a morning inventory

here are some of the many lovely things i'm experiencing right now! i try to stop whatever i'm doing and do this type of inventory at least once a day. it's a great way to stay present.

hearing:
this song by theophilus london. can't wait for his album to drop! i highly recommend watching some of his other videos as well.



seeing:
a mess of books and high heels scattered about my room.

smelling:
morning coffee. one thing that's even better in the winter!

tasting:
honeycrisp apples from the market across the street.

feeling:
a morning where i opt for yoga instead of running. it felt great!

knowing:
my brother and sis-in-law that are currently in ethiopia have safely arrived there and met their baby daughter! i'm so excited to hear about every detail of the trip and see more pictures of my newest niece!

i put the eyes on the way

first off, i thought i would post the video that eventually led me to the video i mentioned in the last post. i've been exploring a lot of similar videos, but i keep coming back to this one. and especially during this time of year, i think it's a good reminder to keep an open mind. to keep wondering with openness.




as anyone reading this knows, i try very specifically to be present and live life as it's happening now. but from time to time, longing still creeps in. and right now, i'm feeling quite a longing for my friends and family in sri lanka. i finally got to talk to my best friend there the other day, after a few weeks of dropped calls, and my little sister, who i haven't talked to in almost 2 months, was there! it was a bit painful to realize how much i've lost my ability to speak tamil, but it was so beautiful to hear her voice. and it led me to do some nostalgic photo-viewing. here's one of me with my best friend, sampath, and one with my little sister, nila.




i then got an email from sampath with a few pictures, and the following text:
i miss you so much.
when will you come sri lanka? I expecting and waiting for you presence.
I put the eyes on the way
Naan santhosam illai ((i am not happy))


i am very happy here, but i miss them. and i miss myself with them.

be here now: t.t.m.m.h.

--good people. last night, my wallet fell out of my purse at a bar (i wasn't drunk, it just fell off the chair...), but i didn't realize it until this morning. and sure enough, when i called this afternoon, someone had turned it in and they kept it for me until i got off work in the evening. and everything was there. and to top it off, the bartender that gave it back who had glanced at my i.d. to see if there was a phone number or anything, was from cedar rapids, ia! so, i even got to meet a fellow iowan out of the deal. the news is full of people doing horrible things to each other, so it's nice to appreciate something small like this.

--this video, combining two of my most current interests, mindfulness/being present and neuroscience:
building attention

(can someone teach me how to put the video itself on here, instead of just the link to it?)

--meeting new people who lead me to new things. there are few things more exciting, fun, life-giving, sexy, whatever, than someone that reminds me how much world there is to know. i love meeting and knowing people and learning about what they read, listen to, and think. it's a huge reason for writing this blog: the comments and recommendations i get from those who read it.

--a time of year when the same songs are playing everywhere you go, everyone knows them, and they're songs that would otherwise be hated by many people, but most are willing to let it slide for the season. there's something about getting 'oh holy night' stuck in your head for the 23rd year in a row that makes you a little happier, whether you like it or not.

--finally getting to try the tiramisu at the restaurant. totally lives up to the hype.

things that have been making me happy

BOOKS:

--i just finished 'the corrections' by jonathan franzen. i found it really interesting. it's a pretty intense critique of life in 'midwestern america.' and while i could definitely recognize something, having lived in such a setting for the majority of my life, i could also see some more fatalistic exaggerations, at least in relation to my life. but it definitely did bring up a theme i've been reading/thinking about a lot lately, which is the difference between loving someone because you should (of course you love family, because they're family, right?) and loving someone because you know them well, and love certain things about them. i think it comes out even more right now, during the holidays, when everyone is buying gifts. gift cards and checks are so common, and sometimes i feel like that's such a sign that we don't even know each other. i kind of feel like if someone wants to get me a gift, but doesn't know what i would want, i would much rather them take a few hours, buy me a cup of coffee, and talk to me. (not that i don't like checks, since i could use it to travel...)

it also touches on themes of waiting for and expecting things to change, and complacency. it caused me to think about the fact that nothing at all is guaranteed. i tried to do a post on facebook where i asked people what they would do if they knew they might lose their sight in 24 hours. and people came up with some cool stuff. but, my actual point was to say, "so when you don't do those things, you're assuming that you will have your sight in 24 hours. and that's a dangerous assumption to make." shouldn't we all act as if we might lose our sight tomorrow? or our ability to hear? or our lives? we don't have to do drastic things, just enjoy every color, every crazy laugh or giggle, every smell of morning coffee, etc.

--i've also been on a weird kick of reading/learning about the brain. i read "sum" by david eagleman, which i TOTALLY recommend, and since then, i've been checking out some books and reading some stuff on neuroscience and neurobiology. man, brains are really really interesting.

--i'm currently reading 'a confederacy of dunces' by john kennedy toole, and loving it so far.

--also reading 'the power of now' by eckhart tolle. i heard him on an npr podcast this summer and loved it. it's pretty interesting stuff about being present. pretty similar to zen, with a western focus.

--and of course, still reading rilke. always rilke.

--recently bought, sitting on the nightstand/desk/bookshelf/etc: zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance by robert pirsig, the unbearable lightness of being by milan kundara. please advise if you have thoughts about these or others!

MOVIES:

--i recently saw "white material", a pretty intense french film about civil war in west africa. it's pretty realistic (i imagine), and therefore pretty heavy. but good, with some beautiful cinematography. i'll admit, it was pretty difficult to see some parts after having spent my summer as i did. but it was probably for the best for me to be reminded, i think.

--i discovered netflix. i'm behind, i know. but it's kind of amazing. so far i've only watched documentaries, one about the human body (part of my brain kick) and one about WWII. i plan to watch more.

--i also watch "the lives of others" recently. it's a german film, one an oscar a few years ago for foreign film, about east berlin in the 80s. really interesting, especially since that's something i know very little about.

--i'm hoping to see black swan really soon. i loved the wrestler, and i LOVE natalie portman.

MUSIC:

--sufjan stevens, 'the age of adz'. i'm kind of obsessed (which isn't new for me and sufjan. my love for him grows. it's different, but it's a great album. his lyrics are much more personal and introspective than the past, and the music is a bit more experimental. and i like it.

--black keys, 'brothers'. it's been hailed as one of the best albums of 2010, and i loved their previous one, so after another random person mentioned how great it was to me, i buckled and bought it (not sure why i ever resisted, actually). it's really really great.

--kanye west, 'my beautiful dark twisted fantasy'. say what you will about kanye, but i still kind of love him. i passed on 808s and heartbreak, but i figured it was just a phase. he was grieving. people call him a douchebag, and he might be, but i think he knows exactly what he's doing. and i really, genuinely like the new album. and not just because nicki minaj is the first voice on it.

--erykah badu, 'new amerykah part 2'. i saw her live last week and she was INCREDIBLE. for some reason, i hadn't bought the newest album yet, but the show was definitely inspiration enough. i must say, though, that she sounds better live than recorded. and she has the most amazing ass i've ever seen. seriously, incredible. i want to be her.

OTHERS:

--i've put the bike up for a while, i think. it makes me sad (and feel a little weak, since i know a lot of people that are still going), but i've been enjoying riding the train again. other than having to pay for it, i love people watching. (okay, and sometimes reading...).

--i've also returned to the ymca in my 'hood, since i can't run outside anymore. and honestly, the y runs in my blood. no exaggeration, and no one's paying me for this, i love being in a y.

--work is still going well. it's getting pretty crazy right now, but i'm still loving it. and i'm going in to have dinner at the restaurant soon, which i'm pretty excited about!


what books, movies, music, life things are you loving right now?

reflections.

a little over 3 years ago, i started this blog. at the time, i was a wide-eyed 20-year-old, about to leave the only country and culture i'd ever known. since then, i have lived in 3 other countries, traveled through many others, seen incredible things, and experienced the luminous souls of innumerable people. and now, as a wide-eyed 23-year-old about to turn 24, i'm reading and listening to some interesting things that are leading me to reflect a bit on how/how much i've lived in these past few years. (i originally wrote 'changed' instead of 'lived' in the previous sentence, but isn't that life? changing?)


currently, i'm listening intensely to sufjan stevens' new album, the age of adz. specifically, i'm re-playing the final song, a 22-minute masterpiece (in my opinion) called 'impossible soul.' some of my favorite lyrics from the song:

It's a long life, only one last chance
Couldn't get much better, do you wanna dance?
It's a good life, better pinch yourself
Is it impossible? Is it impossible?
Boy, we can do much more together.


also, i've been reading some more rilke again, and this poem really overwhelmed me:


fire’s reflection

Perhaps it's no more than the fire's reflection
on some piece of gleaming furniture
that the child remembers so much later
like a revelation.

And if in his later life, one day
wounds him like so many others,
it's because he mistook some risk
or other for a promise.

Let's not forget the music, either,
that soon had hauled him
toward absence complicated
by an overflowing heart....





if i could try to sum up SOME of the last 3 years in a pretty, well-packaged lesson, it might be to not mistake some risk or other for a promise. we do it so often, don't we? all the while, forgetting the music. and our overflowing hearts.



also, this is an excerpt from a short piece of rilke's called 'fear of the inexplicable':

"But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes
nothing, not even the most enigmatical, will live the relation
to another as something alive and will himself draw exhaustively
from his own existence. For if we think of this existence of
the individual as a larger or smaller room, it appears evident
that most people learn to know only a corner of their room, a
place by the window, a strip of floor on which they walk up and
down. Thus they have a certain security. And yet that dangerous
insecurity is so much more human which drives the prisoners in
Poe's stories to feel out the shapes of their horrible dungeons
and not be strangers to the unspeakable terror of their abode."


in this, my 25th year, i will choose to exclude nothing, and be ready for everything. i will not learn only my corner, or my strip of the floor, but will seek everything, even the most enigmatical. and by doing this, i will try to live all relations to others as something ALIVE, and draw exhaustively from my own existence.




and finally, this last poem also spoke to me deeply (and i don't think it's only because of my love of little red dresses.)


child in red

Sometimes she walks through the village in her
little red dress
all absorbed in restraining herself,
and yet, despite herself, she seems to move
according to the rhythm of her life to come.

She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,
half-turns around...
and, all while dreaming, shakes her head
for or against.

Then she dances
a few steps
that she invents and forgets,
no doubt finding out that life
moves on too fast.

It's not so much that she steps out
of the small body enclosing her,
but that all she carries in herself
frolics and ferments.

It's this dress that she'll remember
later in a sweet surrender;
when her whole life is full of risks,
the little red dress will always seem right.




may we all live in a way that lets all we carry in ourselves frolic and ferment.

and everyday, let's dance a few steps, that we invent and forget.





we can do so much more together.

do you want to dance?

even when they got us pinned, we're laughing.

i have recently been loving this song by nathaniel rateliff: laughing

i'm also loving my friends' bands louis and the hunt and scattered trees. both come highly recommended.

other things i've been loving lately:

- cooler weather for bike rides.

- living in a mexican neighborhood during halloween. the dia de los muertes murals on every shop window are enough, but the spirit in general is pretty great. i wish i was going to be around during trick-or-treating tomorrow.

- riding my bike around the city during halloween. i'm not a huge halloween person myself, but there's something about these couple days/nights that i love about the city. it's a few days when nothing is unexpected or unexplained. people can look/do almost anything and it can be explained away. it's a little bit like living in a surrealist painting/movie.

- finally really getting into 'atlas shrugged' by ayn rand. it took me almost to page 700 to really get in the groove, but it's been worth it. the most recent underlined quote:
"she felt an odd calm, almost a confident repose; she knew that it was tension, but the tension of a great clarity. she caught herself thinking: she's functioning well in an emergency, i'll be all right with her--and she realized that she was thinking of herself."

and another, since it relates so well to many of my posts in the last month or two:
" 'no one's happiness but my own is in my power to achieve or to destroy'...she did not answer, she felt as if a word would overfill the fullness of this moment, she merely turned to him with a look of acquiescence that was disarmed, childishly humble and would have been an apology but for its shining joy."

- knowing that if and when i finish atlas shrugged, i get to move on to 'the corrections' by jonathan franzen, and i have some great friends and family members to discuss it with!

this week - t.t.m.m.h.

- dancing to live flamenco music played by an adorable frenchman named david (dah-veed). it was almost not frustrating that i could barely do the steps.

- pumpkin chai

- remember how to say "prendenal valtekal" in tamil--happy birthday--when i called my best friend in SL on his birthday on wednesday

- listening to nathaniel rateliff and louis and the hunt while riding my bike to and from work this week.

- working with great people and getting to laugh a lot at work. even when craaaaazy chileans come in.

- indian food on devon avenue

- a dream in which i was song-writing with lil wayne...

and all at once it is entirely flame.

re-watching and still loving this video from the film "bodas de sangre" by carlos saura, starring antonio gedes and cristina hoyos. especially starting around 5:30. if/when i can do that, i will do it forever, i think.

watch it here: bodas de sangre

is this how new life begins?

sometimes i think we have so many pre-established ideas of what would make us or others happy, that when we or they really are, we miss it completely. here is to being happy now, not when you find the right job, or the right person, or the right city. here's to an existence based on the reality that nothing is promised, and tomorrow everything might change. and here is to letting others know that kind of existence as well, not allowing our expectations, hopes, or dreams define their realities.

'the departure of the prodigal son' by r.m. rilke

now to go away from all this tangledness
that is part of us and yet not ours,
that like the water in old wells
reflects us trembling and ruins the image;
from all this, which as if with thorns
still clings to us--to go away,
and on this and this, so near at hand,
which almost from the first you ceased to see
(they were so common, so undemanding),
suddenly to gaze: tenderly, full of amends,
as if in a beginning and from up close:
and to see at last how without least malice,
how over everyone indifferently the hurt descends
that filled childhood to the brim--:
and then still to go, hand leaving hand,
as if you were tearing open a new-healed wound,
and to go away: where? into uncertainty,
far into some unrelated warm land
that behind all action keeps its distance
like a backdrop--garden or wall;
and to go away: why? from urge, from instinct,
from impatience, from dark expectation,
from not understanding and not being understood:

to take all this upon yourself and in vain
perhaps let fall things firmly held,
in order to die alone, not knowing why--

is this how new life beings?

three pounds for a dollar

i don't do this often, but today i was inspired.


'three pounds for a dollar'

the apples may be getting soft
but to me, they are perfect

as i sit by the window
and bite through the sour green skin,
i can taste
the fading ripeness

as i look outside
i can see and smell the same,
the ripeness of summer fading
into the softness of fall

the sun is still warm
the children are still laughing
the apples are still sweet

and at three pounds for a dollar
who could possibly resist?

- today, as i was describing to someone about why i was so happy in sri lanka and why i still miss it so much, i explained it like this: "because i could speak very little of the language, i couldn't tell people who i was. i couldn't explain the different parts of me. instead, i just was." and i realized how crazy it is that we don't live that way all the time. and i understood a little better why i sometimes feel like life in our culture is sometimes harder than any others.

- i haven't read all of this article, but what i've read so far has been really interesting:
where to begin

- today, i spent time with a friend with an incredible art collection. the piece that most moved me was by a photographer named jed fielding, from chicago, who has a set of pieces that he took of blind children and women in mexico city. the first picture on the page below, of the boy looking upward, is the one he has. it literally brought me to tears.
'look at me'

- saturday nights at home with a book, a glass of wine, and sigur ros does something to my heart that few other things can.

t.t.m.m.h. 10.7.10

- eventful morning runs. specifically, almost getting run over by a fork lift, then accidentally scaring the shit out of a homeless man.

- sunny days when everyone is aware that there might not be many more, and so literally trying to soak it up as much as possible.

- people-watching at museums. especially on free days. the art is also good.

- pictures of people smiling who don't normally smile in pictures.

t.t.m.m.h. 10.5.10

- working at a 4-star italian restaurant and coming home at midnight to a dinner of frozen vegetables and oatmeal. (not sarcasm. i love it.)

- reiteration: riding my bike at night. chicago is so beautiful.

- spending time with intelligent people who challenge the way i think and see the world. and in the process, make me happier to be a small part of it.

- this poem:

'spanish dancer' by r.m.rilke

as in the hand a struck match blazes white
and sends out flicking tongues on every side
before bursting into flame--: in the circle
of packed onlookers, hot, bright, and eager
her round dance begins to flicker and spread out

and all at once it is entirely flame.

with a glance she sets ablaze her hair
and whirls suddenly with daring art
her whole dress into this fiery rapture,
and out of that, like startled snakes,
two naked arms emerge, aroused and rattling.

and then: as if the fire grew tight on her,
she gathers it all up and casts it off
disdainfully, and with imperious demeanor
looks on: it lies there writing on the ground
and keeps on flaming and does not give in--.
but triumphant, serene, and with a sweet
greeting smile she lifts her face
and stamps it out with rock hard little feet.

t.t.m.m.h. - 10.1.10

- live music. especially the kind you can dance to! and/or when you know the people in the band!

- people you've known for a surprisingly long time, but keep learning more about all the time.

- my neighborhood, pilsen. i continue to love it more everyday.

t.t.m.m.h. - 9.30.10

- unexpected and amazing conversations that make you remember what life is all about. connecting with people and loving them.

- a fast-paced job with great people.

- riding my bike through the city at night. quite possibly the best way to see chicago.

- quick catch-ups with great friends.

- concord grape gellato. mmmmmmm.

- tina fey and tracy morgan. love me some liz lemon and tracy jordan.

- resiliency, especially in children. especially in one of my nephews, who's currently recovering from a crazy intense surgery. i hope that someday he'll be as proud of me as i am of him right now.

things that make me happy - 9.29.10

- thrift stores.

- sitting in my big red robe, sipping coffee (such as now).

- live music. i'm going to a show tomorrow night (jesca hoop and the eels), which i'm pretty excited about. and actually, i get to see a friend play with his band louis and the hunt, which will also be great.

- i reiterate: people who love what they do and want to do it really well. (can you tell i'm reading ayn rand right now?)

- accents and languages. i worked last night with a girl who had just moved from italy, a bartender from russia, and a waiter from serbia. and of course, much of the staff is also from latin america, which is awesome because it means i can pretty much speak spanish whenever i want.

things that balance my pleasant existence

i am still happy. i still love my life. but it doesn't make this article any less difficult or painful to read. this is where i lived and worked this summer. i know many of these girls. they are my sisters. i know their families. they are my family.

read article here.

things that make me happy - 9.28.10

--riding my bike through chicago. specifically, the moment when i go over the river and try to look down through the bridge to see the water. it's tricky and probably not very safe, but it makes me smile every time.
--people who do what they love and/or love what they do. i don't think they're necessarily the same thing. i think people who know what they love should do it. and for those that don't have the privilege to do so, it makes me really happy to see people loving what they might have to do.
--technology. specifically international phone cards and skype.
--apples. i did something kind of silly on sunday, when i bought a HUGE box of apples at my favorite farmers market. there were probably 60ish apples. but it was only $5! and i actually happened to have my car that day. (it's probably good that when i get impulsive, i generally buy a shit-ton of fruit.) i hope you can't OD on apples, because if so, i'm in for it. any body have any good, cheap, healthy ideas for a bunch of apples about to go bad?
--tights and boots. and the weather that lets me wear them!
--getting a glimpse into (undoubtedly) the next big hipster trend: seeing a guy (yes, pretty hipster) riding a unicycle down the road! completely impressive.
--knowing and using the word "sommalier" and not feeling too pretentious about it!
--getting off work, going to see contemporary art for free, sitting in the sun for a couple minutes to read, and then riding home on my bike. a premium day that made me quite happy.

another transition

hello, alo, hola, and vanakam.

i am officially back in the states. the journey was long and the transition has been a challenge, but there are a lot of really great things about being back. i've been running a lot, riding my bike, and eating a lot of graham crackers.

i have posted pictures on facebook, which i think most of you can access. if not, please let me know. just for good measure, here is one of my favorite shots of my last minutes in batticaloa, with some of my favorite people in the 3-wheeler that i rode in everyday for over 2 months:



and here are some shots of just some of the lovely people i was able to return to:

everyone in their matching sarongs from batticaloa


some of my new nephews!





and some of my other beautiful sisters:

shakthi!

there’s so much i could and would love to write about. but for the sake of all our time, i will note some fun/important things:

--as i’ve been able to understand a bit more tamil, the word i’ve seemed to really come to know is ‘velakari’, which means ‘white lady.’ i hear it a lot. i hear it in random conversations of people around me. i hear it as the kids in the village by where i live yell it among shouts of laughter as i walk by. i hear it as i drive by other cars with the window down (usually a quick “…vvvvelakari!” and point as i pass). it’s also gotten fun because i know i’m being talked about and sometimes i can pick up enough of the rest to know what they’re saying. one day i was laying around with the kids and one of the girls said something and i waited a second and then said, “velakari ennay?” (what about the velakari?) they thought it was pretty hilarious. she claimed she was talking about some OTHER white lady. yea, i said, with all these white ladies around, of course you were talking about someone else… :) but at least most of the kids now know my name, so they don’t have to call me velakari. and in fact, the staff guy gets kind of pissed at them now if they call me it. ha.
--but instead of calling me kait or Kaitlin or katalin (or Helen, as they all called me at first), they have given me the tamil name “gowdi.” it is a hindu goddess, i guess, so i took it as a compliment. i kind of like it because they don’t struggle with it as much as they do my real name. so, i may be called one of about 5 different things by different people throughout my day (probably more, actually, that i don’t even understand. i’m sure there’s a tamil word for ‘she who has really great dance moves.’)
--still going with the white lady theme, i’ve been told a couple times now, especially by my closest friend here, the staff guy, that i look just like the girl in this recent tamil movie called ‘madrasa pattinam.’ so, he got the film for me and i watched it the other night (2 ½ hours, only about half in english! ugh.) it’s about a british girl (moi) who goes to the tamil state in India during the 40s, falls in love with a dark, donkey-herding native, learns the tamil culture, but has to return to England when India gets independence. she goes back to find her big strong Indian lover after 60 years, but she finds out he’s dead. so, she goes to his grave, and then she dies. it’s pretty depressing, really. and honestly, i don’t look that much like her, except that i’m white (the big connection for people here, i think) and i’m learning tamil culture—language, clothes, music, etc. i keep saying i want to make it back before 60 years, though. we decided my goal should be 7 years—before i turn 30.
--ok, one more thing about being white here (it just so happens that a lot of funny/notable things happen around this topic)—they are literally just unfamiliar with the whole idea of white skin. for instance, the other day, my friend asked me what happened to my leg, “you have red mark,” and pointed to a circle on my calf. “oh, that’s just because i was sitting with my legs crossed,” i explained. he kind of rolled his eyes as if i was lying and had actually inflicted this ‘wound’ on myself. “it is hard no?” he said, “that skin?” ha! i laughed out loud. he was referring to a few other incidents, like a couple days earlier when i had run into a door and scratched my shoulder (maybe i’m just a spazz). and mostly to a day a few weeks ago, when i thought it would be entertaining to show them that if i lightly scratched my name into my arm with my nail, it would show up for a while. well, i didn’t expect it to show up the rest of the day, and as we walked around the rest of the day, he kept showing it to people and saying something along the lines of ‘look what she did to herself!’ and looking at me like an annoyed, but not angry, father. ha. yes, it is hard, this skin that shows everything.
--ok, new topic—samaposha. it’s this weird dry mix you buy in a bag that contains only (literally, the ingredients list: ) corn, soya, rice, green gram, calcium, vitamin c and b12. (SL has a ban on genetically modified food, and it’s clear from ingredients lists that they hold to it. things are very simply made here—a lot of sugar often, but usually only a few basic ingredients) it’s meant to be a supplementary food of some sort. all they do is mix it with coconut, a little bit of sugar, and warm water to create these dough balls (not shwetty balls, mind you). they taste like whole grain coconut cookie dough. seriously, great. i love it. i eat it almost everyday (i think the housekeeper likes it because she doesn’t have to cook as much). i tried to explain to her that i think the major reason i like it is because of the cookie dough-like texture. i tried to explain, “in America, we make cookies…um…like biscuits (what they call cookies)! but when my amma (mom) and i made them, i was child, we would make only dough and eat dough! so samaposha makes me think of amma!” hahaha, i’m sure something got lost in the translation. or maybe some of their common questions about the American lifestyle were finally explained… haha.
--and just for good measure, i’ll mention that this morning, i set a new record for largest cockroach i’ve ever seen—in the kitchen no less. i’m going to say a good 2 inches, front to back. i tried to play it cool, but when it started scurrying towards me i got a little freaked out. don’t worry though. we both made it without incident.


well, with less than 3 weeks left in the country, my time here is winding down. i had planned to travel a bit in the end, but as i realize that that would mean leaving the people here (and spending money) i’m thinking i will probably just wait until a couple days before my flight to head over to Colombo. my goal now is to just be present here as much as possible, enjoying every smile, every ‘velakari,’ every cup of tea, every bite of samaposha, every draping arm as we lay in the sand, every “i think you no go to America. you stay sri lanka,” every “you go to America, i go too?”, and every sunset more unbelievable than the last (i have pictures to prove it, which will be posted someday).

thanks again for reading. i hope each of you is doing well and enjoying each moment in the peaceful awareness that it will never ever come again.
peace, love, and shakthi (energy) to you!

vanakam!

Vanakam! Hello!

yes, yes, i’m still alive and well. the only internet access i have on a normal basis is on the blackberry (which hasn't been working as of late), so i can usually read emails and get on facebook, but that’s about it. i finally made one of the staff take me to an internet café by the office, so now i should have a little more availability. i’ll probably still only be able to use it once or twice a week, though. so if you’ve emailed and i haven’t responded, know that i definitely read it and will respond when possible!

it’s hard to put into words how well things are going here. yes, it’s hot. yes, there are little lizards and big cockroaches all around, but other than that, i’m loving it. i love the young people i get to work with. the staff is great. the culture can be challenging at times (i don’t mind eating with my hands, but the feeling of having my food under my fingernails is just not okay. call me ethnocentric if you must.) (also, it’s impossible to feel what our culture would consider “ladylike” or “polite” when you’re literally up to your palm in rice and curry—both elbows on the table because it’s the only way to get good leverage.) (and do they really think that rinsing their hands with a splash of water over a bowl before eating really “cleans” them? no. i think they know it doesn’t, and they don’t care. which i kind of like.) like i said, it can be challenging, but i’ve got the rest of my life to eat with forks and spoons, right? at least i’m starting love spicy food!

other cultural/universal/life things i’ve noticed/experienced:

--they drink their tea very sweet and with milk, which i love.
--like chile, i start every morning with a cup or two of Nescafe (instant coffee). i’m almost ashamed to say that i’m starting to like it. i’ll blame it on the memories attached.
--i’m realizing the vast differences that are possible in a culture where there really isn’t much influence from the western world (comparatively, i guess, to latin America.) that is, India is their US. so some small things that i would never consider being different are different here. usually with body language. for example, as opposed to nodding or shaking their head, people here move their heads side to side, as if they’re going to put their ear on their shoulder, although they don’t go that far. does that make sense? not front to back, like nodding, or swiveling, like shaking a head ‘no’, but side to side. and it usually means ‘ok’. but it looks so close to head shaking, that i often have to remind myself that they’re agreeing with me, or saying “yes”, and not “no.” another thing is movement of waving someone to come to you. that is, if we wanted someone to come over to us from across the room, we would turn our palm up and bring our fingers towards us. (commence the action now, for a visual.) but here, they (not always, of course, but some) face their palm down and fan their fingers, which just looks like a little wave to me. so, when i was in Colombo, trying to get my visa, the one guy in the process that seemed to actually like foreigners (quite a lot actually, especially the white females) was trying to wave me over and i just thought he was waving. so, hoping it would help my quest, i just smiled, batted my eyelashes, and waved back. he looked confused and waved a bit more emphatically and said, “America!” and i realized he was calling me over. ha. i went. he helped. more below.
--it’s kind of fun to start over in learning a new language. it’s challenging, but fun. i haven’t really tried on a new one since 7th grade, so it’s fun to remember the first steps. although, as i begin to actually try to talk a little bit in tamil, i find myself getting frustrated and not wanting to switch to English, but Spanish. like, my brain is already in ‘not english’ mode, so my default is Spanish. it’s kind of nice. i brought a really tough/great Spanish novel to read, but no dictionary. so, i read it out loud to practice, but don’t always know what’s going on (it’s magical realism, so the language is really tough and i’m not sure i would understand what was going on if it were in English…) here’s some tamil for you:
kali vanakam. epadi suhom? nan nalem. enedu payer Kaitlin. enedu vayadu iruvatimoonru. enedu nadu America. eneku amma, appa, moonru anenmahl, moonru anni, ehlu anenmagen, onru enenmagel.
((good morning. how’s it going? i’m doing well. my name is Kaitlin. i am 23 years old. i am from America. i have a mother, father, three older brothers, three older sisters in law, seven nephews and one niece.))
i’m also working on writing and reading it in the actual script. i can pretty much read it now, although i don’t know what i’m reading because my vocab is so small. but it helps with pronunciation to be able to read the words in the actual script. (no, mom, i don’t know the word for “quilter” yet. i suggest you google it.)
--some days, when i’m hanging out with the kids after lunch, they watch these hideous indian movies where the hero is always a guy that looks like ron Jeremy. as in, ALWAYS. he’s probably 40, kind of overweight, and with a big bushy dark mustache. i guess it’s what their president looks like too, so maybe it makes a little more sense. what’s more annoying in these movies is that any female in the movie is ALWAYS whimpering and crying. always. i have yet to see one do anything but cry and wait to be saved. no exaggeration. is it too much to ask for some mr. and mrs. smith-type action every once in a while? i wonder what an Indian version of michel gondry would be like…
--i also noticed that often during movies, the screen is blocked out due to gov’t regulations on tobacco and alcohol. any scene where someone is smoking or drinking is blocked out. can you imagine?
--the people are so beautiful here. seriously. and i’ve had to realize that just as i want to just sit and stare at them, they’re thinking the same about me. i’m so different, that they just want to stare and take everything in. and they do. unabashedly.
--there’s a reason why girls don’t pee standing up. enough said.
--this sign was in a bakery/tea shop: “we eliminate the business of cigarette. for you and your off springs.” if i had off springs, they would be very appreciative, i’m sure.
--bakeries!!! i’ve realized, having traveled a bit more, that bakeries are totally the thing here. very common and very good. sweet breads and spicy fried things abound.
--when i traveled to a more northern town for a few days with some of the staff, i felt very much like i was in ‘entourage: sri lankan Jesuit version’. there was the old Jesuit, to whom everyone catered, the driver, the manager, and the ‘heavy lifting’ guy. who was i? the groupie, i guess.
--the place we went, we stayed in a Jesuit residence and it was CRAZY how much the Jesuit scholastics reminded me of those i knew in Chicago. young, really intelligent, really witty, and very sweet. i only knew a few scholastics in Chicago, but they were SO much like these guys it was crazy. it was also nice because they all spoke really good English. and they talked about the world cup. they also watched it at night, but never invited me (probably because it was in their bedrooms). Jesuits are SUCH teases. some of you know what i’m talking about…
--like i mentioned, i went to Colombo a couple days ago to get my visa extended. it was crazy—although, interestingly enough, it had AC. i think they were deliberately trying to confuse me, send me in the wrong direction. after getting the application form, i found out that although you have to have a credit card, you can’t actually PAY with a credit card, so i had to go down to the atm, which only gives out up to $50 at a time, and all in ones. i needed at least $125 for the fee. needless to say, my money belt (which i was wearing to ensure that i looked very touristy and not at all NGO-y, was kind of bulging after the atm. probably not a great thing.) then, back up to the 4th floor, which they called the 3rd floor, to get my picture taken, and then be pointed in various wrong directions until i could find where i was actually supposed to go for each seemingly unnecessary step. luckily, there was one guy who was quite wonderful—clearly one of those people that loves foreigners, especially Americans. he kept referring to me as “america! America!” i’ll admit, i put my judgment aside and used it to my advantage. and luckily, he was the 2nd to last step in the process, so he kept trying to move along the other steps quicker to help me. it was pretty great. in the end, it only ended up taking an hour an a half to get the stamp, which is actually much less than chile, so that was surprising.
--while in the immigration office, there was a group of british students there, also trying to get visas or something. one girl was in a ridiculously low cut shirt, and i realized how accustomed i’ve grown to the more conservative dress here. granted, this amount of cleavage would have been uncomfortable in an office in the US too, but it was still really weird to see. i found myself cringing a bit, wanting to be sure everyone knew i was not with them.
--i think one of the reasons i most like hanging out with the kids i work with is that i can be totally silly with them, which is such a part of “me”. the male staff member at the center is also great. he’s a pretty young guy, and speaks really good English, so we goof around a lot. it’s good to have someone to feel funny with.
--i’ve only had 2 dance parties so far (that involved other people)—not nearly enough. but it was these two times that i think the kids really started to like me and feel comfortable with me, even if we often can’t really communicate. of course, the dancing is what brings us together…
--the books i’ve been reading (i’ve finished every one i brought at least once) have been surprisingly relevant. the first was david foster wallace’s ‘consider the lobster’—challenging, but really interesting insights on a lot of topics, especially language and meaning. next was ‘everything is illuminated’ by jonathan safran foer, which i read twice in a row—about an American in another country, about war, about atrocities and the way life ‘moves on,’ or doesn’t, afterwards. lastly was ‘you will know our velocity’ by dave eggars—about two Americans traveling, to “exotic” locations. they’re trying to give away money—interacting with the world—documenting the world around them.
--as i mentioned before, people are often not bashful about staring at me. at one place, the women all just sat down on a bench about 2 feet in front of me and stared at me. i know some of it is the fact that we can’t communicate with words, but it was pretty uncomfortable. then, as they sat there in their beautiful, colorful saris and wraps, they struggled to tell me that my plain blue button-up shirt from target was “very beautiful!”
--the reactions to my being from America have been really interesting as well—i’ve gotten “wow” or “my dream country!”—i’ve found that i want to react negatively, yell, “no! there is so much wrong there! so much materialism, consumerism, oppression, exploitation! we just make it look good! you only see movies and sit-coms! it’s not really like that!” but then, i think, ‘well, for me it kind of is. that country has been great to me. it’s offered me unthinkable freedoms, opportunities, and comforts. but if you were to go, 25-year-old, dark-skinned Kishan from SL, it would be much tougher. you would have to work 10x harder than me and would still probably never attain the same levels of comfort i have. no more 10-4 work days. no 2-hour lunch breaks. no morning and afternoon tea breaks. very little contact with your family in SL. and constant suspicion as to whether you are fully appreciative of the once-in-a-lifetime chance you were so graciously given to be in your ‘dream country’.” funny, isn’t it. i’m the one with nothing to complain about, yet want to so quickly and badly. and those who can and maybe should, don’t. or maybe can’t, as they’re busy working their 2-3 jobs. ( couldn’t have a blog post without at least a little jaded cynicism, right?)
--like i mentioned on facebook at one point, we passed elephants, lizards, monkeys, and cows on the highways, for which we annoyingly slowed down, but when we passed some good ol’ deer in town, we stopped the car, shouted, and stared in amazement. i laughed out loud.
--this was my 3rd July 4th out of the country in a row now. i wouldn’t have minded the fireworks in pilsen this year, but i’ve got all my life for fireworks, right?
--work does not start here until 10 am. when i’m in the office and i just try to start talking to the report writer before 10 am, she always interrupts me and says, ‘please, we wait until 10 am? half hour more?” i oblige.


it’s hard not to comment on the current political happenings, but i will try to refrain. read various news sources. use common sense to realize how ridiculous it is. it’s like a mother asking a child if his room is clean, and he says yes. when she says she wants to see the room, he goes on a HUNGER STRIKE and compares himself to ghandi to say how unfair it is. in this case, i think it’s not even that the child is afraid the mother will find out that he’s simply crammed everything from his room into the closet. i think he knows she’ll see that it’s not clean at all. it’s a complete mess and will probably continue to get worse. if you have specific comments/questions, feel free to email me.

ok, that is all for now! that should last for a while, no?

please take care, keep sending me updates and being patient when i don’t respond for a while.
love and peace and really great dance moves to you all,
kait


ps-since internet is increasingly precarious, please email me at both kaitlinrae@gmail.com and kklipsch@heartlandalliance.org, as i can usually only check one or the other...

lizard check!

varakam! (hello!)

i'm here! i'm happy! i'm writing this on a dial-up connection! (did you even know those still existed?) so, i don't have much time because life's too short to wait for these websites to load!

today i had one of those days where you end it thinking, "i could do that every day for the rest of my life and be completely happy." i awoke with the sunrise (schedule's still a little off from traveling), did some morning yoga and dancing, peaceful breakfast, and then ALL DAY with the young people in the program here. i started by going to the hindu temple, where the girls led me around the weekly rituals. back at the residence, i played a checkers type game with the boys, then sang and danced and played drums with them. then, i had a tamil lesson with the girls (i'm up to about 5 words now--thank you, mother, father, sister, brother--and i did learn how to write my name, Frank, and Terre in Tamil!). after that was lunch, and then a couple of hours of horribly cheesy indian movies with the girls. we always seemed to laugh at opposite times...the afternoon/evening was volleyball (the ball was like a rock, causing me to try to undo nearly 10 years of playing and try to hit it only with my fists...). i can't tell you how wonderful the day was. to be honest, after a couple days in the craaaaaziness and chaos of colombo when i first arrived, i was a bit worried about my time here. i really wasn't a fan. i'll try to write more about that when i have time and accessibility. but since i've left colombo and settled in here, things have been wonderful.

a few firsts of the last few days:
--having to give the toilet seat a little kick before sitting down to make sure there aren't any lizards underneath (their loss if they are, i guess.) my first night, one of the few times i got up to go to the bathroom in the night, i flipped on the light and saw a small lizard chilling in the bowl of the toilet. 'it's cool,' i thought, 'there's another bathroom right here. i'll just go in there.' i kid you not, i switched on the light in the other bathroom and saw another little lizard scurry behind the toilet on the wall. hopefully no one else in the building heard me yell out, "son of a bitch!"
--being in a hindu temple
--petting a baby elephant
--eating a mango straight off the mango tree in the yard
--drinking from a coconut and then eating the inside
--eating rice with my hands! (here, they eat their meals with the right hand--everything! it's actually more difficult than you might think. they usually bring out silverware for guests, but when i'm eating with someone else, i do my best to do whatever they're doing.)

that is just a taste of some of the highlights. thanks for reading! and thanks for all the emails i've recieved already! even if i don't respond (which i probably won't considering my limited access), i LOVE getting them! i'll try to write more and maybe even post a couple pictures if i ever get internet on my computer.

love to all!

disappointment comes from expectations, while peace comes from taking one moment at a time

this title is an idea i have studied and thought about a lot over the past six months or so. and even more so over the past few weeks as i prepared for this summertime adventure. when i (i can speak only for myself) take the time to really think about it, i think it makes a lot of sense. only when we are expecting something very specific can we be disappointed that it doesn't turn out that way. however, if we choose to take each moment as it comes and to (try to) be fully present in those moments, we cannot be disappointed by a future to which we have not attached expectations.

as i prepare to leave tomorrow, i recognize that of course i have certain expectations for the summer. i expect to be hot. i expect to learn a lot. i expect to be challenged in many ways. and i expect to be really, really hot. but beyond that, i'm trying not to be too specific. rather than be in a state in which i'm constantly evaluating how things are different than what i expected, i hope to be constantly evaluating how things are beautiful, new, ancient, terrifying, life-giving, challenging, and part of a part of me that i have never known and yet known forever.

but, of course, i do expect to learn some new dance moves.

i will try to post when i can. thank you for reading. and please be in touch!

love and peace to you and yours and all.

3 days

until this:



(photo by Deshan Tennekoon)

it's what i love.

after a very quick application and interview process and then a pretty agonizing 2 weeks of waiting to hear, a couple days ago i was officially offered a position for the summer months in Sri Lanka!!! i will be working for/with a really amazing international ngo (non-governmental organization) based out of chicago.

i still don't have too much information, but i have a tentative departure date of june 12th and i am incredibly excited. it will be an invaluable experience, and i will undoubtedly learn more than i can imagine--about myself, the world, and the mixture there-of.

hopefully i will have a chance to blog/email every once in a while. but if not, i'm sure i'll have plenty to share when i return in the end of august.

i'll post if/when i know more, but i wanted to make sure to put the word out there, so people that want to know, do! i hope to see you before i leave! i can't make any definitive promises, but call or email if you're around or if you have any other questions.

love and peace to you!

oh, and if you don't already know the musician m.i.a., she's sri lankan and amazing! so check her out HERE and have a dance party for me!

i haven't been writing much lately, not only for the blog, but just in general. but this weekend, i graduated again. i finished grad school and in an effort to explore and document some of the things i'm thinking and feeling and wondering, i was able to get myself to write for a while tonight. as sometimes happens, it came out as a short dialogue. the writing's not great, but it means a lot to me. and as i read it over after, it reminded me of something i wrote about year ago. the format is the same, but the emotions and philosophies expressed are not, really.

although i'm not one to post creative writing on the blog, i feel compelled to do so for some reason. i would doubt that these short writings would mean anything to anyone else, so i'm not sure i care if anyone actually sees them or reads them. nonetheless, i feel like posting them. to me, they exemplify huge changes and prevailing insecurities. the first, titled dialogue #1, was written about a year ago, in march of 2009, as i was coming to the close of my undergraduate education and weighing my final decisions about grad school and other future plans. the second, dialogue #2, written completely separately of course, was written tonight, the night after graduating with my social work degree and facing a whole other world of uncertainty.

dialogue #1
“Why do you think I’m here?” she asked quickly with a voice attempting calm restraint, poorly masking the intensity with which she wanted an answer. She quickly moved her hand toward her face to take another drag of her cigarette, the other arm still folded tightly around her chest.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly.
“What do you need from me?”
“Nothing,” he whispered.
“But look at you!” Her voice was beginning to betray her. “You’re a mess! There’s almost nothing left of you! What do you mean ‘nothing?’” She was beginning to feel as if emotion, any emotion, only had one way to express itself. Perhaps any intense feeling, by the time it had forced its way through the psyche from wherever it began and reached the level of communication, could only express itself through this choppy language varying widely in volume and sentence length. Or perhaps she only ever felt one emotion anymore.
“What do you think you can do for me?” he offered. It seemed that while her voice was growing more intense, his was fading. It seemed further away to her. In reality, it did not change.
“Well, there obviously must be something I can do. That’s why I’m here, right? That’s what the point is? Look at you. And then look at me. There’s a reason we’re like this.”
“What do you think that reason is?”
“I don’t know! Why do you think I would know? If I did know, would I be asking you? This isn’t something you would know any better than me. But, does anybody really know? I mean, who should I ask? What should I read? People have ideas, I know, but I’ve never really bought those. How do they know so confidently? They can tell the whole world, but do they do it themselves? No way. They just end up as more fucking hypocrites.”
“You seem upset.”
“Of course I’m upset! I’m here, right? If I didn’t care, if it didn’t upset me, I wouldn’t be here!” A surprisingly comfortable, almost relief-bringing silence passed. “Sometimes I think that would be easier.” Her voice was moving into a more somber tone.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t know. And I wish I did. It just seems right, you know? Like I should, because…I should. Because that’s the point of it all.”
“The point of what all?”
“Of this! Of why we’re here. Why you’re like that and I’m like this.”
“Is it about me? Or you?”
“It’s both. I think. I mean, there’s a reason we are the way we are, right? And I should do something, right? Right? It’s just…right.”
“Say’s who?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured with frustration. “I don’t know anymore. I’m not sure I ever knew.”
“What if you never know?”
“Is it possible? I’m not sure I’d make it. How would I know what to do? What should I do?”
“Listen.”
“To who? How will I know what’s right?”
“Listen.”
“To who?” Her varying levels of volume continued as she nearly shouted.
“Listen.”


dialogue #2
“what are you thinking about?” she asked sweetly, in a way that revealed genuine curiosity, and only a slight sense of naiveté.
“i don’t know,” she answered, in a way that revealed nothing.
a comfortable silence passed.
“well, that can’t be true, right? i mean, you must have been thinking about something, even if it was nothing. and you’re the only who would really know if it was something or nothing, or if the something was nothing, right?”
“i don’t know,” she repeated. “what are you thinking about?”
“i’m thinking about that movie i saw last week. it was so crazy violent, almost in a desensitizing way, you know? it really affected me. i’ve been having trouble sleeping, actually.”
“wow, really?” she asked sincerely.
“yeah. and it really made me think about all the violence in this city lately, too. and i just wonder how stuff like that is related, you know? and of course, i think about my students, and the situations they have to grow up in—the shit they have to see. it just seems like so much. they’re so young and already have so much to deal with. and on top of it all they have to worry about whether or not they’re going to make it to school and home again without being shot or beaten. and then they might have to take care of a parent or grandparent who is naturally or chemically ill. and they might not have a dinner to eat. and then they go to bed, knowing that they’ll wake up tomorrow and brave it again to go to a school that will almost assuredly leave them unprepared to achieve a basic level of living security in the future without putting forth an unbelievable level of effort--way more effort than i ever had to exert at their age. maybe more than i ever will. and at the same time, they know that just one misstep will make them a statistic, like everyone expects them to be, like most of the people around them will be. it just doesn’t seem fair, you know? it just doesn’t seem right.”
“wow. that’s a lot to be thinking about.”
another comfortable silence passed.
“now do you know what you’re thinking about?”
“that young girl that was sitting across from us on the train. did you notice her?”
“no. what about her?”
“she was sitting cross-legged next to a man who was probably her dad. she couldn’t have been more than 8, but was probably closer to 6. her hands were folded in her lap, and her thick, wavy brown hair was hanging just to the tops of her shoulders. she was cute, but without any really distinguishing features. she seemed a bit tired. and as i looked across at her, she smiled a very gentle smile. she slowly turned the edges of her mouth up, softened her eyes, and then inhaled and exhaled deeply. there was something about it that just made me feel so safe and peaceful. it was like she saw into me and said, ‘it’s okay. it’s going to be okay.’ and i believed her, you know? like, for a moment, we weren’t strangers on a train in the city, but we were everything—the two pieces of the whole, that have been friends and sisters forever. it was as if i had glimpsed the wisest being in the world in the smile of this little girl. and i thought about how sometimes i feel so unknown by the people around me, the people who seem to know me the best. and sometimes, which is scarier—terrifying to be honest--i feel like a complete stranger to myself. and yet in that moment i felt completely known and understood. and completely safe. and i knew that she wasn’t a stranger at all.”
“that’s a lot to be thinking about too.”
“yeah, and it just made me think about how rare those moments are and what that means. and if they can be manufactured. and if i can ever really know myself the way that girl knew me in that moment. and what it means if i know i can’t. and what it means if i don’t know.”
more silence passed, although it’s unclear for how long.
“so, what are you going to do?” she asked.
“what do you mean?”
“well, if you’re wondering what that moment means, what have you decided? what does it mean and what will you do about it? will you keep thinking about it? will you manufacture more? will you think about my students and the movie and the violence?”
“i guess i’ll just keep asking you what you’re thinking. i’ll keep trying to know you. and when those moments come i can rest in them. and maybe someday, when i’ve asked enough and i’ve seen enough, it won’t be so terrifying anymore. maybe then i can just be.”

as i've stated before, i love traveling. but sometimes, memories can pop up at the most random times. such as last night, when i was sitting in my apartment, trying to do homework (on a saturday night, yes. but it's my LAST WEEKEND of grad school.) i was sitting, writing a hypothetical social service program proposal, when i started thinking about this house party i went to in mexico city last summer. i don't know why i started thinking about it. we were at this house packed with people somewhere in the massive city that is DF, and we were there until about 5am. i won't go into more detail, but it was a crazy night. and i guess it's just weird to think about how memory and nostalgia works. of all memories to pop into my head, why that one?

anyway, i thought i'd put a picture up to relate. this was actually not at the house, but it's from the same weekend and it's all the people i was there with.

festival of rain.

i'm sitting in my room working on a final. coffee next to me, sigur ros floating through the apartment. i've been fighting the urge to write on here all morning, in an attempt to be productive on the final.

but just now, for about 30 seconds, it started to pour outside. just for 30 seconds. it was so beautiful. i couldn't help but stop typing, grab my coffee cup, and just take in the sight and sound of the rain hitting the rooftops around me.

it made me think of the essay 'rain and the rhinoceros' by thomas merton, where he discusses the 'festival of rain' and how it cannot be stopped. especially in the city, where people try to shuffle away and hide. rather than enjoy it as the festival that it is.

i hope i'm never too 'busy' to enjoy the rain. i hope you aren't either.

flamenco.

i went back to lessons on monday. incredible.

my teacher/the owner of the studio had a performance tonight of a modern flamenco piece she's working on about a book she read about the arctic and a trip she took to syria with her young daughter. unbelievably beautiful and inspiring.

and i just spent the last couple hours watching videos like the following, with antonio gades, one of the most incredible and famous flamenco dancers/choreographers of all time:
carlos saura's carmen

don Francisco

last year, while i was living in mexico, i wrote on this blog a short narrative of a man i had met while working for the community foundation. recently, for one of my graduate courses, i was required to write a migration narrative using an interview with someone who had migrated. i used the information from my meetings with francisco to reconstruct this narrative, as well as including some observations about larger political forces which probably had an effect. i decided that since people seemed to be interested in the original profile i offered of him, they may be interested in this. if you have time/desire to read it, i would love your thoughts/responses. it is written in full, here:


Introduction
During the summer of 2009, I completed my second year MSW internship in the state of Guanajuato, México, working with a community foundation that focuses on local economic and educational development in the surrounding rural Mexican communities. Although I worked primarily in the areas of development, fundraising, and program development, I also had the chance to travel to most of the communities, meet the families, and see the work being done with the support of the foundation.
One of these small towns is Tamaula, a community of about 50 families, which is located on a large hill just outside the mid-sized city of Irapuato. On my first trip up to Tamaula (the altitude is actually quite high, as the drive consists of about 45 minutes of incline), the first person I met was Francisco. I assumed he was about 60 years old, and met his wife and one of his daughters at the same time. As we were introduced, since the other student and I were still very new to the area and the foundation, Francisco offered to give us a short summary of the community and the work the foundation has done over the past few years.
After hearing this brief overview of his story, including the founding of Tamaula, difficult times, and various migratory journeys to the United States, I asked Francisco if he had ever recorded his story in any way. He explained to me that he had actually attempted to write in various times, but each time it was destroyed in some way. Once, it was lost in a rapid and unexpected change of residence. Another time, a fire destroyed the memoir. And yet another time, although he gave only vague details, the pages were destroyed during some type of incident with local authorities. After learning this, I asked Francisco if he would be willing to give me more details about his story, specifically about the migratory process, so that I would be able to record it and pass it on to people who may benefit greatly from it. And although I had heard his story and recorded the details, I had not completed the narrative until now.
Background
When Francisco was about 17, he and his young wife packed up the few possessions they owned and left their hometown in central Mexico in order to find a new area where they might be able to do agricultural work in order to subsist. He did not offer many details about the various elements of this decision. Rather, he explained that he and a few other young couples set off together to start anew. Although the journey and arrival must have been extremely difficult, considering the altitude, lack of a path or road, and the fact that they were on foot, they discovered the area where Tamaula now exists, and decided to stay. They constructed their houses, organized themselves as well as possible, and began their lives.
The primary crop grown in Tamaula was corn, although they did have other crops and livestock as well. The families were able to survive, but life was still difficult. Although the town was extremely close to the city of Irapuato, its location on top of the large hill allowed it to stay very isolated. In fact, until about 12 years ago, the most efficient form of transportation to arrive to Tamaula from the road below was a two-hour burro ride.
In spite of this isolation, the agriculture allowed the families in Tamaula not only to survive, but also to live relatively comfortably. However, in the 1990s, the situation began to change. Although he was unsure of why, it became much more difficult to sell the crops that Francisco and his family were farming. In addition to these unforeseen economic issues, the weather began to change as well. As the rainy seasons seemed to get shorter and the dry seasons longer, it became apparent in Tamaula that the lack of a reliable water source, due to its location, would be an increasingly troubling issue.
Faced with all of these issues, Francisco began to talk to various people in Irapuato when he would travel down. He began to hear about a company in the state of Georgia in the United States that would hire workers from Mexico to do farming and sometimes construction work. Although he did not like the prospect of having to leave his wife and five children, he began to consider this as possibly the best option for the family’s future.
Pre-Migration
Although they knew it would be a very difficult situation for Francisco, his wife, and his kids, the family also knew that it was the only way they would be able to stay in their community and survive during such difficult times. In fact, the personal economic issues were not the only difficulty facing the family. Francisco explained that they began to realize the truly debilitating effects of Tamaula’s isolation, due in large part to the lack of reliable transport between the community and the city.
One related issue was the complete lack of educational opportunities in Tamaula. There was still no type of formal education in the 1990s. While this had never struck them as a great necessity, because they figured the children would all continue to do the same agricultural work they had always done, these increasingly notable changes highlighted the lack of opportunity for future success for the youngest members of Tamaula. Therefore, Francisco knew that if he were able to go to the United States to work and send money home, along with some other men from the community, they may be able to pool enough resources to build a school and hire teachers from the city.
Of course, this would be dependent upon the improvement of basic infrastructure in Tamaula. First in importance would be a path or road cleared of rocks leading up to the community, allowing access by means other than foot or animal. In addition, there was still no electricity or clean water source in the community. All of these elements, which again highlight the isolation of Tamaula from the modern city of nearly 500,000 people so nearby, were on the mind and heart of Francisco and a few other men of the community as they considered the difficulty of the journey ahead of them.
The decision and preparation for this first journey was by far the most difficult for Francisco and his family. There was a great amount of uncertainty about every aspect: the journey up to the United States, the border crossing, the place where he would be going, the work he would be doing, how long he would stay, and how he would return. The family did find some level of solace, however, in the idea that Francisco would be returning at some point. Clearly, the plan was never for him to migrate permanently to the United States. In fact, the ideal situation would be that he would work just long enough to send enough money back to secure that the family could create some type of new economic opportunity, allowing him to never migrate again.
Luckily, he had a few friends in another community in the general area that had already made the journey and were able to guide him in the preparations of travel. He knew would be able to take a bus to the border, but he knew very little after that. His friends informed him of where to go at the border and how to access a coyote, but little else was prepared. Francisco knew where in Arizona to be at a certain time, and was prepared to trust God for the rest.
Transit
Unlike some migrants, who are forced to hitchhike or ride on the tops of trains to reach the U.S. border, Francisco had the opportunity to take a bus from his home state of Guanajuato to the border at Nogales, where he would cross. This long bus ride, although incredibly easy compared to the rest of the journey ahead of him, was surprisingly difficult due to the recent separation from his family and the overwhelming sense of uncertainty about the near and distant future. He had no idea where exactly the coyote would take him or how he would get there.
When he arrived in Nogales, he was able to locate a coyote based on the guidance he had received in Guanajuato. Once the coyote was paid and preparations were finished, the next leg of the journey, arguably the most dangerous, began: crossing over the border through the desert. This portion was clearly the most difficult for Francisco to discuss. He gave very few details, explaining only that it was the most horrible thing he had experienced in his life, and he thought for sure he was going to die. He was not sure how long it actually took or where exactly they were, but after at least a few excruciating days, the coyote announced that they had made it through the desert and were “safely” in a United States town. He now guesses that they had arrived in Tucson, Arizona.
However, the danger and pain was not yet over. At this point, Francisco was put into the back of a truck that was completely packed with people. It was clearly difficult for him to describe this experience, in which he was again positive that he was going to suffocate and die. He explained that it quickly outweighed the desert as the most horrible experience of his life. However, he arrived at his next destination: Phoenix.
After arriving in Phoenix, he was quickly put on an airplane destined for Atlanta, Georgia. And as he reiterates, he had literally no idea where he was going. He was completely dependent upon the people whom he was following. In fact, he described the fact that on the airplane, when he and some of the other men he had been traveling with were given complimentary meals, they did not eat them because they spoke no English and therefore were not aware that the food was free. They had not eaten in over three days.
Once he and the other migrants arrived in Atlanta, they were picked up by representatives of the company and driven to the town of Athens, about 70 miles from Atlanta. Francisco expressed gratitude at the opportunity to have at least a few other Mexican men with him on this leg of the journey. Although he did not feel his life was quite as threatened as it had been in the desert or the truck ride to Phoenix, the fact that he knew no English left him feeling continually afraid and uneasy.
Resettlement
While in the United States, due to the community in which he settled and the nature of his work, Francisco was actually not forced to integrate much into mainstream United States culture. He worked primarily with other migrants from Mexico or Central America, and lived in a small town with many of these co-workers. Therefore, he was able to speak Spanish almost exclusively, and rarely had to leave this comfort zone for any reason.
However, the life of an undocumented immigrant in the United States, even within the context of a good work situation, is difficult. For instance, due to a lack of health insurance, Francisco was never able to go to a doctor when he was sick or injured. When an accident at work left him with a large cut on his left forearm, he was left to dress and care for it himself because he would not have been able to afford otherwise. The community of migrants with whom he worked and lived was extremely helpful and supportive, especially during these first few months of transition.
Another difficulty, especially at first, was the separation from his family. This was the first time Francisco had ever left his wife and children, and he was still unsure exactly how long this separation would last. He explained that he felt extremely lonely, even around his fellow migrants, because he knew his entire family was together, along with his community in Tamaula. However, he found it extremely comforting to know that the money he was beginning to send home was helping his family and community to live and plan for the future.
The work Francisco was doing was actually quite manageable, although demanding. He was primarily working in agriculture, tending to crops such as corn and tobacco, but would also work on construction projects occasionally when it was available. Through this combination, he was not only able to use the skills and knowledge about agriculture that he already possessed, but he was able to learn knew skills in building and construction that he predicted would be helpful when he returned to Tamaula. He was also able to develop a very good relationship with his employer, which again provided him with much-needed support.
Francisco ended up staying in Georgia, doing this combination of work, for about two years. As he continued to work hard and send the majority of the money to his family in Tamaula, he weighed the options to remain or return to Mexico. Although he was making much more money than he had ever had at home, the strain of being separated from the family was too difficult. He not only missed his wife, children, and community, but he missed the more tranquil lifestyle in his small, quiet community on top of the hill. Therefore, after discussing it on the phone with his wife, he decided to return to Mexico after two years of working in Georgia. They assumed that with his new experience, knowledge, and skills, they would undoubtedly be able to support themselves in Tamaula.
Return
Luckily, the journey home to Mexico was much easier than the arrival trip had been. Francisco was able to take a bus to the border, cross over without problems, and take another bus back down to Guanajuato state. After two years, he was joyfully reunited with his wife and children. He was also able observe the marked differences in his community since he had left. Like him, many of the men had left, and many were still in the United States or Canada, sending remittances back. In fact, he estimated that the majority of families in Tamaula had a family member who had migrated, usually the father and/or oldest son.
Although he was able to organize the construction of some new homes in the community, especially for his growing family, as his children grew older and began their own families, the economic situation for Francisco and his family did not improve. (They also pooled remittance money with a number of other families in order to construct a new, large church, which is opened once a month when a traveling priest comes to officiate mass.) The opportunities for agriculture did not increase, and the money saved up from remittances was quickly being exhausted. Therefore, over the next five to ten years, Francisco was forced to make the difficult decision to emigrate to the U.S. a few more times. He was unclear of how many times he actually made the journey or how exactly he did it, but he did explain that the return trips were at least made easier by the general knowledge of what to expect. In addition, his boss in Georgia had told him after the first departure that he could work for him whenever he wanted or needed to.
During the past decade, as Francisco has gotten older and therefore less able to handle the journey, his sons have begun migrating. In fact, when I completed this interview with him, one son was in the United States working, and one had just recently returned. This younger generation not only supports their own young families, but supports their parents as well. Also during this time period, however, the foundation with which I was interning began working with the community. This collaboration has led to the creation of an automobile-accessible road up to Tamaula (cleared of rocks but not paved), the installation of electricity and internet access, and the gradual construction of three small buildings for educational purposes. The current project on which the foundation and the community are working is the installation of a clean water source and the purchase of a large cistern in which to store it.
With these developments, the community has truly been opened up to the surrounding area and the nearby city of Irapuato. Although it is still difficult to access (a rocky 45-minute car ride), the increasing accessibility has allowed the community leaders to work with the foundation to advocate much more effectively for the needs of the community. Francisco and another elder in the community have also collaborated with another organization to obtain a large number of goats in order to reignite some of the economic prospects the community once enjoyed. While the men raise, breed, and sell the goats, the women use the milk to make cheese, which they hope to sell in the local markets soon.
However, even with these growing opportunities, migration continues to be a significant part of life in Tamaula. In fact, the characteristics of those who migrate is continually changing, now often starting around age 14 or 15, and including young women as well as men. This culture of course creates a large number of social problems, including an extremely low commitment to education and high rates of depression and alcoholism in those left behind.
Larger Implications and Conclusion
It is not difficult to understand how Francisco’s story of immigration fits in to the larger context of economic, agricultural, and immigration policy between Mexico and the United States. For instance, as Daniels (2002) explains in his book Coming to America: A History of Immigration and Ethnicity in American Life, “in the 1980s, for the first time since the mid-1920s, immigration took up a central position on the American social agenda” (p. 388). Along with the many rounds of reform measures and policies that were being drafted and debated in these years, such as the Immigration Reform Act of 1986, U.S. public opinion about migrants and immigration was being discussed, debated, and reevaluated as well. At the very least, I would point to this ideological discussion—if not battle—as a reason for the extremely dangerous nature of the journey itself that Francisco completed. Were it not such a hotly contested issue with such an immense history, he may not have been forced to risk his life or those of his children in order to earn a living.
In addition to these general immigration policies, it seems incredibly likely that economic policies, such as the 1993 North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), also contributed significantly to Francisco’s choice to migrate. As Daniels (2002) mentions and others such as Flores-Macías (2006) discuss in detail, the trade policies of NAFTA nearly (if not completely) devastated the agricultural business of much of Mexico, especially central Mexico (where Guanajuato is located). Although the presidents of both nations claimed the policy would create more opportunities for work in both countries and therefore lower the rate of migration, it actually had the opposite effect, causing the levels of migration—especially illegally—from Mexico to the United States to skyrocket. It seems quite logical to include Francisco in this group.
Francisco’s story of migration, therefore, not only offers a great depiction of the stages of migration and the way this process can affect individuals, families, and whole communities, but it also exemplifies the way large national or international policies can affect these different levels of society as well. Nonetheless, Francisco continues. He continues to work hard, live with his wife in Tamaula, support his children as they migrate to and return from the north, and advocate for the community he founded nearly 50 years ago.

References
Daniels, R. (2002). Coming to America: A History of Immigration and Ethnicity in American Life.
Flores-Macías, G. A. (2008). NAFTA’s Unfulfilled Immigration Expectations. Peace Review, 20(4), pp. 435-441.

this is it.

i've decided it's time to start attempting to document my journey back to south america. for now, as i begin this odd process, i'll just pick out a few of the stories i feel like typing out for now. i'm sure more will come out as i feel like it/remember. i'll probably entitle some parts. that's what i do.


"the way latin american travel is supposed to begin"
as anyone reading this blog knows, i was pretty excited for this trip. not only to travel, but to travel to peru and chile, where so much of my heart remains. so, as i approached the counter to check in for my first flight at ohare, i was pretty much floating. until. i asked the woman if she would be able to connect my luggage through to lima because i would be changing airlines in new york. she did her rapid typing thing and said it shouldn't be a problem...except...how was i planning on getting from laguardia airport to kennedy airport in nyc? "you're shitting me," i said out loud. "um...no," she replied. i had a 2-hour layover in new york and i was going to have to get my luggage and get to a different airport. luckily, she got me on a slightly earlier flight. and even more luckily, i'm a very privileged person who can afford an unexpected $40 cab ride through new york. but, i made it! and it was kind of nice to get the FIRST unplanned happening out of the way. in fact, i was so relieved to realize that i would make the second flight easily that i started trying to chat up my cab driver in new york. but he was not having it. apparently he had just been accused of something by the guy at the airport and that was the only thing he was willing to discuss. so, i let him talk about it for a while and then i just took in the brief look at nyc.


after arriving in lima, i quickly jumped in a cab to a bus station and grabbed a bus for chimbote, about 7 hours north of lima. it was a lot of traveling, yes, but it was so worth it to see courtney. even 7 hours on a bus with no bathroom. i didn't drink anything and got a lot of reading done! and actually, ended up having a really nice conversation with the guy sitting next to me for the last couple hours.


it was so so so great to see courtney. and to see her life. she is someone that continually inspires and challenges me in the way she lives (not just because she lives in chimbote), so even a few days with her was incredibly huge for me. the title of this whole post, "this is it," comes from a conversation we had about life, and being present, and not living for some other time or place or person. but being here, now. like the quote under the title of this blog also. there is only one moment.

this was one beautiful part of that (and this) moment:


after a couple quick days with courtney, i bused it back to lima and got on a plane for santiago. and as we landed, i saw the huge tents where i would eventually pick up my bag, go through customs, and leave without ever entering the airport building, which had sustained significant damage. and as i saw the tents, i remembered the earthquake for the first time. i had that same rush of excitement/anxiety thinking about what the city would be like. and what i would be like there.


the city had changed a lot, but you almost couldn't tell that the earthquake had just hit. as far as santiago goes, it's very much back to normal. minus a few really old buildings, like this one:



in fact, i kept forgetting about the earthquake. until thursday, when i went for a long, great run in the sun. and, as i was coming back to the house, i noticed that everyone was out on the street. everyone was leaving buildings and standing in the parking lots/streets, trying to make phone calls. i honestly thought, "hm...lot's of fire drills going on right now. or people just really like to have their lunch breaks outside?" but, when i got back to the house and the nana and bernardita, my host sister, answered the door they asked, "did you feel the aftershock? it was really strong!" they both looked quite shaken up, actually. "no!" i yelled. "are you serious?! my first tremor and i missed it!" i guess if you're running when the ground moves, you don't feel it. or perhaps i'm just that fast that i was actually flying over the ground. well, i think we all know i'm a little too klipsch for that to be the case. in any event, i ended up feeling one of the tremors later in the day. it really is incredible the way the buildings sway. and reports said that the early one had actually been clocked at a 7.2, which is bigger than the haiti earthquake. pretty crazy stuff.


"distance is just another way to relate"
being with my family was absolutely incredible. as we all kept saying, especially my host mom and i, it was completely normal. completely comfortable. it felt as if i had simply been "away" in the states for a little while but now i was home and life could go back to normal. honestly, it was really weird. and it was part of the reason why i spontaneously started crying (which i don't do that often) when on a day trip with my host dad on the last day at cerro san cristobal:


i realized that i had been so comfortable all week being with them (and busy with wedding stuff) that i really hadn't made an effort to go to too many places or do many things in santiago. it just felt like i was "back" and had all the time in the world. and looking at this sunset, i realized i didn't:



it probably didn't help that i literally hadn't slept the night before because of the wedding. but regardless, it was really hard for me to accept the fact that i would be leaving the next day. but i did. i decided not to dwell on my upcoming departure, but rather to enjoy being there with one of my favorite people in the entire world, talking about peace, and connection, and the illusion of distance.


"it's just like the movies!"
and for the wedding. so many good things to say i don't even know where to start. the wedding and all other events were a beautiful mix of the two cultures, and therefore a beautiful representation of sarah and felipe's relationship. for instance, it was an extremely formal event, at a huge and beautiful catholic church. very chilean. but also, we had a rehearsal dinner and bridal party, which is not done in chile. so, as we (sarah and the bridesmaids) went around her neighborhood to take pictures before the wedding, people just kept saying, "it's just like the movies!" they were literally stopping their cars and getting out to take pictures of us. people eating al fresco at restaurants started applauding us. it was kind of awesome. i must admit. we did kind of feel like we had walked out of a movie or a bridal magazine or something. and, well, we kind of did. check out this photo, just one of the many amazing shots by the incredible photographer, a friend of sarah's:


check out her blog here.

the wedding was beautiful. and late, which is perfectly chilean. i mean late. it was scheduled to start at 8. it started around 9. cocktail hour started around 1030. dinner was served around midnight, with toasts thrown in here and there. dancing started around 1 and DID NOT STOP until 6am. it was FANTASTIC. as in, fantastic. exactly what i would want, except maybe a little earlier in the day. but the chileans did not stop dancing the entire time. it was more fun than i can explain. when i get some more pictures of the actual party, i will definitely post them.


and so, after all, i left. i said goodbye to santiago with a wonderful 45minute coffee date with my best friend in chile, alejandra. again, it was like no time had passed at all.

the journey home was long, but fine. a 12-hour layover in lima made for a bit of exhaustion, but it was my decision in order to save some money. so, it was definitely worth it. well, until i missed my connection in miami and started crying at the counter. but, i'm sure the woman has seen much worse (you know, like someone cursing when they find out they have to change airports in new york!). she was very nice and got me on the next flight. it was a good reminder to me of the illusion of time and the ridiculousness of trying to hurry.

ok, there's so much more i could write about, but that's it for now. there are more pictures on facebook. actually, i didn't take many, but i put them all up, with a few captions. so, if you're interested, check them out!

thanks for reading! peace and love and eternity to you.