.........on the move

I feel exhausted. And free. yeah......worn, tired, beat-up. but relaxed and peaceful. it's been a long time since i sat and wrote for myself. thought about things. we've been nuts, insane, locked up. It's been well over a month since we stepped foot on the finca. shit. and it feels like it. a very long month. city static. tied to the wireless lifeline. But we've been creative.......and creating.

Alberto came. got us out. opened the window to other Guatemalas. to Garifuna town. drunken aguardiente local haunts. the crisp paradise pools of Semuc Champey. Chichi market colors shopping spree. and on the finca.....with our blood flowing, pumping, ideas entering, a film began to fly. and we are walking toward it at the slow steady pace of people who are serious about trying something new. you can taste the idea on our website: www.pocoapocofilm.com

Nine breaths later my dad came. adventurous soul. next step wonderland. senses inhaling the world quite different from home. braving the chicken buses, street food and loco makets. cruising the ancient pathways of Tikal whispering stories in our ears, gazing upon past magic. to the finca...... eager to see the community where we have settled in, to eat, to work, to learn, to support. and i think it moved him too. and on the finca.......with our blood flowing, pumping.......more ideas entering and the health project began to fly. filling a hole. connecting those with resources to those without. something that will live long after we leave. and like the film we are walking toward it slowly.

the icing. and lovely sister Sara designed a fresh flyer for La Florida's ecotourism project so we have been painting the landscape. and our peaceful retreat will maybe become a popular destination. great for the community.......bad for us.

full.......very full. and all this thinking and creating and talking and moving has beat me up. it feels good in a way but i am relieved that it's done........for now. and tomorrow i will be peacefully eating hand-made tortillas on a dirt floor. ................back on the finca
--Mary

Some thoughts and scribbles

My morning Chi Kung and reading the Tao Te Ching have pushed me in a direction that I've been seeking for a long, long time now. I'm really excited , in a peaceful and healthy way, about the place I'm finding my spirit nowadays. What's more, the speed of this country and culture has begun to work its magic on me. To be here for any length of time, and remain sane, one HAS to develope patience. Everything moves at a different beat, and everyone recognizes a different speed--a different time for conducting one's daily life and affairs. What better place for learning to slow down and begin to appreciate the moment. I think we've so slowly and imperceptively developed an entirely new approach to everyday life that our return to the "American Dream" will in fact be a tough transition. I'm positive that this slowing down is one of the best things that has ever happened to us. It's funny...for this is one of the many gifts that i had not anticipated, yet, again, it is probably one of the most valuable lessons we've recieved thus far.

And here i am...everyday feeling like life couldn't be fuller and more fulfilling. How lucky am i to be free of my chains...ha, ha, ha....I have to laugh at myself for writing this...my chains will always follow me...i suppose it's how much heavier or lighter they become that is my task.

So, here we are again. It's Sunday on the finca and I just finished sharpening Mary's machete for work tomorrow. I still need to touch up my "alcapolco" for cleaning coffe and my "cuta" for chopping lena (wood for cooking). Albertina, the woman I'm eating with, is down with a cold and could use some help with carrying lena. We planted beans together today and i helped her out abit by carrying a load of wood that she had gathered. I really prefer not to carry lena on my head, but i still lack a "necapal" to carry it as i'd prefer to--or at least how all the other men carry it. The rain has passed now and the setting sun is finally peeking through the clouds. Another full week of work then a Saturday to reward us for our labors. Two new vistiors arrived an hour or two ago. One of them sits beside me as i write. He's slapping at the flies that are biting him, but he still hasn't changed into a pair of pants yet.....Ohhhh, how he'll be scratching tonight and tomorrow. They seem very pleasant and peaceful. She's over playing with the kids--Monopoly of all things.....she's already put her pants on but remains sockless in her sandles...she'll learn...probably sooner than later. But life presses on, as it does everywhere.....and now is my time to recognize it as it passes............
-ryan

There's a Cow in the Kitchen.....

There’s a cow in the kitchen — a milking cow. She shits and pisses ten feet away from where I am making tortillas. And I’m really not bothered by this. Here………it seems perfectly natural. But I smile to imagine this cow in any of your kitchens……tied up and mooing, making mud. Meanwhile, gorgeous little Merli just dropped her drawers and urinated all over her feet on the concrete porch. As I ponder the small spreading yellowish pool she strolls up to me and wants a hug…………………

Well……we are back. We said we would come back and here we are. After a 5 week studious and self-indulgent hiatus in San Cristobal, Mexico we are ready to commit our time, energy, and passion to la comunidad La Florida in Guatemala. This means living without lots of things that we are accustomed to living with…..and living with lots of things that we are not accustomed to. It is beautiful challenge.

I woke this morning just before 6 — which is the usual. The sun is coming up and the dawn sky fires are a deep rose. Got up…..stretched…..headed for breakfast with la familia de Miriam. Had my machete, coffee picking basket, and raincoat. We have spent the last couple weeks working in the coffee — pruning and picking. Working in the jungle is growing on me. I am slowly developing a new relationship with nature — with plants, insects, spiders, snakes, heat. I’m living more within it……moving within it. Climbing up the dense green sun sweaty hillsides, hacking through green life. Every step I take causes a thousand pieces of life to move, jump, slither, fly, dive, crawl, flit, run — a constant buzzing in the still air that surrounds me. I hardly bother to swat the bugs away anymore. As I move through the thigh deep tangle I accept the sticky webs that grab at my pants and eyelashes. When I reach into the coffee bush to pick the red-ripe berries I accept the insects dangling around my head, arms, shoulders and the branches that scratch at my face. Standing under the bush, gently pulling the branches, quietly pulling off the red fruit. One by one, or in small bunches…….my basket slowly fills. And it’s precarious pushing up the hillsides toward the next tree. I can’t see where my feet are landing. It’s wet, and hot, and slippery in places. I’m pulling the webs off my face. Lugging a basket of berries. Peaceful and exciting work.

I still can’t wrap my mind around their reality. It feels a bit like a movie set or some other fabricated reality constructed to entertain travelers like us. But they are here.…. and they aren’t going anywhere. And this life: of working in the fields, of collecting wood daily, of cooking over open fires, of having access to minimal education, of washing all clothing and linens by hand, of living without electricity and appliances, of having lots of kids, of having little medical care, of having little food variety and little money, is very real to them regardless of how it feels to me.

The hardest thing for me is that this is what we came here to do…….to live in community……to work in community. But sometimes it’s just so damn hard to make myself stay here. Knowing that I can leave. Knowing…..as I sweat and itch and eat the same food day in and day out that I can slink back to the coffee houses, foreign films, restaurants, and hot showers of San Cristobal. We could stay there — work with an organization — do good things — be comfortable. But here I am. I am here. There is no doubt about that. And in infinite ways I love it here……..and need to be here. But every last fiber of my cultural conditioning is being challenged. And sometimes I want to run—way way—very far away.

One week is nothing. A romanticized glace at the campesino(peasant farmer) life. A peaceful retreat. Two weeks is something. You’ve survived the heat and the bug bites, the midnight rats and cockroaches, the never ending supply of tortillas, the hard work, the rain, and the confused communication culture clash. You’ve come to love the ever distracting chaos of children. We are in week 3, and even Ryan is inventing ways to temporarily escape. There is no electricity(the ancient hydroelectric system finally died), which isn’t that critical for us. Actually, I hardly notice the absence of light in this life but I do feel the biting nerves of a life w/o music, w/o internet, w/o hot water, w/o cooking, or washing machines, w/o films or coconut curry, cheddar cheese, and dark hot coffee in the morning with a splash of milk and honey.

YES. Every fiber of my being is being challenged. And then I feel like……..what the hell are we doing here??? .............besides challenging ourselves. We are four more hands for working but what does that mean within this enormous agricultural undertaking. We have yet to start any projects because we want community input and participation……..and real democracy is like a snail slipping across the universe. It is sluggish and time consuming. And the life rhythm Guatemalteco flows on a different wave……a less hurried one. Patience. Slow………….down. Look out over the dense landscape singing greens and realize how fresh it is to be here. How fortunate am I? I almost feel like crying…………but not for sadness at all. For the extraordinary beauty and magik that I am so utterly fortunate to experience……..to taste…..to hear…..to see…..to touch…..to smell. To feel.


By the way........there are new pictures of our journey from late July through Aug……friends, day to day life on the finca, the work, the kids, the people, the place.
-mary

Letting go...

I won’t attempt here to be clever or exceedingly articulate. To do so, I believe, gravely threatens the authenticity of what I’m attempting to share. What’s more, it would run counter to that which I’m beginning to understand about the essence of my time here. My understanding, or rather, my acceptance of humility, simplicity, compassion, and patience is beginning to grow roots of enduring strength. The extreme arduousness of this painfully slow process I could have never imagined. My ingeniously crafted social/cultural influences have so successfully pervaded my persona that wrenching them from their death grips has become a full-time endeavor. Life for me has slowed to a pace where moment to moment is recognizable. My glare has been softened. My gaze cleansed, not by the fabricated detergents our society offers and demands, but by the soil, sweat, and simplicity of my labors. I’ve begun to encounter something that has always remained distant and almost inconceivable. That inexplicable something I’ve been toiling toward for so many years. And now…..now here it lies before me…..waiting patiently as it forever has…..listening for my reply and softly smiling while I struggle to hear the melody of our every moment. Shedding the yoke of my complications and calculations, I’ve begun to let go………Merry are my days now amid all too many sorrows. Truth seems to lie in paradox…..and the soothing counsel of the sea that I shall not lose or forget. But these words are seeking to be clever and I’d rather not play this game for they threaten to undermine my new found freedom. These have been days and weeks and months that are redefining my ever malleable standards. I’ve given over a piece of myself to a conscience I’ve too long avoided. Without reservation, without force…..and for this it has landed in my lap.
-ryan

Dear familia y amigas/os.........

The journey has changed and changed and changed again. And at this crosscurrent, looking at all the options, intuition took us on the flow down and to the west. Considering we had little plans to begin with, what is to be expected. We were interested in global politics, volunteering, and learning Spanish. But we are just flowing and everything has become as it should be. A few weeks ago we made a trip to Guatemala and found the thing which I think had been living in our hearts somewhere. We were two weeks living and eating with the campesinos of La Florida. A simple life. A working life. A life with lots of kids and crowded houses. A life without TV, toilets, hot water, cars, refrigerators, privacy.

We arrived at the finca by camioneta……which is to say we arrived standing packed into the back of an old Toyota Pick-Up truck. The ride from town was spectacular. Roads cut into the steep dense mountain slopes. Cool wind kissing my cheeks. Obscure isolated Guatemala. Fincas(large agricultural holdings/plantations), small towns, ugly cities, and campesinos. Land of coffee. Land of the poor. Land of life.

The community of La Florida is in the western highlands of Guatemala. In the jungle. Near the coast. Near la frontera de Mexico. There are approximately 80 families living out here……..trying to work the land collectively. Listening to their histories I am brought toe to toe with the life realities of the people who live in the other world created by western excess. There were 20 some families that illegally occupied the abandoned finca of La Florida for 2 years and 2 months. They lived with their children in plastic and corrugated tin shelters. They had no money, no houses, no schools, no medical clinics, no land. Rene and his wife Wilma had their first child during the occupation. The collective dream here was to get a loan to buy the land. This community has an $800,000 dollar interest free loan which it must pay back in 8 small years. They are struggling like hell to keep the life that they know, love, and understand. To avoid the forced move to the city to work in factories or to join the informal sector of selling goods on the street. And to avoid the last resort which is leaving your family, country, food, everything you know to migrate north to the facade of the American Dream. There is much to learn from the lives that our lives create.

In the evening, as the sun set, the kids came to get us. It was time for dinner and we headed down the dirt road, avoiding the dog shit, led by little dirty foreign hands, mumbling little foreign words we couldn’t understand. Downdowndown the road……..past the make shift houses of decaying wood, cinderblock, rusting corrugated tin, plastic, whatever they could get their hands on. Past the curious young deepdark eyes and gentle deeply lined faces.

The littlest kids smiling, embarrassed, waving. THEN, -Maria, venga conmigo y Ryan alla-. What!? We don’t eat together??? I feel a moment of panic. On my own. No one. No help. No cushion. I have no idea what to expect. To do. But it’s going to happen…….and the little hand leads me. She is so pleasant. So light. A little shy. Front teeth coming in crooked. No shoes. Estoy nervioso. But she’s pulling me in……...toward her humble house.

When I stepped into the dimly lit room I felt only the polite silence and my own sense of awkwardness. A small plastic stool is pulled out from beneath the small wooden table, which is the only furniture in the room besides four beds and an old cabinet with pale blue chipping paint. And I am seated to eat. The queen. La gringa. Their guest. Their income. Araceli brings me a plate of food, a stack of warm tortillas wrapped in cloth, and a mug of warm water. The food is simple but nice. The kids surround me, quietly staring. Studying me. Pushing closer. Hesitating. Hungry. Uncertain. Fidelino, the man of the house, controls them with his eyes and quick short sounds. He sits near me and asks questions……polite, getting to know you stuff. The kids are still there, watching. I feel like an asshole. This is really awkward……making small talk at their small table in their small house in my nice clothes with my healthy teeth, struggling to understand their campesino Spanish. Breathe.......................

Ryan shows up and the spell is broken. Introductions. I am free. That was weird. And we walk back up the dark road toward our room in la casa grande. I slept well that night……despite waking and walking across the deck…..down the stairs…..and across the corridor to use the bathroom. And despite the scratching of the rats in the walls.

The morning was lovely……waking to birds calling new songs, roosters, the distant mumbling of men on their way to the fields, fresh air pushing through the cracks in the window. Back down the road for breakfast……and the girls were waiting for us outside. Playing. Giggling. Smiling. Ryan to his house and me to mine. Araceli smiled shyly. –Adelante-. The girls followed me to the table eagerly while the boys got ready for school. Fidelino wasn’t around…..already working, I guess. I quietly ate my food and tried to get all their names straight. Who was who and who was how old and how do you say your name again??

After breakfast there was work. A long peaceful stroll out the myriad winding paths. To the coffee. To the maiz(corn). To collect wood for cooking. Working in the mosquito wet heat. Machete attacking the ever advancing jungle. Una Guerra entre los humanos y la naturaleza. Two hours and I am suffering. The heat. The physical. But I am determined. I cannot think about anything…..myself……how bloody hot it is, the mosquitoes, my hand cramping around the machete, how thirsty I am. I just do the work. We work at our own pace. There is no boss. No time clock. No rules. No paychecks. I can work as hard as I want for as long as I want……or don’t want. It all depends on me. But Senora Maria, with her 70+ years and her small but strong dented frame must fight the jungle that endlessly swallows the coffee, daily, until the day she dies. For her there is no choice, no decision to make. And finally we relax…….in the shade of the bushes and the banana trees. Sipping water. Munching. Chatting. And we are done with this work for the day. Back down the winding paths toward the community. Carrying on our heads bundles of leaves for making tomalitos(small tamales) or bundles of wood for cooking. My strength is sapped but I am denying it. Back at la casa grande I drop to the chair.....sweaty and exhausted, but light. It’s only 11:30am. It’s still sunny. And I still have the entire day. Some afternoons we do nothing. Some afternoons we learn to make cheese or to toast and grind cacao (seeds that make chocolate). Some days we play with the kids and take pictures. Some days we explore the finca. Some days we play futbol(soccer) or backgammon. Some days we attend community meetings. And some days we tour the ancient coffee processing machinery. And I simply can’t fathom what it means to live their life. It’s do or die. They don’t have the privilege of deciding to leave tomorrow, or next month, or even next year.

Many afternoons as I sat in the small room eating the rain would begin to fall. Jungle rain. Waterfall rain. The kind of rain you just have to accept. And it makes you feel clean and alive. These afternoons were my liberation. To relax in the small dry room enveloped by laughing children. Content to wait out the downpour. Eating fried potatoes and salsa. Sipping the sweet atole(thick drink made with maize, sugar, cinnamon). Ryan would join us and eventually we would walk back up the mud river street to the la casa grande.

Some evenings I would watch Araceli, from my stool in the room, working in her make-shift candlelit kitchen. A space set next to the house made with cinderblock and plastic walls….with a muddy dirt floor. I watched her cook over an open fire without a chimney to carry away the black smoke. The candlelight makes the scene look vaguely romantic and not like the rugged reality that it is. The room they live in has one dim light bulb dangling from the ceiling. The community’s electricity is generated by water running through some huge antiquated machinery. But Araceli’s cooking space hasn’t been fitted with electricity yet. And I am always surprised by the simple yet lovely food she manages to cook without any of the basic conveniences we imagine can’t be lived without.

And meanwhile mi familia is becoming my family. Meals are lively and warm. I eat with the kids while the chickens, chicks, ducks and dog pad around the dusty concrete floor praying for crumbs. Ruth sits on my lap while the boys try to show off—pushing and fighting. Their humble living space penetrating my culture shock. Araceli sits with me while I eat and offers me a piece of her life: That she had her first 3 boys(Ernesto 15, Marduquenio 12, Eduardo 11) with another man, her first husband………he died. Then she married Fidelino and they had 4 more children, one boy(Chelbin 9), and the three youngest are girls(Adelina 7, Ruth 6, Ingri 4). Araceli is my age. Sometimes she would look at me in this way…..it’s difficult to define. It was like sad curiosity. Not jealously. Never jealousy. But as if she were wondering why she is in her life and I in mine. She is a quiet women. a little shy. A little ashamed. Of what, I’m not sure. Her lack of education, her hard life, her bad teeth, her poverty, worn out clothes, who is to say. I wish that I spoke better Spanish so that I could understand her more as a person. When I came to say goodbye on our last day she gave me a beautiful and sincere hug that I can still feel. I really like this family and their 7 kids, 2 cows, a calf, 5 ducks, 3 chickens, endless chicks, a rabbit, and their flea ridden diseased looking dog. I even like crazy little Ingri, that mad terror of a child.

Everyday that I was there my affection grew. My culture shock diminished. My happiness, my peace of mind, my excitement, my frustration at children and chaos melts into deep affections. I am content in the present. Life expands and two weeks becomes infinite. As we hiked down the road to the path through the jungle I can see the expanse of the countryside drifting on into forever. We slip past the small plots of frijol and maize. Heavy with our backpacks—the weight of our material possessions. We slip off the finca as we slip off our shoes at the end of the day. As the noon sun quietly slips behind the gathering clouds. And the impending rain threatens our departure. Then a drop. Drop drop. drop Drop DROP. pelt PELT. Here it comes! And by the time we reach the bus stop we are soaked to the pore and headed to the city…. toward that anticivilization.

la paz para todos............mary
ps. lots of new photos to see!

A Little Guatemalan Reality......

Three weeks in Guatemala was enough time to make that which I had read about this beleaguered country very real…..tangible….and at times heart-wrenching. We’ve experienced poverty and desperation, Latin American style, in the past. Our time in Ecuador and Bolivia was a valid and certainly frightening example of the malicious methods of wealth distribution. Yet, I’m quite sure that I’ll never grow comfortable with or, apathetic to, the visceral impact I receive when faced with the undeniable reality that is lived everyday by our brothers and sisters who just happened to be born on a different latitudinal line. It’s staggering to think what a few degrees of latitude can do for ones quality of life. Not to say there aren’t a few, and I must say very few, that reap the benefits of being at the top of the food chain. With regard to the less fortunate, it couldn’t be better exemplified than by the “tour” (or at least part of it) that took us to a community that was engaged in rebuilding their homes only eight months after a massive mudslide (rains from Hurricane Stan) buried almost the entire community, killing several thousand of its residents. I couldn’t help but ask our guide, “why are they building HERE, in the line of fire of another similar mudslide?? The short and only answer: they don’t have anywhere else to go nor the money to move. The government won’t assist them in relocating to a safer place---no, no, no---the land adjacent to the “danger zone” is prime coffee growing property. Actually another flood had come only days before, bringing tons, literally tons, of mud into the living spaces of the people trying to rebuild their lives and homes. Fortunately no one was killed, but more suffering managed to creep back in. And there we were, traipsing around their small plots of land while they labored intensely to remove the mud and stones that had all too recently inundated their homes. There we were on “tour” with our guide. I felt so very small and disgusting—like some parasite feeding on another creature’s ill fortune. But I didn’t leave without some much needed perspective….maybe enough to share with some folks that could use a little. Will I ever be able to complain about my life again?? Guatemala has changed me…..nothing new for me, I’m in constant flux, but three weeks has had a profound effect…..ever more confusion for my little mind and over burdened conscience.
Yet, shockingly, by and large the folks we encountered and spoke with (all too briefly) were so genuine, generous, and kind. The ironies and paradoxes are endless. How, after more than 30 years of civil war (it ended only ten years ago) that the U.S.A. largely fomented and funded, can these folks so consistently deliver smiles and gentle words to me—a person from the country that has been their oppressor. I—WE have so much to learn from their humility and patience. Their resilience and fortitude astound me.

--ryan….desperately attempting to live within the Tao……….

imagine.................Guatemala

As we headed for the Guatelmalan border, through the lush countryside of southern Mexico, our combi driver ejected the tape playing the ever present ranchera music. I then heard the familiar sound(to those of us over 30) of a new tape clicking into place.............then soft whispers of John Lennon's fingers on the piano. We were listening to Imagine, pushing toward la frontera.................and i took it as a good sign.

Guatemala.......where do i begin. first i will say that Guatemala is NOT Mexico. for those of you all that hold the idea that all countries south of the US border are the same. NO. no es verdad. the land. la tierra. is different. es diferente. la gente. the people. es diferente. are different. and there is nothing quite like being in the junge during the rainy season. like buckets of water being tossed on your head from the heavens. it's warm and wet. to the socks. to the underwear. to the pore. to the core.

we were in Xela(Shay-la) for a couple days. not so exciting. typical city. big. dirty. traffic. market. poverty. department stores. people walking. people begging. students. tourists. noise. men in suits. crafts. fast. pizza. beer. sports bars. the indigenous.

leaving Xela..........after 51/2 hours on the chicken bus(use your imagination) we landed in Santiago de Atitlan and i was horrified. wet wet rain. grey day dripping soggy ugly steets. muy feo. muddy dirty backpack self. looking around. where are we and what the hell are we doing here??? our traveling companion, Petra, content to find some rainless spot to smoke a cigarette. relax. we stayed. room number 9. and, again, i took it as a good sign.
2 days later my immpressions were changed. the people are kind and humble. so much poverty. so much peacefulness. and some depression and aggression. indigenous city. interesting place. not too touristy. streets full of the stench of piled decaying garbage, plastic, peels, paper, rubble, rancid. yet alive with colorful women chatting, walking, laughing. boys playing futbol(soccer) barefoot in the rain. very old shrivled shoeless women limping the wet streets peddling whatever little trinket they can. stripped of all dignity. i just want to hug them and cry. or to scream.

but Guatemala is so lovely and ironic. green, greeeeeen......almost unbareably eternally green. jungles, slopes, waterfalls, volcanos, coffee plantations, maiz, windy roads, valleys, crazy bus drivers. rich in resources. poor people. work and suffering. family. i have much to learn. to grow. to know. to forget. to be. to become.
...............Mary

Mary's Lament

it would be wrong to say that i am depressed. i'm not. it's something else. transition. break from tradition. trepidation?
as i sit and wait for the afternoon rain to arrive......a it always does. i wonder what i feel like sharing about myself these last few weeks. as the warm breeze slips into a cool strong wind and people head for the doorways. lately my mood shifts like the weather. i'm warm and content. i'm cool and melancholy. this journey has been different from those that proceeded it. before, i was more free. coming from constant movement.......little stability. now, i can feel all that i left behind. all the flavors of my life that i abandoned to come here. quitting my job. my home. my family. my friends. my cat. my food. my community. my culture. my life. i feel it all deeply. but while i am bit low i am still quite content to be here. every morning i wake and feel peaceful about the comming day. the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures of San Cristobal are drifting into a sort of normalcy. everyday i am walking. eating lots of beans and tortillas, mangos and avacados. growing new friendships. speaking spanish. letting life happen. it is difficult to make generalizations about an entire country. an entire people. there are so many Mexicos. but i can feel a general(if not always) warmth of spirit. i can feel it embedded in peoples connection to history, family, food, religion. perhaps it's the strong sense of community which makes me feel so alone.......outside sometimes. but more often it makes me feel serene and even hopeful. our past month has largely been dedicated to Spanish study. ahhhhhhh Spanish. what lovely pain for my heart and mind. and it looks as if our journey will temporarily take us to Guatemala. a change of pace. of scenery. some nature. some quiet. some rural life. meanwhile......my heart has some heavy moments......and some light. and after these torrential afternoon rains that turn the streets to rivers i look forward to the sun................... which always returns.

More Photos!!!

i just posted three new sets of photos via the "more photos" link. they will tell the other story. the one which defines all that i find beautiful, mysterious, and interesting. las familias. los colores. la comida. las texturas. la vida. disfruta!!!.....................mary

photo help for our computer challenged family and friends:

- under the "Links" section click on "More Photos"
-you can view all the photos page by page, simply click "previous" or "next" to change pages at the bottom of the window, or click the next page number
-clicking on any photo will enlarge it, simply click the "back" botton to return to the small version

OR

-i have organized all the photos into theme related "sets" that are titled. for example "The Market" and "City Life, San Cristobal." click on any set to bring up all the photos in that set.
-you can then view a slide show of the set by clicking "Slide Show" in the upper/right corner of the window.

hope this makes sense and helps anyone who is having trouble accessing the photos.

love to all..........

Mexico Now Continued!!!

Ryan recently posted some info about the terrible situation here in San Salvador Atenco. the article attached via the link below provides an excellent synopsis of what happened and is still happening in this town near Mexico City. We ask you all to please take 15 minutes of your time to read this item. International awareness and attention of this incident is of critical importance as the fate of those beaten and detained will depend on their international support.......so if you feel moved please forward the article to family and friends. and no worries......we are no where in the vecinity. http://narconews.com/Issue41/article1831.html

Mexico Now!!

Hola to all and to all I hope life is treating you well. I thought it somewhat necessary to share some current events and general info regarding contemporary Mexican affairs. If only to broaden your world view abit and provide some insight into that country just to the south of you…..yeah that 51st State that the Bush Amin…..ok, I won’t go there….”Just the facts mam, just the facts.”
This is an election year in Mexico….yes, for the presidency of the Republic of Mexico. Three parties are currently mudslinging there way to July 2, election day, where one of them will serve one term of 6 years as the US’s new lap dog…..though he’ll have tough shoes to fill given the current President’s perfect track record for not wetting the bed….but hey, a former CEO of Coca Cola Mexico knows when to give little licky kisses and when to just LIE DOWN!! Damnit these fingers of mine just won’t obey. JUST THE FACTS!! Sooooo…..some more current events…..Currently there’s a stand off between the Mex Gov. and some flower growers/sellers from Texcoco (just east of Mex. City), some very poor farmers from Atenco (a town very close to Texcoco) who are in solidarity with the folks in Texcoco and La Otra Campana (The Other Campaign). The story behind this conflict is very, very intriguing, and equally disturbing, given the current presidential campaigns as well as the history of blatant corruption that is (IS) the Mex. Gov. and Police Force. For the last couple of weeks hundreds of roit police have surrounded the town and have brutally beaten and detained farmers, students, laborers, and journalists. Women have been sexually assaulted and beaten while in police custody. A young boy of 14 was killed by the impact of a tear gas projectile (made in U.S.A.). Those that are opposing the police repression have managed to close down many of the main roadways heading in and out of Mexcio City. For those that are interested in more information I’ve included some links that will shed more light on the situation. And also some photos of a Solidarity March (one of several) that have taken place here in San Cristobal.

Summery of what happened originally in Atenco May 3rd. http://www.zmag.org/content/showarticle.cfm?SectionID=59&ItemID=10216
News about police brutality. http://narconews.com/Issue41/article1807.html
Rare interview with Subcomendante Marcos—“La Otra Campana” and Zapatista spokesperson. Two parts http://narconews.com/Issue41/article1794.html http://narconews.com/Issue41/article1799.html ---- interviews have great info on what the Zapatistas are up to right now.

I’ll leave you with a few lines from an ancient book of indispensable wisdom--Tao Te Ching.

If a country is governed with tolerance,
the people are comfortable and honest.
If a country is governed with repression,
the people are depressed and crafty.

Love to all……
ryan

San Cristobal.....first impressions

night quiet, clear, streetlights and moonlight. day break and long mornings that begin early. sun rays and shop doors. my first impression was that it all appeared a little too clean, a little too safe, a little too perfect. where was the garbage and the chaos? the starving dogs? the dirty children? why did i expect these things from Mexico. why did i want them. not to worry- a little curiosity and a lot of walking brought me into the chaos, garbage, stink, dirt, and poverty that i was searching for. just like the US- it's all there- the wealthy, the nice schools and strip malls, the run down nieghborhoods, hungry kids and broken windows.

so...we are here in San Cristobal de las Casas. beautiful colonial city. full of heart and zapatistawannabes. backpackers and social justice live amongst the freshly made cheeses and yogurt, the tortillerias, organic coffee, twisted delicious vegetables and mountains of mangoes. drive at your own risk. bike at your own risk. walk at your own risk. definately eat at your own risk. and love every last minute of it. after a couple weeks of meeting our new city we are moving forward. spanish classes and research. allready...i am taking deep breaths and knowing that language is a VERY long journey. and the end of that road is not within my sight.

we opted to spend the month of May at Posada(inn) Dona Rosita's.....where the floors are tile, the walls chalky yellow, the kitchen forever dirty and the price.....right. simple room. nice morning sun through the almond trees and bougainvillea. so- we have our own little space. reading about Mexico, studying Spanish, an occasional film on the laptop, meeting people, talking culture and politics, discovering our favorite places: squares, cafes, views, tamale venders, and corner markets. we are here. safe. sound. superfluous. Mary (first San Cris pics in "more photos")

Heads Up! More Pics

Hey all....just giving you a heads up that we have posted 2 new sets of photos: A Wild Day at the Beach and The Flavor of Tulum. you can access them via the "more photos" link. i also posted "an ode to tulum" ......enjoy. mary

An Ode to Tulum

days and night doing both nothing and something. sunning. swimming. eating fruit. people watching and romantic swims. so many shapes and sizes. long shorts. short shorts. NO SHORTS! brown bare breasts floating with the sea breeze. neon children with buckets of sand. leather skin. pear skin. strawberry shoulders under braided hair. hairy beer bellies and playful skipping in the surf. thin shoulders. healthy hips.

white suits. orange suits. brown suits. stripes. dots. flowers. tye dye. sunglasses and grey curls. cigarettes, palm trees and thatched shade. sea fever. warm cool water wrapping around your flesh like silky air. enveloped by it soothingly--even lovingly. an aqua dream. fish. peaceful humming.

surf singing, children shouting, dogs barking, venders selling, cars honking, garbage piling, roosters cockadoodledoing, palms whispering, cats moaning, lovers cooing

sand resting, sun relentless, families laughing, flesh reciting poetry, mysterious sea, birds clickclacketing Yucatan operas

hammocks swaying, ranchero music, dust flying, clothes drying, food cooking, thatched roofs and cinderblock houses

fearless children, sad children, free children, curtain doors, fruit trees, aqua walls, melon walls, violet walls and creamy sunsets. pink paradise blooms and lazy-eyed drunks

Aussies, Israelis, Italians, Brits, French, Dutch, Germans, American Expatriots, and one Japanese guy!

wealthy people, poor people, tourists and story-tellers, gypsies, hippies, and lo mexicano, butterflies, pelicans, internet cafes, lizards, coral, conch shells, hurricane debris and martini bars

leaving my paradise womb i realize the whole thing feels like one very long and extraordinary day. magik mexico. colorful. carribean. coquettish. absorbing you into itself and rendering you free of sins and virtues, ideas and preoccupations.

Rancho Tranquilo/ Tulum, Mexico

hey all........
we have included a link to the hotel/hostel we are staying at here in paradise(El Rancho Tranquilo)--Tulum, Mexico. you can access it via our "links". we highly recommend it to any and all who might wish to travel/vacation in a dream. it offers various levels of accomodation, is centrally located, affordable, and has some great extras like......communal kitchen, free transport to beach, peaceful but lively ambiance, families, backpackers, lovely gardens, free make it yourself breakfast, and friendly staff who give great advice on local treasures.....all the bennies of a hostel and hotel wrapped in one tranquil gift.

50 Bucks and a Free Brunch......

This is something that occured over a week ago but is well worth sharing.....
hahahahaha ha ha hehe……laughing all the way to the bank.
How on earth did we manage to score a five***** brunch and 50 bucks in cash from the grand Royal Palms Private Beach Club on our first day in Mexico???
bent and beat after Russian cocktails and no sleep……the flight was grueling. A very friendly guy. Very good English. Next thing you know we meet him outside our hostel the next day for a private tour……all for spending a mere hour and a half trippin’ on the decadent benefits of plastic paradiso. Yes……that’s right…..for just $35,000 dollars you too can own a beach front condo (in the path a many hurricanes) for one whole week every year. Yes…you too….can bask in chlorinated bliss while dining on shrimp cocktail and sipping your dry martini next to a leather skinned beauty bound for chemotherapy. How many couples arriving in Cancun laden with well-worn backpacks, sporting thrift store duds, typically invest in exclusive condos for the richy rich—hola , and welcome to Mexico!!

Flavor from la Playa Maya

hola! yes we are sitting at el Bar Cubano with mojitos and cervesas in hand. why are we in Cuba while in Mexico?? because very cool french guy with Cuban lady here has wireless internet!!!! yeah........life is too good. today...swiming in the cenote(natural well). yesterday..... a carribean beach for us alone. tomorrow......whatever gift is delivered to us.

the Yucatan is a magik place. where essenses of Mexico colide with the island tropics. colorful. carribean. coquettish.
for my eyes, my ears, my nose--everything is new. i want to post, to say hi, but i don't want to write, to think-- only to live--in this moment.

we were at El Centote Escondito. swimming. relaxing. and enjoying the chatter of the beautiful Mexican familia next to us. warm and comical they were. water so bloody fresh and clear you can see through it like a glass door. in the state of Quintana Roo, couple hours south of the terribly outrageous Cancun. La Maya Riviera. paradiso. dream. alive. where swimming is not so much a pastime as a necesity. lovely wet life! El Mar Caribe(the carribean). where the aqua sea tangos with el sol bleached sand. and brown bodies splash the landscape. as my own skin grows darker my heart lighter. the heat and sun saturate my brain-- removinmg all thoughts, hopes, expectations, desires--except to breath in this moment. life is good.....so very damn good. we are in paradiso. alive. can't imagine life other than we are living it. warm hugs from Mexico. --Mary
ps. we have posted more pics to flicker....you can access them via the "more photos" link.

testing testing

will this work? can mary and ryan conquer the tech world of blogging from the far reaches of mexico?? ojala!