unpacking

on my floor in a giant heap is an opened backpack, and it's contents of a tent, a sleeping bag, a ukelele, and very, VERY dirty clothes. I have said the word to myself several times; "unpack", but the more I say it, the less enticing it seems. The word fills my mouth, and nothing else- my sore muscles, my happy heart- every part of me is content to stare at the mess for a while.

so here's a different sort of unpacking- the kind where material things stay put in their corner mess, and real things come out in writing.




vacaciones
my parents came to mexico for a week in march so i took the week off from school (a risk i was willing to take), and went to join them in the beautiful sunshine of puerto vallarta. after spending 11 hours at a bus station with my friend holland who came with me for the first weekend-- (the two of us and 4 mexicans got left behind- our bus left without most of it's passengers and the next bus with available seats wasn't until 9 in the morning... what a disaster!) we arrived in puerto vallarta, boarded the most chalk-full bus i have ever been on with backpacks full of things, and rode to the hotel.

reuniting with my parents was classic-- i felt a bit like a lost dog bounding across an open field into the arms of their owner; running across a pool deck into the arms of my mother.

usually my adventures end up in the cheapest ugliest hostels, or far in the wilderness with a tent and smelly armpits... therfore finding myself in a nice hotel, around a beautiful large pool, with a few obnoxious spring breakers in loads of tanning oil, and many other north american tourists-- it was the a side of mexico i had not yet seen.

i remember my mom saying, "you better enjoy this because this might be the only time you spend in a nice hotel like this is your life!" which is entirely true as i generally steer away from normal vacations.

but the week was luxurious and beautiful in it's way. mostly i just enjoyed being with my parents in the beautiful sunshine, and enjoying the water. my favourite night with them was the first, when we shared a delicious dinner and talked about what had gone on in our respective lives over the last few months.

i took my parents and holland to sayulita, a beach i had visited before and loved. holland and i sat on the beach painting for most of the afternoon until a little indigenous girl came by to try to sell us stuff. after we said we didnt want anything she stayed staring at our paintings looking incredibly fascinated. holland asked her to paint with us and before long she was sitting with us and painting- shyly, cautiously- as holland held her things. soon her family came by to see what was up. the family consisted of young parents holding a baby, a shy boy hiding behind mom's leg... and together, my family and theirs, we laughed. i couldnt help but thinking this was quite a magical exchange of laughter. our families, different in so many ways, yet, for a moment in time, together in the same sort of laughter.

we invited the little boy to paint and his technique of painting was, well, very special.. he would paint the whole little canvas one colour, tell me he was done, and then start again. he did this over and over until he had painted the thing probably more than 8 times. he did it with great concentration and vigor and we all got quite a kick of watching the process.

holland left on sunday and i spent the rest of the week lazing around, adventuring, and working on my essay. my favourite adventure was to a place called yelapa- which is a town only accesible by water taxi. the town was chaotic, built up on the side of a mountain, and full of playful dogs (almost too playful)...

after a week of playing the "yes, i am indeed a tourist" role- eating delicious food, soaking in bright sun, and playing travel scrabble with my parents- it was time to return to being a citizen of this country.

fun fact: when i returned my belongings had been moved to a room on the second floor of the house because the girl who is now my room-mate broke up with her boyfriend so i now share a room with her. this is fine with me, of course, as the room is about 3 times the size and a has lots of natural light. i do, however, miss the sleepovers with my lovely little roomate, Ivannia...

fun fact 2: we now have a baby and mother living with us-- the baby is the grand-daughter of my host family and the mother is their daughter-in-law. HAVING A BABY AROUND IS AWESOME. seriously. she is full of smiles and is such a wonderfully simple creature. when or if I am bummed all i do is make a silly face at her and she makes me melt with her gorgeous baby smile.

fun fact 3: last time I ended off my blog entry complaining about writing a minimum 12 page paper in spanish- and now, jumping jimmy, i am here to declare that i successfully wrote a grand spanking 14 pages! I have yet to find out whether or not I passed the paper- but I wrote it none the less which in itself seems a grand success.

niños
i went to the orphanage the following weekend and this time was one of the best (every time i go i become closer with these kids and more moved by their resilience, and by the stamina of their caretakers). holland and i were put in charge of a group of boys who were absolutely off the wall. locos. trying to get 5 year olds to clean a kitchen is not exactly an easy thing to do, and there came a point of surrender when we both realized, why stress? we embraced their energy, and after a couple of hours, many silly fights, and water everywhere- the kitchen was, more or less, clean.
not that i dont love hanging out with the girls, there is something especially hilarious and special about this group of boys that i had not understood or noticed before- so spending this time with them was pretty awesome.

escuela o no escuela?
in the week before semena santa (the two weeks off from school that just ended), 2 of my 4 classes were cancelled... or rather, they were cancelled in the mexican way.
i went to the first, one of my thursday classes, and the teacher didnt show up. all the students were there and we had a debate about whether or not we should leave until finally we realized it was definitely stupid to stick around. the next day i did my 40 minute commute to school, and waited on a bench for my teacher to arrive. the class is sceduled for 7 pm and at 830 i was startled from my major zone out position- lying on a bench, listening to music, watching the stars come out--
a janitor told me she was going to lock up the classrooms.
I said, "I have a class"
she asked, "when?"
I replied, "7."
she laughed; "honey, it's 830, I think you can go home now"
currently I am worried because usually this teacher sends many emails, and always let's me know what is going on-- and I have still not, two weeks later, heard from her... no sé que hacer...

trabajando
so then my two week "vacations" started.
for the first four days i went to the orphanage to help with a conference they were having there. all the kids had been sent off to a camp nearby with the exception of 1 boy and 2 girls who had an unfortunate case of chicken pox, barisellas.
Never before have I worked for so many hours, and never before have I felt so inspired to work. I worked in the kitchen for a lot of the time under a sour faced woman name Loupita. By my final day, she began to loosen up and when i asked what the time was during my last afternoon there, she said, "It doesn't matter, your not leaving!"

while there I worked every minute. I got up at 630 one morning and would work until 11 pm. I worked alongside people that have dedicated their lives to serving God... the real kind of dedication- to be there, in the presence of real revolucionaries-- the sort of people that work until there is not more work left in them- was empowering. While in the kitchen I overheard a lot of the conference that was going on. there were preachers of many different sorts and styles, and lots of SINGING. i capitalize singing because it wasn't just any singing, it was whole-hearted, hands-in-the-air, bouncing-up-and-down, praise-the-lord, kind of singing.

The Emmanual Foundation, the foundation that was having the conference, does work in prisons all across Mexico. Out of that work was born an orphanage in Guadalajara, called a "Casa Hogar"- however the most part of the foundation works to reach out to people in prisons and offer them a life of purpose. Watching those people gathered, people that have lived in prison themselves- people that have known the real depths of human existence-- there were moments where i could do nothing but succumb to the power of it all, turn my face, and hide my tears in the dishes i was washing, or vegetables i was cutting... soup i was stirring. como agua para chocolate.

descubriendo
i returned to my house, packed my bags, and before the sun had risen the next morning I was on a bus heading on another adventure; cumbre yah! the original plan was that I would go to a wwoofing farm (willing workers on organic farms) in michoacan- a mountainous state to the south of jalisco (the state i am living in). however, i was informed when i applied for a position at the farm that they were having an event called "cumbre ya!" and that i was more than welcome to come, and after the event I could volunteer.

"cumbre ya!"- (cumbre meaning summit) was delightful. at the bus station in guadalajara i met up with 4 other girls from guadalajara who were heading to the event. first i met a girl named carla who ended up being my busmate- and she was hilarious, sweet, and patient (a required quality if you want to have a conversation with me in spanish). the 5 of us arrived in a town called patzcuaro, went downtown for lunch, and then took a taxi to a town called erongaricuaro (say that 10 times fast) where we were to be picked up.

in eronga we met brian- the owner of the farm, and raul, a volunteer at the farm. they drove us in a big white van up a bumpy dirt road up into the mountains. we arrived at the campground/farm, met some dogs (there are 10!), and set up our campsites.

I discovered the first night that the tent I had borrowed from my Mexican family was too small for me, so I unzipped the door and slept with half my body outside.

i remember a bright moon. i remember quiet; it had been a long time since i had fallen asleep without the sound of car alarms, distant cars, and endless activity in the streets. it felt, oddly enough, a bit lonely- but it was, of course, the sort of lonliness that one craves. the sort of "hey, maybe now I'll be able to hear with i have to think" lonliness.

the only light outside was natural light- the light of an almost full moon.

the next couple days were spent participating in workshops led by fellow cumbre ya participants. i led a workshop, in spanglish, on what little i know of south african gumboot dancing (thank you madavine!) which was a lot of fun. i learned how to make tortillas, practiced writing poetry, painted, sang around a campfire, and listened to the people around me. my inability to follow and understand everything that goes on in spanish conversations has, it seems, made my world a softer one. it is hard to explain, but i feel my opinions, my want to express my view on things- softening, as though some invisible voice is saying, "hey, we could use another listener".

the event ended and the forest quieted down significantly as all that was left was a small handful of volunteers. during the following week i learned about building a cob house- using only natural materials such as dirt (clay), pine needles, and sawdust- i planted seeds, dug out the fertile compost below oak trees, played with 2 little girl visitors, painted signs to mark campsites, and with sophie, a volunteer from Ingleterra (England), began the digging of the great "swail".

the swail.. basically many permaculturalists (is that a word?) believe that if your forest grows up an incline (or crops or whatever) you can dig a trench near the top of that incline and the water will soak more slowly into the ground causing for more growth and greenery below the swail. wow. "swails" "micro-climates", "plant-propogation" "grey water systems"... lots of things to think about and research.

if i can i will return in the beginning of june to see the forest come alive with the beginning of the rainy season.

during a tour of the farm in my first few days there i asked brian, "if your plan is to eventually create an eco-community (which is his plan), why did you do this all of this alone?", and he said something along the lines of, "well, with a dictatorship you can get a lot done. i know what i want and i go for it"

hmm

i have reserved judgement on the statement- however this was the cause of many pensamientos, thoughts, during the week. yes, the place is beautiful, and the things that have been built and accomplished there are incredible. there are cabins, cisterns for collecting rainwater, solar hot water heaters, solar panels for energy... and it is all very impressive but...

community is something i have been trying to understand, and i have no desire to stop trying to find it and to understand it. it is therefore a good thing for me to see the other side- the power of an individual, and an individual's want (need?), to direct those processes.

it's tempting, it is- but no thanks, i think ill stick to community. (we were put on this earth with other people for a reason?)

i spent many hours reading, painting a mural, singing, hiking through the woods, and listening to the stories of the people around me. i met a 28 year old woman who has been travelling the world since she was my age. i reveled in her stories of mongolia, zimbabwe, spain, nicaragua... i challenged an idealist who was good at talking but whose actions confused me (admittedly, i saw a lot of my own faults in this guy)... i cherished the humility of one volunteer and the sweetness of another. in a places so tranquil i find that people can be a little too quiet sometimes- as though afraid to interupt the uncomplicatedness of the silence around...but why should we let each other be quiet all day when everyone has so much to say? why sit in silence with others when they just might have some of the answers, knowledge, or love we've been looking for? why try to discover everything independently through books when there are real people, with hands and heart full of the knowledge of experience?

the bosque was good for me. it reminded me of the importance of living a balance- being both dependent and independent. i spent hours alone throwing paint on a wall in the company of only the occasional lizard- and these hours were especially refreshing. i also was surrounded by the most incredible books, and was reminded of the joys of reading. candles, sunshine, refreshing cool air-- the place was full of nothing other than the richness of life.





lluvia por favor!
and now, i am back in the city. it is much warmer and the air is different than when i left. yesterday, walking home from a movie the wind was blowing furiously, and i jokingly did a little rain dance. i heard a loud crack of thunder later in the middle of the night- the first thunder i have heard here in mexico. it didnt rain a drop but the air smells of earth and i can tell the heavens are thinking of opening soon.

like the seasons, i am going through changes that are inevitable. it would be easy to wake up in a new season and not realize that the other had ended, but i feel small things becoming different in me. in more than one way, i feel rain coming soon. the air is thickening and becoming more stagnant as the days go on, and with slight desperation (it is hot out!) and strained excitement i can't help but think, "bring on the rain!"