the first thing i noticed when i landed was that everyone- tada!- spoke a language i could understand.  i didn’t have to strain my ears to try to make sense of what was going on around me.  and of course, the harsh, unattractive accent of the speakers.

then there’s fountain soda that tastes the absolute best here.  and sushi at every airport kiosk.  and the tv blaring, impossible to ignore in its volume, distracting/entrancing passengers as they wait for their (early boarding, due to “heightened security”) flights.  oh, the weight.  the overweight of americans.  undeniably noticeable.

days after, other things sink in.  the wide open skies, the undiluted sunshine.  the cars, gargantuan by european standards.  people of different races.  colorado fashion; down vests, fleeces, clogs (really, clogs?).  unending food establishments for every price range and pallet.  the neighborhoods in denver that used to be “run down,” “the hood,” now revamped for the white, hip pallet (ie. gentrification.  ie. i’m surprised at how cute all the old buildings look when remodeled and a bit horrified at how much they intrigue me).

it’s lovely to be home.

Transnational feminism
Community organizing/ development
Gender
Imagination
Sustainability
Activism
Feminist movements/anthropology
Power and privilege
Non-violent communication
Creative potential of conflict
Restorative justice
Prisoner’s rights
Microfinancing
Post-conflict zones/refugee issues
Co-creating action to have needs met
Building community/intentional communities with spiritual fortitude
Social/economic justice
Consciousness/ stillness
Democratic education
Storytelling/ mythology
Cultivating beauty and authentic communication
How to engage in the social systems we create
Social constructivism
Politics
Self-love/ body image/stories of gender/self-inquiry
Food justice
Sex work/ trafficking/ liberation
Revolution
Leadership models
Catholic worker houses
Living learning centers
Interdisciplinary scholarship
Literary discourse and critique
Prisons’ continuation of racial discrimination and exploitation of labor based upon race
Critical race/class theory

1. everything is co-created.

2. i attract nothing into my life by accident.

3. nothing in my life is unrelated to me.

4. everything i say/do/feel impacts me.

5. if something is negatively affecting me, it’s mirroring something i need to heal.

6. life is a reflection of my identity/role.

hmm.  just something i’m thinking about as i work to become the person i want to be, every moment, every day.

Alaska
Cuba
South Africa
Haiti
Jamaica
Bali
Greece
Spain
Croatia
Turkey
Argentina
Montana
Costa Rica
Guatemala
Kenya
Ghana
Madagascar
Nicaragua
Morocco
Hawaii
Thailand
Italy
The Carolinas
Toronto
Vancouver
Nepal
Peru
Dollywood
The Grand Canyon

not that i should complain.  the poverty in guatemala is overwhelming (though well hidden from the white world.  when staying at the hostel, i’ve already forgotten the commitments that i’ve made to local schools to help them improve their programs and funding).  and speaking of education, here are some fun facts: 80 per cent of guatemalan children go to school.  30 to 40 per cent of those children will graduate primary school.  the way we have first generation graduates in the US?  there’s the same phenomena here, though with middle school.  and of those who will be fortunate to go the university, roughly 2 to 3 per cent will graduate.

what’s a white, privileged girl to do (with four more days pre-returning-to-switzerland)?

then in came reality.  my host family was kind enough to show me the local track, and i paid my 5 quetzal (both the guatemalan currency and national bird) to enter this morning, but realized, despite the eucalyptus trees around the edge, that the last thing i felt like doing was running in circles.  so i stopped.  and took myself to the outdoor market instead.  where women sell all kinds of vegetables, and children sell plastic bags.  where buckets overflow with dry black beans and chicken feet.  it is one of the shining moments in the past weeks, when i did exactly what i wanted instead of what i felt i should be doing (like writing essays for graduate school or studying irregular spanish verbs) and was gentle with myself.

in other news.  my language teacher, pedro, is super political and kind, despite the regular activity of me putting my head on the table because it’s too full.  yesterday we discussed all the different languages spoken in guatemala (26- 24 of which are mayan), the geopolitical borders of the country (until the mid-1800s, tabasco, chiapas, and belize were all part of guatemala), and why there are so many young people (strong church involvement in politics- they tow the “no sex ed in our schools” line, and thus many teen pregnancies and early deaths among moms and babies) in guate.

today’s the first day that i feel like i might have actually landed.  the sun is shining, i have drawers in which my clothes comfortably live (ie: it’s the first time i’ve unpacked since july), a family (with an indigenous housekeeper- don’t really know what else to say about this except it highlights the family’s wealth.  and she has the cutest daughter ever who drew me an impressive teddy bear in my journal today) with whom i share meals.  my heart won’t stay still, but i’m trying to convince myself to at least wait out the week of language school and homestay for which i’ve paid.

options for the future include a 3 day hike from the highlands to lake atitlan, volunteering: http://www.asturiasacademy.org/welcome/ , or just heading for the beach and drinking some margaritas.

along the 4 hour road to xela from guatemala city i saw:  a sign for a hotel pointing to a field with one cow.  a beautiful baby girl with one fingernail painted blue whose sweaty head kept resting against my arm.  women in traditional guatemalan dress walking with baskets (full of fill in the blank) on their heads along the side of the highway.

then xela.  a city where spanish is a distant second language to the indigenous, mostly mayan, dialects.  where 44 per cent of the people are under 14 years old.  where you can sit down to have a fajita, and be invited by israelis who just hiked up a volcano to too many gallo beers, rounds of texas hold ‘em and a full fledged argument about the israeli-palestinian conflict.  where the hostels are colorfully painted, the flowers big and lovely.  and the natural history museum!  perhaps the creepiest place i’ve ever been.  not because of the “technology room” where they have on display typewriters from the 1920s and printers from the 1960s.  but rather the animal diorama room, where all kinds of fetuses are kept in jars, and every dilapidated, poorly taxidermied animal on displays has some kind of prey in its mouth.  i say, should you come to xela, keep your 6 quetzal for half a beer.

today i meet my host family.  tomorrow i begin language school.  i hope that my brain will open up wide enough to let me learn more than the survival spanish which has sustained me for years.

it’s been a rough couple of days, emotionally, leaving switzerland and heading for central america.  i’ve been thrown into an existential whirlwind of “what does it all mean?” and “why am i traveling anyway?”  i’m heading for a continent where i know no one, and am wondering what it’s all for.  i read the guidebook.  the descriptions of the people and the natural beauty and the volunteer opportunities all pull on my heartstrings.  but still.  i’ve no concrete plans.  and this freefalling is terrifying.

and yet.  stephanie c. l. met me at jfk with a lovely sign and big hugs.  and i got an extra seat on both of my flights.  and johnny, scl’s brother, not only picked me up at the airport in texas, but wielded snacks and a big bottle of wine in my honor.  and this morning, i woke up to him calling in to take the day off so we could go shopping.  all of my stateside needs have been tended to thanks to this man; sushi, target, bank.  no texas stone left unturned.

so, as usual, i feel incredibly protected and loved and am overwhelmed by the kindness of those around me.  and i hope, in fact, i pray to some unnamed god(dess) that this trend, of people adopting me as their very own, continues south of the equator.

the (excessive?) hygiene doesn’t take away from the fun that the swiss have though.  take today for example.  get to school at 8.  sit around until 8:15 drinking coffee.  have class until 9:45, which includes making “mr. line man,” a pipecleaner toy used to identify anatomy in english and subsequently singing “head, shoulders knees and toes.”  then another break.  for half an hour.  kids have snack, take care of themselves on the playground without adult supervision. and “we” teachers sit upstairs drinking wine (okay, it was a teacher’s birthday, but still) and eating sweets.  raise your hand if you don’t love that.

and!  the swiss know how to throw parties.  and eat well.  and take good care of each other.  and enjoy nature.  and live life at a pace that is enjoyable and full.

and yet, i think there might be another side to all of this beauty.  walking down the street, you never see a car more than 5 years old, nevermind a homeless person.  in fact, “lower class” doesn’t seem to be in the swiss vocabulary.  i don’t know exactly what i’m trying to say here.  maybe just that it’s surreal that there are so many banks, so many towns that look just like the “it’s a small world” ride at disneyland, and such delicious chocolate around every turn.

in other news, i leave for guatemala on monday.  and while i’m excited for spicy food, warm weather, and speaking spanish, my heart hurts more than usual.  it’s been a lovely couple of weeks in the pre-alps, and i’ll miss wearing christoph’s clothes, my daily hikes around the ponds on the hillside, and the pingpongintheround and live music that st. gallen offers.

mini insights into the work in which i live.  been at the phoenix in ireland now for 3 weeks, will be here 4+ more.  spend my time with the two kitties who are more in love with each other than any two creatures i’ve ever met; they lay, intertwined, grooming each other for hours. (i am told this is because they’ve had loads of kittens together in years past).  i spend my time minding the gardens- of which there are two polytunnels, two outside veggie gardens, and about a dozen different beds of flowers and overgrownness- selling our deliciousness at country markets, and working in the cafe.

characters here include: yann, the (questionably gay) french chef who makes the world’s most amazing food. lorna, belly and salsa dancing extraordinaire, queen of the cafe and mother of six.  billy, the hippie husband, head full of curls who lives simply and is quick to laugh.  sam, lorna’s middle child, who at 28 comes to do his laundry and eat apple pie in the middle of the noontime rush. (on the other hand, he has completely adopted me, loaned me his friends, takes me out with him when he’s going to do fun things, and gets me drunk).  maureen, she who is OCD about cleaning, is reading the celestine prophecy’s 10th insight, and comes into work every day with a new story about the spirits that came to visit her the night before.  maja, maker of the cranberry, ginger and seaweed cheeses that we buy for the cafe- an entirely beautiful, spirited woman who dreams of warmer climates, has shining blue eyes, 3 wild and lovely children, and a partner with big hands who cures his own meat in the barn next to their eco-friendly, skylighted, mosaic and beautifully handcrafted home.

on days like today, i feel i can see so clearly that i am well protected and loved and guided.  roads not taken include a boat ride from england to trinidad and tobago which left last week.  damanhur, a community in northern italy where i’d arranged a homestay.  a CSA that wanted me to stay 1-3 months in galway.  a “for and by” b and b for women in cork.  a surf and yoga resort in portugal that asked me to come lend a hand in the kitchen and live in a tent.  and yet, with all of these lovely options lying in front of me, i feel so strongly that this farm, nestled at the bottom of the hills at the southwest edge of ireland, is the place for me.

if for no other reason than the costume party later this week that we’re hosting for lorna’s birthday, klezmer-gypsy band and all.