this one goes out to the one i love (part 2)

plate of fruit

last night my friends holland and courtney came over to watch a movie and after, holland and courtney sat at my dining room table to do their homework

and when they were done we sat at the table, chatting.
holland started doodling on the oranges sitting on a plate in the centre of the table...
doodling on the bananas,
making them into funny little heads saying, "te quiero" (i love you)

now this picture of holland is precisely what i love about her
she is a child, and she always will be one- but at the same time i have had the most profound and mature of conversations with her... we have shared, "church" on a roof-- an afternoon listening to podcasts of sermons from her church back home, painting, dancing, and discussing lifeeee. she is not like so many people I know that are too old to be childish, yet too young to have mature conversations with.

but as for the fruit...

when i awoke this morning I walked into the kitchen and saw the bananas and oranges she had coloured on in a plastic bag on the counter

and then, i got a sinking feeling in my stomach. i guess the joke hadnt been funny to my host mom. immediately when I saw my host mom- i wished her a good morning, and said "i am sorry about the fruit..."

to which she angrily ranted about how it
-bothered her very much
-that she can not serve contaminated fruit
-she would like to speak to holland
-that "maybe this would pass at the orphanage, but not here"

and that was about it.

and yes, it is only fruit
yes, it was a sign of disrespect
but contamination aside- and the orphanage also (because that is just a horrible thing to bring into all of this)
life has been given to us to be lived,
and to be taken lightly

to not cry over spilt milk.

but holland and i ended up crying on the sidewalk together. it started as a horrible cry, then a less horrible one, then a beautiful discussion of life and meaning...

a flower grows through the cracks in the sidewalk.

death of a dog

this one goes out to the one i love

i found jay on a sunny florida afternoon by a canal, thin and sad. after visiting him every day for 2 weeks armed with food and water, i took him back to the place i was living at the time- a tent at a farm in florida. there he slept outside my door, until i caved and let him come and sleep beside me in the tent. every day while i worked he would follow me around the farm, never leaving my side. when i returned to canada he came with me. he always was weak, and beaten by life-- and i kept thinking one day i'd see him run.

i called him jay. he had an old face, and a history that ill never know.

last week i recieved an email saying he was dying and that my parents wanted my permission to put him down. dear lord...

many times i have held him when he shook in his sleep, and he would lay his head upon me when i cried in mine.

so this is for my beautiful dog named jay, a dog who carried me through and out of dark places, and who showed me exactly what love should be- pure and simple. his quiet head in my stomach.

though i can't see it now- i feel that he is running.

the orphanage

On weekends, if i can find it, i go to an orphanage to hang out with some dang-cool kids. tomorrow we are having a sleepover party with all the girls (ha ha even though every night they have sleepover parties, this one is going to be different... candy perhaps? no teeth brushing?)

a lot of the kids have incredible stories- and although i dont know the half of it, i know a few facts: most kids have mothers in jail and have grown up surrounded by drugs and unimaginable violence.

i am an observer when i go. though generally i do not believe that an outsider has the right to judge certain things, i hope someday i can show them what i believe sunday school should be. i didnt like their version of sunday school. it was horrifying. the children all had to sit in a row-perfect posture, hands in lap- listening to bible verses being read- then summarize what was read. my favourite part was when one of the boys, clearly fed up with the situation, turned around and started peeing in the garden. he got in quite a bit of trouble for that, but i think god cheered him on. "be playful my children, live while you've got the energy!"

i'm not lost!

the last time i tried to go to the orphanage i got "lost".

but i was never Lost. one man tried desperately to help me, getting on a different bus just to show me the way- but i still didn't find where i needed to go. trust me, it was hard. the first time i went i took three different buses for 2 hours...

my day turned into an analysis of the word lost. always i trusted that there would be people that could help me find my way back to downtown... and from there i could find me way home.

i spent the day as a wanderer. in these places where people come and go- downtown squares, park benches, bus stops, stores... there is a strange air. though i spent a day moving slowly through these places, slower than i ever have- i still couldnt put my finger on that strange thing.

i sat for two hours at a bus stop in the middle of no where, observing the travellers, and the other constants: a drunk man lying on the bench behind me, a man selling tacos, an annoyingly typical couple..

somehow sitting alone in a forest for hours, which is something i enjoy to do very much- seems comparable to this day. it was a patient, slow, "stop and smell the flowers" kind of day. i left at 1030, got home a 7. waste of time? i think not.

coffe con leche por fAvor

i have visited the beach twice. the first was a visit to sayulita- a cool surfing town about an hour from the touristy puerto vallarta. the second was a visit to barra de navidad- a town filled with retirees who sound hilarious when they attempt to speak spanish (coffee con leche, por fAvor?)

we didnt do much at the beaches other than take in the sun and play in the waves... but of course, they were beautiful weekends. this past weekend when we were driving home we just missed being in a huge accident. a truck carrying sugar cane flipped on its side right in front of our bus, killing the driver, spilling sugar cane all over.

it was an eerie night.

A+ for effort

school. i have been avoiding the topic.
i have learned A LOT since I got here, don't get me wrong. i have a notebook in which i write new vocabulary and everyday i increase my spanish vocab - but it is not enough. i have readings equivalent to the amount of reading i have in canada- and they are all in spanish (obviously). i have a 12 page essay due for next thursday so i asked my prof if i can research in english...he said not for this essay (for the next one, yes). he gave us specific articles to read...
now i am at a loss for how i will go about it. there is literally nothing i can do except try. if i fail, i guess i fail.

classes are three hours. i have a class at 7 am tuesday mornings, a class until 9 on fridays, and class all day thursdays- a rather strange schedule. i have acquaintances in my classes, but no real friends. in one of my classes i am the only student. that class is my favourite. the teacher is always smiling as though my presence is absolutely delightful. it is funny.

the campus is nice and small, and there is always something going on- like theatres in the garden, and parties on the street hosted by the history department... or hosted by the social science deparment... the "i think we should just have a party in the street for kicks" departments..

between classes on thursdays i have a spot where i nap in the garden. my favourite "friend" (what constitutes friendship?) at school is a girl named claudia. i see her every thursday and we always have lengthy conversations about our lives before our prof starts the session. she has never travelled, she likes the band metric (suprised? so was i), and she has a pregnant 20 year old sister (which apparently is not a good thing... i learned that after congratulating her. ha ha).

being the foreign exchange student is fun. and not fun. depends if i am ignoring my treacherous homework situation or not.

but now it is time to face up to the problem at hand.. if there is a "how to write an essay in a foreign language" for dummies book, i would be delighted if you sent it my way.
peace friends