around the sun
today i revel in its noon-day height
as the warmth basks my new bedroom
and me, in my birthday suit
comfortable
in my skin, and joints
even at the monitor
(thanks no doubt to lately daily yoga
- two weeks and cycling... stretching...
breathing - sometimes deeply, and learning
constantly to allow myself digression, patience
- the shallow has its benefits, too - contrast)
type a tap tap, it can be overwhelming
to stay in touch, together, on track
but it helps to strive, to practice
letting go - even though i'm not Buddhist
nor do i believe in attachment
as a negative force - not all-ways
at least - i am open - trying
to take lessons from experience
other than my own
personal(l)(it)y

b(e)(e)
exist, buzz, in a group or many
even alone i am a-part
by meritocracy or chance or neither
an illusion, but that is magic too
curious the way things change
yet stay the same, cliche, new
faces morph into familiarity and fade
shiny foils, motifs, questions recur
in new settings resembling those past
and suddenly, spiral
the present is in your hands
waiting to be unwrapped, layer by layer
a game, not so much about the final prize
but revealing new designs/colours/sensations
- will you rip the paper?
bzzzz.

c-om-mun-ity, cohesion, cariño
concepts carry and have carried me
here, to this universal (my) centre
from which i (have r)evolve(d)
for (my) eternity, destiny, energy
the little burning planet i am
on an astral course
bent on shining bright
in creation/destruction
- are those the same?
were they (n)ever?

decisions are not daunting
when you listen to the voice
of choice, and your gut and mind
collude, informing, reforming
conforming to your groove.
just move.

early this morning i danced
in a circle of drums, indoors
and blew out rob's light(er)
and ate recovered strudel
that i'd carried on jennie's bike
through the market to bloor
and got carded at the bar door
like i never did a decade before
i thought to myself:
it's nice to be home.

forgive yesterday's abandoned plans
for they know not how you've changed
and are better for it.

give yourself hugs
and send them off
to the universe
after you've had your fill.

hear, listen, absorb, internalise.

i sometimes (often) need
to remind myself
to succumb
to serenity.

join me?

keep it up.

laughing
at the silliness
of alphabetic.

missing you
but reassured by that
faith in spite of distance

no.

oh.

please.

quaint or quivering?

right on.

so...

the point is, i'm writing.
l'escriture me manque.
le français aussi.

underneath it all,
has anything really
been affected?

voila.

warm wishes flood my inbox
from over seas
places where things
are worse/different/better
dizzying, reassuring, inspiring...
where am i meant to be later?
(toronto for now feels right)

x's can be wonderful friends.

y?

zoodles.
i used to love that pasta
in a can, smothered in sweet
red tomato sauce. it's been
too long since the intervention
of politics, nutritional content
gmos, aluminum correlations...
ah, nostalgia, self-indulgant flow.
age > #
= salud y actitud.

9:30am.

"Did you just knock on my door?" I ask, groggy, through the locked bathroom door.

"No," Amira answers from within, "but there are some strange noises in here."

I pace through the kitchen of my new Kensington Market home and look out the front door; nobody's there. My heart sinks, and I'm not sure why - intuition?

I take my turn on the toilet.

All alone, I contemplate this eery feeling for mere seconds when I instinctively turn towards an increasingly common sound at the sink-end of the WR - but louder - and am staring at a little furry creature. A large little furry creature.

And - call it a hunch - I know two things immediately:

1) It's the one (or at least of the species) that's been making all the noise in the walls,

and,

2) it's definitely not a squirrel (as Bruce had pontificated).

Oh no, sirry... It's just like a mouse - a cute 'n pesky mouse - but it's too big to be a mouse. And it's staring back.

It looks less afraid than I probably do. I put on a mean veneer. Show no fear... Yeah right. I'm sure it can see right through me.

"Amira," I call, trembling a bit. I can see her shadow in the living room through the frosted brick wall. "We have a problem. I just saw it."

"Are you okay?" she asks. I'm trying to be.

It's been just over two weeks since I moved into my new Toronto home: my first _ever_ since moving out of my parents' place at 17 that I haven't seen as totally temporary. And I like it here!!

My roommates are cool, fun, interesting, and great kitchen companions to boot; my room is cozy and I'm working on the decor; the location (despite the noisy bar downstairs and the mice - which we were eradicating and I was putting up with just fine) is awesome; and I was starting to get excited about the potential for this place to be the "home sweet home" I've started really craving in my travels of late.

But I have to go to the washroom again, and I'm scared to.

I take a step out of the (psychological) safety of my room, and see its tail. Its long, skinny rat-tail.

Damn.

CANADIAN YOUTH TRAVEL TO AFRICA TO ADDRESS CANADA’S CLIMATE LEADERSHIP VOID.


(National) – A group of 21 Canadian youth, frustrated with the current lack of leadership by Canada’s federal government on climate change, is traveling to Kenya on Nov. 1 to show the world the climate crisis will not be swept under the political carpet or treated with any less importance than it demands. “Climate change is the fight of our generation,” says Naomi Devine, a youth delegate from Victoria. “We do not suffer from a lack of solutions. Where are our political leaders on this? Since they are far too few, and far too quiet, we must become those leaders.”

Cameron Stiff, general coordinator for the delegation, notes that “it is critical for youth to be there. We know what’s happening to our atmosphere is threatening our very chances of survival - our food, our energy and our international security. We are getting dangerously close to the edge. Our society needs to acknowledge that – and implement solutions that match the seriousness of the threat we face.”

The delegation will travel to Nairobi, Kenya from November 1 to 17 and continue to build on the successes achieved at last year’s climate change conference, held in Montreal. Since then, Canada’s government has faced both international and domestic criticism for its lack of support of the Kyoto Protocol, the only global agreement that sets hard targets for greenhouse gas emissions reductions.

With no government support they are fundraising and organizing the trip to the 12th annual international climate change conference to the UN. Hailing from across the country, the group brings diverse perspectives to the table, with a strong emphasis on education, action, and leadership. The Canadian ENGO community is supportive but, like many advocacy groups in Canada, has recently witnessed dramatic funding cuts.

The Canadian Youth Delegation to Nairobi formed out of the founding summit of the Canadian Youth Climate Coalition, held in early September in Toronto. The number of individuals on the Youth Delegation is projected to rival that of the entire Canadian governmental delegation to the international conference.

Support from the both community groups, individuals and businesses is sought in order to ensure that as many members of the delegation as possible have a chance to attend and have their voices heard. Interested donors can make contributions at www.canadahelps.org, under the name Canadian Youth Delegation. Charitable tax receipts can be issued for any amount.

For Interviews with Youth Delegates in specific regions, please speak to a Regional Contact:

Naomi Devine, BC (250) 472-5170
Aiden Abram, Ontario (519) 760-0701
Nathalie Arsenault, Quebec (514) 937-4997
Zoe Caron, Nova Scotia (902) 444-3113
Josh Darrach, Prince Edward Island (902) 393-0822

www.cydnairobi.ca

"Dropping knowledge is a global initiative to turn apathy into activity. By hosting an open conversation on the most pressing issues of our times, we will foster a worldwide exchange of viewpoints, ideas and people-powered solutions. However knowledge is defined, by dropping it freely to others, we all gain wisdom."

Check it out.

http://www.droppingknowledge.org/

For a slide show overview of the project:
http://www.droppingknowledge.org/bin/dk?ph=slideshow&slideNumber=0

If nothing else, the commercials are better than any "real programming" I've seen in a long time:
http://www.droppingknowledge.org/bin/dk?ph=commercials_gallery

I don't like to send forwards, so I'm posting one I got here instead. On some level, I guess I always know this stuff exists. But in the midst of my planning the World Urban Festival, it sends shivers down my spine to be reminded that other people are organising with very different intentions. Let's hope there's still hope out there...
~c

----------
Date: Thu, 15 Jun 2006 09:15:02 -0400
Subject: this time it's in color...

i don't mean to start your day off on the wrong foot but...

NOT IN GERMANY BUT IN THE UNITED STATES
Not in the 1940's, but right now...

How many of you really know what's happening in your own back yard??

They're not scared anymore. In broad daylight, in the middle of downtown, by cynically manipulating the freedom of speech, and with police protection they spread their hate everywhere they can.

Don't stand aside on this, take a stance and make sure that this will never happened again.
Forward this Email to as many people you can so every one will know.

The movie is from Israel and it's about the Nazis' of Minnesota filmed on 4/23/2006.

Please take a couple of minutes and watch this movie.

http://img2.tapuz.co.il/forums/1_78931098.htm

I've tried to do my research to see if this is true, and here's what I found:

http://www.adl.org/learn/ext_us/The_National_Socialist_Movement.asp?LEARN_Cat=Extremism&LEARN_SubCat=Extremism_in_America&xpicked=3&item=nsm

Scary huh?

Ever since we took to the streets on Saturday afternoon, en masse, clothing optional, smiling and singing and shouting gleeful slogans like "Use less gas; use your ass!" being on my bike has seemed more like constant celebration than mundane commute. Thanks to everyone who helped make reclaiming the streets a party on wheels. Something about the sun coming out in Vancouver, being so active and calm in my body, busy-ness with a purpose, beautiful people and scenery everywhere... makes this chapter of my life, saliently transitory and yet an indisputably meaningful slice of the scroll, seem a strong orange-yellow reflection of strengthening core chakras and muscles and fires...

Next big event will be EARTH: the World Urban Festival (www.worldurbanfestival.com). Hope to see everyone there!

Hey folks,

I just wanted to let those of you who may be in/around Toronto this week know about an awesome event called RAISE, happening Saturday, April 22nd (full DETAILS below this letter). I played the last show and I can attest to its being one of the hottest collaborations going - and I'm not just saying that because I'm involved. Think: Cirque Du Soleil meets Queen West gallery district. Plus you get to see me bang the big sordu drum (sorta the Brazilian samba version of the Japanese tai-ko). Plus it's all for a good cause!

If you like acrobatics, dance, music, and/or other art and can come, do. I promise you won't regret it. Entrance is sliding scale, so don't worry if you can't afford the suggested $20 - nobody will be turned away. FYI, there are different drummers scheduled for the final show (the 29th), so I probably won't be in/at that one.

Hope to see you there this Saturday :)

Saludos,
Cara


DETAILS:

Circus performers, musicians, artists and filmmakers have come together to create RAISE, a fundraiser for Carolyn Pioro, an injured circus performer. It takes place every Saturday in April at the DeLeon White Gallery (1096 Queen W.) at 8pm. Cover is $20 (suggested donation) and you can call 416-597-9466 for more details.

Members of Samba Elegua (including me!) will be opening up the show,in concert with some fine dancers, so show up on time! The set then transitions into awesome aerial performances of several varieties (trapeze, silks, rope, etc.), while the dancers keep doing their thing on ground below. If you feel like dressing to match the theme (think:
pirate meets cabaret), go for it!

On the second floor, there will be an art installation piece by Brian Corte involving self-made clouds watched from a comfy faux-fur covered bed below (watch out - this one can suck you in!), along with a cash bar, free baked munchies and a silent auction. The rooftop patio will be host to our second percussion set, as we accompany the fire
spinners' dazzling performances.

RAISE is being held in support of Carolyn Pioro, an aerialist performer and instructor with Cirque Sublime in Toronto, who in September fell from her trapeze and injured her spinal cord. All those involved are her friends and peers, or, like me, performers volunteering for the cause. The entire event is coming from the community as donated, volunteered, and gifted services and materials. All proceeds from the event are going to Carolyn and her family to aid them in medical costs and for investment for her future care. Hence, RAISE is a celebration of life and physicality in her honour.

Holy s*%t!!

I just found out I've been selected Assistant National Leader of the Canadian Delegation on the Ship for World Youth. One of the perks of this position: I'm the only youth delegate from Canada who will have an audience with the Crown Prince of Japan! I am totally freaked out...

What do I do? Can anyone out there teach me the proper protocol, or something appropriate to say, or something about Japan...

Anyone, anyone?? ;)

Thanks,
Cara "Gump"
http://www.swycanada.org/what_is_swy.html

I was just chosen to participate as a Canadian delegate on the 18th Ship for World Youth!!!

So, starting in January 2006, courtesy of the Japanese government, I'll be flying to Tokyo and "sailing" from Harumi with youth from many countries (to be specific: Australia, Kingdom of Bahrain, Federative Republic of Brazil, Canada, Hellenic Republic, India, the Republic of Kenya, the Republic of Mauritius, Kingdom of Morocco, Kingdom of Sweden, Kingdom of Tonga, United Arab Emirates and, of course, Japan) to such ports as Channai, India; Mombassa, Kenya and Port Louis, Mauritius!! I can't wait..

More details at http://www.swycanada.org (for tentative schedule see http://www.swycanada.org/swy18_apply.html)!!

Hey, J, no worries about the job coming through... I still totally appreciate your telling me about the possibility and looking out for me!! As for other possibilities, I'm following up on some leads, but so far nothing is seeming extremely appealing AND available to me in the near future; a bit of column A and a bit of B, but not a lot of crossover...

Meanwhile, the result of some major hassles with getting home resulted in my arriving in BC a couple days ago. See, long story short, I ended up having to buy a whole new ticket from Lima to Canada, and it turned out that I could stop in Toronto, period, or, for $20USD more, I could have a stop-over there and then go on to Vancouver a couple weeks later, which is what I ended up doing - one way.

Being back in Ontario was amazing, and I actually managed to see most of the people and manifest most of the situations I'd been fantasizing about for the last 5 months (e.g., surprising the heck out of my grandparents and friends by randomly showing up at their doors without warning, spending 5 days making yummy veggie food and music and community-building at Kimbercote farm, solo canoeing down a beautiful river nearby, hanging out with a bunch of people at Em's place passing around my guitarrita and laughing lots, sneaking into the pool at Christie Pitts in the middle of the night/morning and swimming Garden-of-Eden style, going to a drum circle on Cherry Beach, seeing my recently high-school-graduated baby brother before he heads off to university in the fall).

I'm totally without a plan of action out here, except to see Katie, my oldest friend from SFU, who recently got engaged, and Emma, my "fairy god-daughter" who is now almost two and a half and whom I haven't seen since she was an infant, and some other ideas I've got planted, many involving green.

Still applying for jobs, and looking out for other opportunities that may come my way (maybe even more school!), and trying to enjoy the last bit of summer. To be honest, I won't be too upset not to have work in the next month, but once it starts getting cold, it would be great to have something great lined up.

I hear you on the difficulty adjusting to the gringo world after Mehico. Getting back to Canada after almost 5 months away just now was NOTHING compared to when I came home from Mariachilandia. That was probably the hardest adjustment I've ever made - even harder than moving TO Mexico in the first place!

Hmm... I wish I had more exciting news, but nothing I have to say seems worth "writing home about" - just little quirky things that have become normal in my life. Okay, I'll give you a couple...

Yesterday I met up with Dawn and Davy, a couple of contact-juggling/fire-spinning friends from Toronto who are now living here and want to start a busking routine. They're great at what they do, but not so sure how to get the patter and more theatrical stuff started, so I took on the "stage manager" role and started playing around with different stories they could act out. Then we, and another friend, all started dressing up in silly outfits and, partly for the somewhat professional reason of getting them desensitized to "looking like idiots in public," as Dawn put it, and partly just for the heck of it, decided to go take a walk on Commercial Drive and go to dinner. As a frog/fly (Dawn), clown (Davy), jester (Dylan), and super-heroine/princess (me). And video tape the whole thing. So, we did. And it was very fun. And then we watched it. And it was very funny.

Today, I met up with Dharma for lunch, but I wasn't feeling any of the food court options, so he picked up a sandwich and some chili and we started walking towards the water to find a nice place to sit. When we hit the park-ish deal at the corner of Hastings, though, it was full of all sorts of corporate types, for some "tenant appreciation lunch." Rather than turn around, as Dharm started to do, I gave him a sneaky look and he reluctantly followed along, saying "you know, they have been known to ask for some ID at these sorts of functions..." just as some lady handed us shiny bead necklaces for the apparent "Mardi Gras" theme. Having been practically invited in, we followed the line to the catered meal and I picked up some veggie jambalaya and salad. We then sat down and witnessed a somewhat embarrassing parade of the chosen representatives from each of the offices in the building sporting shiny masks and marching beside the hired entertainment, who was wearing very little and shaking in a style quite out of place in downtown Vancouver...

Anyways, I'm exhausted, and Katie, with whom I've been staying so far, is leaving for Vegas in the morning for a wedding and I've gotta find out where I'm moving to when we get up, so with that I shall say good night!!

Buenas noches :) Tag, you're it!

Saludos,
Cara

P.S. I think this is the most detailed e-mail I've written in a very, very long time. In fact, if you don't mind, I think I will copy it into my online journal, which I have been shamefully neglecting of late...

Why is it that compliments by potential employers starting to come off as insults?!

Have I become the proverbial (career) girl with the great personality?? Is there still a chance I will find the job of my dreams, the love of my CV? Or will I keep hearing how much great-sounding employers just want to stay friends? :P

For example, an excerpt from today's in-box:

Thank you very much for your application...

In short, unfortunately, we are not able to offer you this position. You were a very strong candidate, but in the end we decided to go with someone else.

To be frank, this was a difficult decision--you were a strong candidate with a lovely personality and loads of potential. In the end, however, we decided to go with someone with a bit more experience and more African focus.

If you want to discuss this, please don't hesitate do contact me. Thank you, however, for your interest and please stay in touch--there could be room to work together in the future.

Or another recent addition:

Nous tenons à te remercier, sincèrement, pour ton intérêt... À la suite du processus de sélection auquel nous t'avons conviée, j'ai le regret de t'annoncer que ta candidature n'a pas été retenue pour les étapes finales. Cela n'enlève rien au fait que nous considérons que tu as un profil académique et des expériences professionnelles qui, nous en sommes certains, te permettront de trouver un emploi à la hauteur de tes aspirations.

N'hésites pas à me contacter lorsque tu seras de retour, il me fera plaisir de te rencontrer. En attendant, je te conseille de bien surveiller le site X pour de nouveaux poste à paraître dans les prochaines semaines.

Je te souhaite bonne chance dans tes recherches.

I got to the middle of the Kimbercote labyrinth and paused.

The words spiralling in my head silenced and I looked down at the stone in the middle, the one that with each step I'd been weaving towards, even as my direction seemed to head away, and felt I had arrived.

It had chipped in spots and I pocketed a couple of the resulting jaged rocks. Wanting to leave something of myself behind, I reached into my pocket. My change purse. A Canadian penny. So perfect. A maple leaf. The currency of my homeland.

I placed it in the centre, grounded myself, and spiralled back towards the outside.

I am officially back.

It feels good to be home.

I´ve been bad at updating, have many stories to add, but felt it
timely to add that I lived through an earthquake about an hour ago!!
I was in a manequin-filled dress shop waiting to have zipper on my new
pants (purchased yesterday due to the malfunctioning fly of my
previous pants) fixed when everyone jumped up ran out to the street.
Not the smartest emergency response, but it didn´t seem too major to
me, so I followed. It actually seemed quite exciting and not so scary
to me, but the shop owner was screaming, so I put on my calming street
medic hat and offered the only sensible response of calming words and
a hug offer, which she accepted. The whole thing was surreal, the
cobble stone shaking beneath us and everyone looking shocked...

In other news, I´m going on a 3 day trek to the Cañon del Colca tomorrow, and
by Saturday plan to be in Cusco to meet up with Jacob, who´s flying
in. Oh, gotta run, hit send, internet about to shut down!!

Backdated from Monday, April 25, 2005 11:55pm-ish (mined from paper journal.)

Jujuy Terminal, San Salvador de Jujuy, Argentina.

Brrr. Waiting for remise to Salta cuz Bolut, the only company with
buses still going there, doesn't leave until at least 1:20am and takes
2.5 hours instead of under 2 in a smaller vehicle. Which makes this
seem a more reasonable, albeit sketchier, option. Ariel and Gabriel,
who are also waiting for the Remis driver to appear, I´m not too sure
about, but they apparently own a bar called La Palmira (the same name
as the hospedaje I stayed at in Iruya) in Jujuy, so at least there´s a
reference if I disappear or something…

Spent most of a beautiful (cold, cloudy) day in Purmamarca with
Gonzalo A., an intriguing painter/shopkeeper who I somehow connected
with upon visual impact. He took me to La Peña, his uncle Mario's
restaurant, where he was working on a huge canvas and has some of his
earlier works displayed. Then we went and hung out in his aunt's
shop, where he works, and I finally got my hands on a somewhat tuned
guitar and tried working out the song I've been trying to write in my
head for weeks. Periodically, we popped back into La Peña (only a
block away), where I watched him paint and took a bunch of pictures
and ate humitas (corn-cheese mixture wrapped and boiled in the corn
sheath, sorta like a tamale) .

Next, we walked to El Caminito de los Colorados together, on the way
stopping by the house he is (re)building on the land his grandmother
left him and his late great-grandmother's house and land (replete with
¨artistically¨ unkept fields and living space and visiting cats),
where he is officially living until the former's completion. The
scenery there is really something else. I didn't make it out to las
Salinas (salt deposits), which would have been a longer, hired
excursion, but I figure I've gotta leave something for another time…

Back to the shop, more of the same, and La Peña (gotta love small
towns, eh?), where this time I hung out with the chef in the kitchen
and learned to make empanadas (i.e., stuff the pre-made dough circles
with cheese-onion-red pepper filling and fold with little ridges).
I'm a natural! Plus I got the bonus priviledge of getting to eat on
the job – I opted not to accept the drink offers from the moso
(waiter), who had obviously been helping himself a bit too much in
that regard, and decided he was in love with me (and every other young
woman who came into the restaurant).

We had a bit too much fun in the kitchen, I guess, cuz I ended up just
missing the 9:15pm last bus from Purmamarca to Jujuy. Luckily, with
the help of a $3 peso cab ride, I caught up with it on the highway
where it was stopped for some sort of military inspection.

Goodbyes are strange things. I was unable to read most of the words
Gonzalo wrote in the little brown book I´ve been passing around to
folks I encounter, but even after just one day of shared presence, I
know he is a character I will fondly remember. I am pretty sure from
his accompanying sketch of (presumably) me - with big, bright, shining
eyes – that I also made a lasting impression.

Backdated from Sunday, April 24, 2005 11:51pm-ish (mined from paper journal.)

Bed, Purmamarca, Jujuy, Argentina.

I´m at my ¨hospedaje,¨ which is more like a room with old beds (all
but mine unoccupied, my stuff notwithstanding) attached to the pizza
joint across the street from from Chapanal, which had been recommended
as nice for its $7 pesos price tag by Maxi and Magdala in Iruya and
was closed when I arrived. I´m only paying $5 pesos (less than $2.50
CDN) here, so I can´t really complain that the washroom, outside and
around the back of the restaurant/house, has no toilet paper (or seat
or hot water or mirror or soap or towel, etc.)!

I´m lying here, probably past midnight, reading through the final
section of the ¨Traveller´s Companion¨ Argentina guide that Chad R.
left me in BsAs, noticing mistakes in the English-Argentine glossary,
and fantasizing about starting an NGO or maybe even getting back into
the academia in some interesting, worthwhile, fulfilling area… I must
get Internet access soon and look into possibilities.

My back will be sore from this mattress tomorrow, but I´m hoping that
Jose, my Hospitality Club host in Salta, will have a comfy bed and, if
I´m lucky, a washing machine. I´m in need. Not direly, but my
clothes (especially the ¨poyeras¨ and repaired green pants and light
blue fleece I´ve been living in) could sure use a good wash after
being subjected to all the dust of Jujuy and Salta …

Backdated from Sunday, April 24, 2005 9pm-ish (mined from paper journal.)

Micro stopped in Tilcara, heading from Humahuaca to Purmamarca, Jujuy,
Argentina.

Just kissed off Ari and Natalia. Boo.

But hello to fresh re-beginnings…

Restaurant sign: Pacha Mama. And I recollect that all the food I´ve
been eating of late has probably been organic. Not for morality, but
want of availability or volition to acquire chemical aids, I suppose.
Despite the posters in Iruya linking indigenous ways and histories
with environmental care/concern/stewardship…

And I recall the cattle grazing free in the arid desert mountains.
Not a bad life, all considered. I don´t think my moral grounds for
vegetarianism apply so much here. Then again, I haven´t been
overwhelmed by a huge desire for a thick cut of steak or milanesa or
blood sausage yet. Been… AHH, BUS LIGHTS OUT!

Backdated from Sunday, April 24, 2005 3:45pm (mined from paper journal.)

Seat 12 or 13, bus leaving Iruya headed for Humahuaca, Jujuy, Argentina.

We left surprisingly on time (3:15pm), given that around 2:30pm the
news had reached us that the bus had broken down on the way into town.
Some poor mother of 2 had tried to come in for the 2 hour gap between
the bus's scheduled arrival and departure, and ended up having to
leave ¨justo cuando llego¨ - weird – Español invading my mind. But in
the current context, I think I´m doing an okay job keeping Spanish
(which I´ve been speaking almost exclusively) and English (which I´ve
been thinking and writing almost exclusively) in good and separate
condition. I´ll have to do something to whip the French back into
shape – maybe a Vipassana course in Quebec when I´m back up north?

Anyways, we´re on our way. Bad break for that woman. I´d have been
pissed. It´s not a short or comfy journey, especially with little
ones in tow.

Cumbia music is playing. Ari hates it. I´d look to see how he´s
doing all alone over in seat 14, but the aisle's full of standing
passengers (for a change!).

Damn, a fly just flew right into my eye! Grr… It interrupted my
thoughts about how permaculture-friendly the (adobe?) ¨brick¨ houses
we keep passing are, and wonder about their construction. It seems,
colour and texture-wise, to be almost the same material as the cliffs
all around us. I also really like the stone corals and walls/ridges
all over the place.

Which of course brings us back to the complicated theme of poverty and
environmental friendliness – like how lifestyles inspired by extreme
necessity seem to complement sustainability, despite the general lack
of environmentalist consciousness (at least as we Northerners know it)
amongst poorer populations (I write this knowing I am risking putting
myself in potentially offensive territory with this whole line of
thinking, and acknowledging that I am painting with a wide stroke).
It definitely can´t be argued, though, that living in a clay-based
structure that doesn´t have an infrastructure that allows for the
wastage of power and resources both costs less and is better for the
environment… All of which calls into question the delicacy of the
utopian desire of some (including myself) to simultaneously reduce
poverty and increase greenness in the world.

Backdated from Sunday, April 24, 2005 10:30am (mined from paper journal.)

Posada Palmira, Iruya, Salta, Argentina.

It´s beautiful here, but cold at night. So much that I bought a $25
peso windbreaker-fleece-lined jacket, replete with rip-off ¨Champion¨
symbol, at the Bolivia-style market, upon arrival Friday evening.

Yesterday we (me, Ariel, Natalia, and a Spanish couple: Magdala and
Maximiliana) walked with Romina, our today-turned-15-year-old guide,
from Iruya to San Isidrio, a neighbouring village about 3 tough
up-and-down hours (climbs at this altitude are killer) there and 3
more interesting back-and-forth-along-the-river (easier but wetter)
hours back

Lunch was a stop into a little home-based artisan co-op/restaurant
where there were literally no vegetarian options, so while the rest of
the group ordered (carne-filled) empanadas, I ran around the corner
with Romina to a house that I was informed doubles as a food
dispensary. I confused them by asking for a sandwich without any form
of meat. They incredulously prepared me a flesh-free, mayo-free
cheese and tomato on white focacia-type bread, and then when I saw
green peppers and offered to purchase one to have some sliced into the
mix, they reluctantly obliged.

Back in Iruya, since I´d found out along the way that she had no
special plans, we took Romina out to celebrate her birthday. Natalia
and I ducked out of the little restaurant to buy birthday candles.
Apparently, from the reactions we encountered as we ran around to
every open kiosk we could find, these are not a particularly hot item
in Iruya. We ended up settling on a pack of larger animal-fat-based
candles, one of which we stuck into a mini-flan someone had given the
sole chef/server working both the kitchen and the tables that night.
This was very lucky, as nothing on the Tina´s official ¨menu¨ - only
distributed in oral form - was remotely cake-like.

It was a good day. Now we are leaving Iruya at 3:15pm, today´s only
scheduled bus, and in Humahuaca will go our separate ways – Ariel and
Natalia back to Inti Tampu to get their car and spend the night before
heading back to Bs As, and me to Purmamarca and then to Salta, as of
now´s plan.

Backdated from Friday, April 22, 2005 12:05pm (mined from paper journal.)

Bus through Iturbe from Humahuaca to Iruya, Jujuy/Salta, Argentina.

I am leaning on Natalia´s shoulder, not so much from fatigue as the
tall boy´s backpack, which has taken up the majority of my headspace.
My leg is stretched over my own bag - ¨por las dudas¨ as Argentines
are fond of saying. Just in case.

A subtle bitter-green flavour saturates my senses as I run my tongue
over the leaf folded between my cheek and my gums. I´ve become
surprisingly accustomed to the taste since Andres, our guide in
Tilcara, strongly recommended that we ¨cocaine¨ ourselves to avoid the
effects of the altitude as we hiked to about 2800m about sea level
into La Garganta de Diablo (the Throat of the Devil) and Las Cuevas de
Waira (the Caves of Waira). When in Jujuy...

This bumpy ride will have us peaking at El Abra de Condor, 4000m, the
border to the province of Salta. I´m grateful to have a seat at all.
Had we left Humauhaca any later, we wouldn´t be so lucky. There are
dozens of standing passengers filling the ailsles, some disembarking
at various points in the three hour journey, while others continue to
get on at random places on the highway.

The treacherous dirt road winds through some of the most diverse and
eye-catching territories in the region. Multicoloured mountains,
cliffs and other curious formations typical of the arid zone erupt
from shrubby meadows liberally peppered with rocks and cacti,
descending into rolling green valleys disected by river beds that
suddenly cut straight down through curvy scenery to hundreds of metres
of vertical drop.

A mother tries to balance her boys, both apparently still under two
years old, in front of her, trying to appease their cries for
attention with jello and orange slices. A slew of school children
boards and takes over any left over breathing room we hadn´t been
fully appreciating. A couple of them look down at the guide book on my
lap and start giggling, whispering loudly. The perception that I don´t
understand is obvious.

I surprise them by striking up a conversation in Spanish, and ask them
if they understand English. They giggle more. I pass them the book…

Backdated from Thursday, April 21, 2005 1am-ish (mined from paper journal.)

Inti Tampu Hospedaje, Tilcara, Jujuy, Argentina.

•p• Andres was waiting for me at the station in Tilcara, as arranged.
For some reason, he was expecting me to be blonder, and Swedish.

We went in his car almost straight to his family´s hospedaje, which he
had somehow failed to mention when he told me he could ¨arrange¨ cheap
accommodations, stopping only briefly at the tourism office, which he
suspiciously seemed not to want me to enter. $15 pesos for a room
with a shared washroom, $25 for a private baño, he quoted me… Fair
enough, but when I mentioned a hostel I´d heard about, thinking I
might prefer the ambience of a youth-filled hospice, he said ¨Malka?¨
and I conceded, to which he responded that it was very expensive, like
$60 pesos/night.

This set off my bulls••t detector, so as soon as I´d unloaded my bags
and made myself an avocado sandwich with the near-last of the
multi-flavoured mini-breads I´d bought in Jujuy, I vetoed the
directions I´d been given to the laguna and marched towards the
centro, and then hiked straight up to the Malka hostel, following the
clearly marked signs I saw soon after turning onto San Martin, one
block over.

The first guy I approached turned out not to be the dueño, but rather
a French tourist, one of a rather large group of francophones with
whom I soon found myself talking and drinking wine. However, I take at
least an hour of immersion when thinking in Español to regain any
level of French fluency, and my ¨frespanglish¨ was creating some
communications challenges with the mainly non-Spanish-speakers, which
combined with the sense of earlier deception to inspire loneliness for
the first time, really, since I´d been on the road.

In hopes of some sort of (homesickness?) remedy, I opted to follow a
single French traveller to a restaurant in the centre where she was
apparently meeting up with a single (French-)Canadian traveller for
dinner at the Sueñadoro(?). There were two other tables of mixed
foreigners and another two with Porteños (i.e., people from Buenos
Aires). In fact, the entire dining population must have been tourists
who came to hear the advertised folk music act, which didn´t end up
coming on until after we´d eaten. I left my e-mail with the
French-Canadian, who said she may have some translation work for me in
the future, and an American at the next table, who wasn´t sure of her
travel plans either.

By the time I got back to Inti Tampu, any thoughts I´d entertained of
moving to the hostel (which, I´d discovered, was charging between $14
and $20 pesos/person, not $60!!) was overshadowed by the awkwardness
of the social situation it would create, the promise of a better
excursion-filled next day, and an overwhelming fatigue.

Backdated from Wednesday, April 20, 2005 5pm-ish (mined from paper journal.)

Northbound on a Cotta Norte bus, Jujuy, Argentina (through Volcan?).

I left San Salvador de Jujuy an hour ago en route to meet Andres in
Tilcara. My window seat (13) was occupied when I boarded, but I can't
really complain on that account (it´s not like I´ve never initiated a
seat change), so I took the aisle (14). That didn´t last long,
though, since one of the many passengers the already slow bus stopped
to pick up was an old woman, who stood unsteadily in the aisle between
me and the man taking up two seats, one with his body and the other
occupied by a large box. The driver came over to check out the
situation, but the man showed his two ticket stubs, proving his
rightful entitlement waste a perfectly good window seat with his
cargo. I, on the other hand, couldn´t justify the señora´s being
made to endure the entire trip on her feet, so I gave up my own seat.
Of course, this meant I had to put up with standing uncomfortably for
over an hour, unable to write or take pictures, until a whole bunch of
people got off just now in Terminal Volcan, thus freeing up seats and
allowing me to finally get out my notebook.

I feel good about leaving Jujuy. It turns out that Jesica, Pamela´s
sister, gave birth last night in San Pedro (?), but the baby was
brought to Jujuy to be put on oxygen in the hospital because there
were complications in the extended labour (or so it was explained to
me).

The scenery has been pretty cool, green and hilly, although getting a
lot more deserty (i.e., great and other colours of rock the region is
famous for and cacti and sparse shrub) as we climb. It´s also getting
chilly – pause to grab fleece from bag – and I´m thinking I should
have put on my long johns. Seems a recurrent bus theme. Anyways,
that kind of change is out of the question now, given I´m only wearing
my short skirt above my repaired Gaia-green-rainbow-back pants, nicely
covering the eternally open fly, and I already felt conspicuous enough
standing up with peering men below. It´s the first time in Argentina
sensing my obvious tourist-ness.

The guy in Jujuy who stapled the pink paper labelled with a 24
surprised me by asking for moneda (change), to which I asked ¨para
que?¨ (¨what for?¨)… When he answered ¨para mi¨ (¨for me¨), which I
still didn´t quite register since no baggage handler to date has ever
asked for a tip, I somewhat reluctantly handed over a 50 centavos, not
sure whether I was being played but knowing either way I wouldn´t miss
a quarter when back in Canada.

Aside: The low clouds up the mountain look neat!!

The whole tipping norm issue is something I should explore further…
I´ve realised that tipping norms, which seem natural when you´re in
one place, are really very arbitrary – like what tasks do or don´t
require or deserve a (voluntary) tip. For example, tipping waiters or
bartenders in Canada or the States is an almost compulsory 10-20%,
whereas in Argentina, that kind of tip is considered obscenely high,
and in some places in Europe (I´ve heard) it is virtually unheard of.
Then, there are all the other customer service agents who do or don´t
expect tips depending on their location, even though their job and
level of expected service is the more or less the same (i.e., taxi
drivers, gas station attendant, retail clerks…). Then you implicate
the unofficial labour force, where there is no primary mandatory
payment (i.e., squeegee kids, door-shutters, car-watchers, etc.), and
it brings in a whole other element.

Backdated from Tuesday, April 19, 2005 11:45pm-ish (mined from paper journal.)

Pamela F's place, San Salvador de Jujuy, Argentina.

Just took a series of pics of Jairo (the adopted little brother)
watching TV in the corrugated-metal-roofed two-room house the three
siblings share. Pamela has apparently gone to the hospital to see her
sister – who is giving birth. She was gone when I got back from the
internet café on the corner.

Rewind (1pm-ish): It was a great surprise to have someone meet me at
the bus station – I really wasn't expecting it, and had sorta been
hoping to freshen myself up pre-contact, but when I saw a short-ish
(i.e., my height), young-ish (i.e., a few years my junior) girl,
looking around expectantly, my hopes that she was my Hospitality Club
host perked up and I met her unsure gaze. We cabbed it back here,
where I was introduced to the puppies and welcomed to the humble
amenities (i.e., the outdoor sink and non-auto-flush toilet housed in
a separate brick structure) and told the story of she and her two
siblings' randomly getting kicked out of the more posh house on the
property a few weeks back so that their dad, who is saving up money to
move in with his new wife and her family, could rent it out to his
boss as office space.

Needless to say, this abode is far less developed or 3rd world, so to
speak, than any other I've seen so far in this country, including
those we passed during our walk around the town (oops – city ;) I
keep slipping up on that, after being used to the bigger cities of
Buenos Aires and Rosario) this afternoon, post-siesta (another
novelty, typical of this region). The day heat is pretty impressive
here and I think, even from my limited sun-light exposure (all
post-4pm), my scalp is burned.

Anyways, I've made plans to head to Tilcara tomorrow night to go on an
excursion early Thursday morning with Andres S., another Hospitality
Clubber, who also happens to be a tour guide. He said he can't offer
me a free place to say, but can find me cheap accommodations, which
around here, according to Paula's regional tourism advice, should be
affordable enough.

There are interesting elements to being here, like the bombas de papa
(potato bombs, which are breaded, deep-fried sliced potatoes filled
with cheese and garden-fresh parsley) I got fed for lunch, along with
lemon and a salad, after I found out Pamela hadn't gotten or read the
P.D. in my last e-mail, noting my vegetarianism – and other cultural
observations, etc. – but I think that geographically/energetically I
am ready to move on. Oh yeah, there are also some really good bread
shops (I know, all I need after weeks of near carb overdose, right?)
and apparently decent crafts like wool (llama) and jewellery and clay
(which I won't let myself buy for fear of breakage) around, but I feel
nature calling – not in terms of needing a baño, but wanting to
reconnect.

Backdated from Tuesday, April 19, 2005 10am-ish (mined from paper journal.)

Still on the bus (through Rosario De La Frontera?).

¨Will you watch her?¨ The barely spoken implication as mama heads to
the lower level washroom.

Baby, alone across the aisle, almost immediately starts crying.

I, who during the 15 seconds of calm between these incidents could
think of no action more practical than pulling out my camera to snap a
shot of the cute unattended bundle of joy, am left unsure of what to
do next.

The effects of ¨shh, there, there¨ are intermittent at best.

Whimpers turn to wails. After about a minute, people are poking their
heads out of their seats, straining their eyes to the front of the bus
to lay guilt-tripping stares at the noisy culprit - or, rather, her
tender – me?? A man gestures that I should pick her up. Like, duh...

I am suddenly swept off into an awkward moment of hesitation, likely
the result of years of social-cultural conditioning of the Canadian
variety, which places heavy restrictions on the elsewhere simple act
of grabbing someone else's kid. The amplitude of continues to
increase, as I reason that, in this situation, permission is not a
factor in picking up and consoling the screaming blob across the
aisle. Luckily, at that instant, mama reappears, teet under shirt, to
save the day.

Backdated from Monday, April 18, 2005 22:22pm (mined from paper journal.)

Bus from Rosario, Santa Fe to Jujuy Capital, Argentina.

Another 15 or so hours to go in this bus. At least I've got a double seat...

Composing poetry of sorts in my head quite a bit these days. If it
can be called that. Perhaps travel quips/tips/thoughts would be more
apt. Oh! We're stopping! 30 min. of down (i.e., off the bus) time.
Write some quick:

Be advised in your travels:
many things drip.

Ceilings drip. Walls drip.

Taps not turned off in time drip.

Buckets drip. Bottles drip.

Loads of laundry on the line drip.

Noses drip. Eyes drip.

Shoes that slip on the mossy rocks drip.

Skinned goats drip. Happy groins drip.

Pants that dipped in the river drip.

Umbrellas drip. Birds drip.

Tents that were camped on a slope drip.

Headless hens drip. Crushed pens drip.

Ripe fruits you rip with your teeth drip.

Messy and wet and surprising, the drip.

My tip: don't let a drip ruin your trip.

It´s been too long since I´ve uploaded, so I´m going to try to send
some recent stories to my Updates and then backdate them... Let´s see
if this works!

um. so, i´m waiting in the rosario bus station. i really don´t love waiting in bus stations. or being in bus stations. or waiting. that´s litotes. on both counts. thanks for teaching me that word back in high school, mrs. diamond. it really doesn´t get enough play, compared to its big bully brother, hyperbole. yeah. can´t you just taste the restlessness??

my bus to jujuy leaves in half an hour. i swore i would find something more interesting/fulfilling/productive to do than enter the glassed in internet booth, but after about 10 minutes of wandering the shops, lugging both big backpacks (why don´t i ever take my own advice and pack light? not to mention what a bitch it´s gonna be when i get my red hot rolling back back from elena in la rioja), i decided that for one and a half pesos, it was worth the stagnant self-critical feeling to be in a non-smoking enclosure where i could put my bags down and distract myself. after all, i´ll have the next 18 hours to read my argentina guide and contemplate what i may have forgotten at romina´s place in my rushed exit as her room/classmate pressured her to get out already to their shared chemical engineering class. actually, all in all, the goodbye was pretty anticlimactic - rushed with romi, and non-existent with pablo (who was off in entre rios on business and wouldn´t be back until too late) and danilo (who wasn´t able to get permission for me to accompany him to the villa today and still wasn´t home from work when i called an hour ago).

okay, yuck. the internet cafe dueño just sprayed a whole bunch of room deodorant right towards me (and no, i am not having one of my hippier moments, thank you very much - in fact, today i not only showered, but also had my hair washed a second time at the hairdresser, where i went for an 8 peso trim) and i cannot breathe. must exit smoke-free, chemical-full air. is that some form of irony? alanis has corrupted my once textbook perfect understanding of that term... hasta luego!!

From the bank of the Rio Parana (or some manzanas away), I write a typical update that maintains my being too busy having experiences to write about them... I will (if all goes according to plan) soon(ish) be on an 18 hour bus ride to the Northwest of Argentina (Jujuy) with plans to slowly descend through Salta, Tucuman, La Rioja, and cross through Mendoza to Chile either by the first week of May or whichever week I change my plane ticket to.

Some quick notes: Elena accompanied me to the bus station Friday and waited there outside the bus waving and making faces at me until the bus left, a good 15 minutes after I was inside. I had upper deck seats at the very front of the bus, so I had a good view... It was a bit sad to be leaving, but I was ready to continue my explorations, and at least Ele and I will (again, if all goes according to plan) be reuniting in La Rioja in a couple/few weeks. I landed into Rosario, Santa Fe on Friday night, about 4 hours after departure, and, after waiting a good hour, was picked up by Pablo and Romina, whom I´d met at la cima (the summit) of Uritorco during my week in Cordoba. We went to pick up Danilo, the 3rd of the trio, at a friend´s place and inevitably got sucked into a half hour sit-down, and eventually made it back to Pablo´s place to dine around 1-2am. Then I had one of those ¨Whoops, did I forget to mention I was vegetarian?¨ moments. However, the potatoes and batatas (sweet potatoes) and salad were incredibly yummy ;)

I´m gonna run now and try to get some last minute menial chores (i.e., finding some food, making some necessary purchases and possibly even getting a hair cut and/or other such services performed upon me) but will leave some speaking/writing notes for later:

¨Red hot valija¨
¨Are your pants on fire?¨
¨Smoking (tobacco) Sucks¨(notice a motif?)
¨What the cat dragged in¨
¨Getting my hands on a guitar - Finally!!¨
¨Not more Pizza!!¨
¨Hospitality Club Correspondence¨
¨Villa development¨
¨Job Hunting on the Go¨

Do you ever get the urge to ask all the smokers in the room to kindly step outside until they´ve finished smoking? That´s how I was feeling last night at Sira, the club we were frequenting... I seem to be suffering from an on-off-on-off total congestion, and I´m not sure if it´s being caused by allergies or smog or what, but I´m hoping it stays as its current state of intermittent sniffles and sneezes. It makes me miss Canadian no-smoking-in-public-places laws and norms. (Btw, title from Portuguese song Ele keeps singing, spelling corrections appreciated!!)<