the fullest existent as
im sure they were in the states as well. People here were very effected by
the attacks and it has lead to. among other things, civil organizations
demanding accountability of their government. This is leading to very
intense conversations between India and Pakistan in attempts to reconcile
the violence. Although there is a lot of pressure on the Indian government
now from its people, there is little to be accomplished between these
talks and people are feeling the frustration of a tense and unsettled
dilemma. I know very little about this like many people, and are unable to
fathom the outcome of these increased tensions.
What to say in reflection of my time here... most of my academics were
spent studying under a well known activist by the name of Smitu Kathari.
He comes from a family of educators and activists and versed us students
well in the diversity of social movements that are in existence in
contemporary India. Certainly a fascinating perspective to learn from, one
that i respect very much and will miss in my months to come here on out.
We spent a majority of the time discussing the framework of social
movements, its skeleton, its fuel and its obstacles. India is a very
unique place. For example, the little i knew of India before coming was
that it was a "developing" country. I now have a clearer definition of
what this means specifically to the political borders of the landmass. it
is not always pretty, in fact, hardly ever, but in its wake exists a
plethora of mobilization and activism that cannot be described as anything
but awe-inspiring. What i love about this, is that even in the face of the
unspeakable, people speak. In the shadow of one powerful persons dream,
are the torches of those who have dreams that differ from the main stream.
It is the gentle steady hum of the individuals collectively harmonizing in
a common "no" making way for the many "yeses".
sorry to have colonized our blog wall, it happens seldom that i thought
its appropriate. i will try to be more frequent and less verbose in the
blogs to come. With enduring gratitude and love in my heart, salaam
aleikum
timm

Inauguration on the Mall

This past weekend, I drove down to DC with my brother and a friend to go see Inauguration and the events leading up to it. The trip started in typical Julia fashion with a last-minute change in plans when we learned that there would be a concert on Sunday... so we jumped in the car a few hours later, driving down through the night and taking turns sleeping. We barely snuck out of New England before a snowstorm tore through, dumping 18 inches of fresh powder on top of the piles of snow already here.

We checked in with the family friend we were staying with and hopped on the bus from her house, chatting with a Georgetown student as we journeyed into the city (We bumped into him again on our way home, actually. It was amazing how many faces we saw multiple times amidst the crowds). The masses were gathering quickly on the mall and we found ourselves nearly a mile from the Lincoln memorial and stage, in front of a massive screen behind the reflecting pool. The crowd was electric. Not only was a historic moment on the brink of becoming reality; an all-star cast of American icons was present to welcome and celebrate it. The camaraderie in the crowd was beautiful as often surprising speakers and unexpected performers showed up, one after another, to offer their services to the celebration of our country and its hopeful new direction.

The next day we relaxed, recharging our batteries for another couple of big days and connecting with two friends in the area. Sarah Zahner, one of my fellow road-trippers from my first drive to Oregon, found us in the evening and joined us for the rest of our DC visit. We enjoyed the eccentric company of our host, Cynthia. She, a generation or two older than us, benefited (I think) from our youthful energy and decided to come downtown with us for Inauguration after all. Along the way, she told us stories of witnessing MLK’s famous speech decades before. We got an early start and crammed on a crowded bus, taking it as far as we could before the roads closed. The steady trickle of people quickly became a swollen crowd that poured onto the mall and surrounding areas, cheering and chatting happily despite the wind’s icy bite.

Inauguration was over in a blur- waves of cheers washed over and past us as the speech reached the ears of all. I am a bit of an Obama skeptic myself, concerned that there is no way this one man can live up to all expectations and titles that have been given him. The political world is one I tend to avoid in general. But I was very impressed with his inaugural address. It wasn’t just a conglomeration of previous sound bites or hollow promises. I felt his ability to inspire us into becoming greater, more responsible Americans more tangibly than I ever had before.

The journey to DC was well worth it, even though it included my first road-trip breakdown: two flat tires on the interstate at 1am that evening! We finally made it home safe and sound, for which I am thankful, as well as for having the chance to witness such a historic event.

- -Que viva el año nuevo!!!!

Hola amigos!! We just wanted to wish you all the best most awesomest super duper chevere 2009!!!! We´re sure this year will bring all of you wonderful people luck, hope, love, money and travel…..or at least it will for us! Haha let us explain… Here in Ecuador el año nuevo is filled with traditions that assure plenty of awe-inspiring things to come in the upcoming year. Here are some examples/a summary of our last day of 2008(which by the way was an excellent year)… The madness began as we were driving back to Lucia´s house from the airport. The roads, sidewalks and cars were covered with “Años Viejos”. Años Viejos are stuffed lifesized figurines that every family buys/makes to burn at midnight on the 31rst of December, “to destroy by fire” (haha looked that one up in word synonyms) all the bad things that have happened to you on the year…
Along our journey we also were stopped my sexy “widows” asking for money to burry their dead husbands, symbolic of the year that passed. The widows were simply cross dressers hoping to make an extra buck out of an old tradition. Haha and one of the skimpily dressed widows begged Hilde´s brother to stay with her…AWKWARD!

From there we went to Lucia´s house to prepare our costumes for the big party… Her mother had kindly bought us both a pair of yellow panties to bring us loads of money in the upcoming year (hope it works!). haha so on new years it is rather boring to picture everyone in their underwear….seems how everyone is wearing yellow hoping to win the lottery (or some are wearing red for love!) We quickly started thinking what we could wear to cover our cute (and hopefully lucky) panties! Hilde wanted to be the abominable snowman, but considering the weather… she would have cooked inside and been dead before the new year…. From there, we searched the closet and found a makeshift wonder woman outfit for Hilde, and out of a bag hidden in the back of her closet Luci found her UNITARD making her color woman!!!! (from Willamette dance concert… I think you might remember this skin tight painted beauty).
So with our yellow underwear and customs to jumpstart the new year we headed to the party with Luci’s lovely family. As we entered the party the dance floor was filled with characters from the past and the present. We rocked the floor for a couple of hours and then got ready to receive the New Year. We killed the music and listened on the radio to the same bellowing voiced guy who has counted down the new year for the past 50 years.
As the countdown began, everyone counted out 12 grapes, lit candles, grabbed suitcases and matches to light the fireworks, and headed outside. As the clock struck twelve, we lit the Año Viejo and jumped over as it burned asking for our dreams to come true. People then shoved the grapes in their mouths, one for every month and asking for wishes to be granted. The candles were lit to bring love, hope, and money for everyone. At the same time, people were running around with suitcases to guarantee travels in the next year. As fireworks exploded in the sky, everyone hugged each other thankful that they shared this night together and wishing a good year. Then we ate a lot, sang, and dance a bit more. When the family party ended at around 3 am, we decided to go to a nightclub with some more friends… as we walked into the nightclub we realized (too late) that were the only people still in costume. A couple of people asked Luci if she worked there and if that was why she was soooo dressed up and another man kindly asked to remove her wig while they were dancing… she of course declined.
We hope you understood all of that...it was a light night and we are still suffering the side effects...
Feliz año nuevo!!! We miss you all this much =================== and more...!

BESOS
Lucia y Hilde

Happy New Year!!!

Hey everyone!! Hope you all had a wonderful new year's eve party. I spent mine in Portland at the Freeman's, which was awesome! Took this video for Elsa, but thought you'd all really like to see it as well
Love, Dana

Engine Engine Number 9

Heyyy everybody!

I'm not sure how many of you will be blogging or checking supsup this holiday season, but I hope this post brings a smile to your beautiful faces wherever you are.
It is 1030am and I am on a train, traveling to London. I departed from Waverley Station in Edinburgh for the last time this morning, and despite the ridiculous holiday journey I have ahead of me, that departure was perhaps one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life. I have talked to many of you over the past few months, and I think I got all of one post in about two months ago, but this wasn't out of neglect. I check this shit every few days. I have just been so incredibly busy and happy and full of life that I could not find time to write anything until now. Edinburgh is the most wonderful city I have ever been in, and I am sure I am biased on account of the spoiled lifestyle I lived and the remarkable people I shared my time with, but still, I cannot help but envy children lucky enough to be born in Scotland's capital.
I believe I mentioned in my last blog my discontent with the fact that I found myself falling into place with a crew of Americans. I definitely completely withdraw that notion - the group that I was a part of, the bonds that we forged, and the experiences we had were among the most heartwarming and spectacular of my life. (in the words of my friend and flatmate Adam, "this semester was like kindergarten... but if you lived with your classmates, and could go out drinking every night...)
I also met a girl here, a wonderful, beautiful, brilliant and kind gal from Philly named Kate who goes to Brown. I don't want to rant and rave too much but she really was fantastic and, dare I say, close to perfect for me. Every moment I spent with her was remarkable, and while I am not sure if we have a future, on account of the distance, we are definitely keeping in touch, and I suppose we will just give it time and see what happens.
My friendships here have also been extraordinary, but also unusual for me. I have never really had a solid group of guy friends - that's not to say Timm and Chris and Tyguy aren't solid friends, I really just want to emphasize the group dynamic. Each crew I have been a part of has consisted of at least half girlies, and while I definitely LOVE all of you lady friends, I must say it was really great to have an awesome group of guys to hang out with. Unfortunately, of the friends I made in my programme, only two live on the West coast, and they both go to school in the East. I will miss them all greatly, but it is very exciting to be coming back to Salem (errr... well, maybe not Salem, but definitely Willamette!) and all/most of you in January.
weeellll, as I mentioned, I'm on a train to London. I only have the day there, so I hope I can make the most of it, but it sure is shitty out (seems to be a pretty common theme here in the UK). I am meeting my uncle tonight, and in the morning we are flying to Havana, where I will get to spend fouuurrr lovely days getting some solid R&R. Christmas day I fly to London for a holiday brunch with my uncle and his friends, then in the evening I am flying to Paris on my own to stay at my uncle's flat. I have a Interrail pass, which I am hoping to use excessively. I have a tentative plan to go through about 8 countries with a sort of culmination when I (hopefully) meet Sol in Amsterdam for NEW YEARS 2009!! I do not yet have a ticket back to the states, my uncle is (again, hopefully) hooking me up with a cheap flight to somewhere in the states and then I can find my way to PDX. I am hoping to pass through Philadelphia for a week or so to see Kate and some other kids from my program (somehow a good 30% of the students were from Philly or the surrounding area...) and then!!! SPRING SEMESTER 2009!!! yay.
I'm not sure where I'm living yet (hint hint... you know who you are) but even if I end up on campus again I will be content. Looking forward to so many things... BGB, settling Catan, B I G DUMPS, the bistro!! I will see you all so soon.

love
i town

so long EU

Firenze Night

Hey Friends!

I'm in Prague! I wish I could tell you everything that has happened between the last time I posted and now. I promise I will write up a nice long post once I am at home. It has been a crazy time here in Europe and I only have three more days. so bittersweet... Hope all of you are doing well this winter.
Love,
Claire

happy dia de santo lucia (day of light in sweden)

I killed my first turkey.

That is, me, and the two other gringos living here at Pina Palmera: Al, a slightly obnoxious man in his 40´s whose sole source of knowledge about cooking comes from a book called Fanny Farmer, and my friend Jeff, a vegetarian who has no experience meddling in the lives of animals. I as well did not have any experience in this area, but upon realizing this a little image of Lucia Norris popped into my head saying ¨its a once in a lifetime opportunity!!!¨ And so it goes. Blood, feathers and turkey drippings later we prepared a beautiful thanksgiving meal to share with the community at Pina Palmera. (Side note: we actually saved the feathers to make dream catchers. crafty? yes.) Before eating the meal everyone went around and said one thing they were grateful for, and then, we ate. and sang, and danced, and ate again, alllll through the night.

Friends, I am so grateful that bearcatz sup-sup is in my life and that I have the opportunity to listen (well read, but really I hear all your voices) to all of your beautiful stories! And while I have been listening attentively, I have failed to write anything myself. So here are some stories.

I have been living on the coast of Oaxaca for about 3 months now, volunteering at Pina Palmera - a center for rehabilitation for people with disabilities. My role here? Changes everyday but could involve anything from working in our handicraft store, to chopping things with a machete en la huerta (what a wonderfully satisfying tool) to playing goal ball (a sport invented after WWII for blind war veterans. check it out ) to dancing to U2 with Jose (one of the adults here with autism whose two favorite things in life are cars and U2) and the list goes on.

Overall, life is very tranquillo here and I have grown to be quiet content spending my afternoons simply reading in a hammock or perfecting my sand castle skills at the beach with Elsa. (Fun fact: the beach I am living at is a nudist beach! I haven´t fully taken advantage of this liberty yet, but Elsa and Dana are planning to visit this coming week, in which case we will go WILD!

As far as the spring goes, I am planning to study abroad with a program based out of Chiapas that focuses on social movements throughout Mexico. I`m pretty excited about getting back into the academic scene and learning more about what I think to be some of the most interesting social movements going on in Mexico. My program ends May 2nd in Ciudad Juarez, in which time I plan to return to Oaxaca to visit the people I have been working with here at Pina. Then, travel! I am still planning to dance in Lucia Norris`s kitchen with her mom and eat lots of peanutbutter, so I will have about a month to get over to Ecuador by late May to see her graduate! I encourage and support you all to come!

A word I really like using is spanish is YA. translation: that`s it, enough, no more, YA.

entonces... YA! that´s it for now bearcatz.

Lots of love, feathers and turkey drippings,
HalesWeed

Oh, Harvard men, you're so enlightened

Last night, a fraternity of drunken cross-dressing Harvard men flooded Smith's campus. A group of them yelled the lyrics to the song "We don't need no education" at me and some friends as we passed them and said they could not wait to get into the house party and make sexist jokes. It's a tradition for this group of guys to come to this particularly house party every year and collect girls' signatures on their asses. I will let you all make your own interpretations, but I will just tell you that I felt very uncomfortable in my own space.

Yet Another Awakening

I think my heart beats about twice as fast as a healthy twenty year-old heart. I drink six cups of coffee a day, I sleep for six hours a night, and never have I felt so alert. I know this just sounds like an unhealthy caffeine addiction, but it's more than that (although I concede that it is probably partially a side effect of the coffee).

I am studying connectivity. We can only understand our individual places on this planet once we deconstruct the context in which we exist. A synthesis of historical, economic, and political approaches is vital to understanding the fluid power dynamics that define each and every one of our interactions and relationships. Globalization did not simply begin in the 1960s or 80s or 90s; globalization describes a process, which must be historicized. This means that every time I ask "why?" the answer I find necessarily demands another "why". That is not to say that I am working in circles. With each new layer of "whys", I find myself digging deeper into this endless search.

So, how can I sleep? How can I sleep when I don't know who lobbied the government to subsidize the production of the food that I am eating? I don't know whose small businesses suffered from inflated corporate market power. I don't know what toxins and green house gases were released into whose towns to produce my food or for that matter to package and transport that food. I don't know what portion of the price I paid is going to the people who produced my food or the people who sold me my food at the grocery store. I don't know where the packaging of my food will wind up once it leaves my trash can, and I don't know whose neighborhood will take on the burden of my waste or whether or not more toxins will be released in some town that has the disadvantage of being the site of an incinerator.

The cliche is true; you are what you eat. I am what I consume. I am the criminally low wages of factory workers, the disproportionately high number of toxins released into low-income neighborhoods, the withholding of health care from the pregnant check-out woman. I am the melting of the polar ice caps. I am the enslavement of children and the trafficking of human beings. I am war, poverty, and suffering. I am torture. And let me tell you, shopping at Whole Foods or Trader Joe's will not help me sleep at night.

Oppression is systemic, and we are all a part of this system. We urgently need to explore real alternatives now for humanity and the planet. Electing Barack Obama is not going to cut it.

Yours in the land of lesbians and socialists and lesbian socialists,

Sars

As the days get shorter and darker...

I'm sitting here at about 1:00 am and thinking it's just as dark at 4:00 pm as it is now. I remember hearing about the cold darkness of Denmark's wintertime and dreading the idea of only a few hours of daylight. However looking back now, I can't say it has affected me much more than wintertime at WU. In fact, the days are clearer and it hasn't rained much at all yet. When the sun does go down, it is replaced with thousands of Christmas lights and ornaments decorating the entire city. I told my friend the other day, if it's got to be dark here in the wintertime at least the old city of Aalborg looks pretty at night. 

Santa and his elves have even come from Greenland for a couple weeks visit. They have set up shop in a little Christmas Village that has overtaken one of the city's plazas along with an ice-skating rink! I am personally very excited about trying this out. After all, I've only been once and I held onto one of those metal bar things to keep on my feet...like training wheels for ice-skates. Also, as a sort of gift to Aalborg residents, public transportation is now free on Sundays until the end of the month. This is actually very helpful considering how expensive a one time bus pass is (16 DKK which is about 3.50). 

Most of the long nights here are spent practicing Hygge-- the Danish word for relaxation, snug and cozy or comfort. My friends and I are constantly making big feasts together, having home-spa nights, or playing games like Norwegian Monopoly. I've become a fan of small gatherings, movie nights, sitting around the kitchen table with my roommates and a cup of tea, and even cooking! Yeah, I sound like an old lady...so sue me. While I'm a fan of going out, taking risks and am more than excited for upcoming travels and adventures, I've been learning that the simple things in life, if in good company, can be just as enjoyable. 

Besides hygge, I do work. With all of my homework these days, at least really nice warm weather isn't taunting me to come outside and play. However, my workload hasn't been nearly this heavy the entire time I've been in Aalborg. The university system here is very unique but not necessarily in a good way. The first two months of my stay in Aalborg I spent attending classes I didn't have to go to if I didn't want and learning almost nothing. The readings were not mandatory and fairly surface-level and there were no other assignments. I was lucky if I got a professor who sounded engaged in the subject-- though there were a couple who made going to class much less painful. On top of lame curriculum, my program is completely unorganized. In all honesty, we were basically told to "go to school, but let's have a beer first" leaving too many questions and concerns unanswered. While, a more relaxed vibe from a university was welcome on my part, this university is way too relaxed. Even if we pose questions, no one can or wants to answer them. I'm talking relevant questions that should obviously be figured out before launching a program and bringing in students from all over the world to study in it. The response is usually "Hmm, yeah...That's interesting. I'll look into that and get back to you," which usually never happens. I've practically had to corner them in their office with the door locked to get them to even consider my question. That is a little drastic, but it's almost that bad. Needless to say, now classes are over and I am all of a sudden up to my neck in work. At least I enjoy the topics I have to spend so much time researching and writing about, though they have almost no correlation whatsoever with the classes I took. 

The university system here has left me thinking a lot about my time at Willamette. I have much more respect for the way Willamette presents itself and encourages students. Even if the "independent student" is what Aalborg University encourages, they don't give enough incentive or motivation to make students interested and ambitious. Here a student can barge in the classroom 15 minutes late, on their cell phone, sit down and start talking to their neighbor. At WU, it's more likely a professor would tell a student who tried to sneak in quietly 5 minutes late to not even bother coming in. Maybe the difference is students here are paid by the government to be enrolled in university, where as we pay an un-Godly amount for education. In any case, even the Danes feel Aalborg University needs to improve it's plan of attack. On top of that, in my experience Willamette's classes are engaging and if the information isn't usually the professor is. We do work that keeps us on our toes and motivated the entire semester, where as here no one does anything until the end when it all hits at once. Another characteristic about Willamette that I've come to truly respect is it's community awareness and engagement-- student community and otherwise. There are always so many events and awareness campaigns going on at Willamette that it's hard to choose between them. At AAU, students are lucky if a speaker comes into town once or twice a semester and they use non-recyclable and non-reusable PLASTIC for everything! I truly wish I had some things to boast about AAU, but the reality is I am not impressed in the least. However, what this university experience has given me is a respect for the "Willamette Bubble" that I think I lost amidst the stress of past semesters. So, my advice to you other Bearcats is take as much out of your time at Willamette as you possibly can and bring it with you into the world, because many opportunities won't be available to you elsewhere.

Excuse the rant. Even though I am here to study and the study is not up to par, I have been enjoying myself otherwise. I learn from the amazing people I meet and the new things I experience everyday. Most of this knowledge couldn't be taught in a classroom anyway and I consider it priceless. I feel like I've been catching up from he lack of "world history" taught in the American education system (in my experience anyway). 

For now, I will say ciao. Hygge calls :)

Megan

P.S. There are 2 pigs for every Dane in Denmark.

Today was the day when Julia stopped dragging her feet about deciding the next step and finally started to take action. The target: Maui's boating world. The weapon: one killer resume, edited by miss Geneva Wilgus; and a killer 5-second over-the-phone schpeel. Relentless, Julia tracked down phone numbers and followed up emails left and right...

OK, maybe it wasn't that intense or exciting, but it felt that way for me after being indecisive for so long. A phone call from Christine, an old neighbor who moved back to Hawaii, was the kick in the pants I needed. It feels good to be under pressure to reach a goal soon- busy season starts very shortly, so I'd better find a spot quick. I do miss working under pressure a bit: I guess old habits die hard.


In the meantime, not too much to report since my last posting. I have visited a couple of schools, including UMaine and the New England Culinary Institute in Vermont. It didn't knock my socks off like I expected, but the trip was a blast. I went with my friend Kyle and got to spend a night visiting my roomie Britt from Alaska (a UMaine alum from NH!). Kyle and I both (figuratively) drooled a little when we drove through the White Mountains, eager to hit the trail again. We got quite a snowstorm on the way back, which was rather exciting. Culinary school is still on my radar, but not as much in the forefront as it was previous to the visit and a chat with Geneva's mom about the difference between a passion and what makes you tick day-in, day-out. I know I love food and cooking, but I think that working in a restaurant likely wouldn't be the best outlet for that passion or the most gratifying career I might pursue.

I also got to spend a week in Tucson, Arizona, visiting my friend Alex from work this summer. We did quite a bit of hiking, which was great. One thing I've come to realize recently is how much I really love hiking. I may not be the most experienced backpacker, but sometimes I feel like the queen of day hikes. I also had no idea how much I'd like the southwest- it's beautiful, and entirely different than other landscapes I've seen. And it's surprising how easy it is to adjust to 80 degrees and sunny... what a shock when I had to walk back to my car at the airport in 12-degree darkness. Brr.


But for now, I'm doing the cold-weather chant. The pond out front looks like glass, but it's not quite frozen enough. Good. That gives me time to get my skates sharpened. :-)

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