Footful of Life

Finding home

2008-11-23T08:17:00.000-08:00

So I'm returned from Guatemala, confused but clear-thinking. I'm confused about my place in this US of A but its clear to me that I belong back in Guatemala for at least a little longer.

I've almost completed week 2 of being in this Obama-loving country, and I'm a little more stable than I was the first week...I mostly cried or wanted to cry at every moment. Now I'm just trying to stifle my emotions during the day, hoping that I can enjoy my time here.

There are so many wonderful things and people to enjoy here! My family and friends are INCREDIBLE people that I admire. Every moment I have with them is special. I love high speed internet. And our road system is great...much less scary to drive here than in Guatemala.

But I miss things that only my little Guatemalan village can offer me: constant loud radios playing bad music or telling Bible stories using dramatic voices; beans, eggs, and rice at nearly all meals; a common desire to find ANY excuse to laugh; constant children (whose children they are is not always certain...they seem to come from everywhere) rotating through the room asking "que esta haciendo" what are you doing?; NEVER being alone; always being able to make conversation originating from state the road...if its rainy, mud...if its dry, dust...and then elaborating on the frustrations of that state and its effects on health....I love my village (aldea)

I miss it all those little things, but even more I miss my friends there...and mi chavo (boy) there. The people, of course, is what makes the place special to me.

Today I have the honor to send packages to my friends or acquaintences' husbands who are here in the States. Its kind of sad because I know how hard it must be for them, and its sad to think that its so hard to send them stuff by mail because its so expensive. And because they want so badly to send something to their husbands to show how much they care and to help them remember their family. Pictures of kids they haven't seen in years...I can't imagine making that choice to leave my family and maybe never seeing them again. Its not like me going to Guatemala for a few years...I can travel back and forth whenever I want, all I need is to save some money and buy the ticket. Its not the same...it makes me sad.

One reason I went down to Guatemala was to get a better idea of the immigrant experience here in the US. Why do people leave their home and risk everything to make a few dollars? What is the experience of the families they leave at home? I also was curious about the culture of Central/Latin America, if it can be generalized.

After living about 5 months in a village in Guatemala, I've observed a little. I wonder how Guatemalans can survive emotionally here in the States because the culture I'm in is very collectivist and the US is NOT. I imagine that most single immigrants from countries and/or cultures like the one I'm in try to replicate their home country as much as possible, living 6 in one appartment (for financial reasons and emotional ones, for sure)...and create a subculture. But even with a sub-culture, its still part of the larger culture of the US and I wonder how that affects the immigrants. I wonder how it is when they get back from the US. I do have a neighbor that was in the US for about a year i think before he was deported, and he seems to have re-adapted normally. I think many times immigrants isolate themselves for many reasons, in addition to missing their home countries, they are afraid or rejected from society.

Ok that may be getting boring for some of you, but I've been needing to reflect a bit. More to come, for sure. Its been awhile, because i just don't have that much internet time (or patience) while I'm in my little village. I'm in the states for a few more weeks, then off again to my home. I'm still trying to cope with being here...it continues to be difficult in every way. Thank God I have such wonderful people to make it worth my while.

Guatemala I´m here

2008-07-04T10:45:00.000-07:00

I´ve arrived here in guate. actually its been a month today! its july 4 our independence day but i wont be eating hot dogs and watching fireworks, instead i taught some rowdy 4th graders and now i´m going to walk home on muddy roads hoping it wont rain. sounds gloomy but i´m quite happy. sure i´d rather it be sunny and 75 and i wouldnt mind seeing my family and friends, but the life here is happy. allegre. i´ve found a few good friends and i´ve found a few older women who tell me all about their childhood marriage and trials. i like listening here because its less work than talking. anywyays i´m happy. everything is beautiful here...the hills, the little plots of land, the houses...its picturesque . i only have a few minutes before i better leave and brave the rain so i get back in time for lunch. today the family wanted me to help them plant cabbage, but i had to teach so maybe when i get back i´ll do some real work. the other day i woke up at 5 am and loaded broccoli onto a pickup, checking for worms, then we droe the pickup to the drop of place and unloaded all the broccoli into crates and then ontothe truck. everybody seems to get a kick out of seeing a gringa (white woman) working the fields. i enjoy it...its good to work. How do i feel here...what are my ideas...well i´m good. Sometimes i go crazy with the constant spanish and sometimes i feel a little nervous because i don´t know what to do or what to say but i´m learning. and the more comfortable i feel, the better my spanish and the less awkward things i do. Although, the family i live with got a real kick out of the fact that i washed only my hair the other day. they said.., "you didn´t wash your body? you´re like the birds that just dip their head in the water"
they think i´m a little strange. thats okay. i am strange. little do they know that i´m strange even in my own country.
At the church its good...they´re quite traditional and the church here is different than evangelical churches in the states. every church has its problems. sometimes i get frustrated, but that´s normal for me. i´m never happy with everything about a churhc. but i a m grateful for them...they have really welcomed me. i´ve said that before. anyways. its time to go...

i wanted to reflect a bit more but time...its always there....ticking...

Leaving One Home for Another

2008-06-06T08:38:00.001-07:00

Today's the day to go to Guatemala

I woke up this morning so happy. I sat in our empty house drinking coffee and listening to some good tunes, thinking about how hopeful I am. I'm so full of hope. I'm going to be where I've wanted to be for over 6 months. I'm going to make huge mistakes like mean to say "thank you" and really say "you really need to take a shower" or "i like to eat tree branches not your food." That'll be horrible when I totally mess up. I'll probably have some horrible days teaching, especially at the beginning. But I'm just so darn excited I can't help but think it'll be wonderful.

This morning I'm at the cafe down the street from where I live (the only non-Starbucks cafe in the entire town). Voilá is where I met my Mexican friends that made my life incredible while I was here in Texas last summer and every time I've been back. I wouldn't be me without them. I came in this morning and the cashier was french so I talked to her for awhile in French. The guys behind me speak Spanish. If only someone here were Hungarian then I'd have all the countries represented in which you could find pieces of my heart.

This is my last blog before I leave this country. I've lightened my suitcase quite a bit, and I still feel like its too much. I hope I learn more about how to love better and with more Grace.

I'm diving in!

I find Jesus in the Weirdest Places

2008-06-04T13:58:00.001-07:00

I'm convinced that Jesus is found in the most bizarre places. He was in the prison with me and 14 Guatemalans, 1 Mexican, and an elderly man from Nowhere, Ia. Who would have guessed that I would find Jesus in criminals...

Well, I guess its not that surprising. He was with the criminal on the cross who was promised paradise. He was with the tax-collectors and prostitutes. But that's all written in the Bible...I didn't expect it to be real now.

Jesus surprised me again the other day. All semester long I'd been working hard at making these pillows that me and my friend Jeff were going to hand out to homeless people. The project took all semester to complete, so we finally decided to meet up after graduation in Waterloo and find some people there who would like a little hand-made-with-love pillow. I had made about 30...and they were beautiful...i really loved them.

So after I graduated I got to Waterloo and started thinking where to find people to receive these pillows...then the ICE raid happened in Postville, and so I decided to take some there because the people were definitely in need of comfort and love...and some are or soon will be homeless. But the church only took a few, so I still had plenty left.

Jeff finally planned to come through town on a Friday on his way home in Western Minnesota. We were going to go to the Salvation Army, deliver our pillows and have some coffee and doughnuts with whoever would be there. Thursday I got a call from Mike the compassionate elderly man who goes to the jail every week, so I went and Jeff went, so the pillow plans were canceled.

All these pillows and what to do? I wanted to deliver the pillows, but the most important part was talking to people...homeless, poor, marginalized. Sometimes we have to be intentional about taking steps that are uncomfortable or abnormal. So finally, last Thursday morning, I got to the Salvation Army with a trunk-load of pillows. I was a little shaken up that morning and I wasn't feeling too well for a variety of reasons, so I was a little more shy than usual. I sat down in the waiting room and an older black man began to small talk with me. Larry. He told me that he had recently moved up to Waterloo from Des Moines and he was having a hard time finding an appartment. I told him I'd lived near Des Moines and I was just moving to Waterloo, as well, but that I was staying on my brother's couch. He said I was lucky to know someone so I had a couch to sleep on. Then we started talking about the pillow project and he told me about how his mom taught all 7 of her boys how to sew. We discussed different pillow-making strategies...then he helped me carry the pillows in. He commented on how well-made they were...what a kind person! He helped me when a woman asked for one outside (i was still a little shaken up and definitely out of my comfort zone so I wasn't too quick at responding). Good guy, Larry.

When i'd dropped off the pillows, I decided just to go back home because I wasn't feeling well, so I said goodbye to Larry. I felt so lame for not going to the coffee and doughnuts. I felt like I'd done what I didn't want to do--give without the human connection that is so important. I hadn't met a homeless person.

Well, I drove to Dallas, and Saturday morning I woke up thinking about the experience, regretting my shyness. Then I went over my conversation with Larry and realized that he was most likely homeless. No appartment, no place to stay, "nice pillows", "what a great idea, Katy". Then later on that day I was shopping (at the richest, fanciest mall I've ever ever been in) with my mom and we'd taken a coffee break; while we were talking I started laughing to myself because not only was Larry probably homeless, but I had spent a good amount of time talking with him, hearing his story, and that was the ENTIRE POINT of the visit. But I did it without realizing or really meaning to do so. All I did was sit in a reception room and talked to the person who was talking to me. I'm sure Larry was wondering why I didn't give him a pillow! I can't believe I didn't! It didn't even occur to me that he was homeless. He was just so nice and honest and talkative.

Jesus is just in the most peculiar situations. I found Jesus in Larry. I just hope Larry got a pillow (I hope he got the plaid brown ones...they're my favorite).

The Protest and the Jail

2008-05-27T14:53:00.000-07:00

Sunday was the day planned for a prayer service, some speeches about the Postville Raid, and a march to the Cattle Congress. So we went to church in CF then drove to the church in Wloo (quite a difference there...) called Queen of Peace. There were a lot of people from Postville who came and plenty of latino immigrants who came as well. The service was nice...its so good to hear people speaking of God and social justice and truth...its just so true. After a few bilingual songs, a few people spoke. Paul Real from Postville, another minister from Postville, Sister Mary from Postville, a woman from Postville whose husband had been detained, a woman from El Centro Latinoamericano, a man who was associated with meat packing plants (he was passionate!), and a woman from some community organization...and more I think. The speakers were really interesting because they talked of the situation with urgency...comparing it to Civil Rights movements of the past. The needs of the community are now a lot financial because there are so many families in which one or both of the parents are now detained and will be deported...how are the children going to join their parents? Its complicated and heart-wrenching. The call is for humanitarian aid to the families ripped apart and for comprehensive immigration reform.

The march was long! it turned out to be about 5-6 miles! Me, H, A and the kids went but A came to pick up one of them because it was HOT and he was tired. It was a great atmosphere...almost entirely latino...everyone was so kind and helpful with each other...there were a lot of families so people shared strollers. At one point I carried the 3yrold of a 8mo pregnant woman. It was quite a day. The priest from postville talked at the Cattle Congress and gave a speech of hope through saddness and frustration and sometimes anger. What a thing to experience.

The next few days I didn't volunteer anymore because I had to start getting something done for going to Guatemala...I'm not sure I actually made any headway there...Anyway, on Thursday night I got a call from the man who visits the prison every week (actually A got the call and called me to call him because she couldn't make it). He (Mike) needed a Spanish speaker again Friday at 9:15. So I went (a friend from Central who also spoke spanish was on his way to Waterloo anyways, so he came a little late). He is a deacon in a catholic church in Lafayette county, and he has ten times more compassion than I have for these people. I met him at Hardees and drove over to the prison. Right before I got in the van, I thought...this is crazy Katy. You don't even know this guy. It could be a crazy. But he wasn't. He was super kind. A retired farmer who now dedicates his life to serving others. He wanted me to do pretty much everything because there wouldn't be time to translate everything. So the format was this: introduce myself, ask the detained immigrants to introduce themselves and get a chance to express themselves a little
(this was the important part to Mike), then I'd read a scripture (Romans 5:1-5) and we'd pray and sing a song. I was a little nervous because I'd never been in a jail before, but I was very excited. We went in and waited for a minute then went with the detained immigrants to an empty room. There wre about 15 of them. ALL BUT ONE FROM CHIMALTENANGO GUATEMALA! It was awesome. What lovely people. They were ready to listen to me, mostly eager to talk a little bit, and grateful for our support. It was incredible what they talked about...they were sad to be away from their families and to only have debts to look forward to after they got home. They just wanted to go home. They understood that they took the risk when they entered illegally, but they didn't think that the law was fair to them. They were thinking about their families in Guatemala who didn't know about what happened and relied on the money they sent back. No bitterness only sadness and gratefulness. I made them laugh a bit and told them that there were many people who are angry about what happened to them and were praying for them and their families and were protesting to legislators about the injustices committed against them. Solidarity...I can never say that word right in Spanish but they laughed and understood what I meant. I told them that i'd be in Chirijuyu, and one said "Take me with you!" sadly and jokingly....i would if i could.

Very sweet people. I felt at home with them. I felt like it was my going-away party...or something. I can't help but cry when I remember their faces and their words. Even a week later. I hope they receive God's justice and compassion not just after this life is over, or in spiritual ways, but in tangible, eatable ways. I want them to feel loved every day even while they are in prison, i want their families to eat, i want them to be able to make a decent living, i want them to have opportunities. And i want our government to make it easier to work legally as a low-income immigrant in this country.

So I feel really down about this, but its not half the suffering of those who live among the families who are ripped apart, and that's not even as painful as it is for the detainees and their families here and home. What a week. sometimes i just wish that i didn't care about immigrants. Then I wouldn't have to spend this emotional energy, money, gas, or time on this. But, all it made me want is to live among these people and suffer with them...and maybe help to ease the suffering a bit as best I can.

Postville Encounter # Two

2008-05-27T14:27:00.000-07:00

So Thursday we helped at the free clinic... While we (my sisterinlaw's sister who also speaks Spanish) were there, we asked the leaders at Postville if they needed bilingual help for the next day. They said we might be needed at the schools or with a guy who was going to the prison in Lafayette county to visit the immigrants detained there. Either sounded exciting. Later that night we got a call saying they didn't need help in the schools but we were needed in the prison. The guy in charge of the prison trip, who we thought was a priest, called us and told us that we'd need to be in West Union around 9:15. There are about 30 immigrants detained there and he didn't know any Spanish. He goes to this prison every Friday from 10-11am. We got up early to go, but he called and said that the visit was canceled because the lawyers were consulting with the detained immigrants. He was so disappointed, and so were we. But we were persistent and called the folks in Postville about opportunities there. We went at about 6pm to help...of course we didn't really know what we were helping with, but we were ready. We showed up and were taken into the house next to the church, briefly introduced to what we'd be doing, and separated into jobs.

The volunteers were mostly from Luther college in Decorah because they are so close and the leader of this part was from the college. We had several different stations where people could find out where their friends or relatives were detained, another station was forms for them to get the checks of their relatives, another to fill out a form to get the right to legal representation if they were sometime detained, another for women who were wearing an ankle bracelet from ICE--i don't know exactly what that form was for.

Anyways, I was working a desk and a computer. For a long time, though, i was just waiting for a computer or a cord or whatever I was waiting for...it was organized, but not perfectly (as one would expect when the government detains almost 400 people and leaves the families afraid to leave the church...it wasn't something everyone was prepared for). I spent a lot of time just waiting and waiting. I talked to a woman who was wearing traditional Mayan clothing, and it seemed like what I saw in Guatemala. Since most immigrants in Postville are from Guatemala, I didn't risk too much in asking here if she was from guatemala. She said she was and it turns out she's from a village about 15 or 20 miles from where I'll be (in less than two weeks...heart attack!!!). In fact, almost all of the people there from Guatemala are from the Chimaltenango region. Its like meeting someone while you're in Russia who is from your county. Its just crazy. As I waited I was just watching the people. When you just look at people, its easy to make judgments about them. There were a lot of men who looked lower class...stereotypes about poor Latinos were easy to remember.

But once the started coming through the lines and I started talking to them, all of that floated away like steam from coffee. They were so kind, respectful and spoke intelligently. They were easy to make laugh and chat a little bit with. It was pretty interesting. The woman I was working with drove me a little bit nuts at first, but after awhile she got on my nerves a little less.

Overall it was a good experience. We stopped at Guppy's On The Go just for good measure, got some reheated pizza and headed home for family night...more sheepshead and mojitos.

At St. Bridget's in Postville

2008-05-17T13:08:00.000-07:00

This week has gone by so fast...my stuff is still not moved in...its a blur. I need to write what I experienced with this whole immigration raid and its aftermath. This is not current events...the Des Moines Register is doing a great job with keeping up with what is really going on (even though I'm sure much more is happening)...it seems like they are accurately reporting, from what I've seen and heard. The ACLU has made an excellent statement about the events. The Archbishop of Dubuque of the Roman Catholic Church has made a wonderful statement about how and why the Church should react to these events.

But here I will write about my experience for an individual's perspective.

On Wednesday, my friend and I decided that we didn't want to wait around anymore for a phone call about volunteering. So we got in contact with the church in Postville that is welcoming the residents of the town who are too afraid of ICE to stay at home. When we called, they said they had almost no bilingual volunteers. We loaded up my dad's car with the pillows I'd made, and got on the road. We showed up at Postville around 6ish and tried to find the people to get us something to do. As one would imagine, the place was crazy. Loco. People were everywhere: women with little children on their backs, young couples holding hands, bored teenagers, children playing. The minglers around the church included reporters, journalists, white community members, clergy, and volunteers. We found ourselves most useful in the free clinic that had moved from Decorah. The residents of Postville were too afraid to travel to Decorah for fear of ICE, so the clinic came to them. It was chaos, generally. I spent most of my time tracking down a girl who was rumored (and later the rumor was proven true) to have a broken tooth. The conclusion was to send her to the dentist the next morning in Decorah, but the family had no car, no money, and no desire to risk the drive. Then we had to track down a trusted friend of the mother who was bilingual and had a car who could drive the girl to her appointment. I was there from 6 until around 8:30 and I spent nearly the entire time with this family. It was nice to get to know the family...they were from Chimaltenango, Guatemala where I will be living in a matter of weeks. The mother was alone caring for her 3 kids while the father had been detained on Monday.

Being there was really good because I got to see the people who were left alone--the families who were torn apart, the high schoolers taking care of their nieces and nephews, and the welcoming community. I was impressed with the members of the community who were serving food, even though they looked a little out of place and uncomfortable being white english speakers, yet in the minority. They stood ready with serving spoons, eager to give food to any hungry passer-by, and seemed relieved to see people that they could communicate easily with. The volunteers seemed eager yet nervous...especially those who didn't speak Spanish.

Actually everyone seemed a little uneasy...for good reason. Afraid to go home...afraid to drive to a nearby town... I mean, for those of us who have lived here our whole lives and our parents lives, it seems a little bizarre for all these people to be so afraid of our "law enforcers". I mean, generally we feel accepting of that crowd...policemen are viewed by some as a trustworthy authority. ICE did say "there won't be any more raids at this time" and for many of "us" it seems obvious that they won't come again...it may seem absurd to be afraid to drive to Decorah from Postville...

But what if you were in Guatemala and you'd misplaced your immigration papers the day the government stopped at your workplace...would you trust them? Would you want your family to trust them? Would you trust them? Wouldn't you be afraid? Its easy to say that the government is "just enforcing the law" when you have not been wrongly accused or refused your rights. By knowing people who are not in the wrong, it becomes less clear that the government is in the right.

Rambling. What else happened on Thursday at Postville. Well, the volunteers and the coordinators and the parish leaders were very kind, but it was very disorganized. I didn't feel especially useful, but I was glad to be around. Once it seemed like the place was calming down for the night, we headed out. I dropped off a few pillows...it seemed like there were pillows and bedding in plenty. Then we tried to eat at the mexican restaurant in town, but it was just closing. The next best eating was at Guppy's On The Go, the gas station that (thankfully) sold Godfather's pizza by the slice.

Inside Guppy's, we were waiting in line with a tall skinny redheaded teenager who was hanging around until the latina cashier finished her shift because he was looking for something to do...he clarified that he doesn't go around causing trouble...it just finds him. So he was there, then there were to young guys buying cigars then an african-american man in front of me with a 12-pack of Bud. The two guys who asked first for Swisher Sweets then switched to "the most expensive kind." They seemed unsure, so I decided to give my input, "Personally, I think Peach cigars are excellent." They went with my decision, and when asked for an ID, the young man gave over his driver's license while saying "Papers. No papers. No papers" obviously making an inappropriate joke about an illegal immigrant's situation. Everyone laughed awkwardly while the cashier looked pretty pissed off. Then the man in front of us mumbled something then took his case back to the fridge and came back to the line and he said "Man, i shouldn't buy that beer tonight because I'm just going to go back to my place and drink it. And then I won't go to work. I've got to go to work." And we laughed and said "good job...that seems like a good choice." Weirdest 10 minutes I've had in a long time. Who knew such a multi-cultural experience could be had in Postville, Iowa.

To conclude...um...i've got nothing. Its late. I just played sheepshead with my bro, sisinlaw and her sister...now its late. Tomorrow's a big day--there's a prayer service/demonstration...lots of stuff happening to get some national attention on this issue finally. The NYtimes did a lame article on their website. Tiny. but at least its there and its seems pretty accurate. nothing like the DM register. I love their coverage of the last week.

More is coming. I had one more day in Postville that I'll talk about...so I don't forget what happened and so all of you lovely readers get a personal perspective.

Inside the Cattle Congress

2008-05-16T04:59:00.000-07:00

This will be a different blog than I've ever posted but its what has happened to me.

On Sunday I found myself graduating from college. On Monday, driving my dad to the airport, I saw 6 "Homeland Security: Immigration and Customs Enforcement" Charter buses drive by. My immediate reaction was shock and then sadness. I said to my dad, "I probably have friends on those buses". It was still morning. By afternoon, I was at my brother's house in Waterloo checking my email when my sisterinlaw sent me an email about an immigration raid in Postville. It was a call from the community to help the immigrants and they needed bilingual volunteers to help the immigration lawyers to defend the immigrants. Without even finishing reading about what happened, I called the contact in Des Moines, who turned out to be someone I had recently volunteered with. By coincidence, my sisterinlaw's sister who has lived in Honduras for a number of years working as a nurse and speaks spanish was also at my brother's house. So we both get the call to show up at 9:00am at the Cattle Congress where the immigrants (390 minus the women who are detained in a local prison) are detained.

Once we got there, we waited for about an hour and a half before we were escorted to the location the volunteers and immigration lawyers could set up. That morning I felt so dirty being in a place where humans were being detained and deprived of their human rights. I felt bad for Waterloo as a city having to be tainted by this gross action of our government. Reading responses to Des Moines Register articles about the raid was disappointing because many were (and continue to be) angry and hateful saying that this is what those people deserve for their actions. People don't know enough about the immigration system to know that its so complicated that even educated immigrants have incredible difficulty in obtaining legal residency or worker permits. People don't know the situations these people leave in hopes of having something better here. Something better: work, food, home...and we deny them the right to a fair and transparent immigration process. We (as a nation) hire them for the nastiest jobs and refuse to pay them equally, then say "good riddance" when they are arrested. Can you see my frustration with the ignorance and paradoxes of the hateful statements?

Ok, inside the Cattle Congress. We are finally admitted into the place were the 15 or so of us volunteers and immigration lawyers can set up. Where are we? In a tiny trailer just in front of the ballroom transformed into chain-linked fence courtrooms. We had to be escorted by ICE officials wherever we went. They were pretty nice guys...from all over...NY, Dallas...they seemed uncomfortable with the fact that we might not like them too much because we are pro-immigrant, and so they joked about the situation. Like when we informed them about our lunch plans (pizzas that we'd have to pick up at the front gate from a scared bosnian pizza deliverer) and the officer jokingly asked to share our pizza. We sat in that trailer (most sat, but a few stood for lack of chairs) and filled out forms to see the clients. We sat. Until one o'clock
when the head lawyer started to realize that their clients (the detained immigrants) were being denied the right to see their lawyers. She started pushing the ICE attorneys to answer to why they aren't allowing us to see the clients. After about an hour of aggravating questions, we realized that they are trying to push criminal charges on the immigrants before they get a chance to see the lawyers who could advise them on their rights on what to say or not say--immigration advice. Once we realized that we wouldn't be allowed to see them, the group disbursed...talking to the press, the archbishop, politicians and lobbyists about the situation.

So we left the Cattle congress feeling useless, but who cares...at least I'm not denied my rights, i don't live in fear of the government, I get to see my family and I have a futon and a pillow welcoming me.

I've had other experiences I'll be writing about as soon as I have a moment. Today I'm headed to a jail with a priest to help interpret. I want to give these people a friendly face before to remember before they are sent home (injustly, i might add).

2008-02-06T08:05:00.001-08:00

Last night I brought out my chips, salsa, and non-microwaved popcorn; I turned on our TV to tuition-paid CNN, and watched history go by. What an exciting Super Tuesday. People passed through, sat down and we discussed our opinions over the political analists. They spend their whole adult life and more researching political patterns, and we've barely begun to be adults, but I'm more interested in what me and my friends have to say than those smart-folk on the tv. I totally expected to be alone in the lounge, staring at the screen and memorizing data to regurgitate later. But rather I had the privilege to see my friends get excited about politics. I think we only had one person who has always been a left-er. The rest of us had voted for our sad leader four years ago, deceived by our churches, our parents, and that right party. I can't talk about it without becoming a little angry because I see it as straight deception and manipulation of good intentioned people who don't come in contact with a diversity of opinions. Had I not met some of the people that I did or experienced what I did, then I would probably still vote to the right.

Now I see, as many do, that my religion calls for us to be incredibly more broad in the application of our convictions. Pro-life - what does that mean? All life - unborn, convict, Iraqi, poor...life is life. Humans are humans-that is the only qualification that is required for them to be valued and loved. Most people get that already--maybe not most but a lot of people. I love that.

So we watched and analyzed and reflected. But when Obama came on to speak, it was silent. We were so engaged by his speech that all we would say is 'Wouldn't this be amazing to have him as our pres...' And the crowd, instead of needing calculated pauses and raised intonations to know that they should respond (McCain...for example)...that crowd responded to his words. We felt like we were in a black baptist church-call and response, strong audience participation. It was his speech and his enthusiasm and intensity that engaged us all. And the ideas...they made me say "Yes...if only we could do that!"

So I'm young. So I'm passionate. So I want a president who inspires me. A president that could make me proud of my country rather than ashamed of it. Maybe i'll feel differently when i'm older. Maybe i'll be less excitable. Maybe i'll value experience over inspiration. But for now, I'm going to enjoy my ignorance and revel in my naiveté.

Its a blizzard here, so classes are canceled, student teachers are rejoicing, and I'm going to enjoy some down time...and try to remember that not everyone agrees with me :)

hail from the cloudy sunny state

2008-01-08T18:33:00.001-08:00

yes, i'm in california and its cloudy. forcast for today: 58 and sunny. reality? 50 and cloud-covered. i came here in part to have a sunny beginning to the normally dreary month of january. but...its sunny in spirit. i have long and short talks with my friends here...its lovely. and all the people i've met have been super friendly. the woman at the antique store in town asked me for her advice on a neck scarf she was considering buying. she opted for all (both) the scarves. why not? i got three!

ive spent the day reading Thomas Merton's New Seeds of Contemplation and finding the most recent new hampshire election results. for some reason, both give me the same feeling. TM's words are so thoughtful and complex but simple. and so is this election...maybe...sorry TM. the election is something i don't completely understand, yet willingly take part in because its something i must do. i feel full of paradoxes when i'm thinking about candidates: i think none of them have integrity, yet i think that all humans have value and potential. i think the leading candidates are inherently less authentic, but i also believe that they are best for the job because of that.

well, TM is much more interesting in almost every way. i feel like i can't say anything or else i'd have to say everything. but one cool thing was about peace...and how its not always felt. and if its pursued on its own, for its own sake, its not possible to obtain.

california? lovely. looking towards my last semester of college? painful and unavoidably enticing. i'm anxious to go back...to see my friends and all that, but sad that its ending. I feel better about it from here. i guess i can see the big picture better. guatemala...life really begins here when schooling is finished.

family is more an more important. knowing my country is more and more important.

thats all for now.

Order

2007-08-11T08:38:00.000-07:00

It's true that life has its cycles, its rhythms, its patterns. I just discovered one of them, again. Everything seems to get pulled out of place, like a shelf full of books and papers and junk. It all is torn down, thrown onto the floor. Like the scattered junk, my emotions are left unordered and overlapping. So I stare at the mess that reminds me of a go fish pile and resort to helplessness, eyes covered from the disaster.

When I finally peek out from behind my hands, I see the book shelf has transformed: each section is clearly labeled. All I need to do is take the lost items and put them above the indicated area. The work still is tedious because there is so much and its so confused there on the floor. But somehow knowing where everything belongs makes the process almost relaxing. If I look too hard at the size of the pile, then I can feel the frustration and nervousness begin, but I remember the labels, and the clouds part to show the sun that was always there.

I'm going back to my little college in 6 days. Leaving this place that is like a pleasant limbo - neither here nor there - and I'm parting for a definite there. I have been here so long that there seems more like over yonder than there. Thank God I have wonderful friends waiting for me. But I will always think, in these times of transition, of the friends who I've had to leave. The ones I love dearly, but may never see again. These thoughts make me want to either go back to those people or stay in the same place so i won't have to ever do it again. Its the hardest part.

Now I have a week. A week of daytime editing a video for work, work, work, and evening fun with the friends I will have to leave. Hopefully, my labels will stay clear and the clouds won't close. But if they do, at least I have all these friends, mostly in my memory or in my phone, to stare at that mess with me.

Back where I belong ?

2007-07-13T20:54:00.000-07:00

I see its been since april since ive published. april. well. hopefully no one's reading this now. Where am i now? suburbia, texas. i went to hawaii to visit my brother. wonderful. my other brother went too and the three of us + my sister-i.l. hung out all week. the most active 6 days of my life and now i cant stop. work seems even more like a gray, monotone, stifling building than before (note: i LOVE the people i work with...i love the admins...they make life worthwhile. caring, crazy people!). but i can't complain...its good work and good money. but i'm not comfortable there. i can't wait to get out of the ac and into the sweaty sun or even the rain. feel something. run into people...instead of being separated by awkwardly height-ed cubicles. but i can't imagine a job that wouldn't make me feel this way. because what i want is what i've had all last year, or even at school. i mean, i've been pretty darn spoiled...studying is NOT working, at least so far...and being with people...that's waht i miss. people.

i wonder if i'll be able to adjust. i see now that i went through a time of separation from the people around me so i could be okay to travel for a year +. but i'm curious if i'll be able to re-attach. I guess its always a challenge.

I feel like im in another waiting period. But i need this one. I'm getting "centered"...i think I need the time...even the 8hrs a day to make the other 4-5 that i have awake more precious.

i run...i almost have to...i watch soccer-that's fun. i cook a bit (very little) and i have a million things i want/need to do that i don't get to. like tonight...I'm exhausted. friday night at 11pm. that's not even late! but i've gotta catch up.

I'm the typical 20some year old coming back from world wanderings, shocked by the world around her. confused about my identity and character - i feel more like i have multiple me s...they don't seem to connect yet. especially not here. and i wonder which one is the real one? which one is the best one?

i went to starbucks the other night with a friend. i ordered a decaf coffee and the lady said that i'd have to wait for it to brew if that's ok. she said nervously "it'll be two and a half minutes?". i said that i had no where to go except where i was. so i waited and we chatted about working and how its not at all fun...the three of us. and then the two minutes was up, the chatting was over, and i put the money out to pay her and i couldn't! she said they can't allow people to pay if they've had to wait!!!! two and a half minutes. three if i round up. People don't have three minutes and require a free drink!??? what has become of this place i live in? seriously. maybe its just because i need those 2 minutes of waiting and that conversation with that lady because it makes my day better. two minutes. hup. three. damn. odd.

The End of the World

2007-04-19T03:26:00.000-07:00

Now i've seen the end of the world. I'll tell you its there. You think the world has all been seen and it is never ending...going around in circles forever. You think its all been discovered. I'll tell you you're wrong. I've seen the end of the world. The very tip of the known world. I looked over the savage cliffs down into the raging ocean and wondered what sort of gifts that water has brought back from the other worlds that lie beyond that golden horizon. And the winds that blew my shortened hair seemed foreign, like they knew something I didn't. I gazed through my wild locks toward the sea and something was whispering to me...what is it saying?

Oh yes. I'm not at the end of the world at all. I'm at Cabo Sao Vincente near Sagres, Portugal in the Algarve, the southernmost region of Portugal. I was at the most south-western point of the Iberian Peninsula. As magical as the end of the world would be, I looked over the ocean and could only imagine the end of the ocean, where the land starts again. The New World that is so familiar to me. I think what I heard was the pieces of my heart that lie scattered across that other land...

I wish i could've seen it without thinking of the other side, but i can't. I can't think of now without thinking of then and when and if...maybe that's what peace could be...settling into the friction of the known and the unknown.

Enough of the poetic prose. I'll tell you about my adventure: Portugal, oh my dear Portugal. I was in Porto 4 days and it was wonderful. My friend and I saw the whole town, which is a conquerable size, and more. We took a day trip up to Braga to see a Good Friday service and ceremony. It was beautiful...there was a boy's choir that sang so beautifully. I felt like I was on Holy ground...but unfortunately no one else there felt that way, it seemed. People walked in and out like we were in front of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. Take a quick look, maybe a bad picture, comment on its surprising size, sigh, and leave. But God was there despite their indifference.

That evening we saw the most beautiful sunset from the train station. It was setting behind a building and we could see it if we were standing up, but then my friend sat down and I asked her "Can you see the sun from there?" she said "No". So i sat down with her, out of curiosity, and wondered why she preferred to sit. I looked at the sky, and saw all the beautiful lights that the sun was throwing onto a huge black cloud. Then slowly, the descended further and further down into the cloud. I realized that it was more beautiful to watch the sunset without seeing the sun. Indirect. And the huge, ominous cloud that eventually hid the sun was also what made the sun's light and color more lovely. I made the easy connection between God and the sun...on earth we only get to see the colors and lights of God, but they are amazingly beautiful. I think of people first...where else is God more beautiful than in his greatest work of art into which he threw the very essence of himself? And i thought of the big dark cloud and thought of the hard times in life. Without them would we be able to see the beauties of life? I believe so, but even with those hard, dark, seemingly huge difficulties, God's presence makes contrast with the darkness and can become especially brilliant...a full spectrum of His goodness.

And i don't think i can move on yet. I'll just let that one rest for a day or so. i think i'm too tired to write about facts and events. we'll try tomorrow

Into the Woods

2007-03-12T14:24:00.000-07:00

So there's a forest by my house...well its called a woods but its not really that either. Its just a park, but i think a park in france has gravel sidewalks and you can't sit on the grass. This park doesn't match up with the french definition because there are concrete, dirt, and gravel sidewalks. And its HUGE and treed. Therefore, it must be a woods. I've only ventured to the lake...because its so pretty and there are so many people and odd things happening that its hard to leave once i'm there.

Sunday is my usual woods day and i've been especially motivated to run because of the sunshine that has been so kindly bestowed upon Paris by the meteorologist. The meteorol....the weather lady on one of the channels wears knee-bearing skirts, shows cleavage, and stands crooked with her one knee pointing northeast and her other knee points north west...i have to watch the weather with a tilted head when she's on....i want to teach her how to square up to the tv like i learned to square up to the basket...its exactly like that! she's shooting crooked...well its not been messing up her shot so far...sun predicted, sun delivered.

Back to Sunday. The sun and my everlasting fear of having to buy new jeans called me out to run. I walked down the street, took my normal left and a right, but when i was about to cross the street and arrive at the not-so-wooded-woods, i was interrupted by the paris half-marathon. it was crazy! i felt so at home...i saw runners of all ages and types...numbers stickered on their fronts...i reminisced to the days of cross-country races and thought about my dad someday running the boston marathon...

But then I saw something...brown/green wool socks. Then i started looking at the footwear--you would not believe the quantity of dark, tall socks i saw! And not athletic socks. Then i started to realize that this marathon was france-specific....but not yet...i saw a man running shoeless. now that's more like home...then i saw a one-man band make his way to 13ish miles...the crazy runner. that's right. Finally, i was undeniably convinced that i was in france: a half marathoner scooted across the entire width of the runners to say hello to a couple he recognized (in paris!) who were right next to me. He didn't just wave and run on, he had to keep the french custom of giving the woman both greeting kisses before scooting on. Oh, france. Viva la tradition!

So my odd marathon experience ended about there, but it was only the beginning. At the woods i saw many other strange and/or beautiful events:

young and old, all races, all shapes and sizes of both dogs and lovers. Often it was lovers with a dog. Every park in France, and Spain, has at least one pair of lovers who approach pg-13 levels of displays of affection. why not?
and where there are lovers, there are bound to be children...eventually. i will always love the fat little baby all bundled up in a stroller or in the arms of a parent...so chubby, so cute. But the real star of the almost-woods is the 2-4 yr old child who has usually abandoned his bike (it is now being pushed by his father/mother) and is pointing precariously at the geese or running towards something with more freedom and enthusiasm than i'll ever know.
an old man desperately waving his wooden cane across the lake, signaling to someone who i'm sure didn't see his efforts. he looked disappointed when he sat down.
a man running in a white sweater...french and fashion.
a man running in a sweater-vest.
a woman running with a sweater-collar under her shirt.
lots of couples rowing on the lake...the young couples are my favorite. The boy, hardly 17, has never ever rowed a boat in his life but needs to seize this potentially romantic moment. The worst is the beginning...he's flailing the one paddle to get the boat to turn, but nothings happening. Sometimes the girl just sits silently, sometimes she laughs at/with him, sometimes she takes over, but the couple with the most potential of compatibility was the one where the girl was completely oblivious of his flapping as she filmed the scenery on her tiny camera as the boy figured things out. Quality.
a man in his 50s sunbathing alone in a speedo. At first, I thought he was naked...i would've been less shocked, somehow.
a man running in quality nike's and cut-off jeans.
springtime and all its green and pinkness dominating in this strange, french world.

I'm sure there are things i've forgotten because there's so much to see! after i'm done making my body suffer, the endorphins are running high and i just take one more slow lap around the lake and soak it all in...bridges, flowers, and weeping willows make a great backdrop for the woody theatre.

Out of Tune

2007-03-07T09:59:00.000-08:00

So, life in a foreign country is not so bad. I'm happy, but currently i'm experiencing a friction...insatisfaction that is so typical in life. I feel distant from my dream of decent french--now i see the reality my french and its not so pretty as it should be...the more i know of a language the more i know that i don't know it at all...this is my future--and from my ideal experience. Now I'll go into too much detail to describe those few sentences.

I'm actually over-enjoying about having a nice room to myself...all my hobbies are indoor: reading books or wikipedia or news, drinking coffee/tea, crocheting, writing, doing homework...so i have to make myself go out. I have ridiculous amounts of time. I only have class in the morning on MTW and only in the afternoon ThF. I have homework, but its not hard...more than spain, less than the US of A. And i'm going through the stage where I hate hearing myself speak french because i know how bad my accent is, i can hear my mistakes, i continue to make the same damned mistakes over and over and i'm sure that i'll never get any better. i'm even frustrated with my english....i realize that i am barely comprehensible by my friends now when it used to be just my mom...and if i want to teach ESL (which seems like it will enter my life at some point) i have to learn to speak clearly.

I'm frustrated. And my french teacher is very kind but the french way to teach (so they tell me is the justification for her attitude) is to maintain control of the class by not listening to the students and always assuming they are wrong. I like that she's strict--thats fine--but she corrects us (me sometimes) tactlessly. But i think i'll learn from her. I almost cried in class today (don't be shocked into sympathy...almost crying has little to do with actual crying, which doesn't even require that great of a provocation) because i defined a word by saying that it puts "emphase" (emphasis) on something...but she said "No, you said that word yesterday too and its wrong." That pretty much summed up my frustration with the situation of myself and the french language...always saying the wrong word (which turns out to exist in the french language, but i just discovered from my not-so-friendly dictionary that it means "pompous". Good...) repetitively and ignorantly. But then we chatted over our coffee break about languages...an appropriate subject matter for a french student and teacher. She speaks French Spanish and English too. cool eh?

And it was in that conversation that i realized that most conversations i have are driven by each participnt trying to get out as much of what he/she wants to express. or maybe its just what i do...i definitely do that and it kills conversations. I still need to learn to pose more questions--or maybe its changing my perspective to actually care more about what the other person is wanting to say. I think i do care, but i'm interrupted by what Mean Girls referred to as "word-vomit"...or something like that...i'd like to think better of myself that myself acts.

I crocheted some amateur mittens this last week. I also finished A Prayer for Owen Meany which was AMAZING can i say again AMAZING and long, but i read it steadily on the metro. This morning i was on an over-crowded metro and when the doors opened and everyone got out, we all seemed to walk nervously like we'd all just been violated. sometimes people on the metro look like cows, standing dumbly and staring randomly.

Another problem: this week has been nice because i've had time to myself, but its been weird because i haven't really spent too much time with other people. I'm pretty happy...i like this side of Katy-independent, well-read, well-prepared, satisfied. But last night i went to our program class (which is NOTHING like Granada seminar or the culture shock classes...where time and intelligent banter is less important...here our class is all intellectual about the political philosophy of the french) and i saw my friends friends and i got all excited, but i couldn't let any of that energy out because i had to pay attention in class or at least feign paying attention and then i had to run home for supper. so i gave alli the mittens, wrote notes in class, tried not to giggle during class, and then went home. But i'm gonna get out tonight hopefully. If not, i'm definitely gonna go check out this yarn store that keeps eluding me. I'll catch it one of these days.

Balance. That's what I need. Time for me and time for me +company. Duh. I hate it when the answer to a question is simple...it belittles the importance of the problem. Its the same with my general frustration--it could easily be labeled as "culture shock" or someone could draw me the diagram that shows the process of language immersion (which is not at all what i'm in, but close enough) with its upward slopes followed by plateaus...I really don't care that what i'm feeling perfectly exemplifies the experience of living in a foreign country, trying to learn the language. What i care about is figuring out what i can do to use the frustration for improving.

And if this whole description of my current perspective on life seems a little too negative, that's not what exactly what I'm experiencing. Its more like a slight friction. Its like when you're trying to get a note in tune and its just not working (i never mastered musical instruments enough to do it easily)...it slides out of tune and the beats get quicker...i hate that feeling. But i know that after some time...i won't notice the beats anymore and its because i'll have worked them out...i'll finally have tuned in my ear to the french culture, language, and people...as well as it can be tuned.

An Unexpected State of Being

2007-03-01T11:46:00.000-08:00

The truth: I am still happy here in Paris.

I suppose the average Jane wouldn't be too surprised to hear that, but I am almost unbelieving at my happiness. I was sitting with my friends, talking over warm, over-priced mugs about our expectations for the next few months. I mentioned that i expected to become very frustrated and sad within about a month. Actually, i think i projected the exact schedule of my emotional journey. I've been here in paris for over a month and in France for two. I am still content. I don't feel lonely, or sad, or depressed, or frustrated, or annoyed (except my state during the lit class i had today that was taken over by silent, apathetic american college students).

Maybe you still don't understand, but I do. I like Paris life: i have independence, yet i'm in contact with other nationalities, my french family, and my american friends. I finally have a class that is somewhat challenging.

My friend who was in Granada with me came to visit me, and we appreciated together the joys that Paris has to offer: diversity of people and architecture, independence, art...Granada is a perfect place to be social for "pas cher"...cheap good times...the weather is ideal...and the town and the country have such an intriguing history. But, Granada is homogenous-we felt so out of place all the time! One way of dressing, acting, living...it was a good way, but everything else was "other". On the other hand, paris is a whole city of "other"s

Well, enough about Paris. What am I thinking about while i live so happily? I'm reading "A Prayer for Owen Meany" which, unlike the movie that steals the books' wonderful plot, is WONDERFUL. It sneaks questions into my long, awkward metro rides. Its the kind of book that one reads for every word, not for finishing. I'm already at page 434 as of my last metro ride and i started reading it only 2 weeks ago!

I have been forced to ask what it means to be a follower of God, outside of the "christian" culture and my concepts. I find it means much more than I think it does.

I feel like I am every self-reflecting, study-abroad-ing american student in all i say here, but what else can i be? I think maybe its not so important to be unique as to be honest.

I have learned that i am best when I am me. When i look at situations that were failures, I rarely acted as i would naturally. I mean, I'm not evolving into an instinct-follower to the extreme, but I am learning to have more confidence in doing what I would do...not what I should do...or could do...thanks to a few of my friends in granad, one in particular who always repeated "Do what you want to do. I'm going to do_________, but you do what you want to do." I'd never known that my opinion had so much value!

So I'm happy, relatively balanced, busy, challenged, and thoughtful. Now if only my confidence could make the sun shine...

Oh La La

2007-02-04T12:48:00.000-08:00

Well, here I am. In paris. I've dreaded it for so long, and now i'm finally here. (I only dreaded it because I always imagined it as one gray cloud hovering over my emotions, threatening to never allow me the color yellow...or blue) My fears are relieved, although its still cloudy cloudy here-it gave me a rest from the gray this weekend and let me breathe some sun-, mostly because i like my room. Isn't that crazy? I've got a 5'x 5' sky-light, tv, wi fi, a sound system, plenty of space and hardwood floors. i live <5min from the metro even though it takes me 45 minutes and a 3 lines to get to school. My family is pretty neat and have crazy busy lives. its nice to be with them. I feel good here.

strangers
An older woman showed me a quicker way to the metro after we worried together about the probability of rain.

friendly french
I come home, tired and hungry on friday hoping to have a quiet evening, when i find out we're having a huge amount of guests over for supper. i nervously creeped out of my room into the kitchen, hoping to avoid meeting everyone, but my host mom introduced me and about two seconds later a guy my age bounces across the room and throws questions at me rhythmically for the rest of the night(him in english, me in french). And he wants to hang out with my American friends :)

intellectual meandering
Walking around the Luxembourg Gardens with a friend, just talking about needs to be said...later i delved into a way deep topic, and my friend laughed at me, then kept up the conversation until we'd thought our way through it! she's great.

songs that give peace
i went to the church that's right by my house and it was just the right size. biggish and beautiful and old, but full of people! the mass was sung...apparently that happens...and it was so beautiful..everyone sang and participated in the mass. i felt really at home...and i'm not even catholic!

sunset in the woods
i got myself out of the house on a sunday afternoon! i walked to the "forest" of Vincennes...it is huge and beautiful and full of people...way full...there was a lake and it was beautiful...little boats you can rent...little kids that are all bundled up and running off...

most importantly
There are actually stores open on sunday.

So, its to say that i'm feeling quite optimistic. i suppose someone who wanted to diminish my feelings by placing the label "culture shock" on them and categorizing them as such would say that i'm in the "honeymoon" phase. well, i don't give a damn about that, but i am glad that i feel at peace and comfortable in my home. i wouldn't call that being overly-excited about things. I had a pretty rough week last week, so i'm glad to be feeling good. what i need is time to myself to reflect a bit. I say that over and over to make myself use the time i have...its easy to surf the net or watch tv..but i need productive time to myself.

That's the moral. And they actually do say "oh la la" all the time...a guy playing tennis at the gardens kept on saying that every time he messed up. and my host sister said it today when she was annoyed with her mom in a pre-teen way.

Pale days in Tours

2007-01-23T07:45:00.000-08:00

Monday, January 22, 2007

Well, here I am. In France. I guess I would say that I’m happy. I have more time to be at home, in my comfy room. Let me paint you a picture of my French family life: Claudette is my host (grand)mother. She is a minimalist, and she is constantly repeating to me “Do whatever you want” “Fais comme tu veux”. She makes in impossible to be nervous or awkward. Jacqueline, Claudette’s childhood friend, comes over about 3 times a week and they giggle, teach us songs, mock politicians, and talk about good old times. Oh, they make life worth living! And then there’s the C’s two sons B and V. B has a wife and 3 kids, a girl and two boys. Oh they are really great. I feel totally à l’aise – at ease – with that family. I have a housemate who lives right next door to me, Kiah, who is way cool. She and I may be from completely opposite sides of the country and from opposite friend-groups, but we get along really well. I don’t know what I would do without her. I guess I’ll find out when she leaves this Saturday! I’ll be lonely here, I think. Since K is here, I don’t ever want to go out for a coffee on weekday evenings…I also don’t get much done (i.e. this!). I spend most of my day, when I’m not in my oh-so-boring class, hanging out in the dining room with whatever visitors C may have at the house or chatting with Kiah. One of the regular visitors is another elderly woman (although she would freak out if she knew I called her that!), Ivonne. She taught me to crochet a potholder and she brings over crocheted stuff to look at together. Its nice to talk shop with a woman from another generation and in another language. Crazy.

One weekend, C invited me and K to go to a family party for something that I missed. I had imagined an intimate family party…and was wholly surprised when I walked into a large room rented from a Chateau, filled with around 100 French people. Then there was the awkward moment when, while giving the traditional 2 greeting kisses, I found that the number of kisses varied. Some gave 2, some gave 3, and some gave 4! Four kisses with all of the strange French people! Plus I had to figure out how many kisses belonged to who and…well one man jokingly informed me that, as the night went on and the wine continued to flow, the number of kisses could increase to five or six or seven!  In reality, the party lasted all night and included champagne, fancy appetizers, a wonderful dinner, wine, adults and children alike dressed up as cartoon characters or fish or plumbers (and the list goes on), and 70’s dance music. Yes, the YMCA was played. And yes, I danced. I made friends with some young French people there and have hung out with them since. I felt real lucky to get to see such a unique but typical snapshot of the French familiar life.

My town, as I have mentioned before, is gray. Completely. The houses are all a dirty gray-white stones. The sky is a pale gray with an eerie consistency. Even our meals seem to be all white: pork, gravy, cheese, bread…. I think if I stayed here much longer, I wouldn’t believe in any other colors. Well, green. They seem to allow green in parks. Oh and brown…that color sporadically decorates the ever-damp, ever gray sidewalk.

I went to a church on Sunday. It was scary to go because I went alone, by choice – its easier to meet people when you’re alone – but I did go. It was just like church at home…except music from ten years ago, translated into French…and also calmly Pentecostal. There were people of many different colors, countries, and cultures and I felt oddly at home being on the outside because I figured many of the people there knew exactly what it is like to never know what is going on!

Class. I’ve gotten to know some Japanese people who are really great. My friend Nobuko taught me how to say “Thank you,” “Hello” “Goodbye,” “He’s so cute” “Really?” and “Not too bad” in Japanese. I’m now fluent in the language of a 15 yr old Japanese girl.

All in all, I’m content. I’m trying to keep the weather from getting me down. I’m so blessed to have this family here, my housemate, and my friends from Central (I haven’t mentioned them, but they are awesome too!). I have a luxurious room, plenty of yarn and time to read Jane Eyre yet again. I think I’ll have to keep working on occupying myself because I can feel the pale dreariness of January-March tugging at my arm…prodding me towards laziness and boredom.

A Changing World

2006-12-04T12:50:00.000-08:00

One of the strange things that always happens to me when I have exciting new experiences is exciting new feelings that change constantly. I now look back on my last blog and shake my head…what was I thinking? I’m the most exaggerating person I know…and then I realize that even now I am exaggerating my experience. I have to learn to (a) appreciate the feelings I had, even if they have changed…such is life (b) understand that when I am experiencing exaggerated emotions that reality isn’t as close as it seems.

What has changed, you ask? Well, my whole world, I say (as I note the over-generalization that is that response). Before, I thought that I had never experienced friendship before like I have here…now, as I suffer light (and sometimes heavy) nostalgia…I remember, one by one, all of my dear friends from high school, college, work, Hungary, Mexico….and then I realize that I have never been alone. Somehow, everywhere I go, I meet wonderful people who offer a unique joy to me. Why was I surprised to encounter the same here? It turns out that I am something of a people lover…I’m sure that’s a lightening bolt of new information for my dear readers.

The other changes are more normal…I think they happen to everyone as they live in a distinct culture…culture shock they call it. I have a strong resentment for that phrase. It somehow takes all the emotions and thoughts experienced in any given time living in any new place and summarizes them in three syllables. So, generalize my experience if you like, but I’ll specify. About the time I wrote last, I was in the middle of the craziest week ever that i could describe it in detail but that's boring.
After these sad feelings passed and the stressful to-do items got to-done, I began to enjoy myself a little more. I still could hardly bear being away all year…I can’t quite express how much I miss all of my homes…the peace of my house…the lovely taste of peanut butter fudge ice cream in my brick-streeted college town...and the incredible little people that are my niece and nephew. I was really excited for mom to come visit me then

So here I am, less than 3 weeks out from leaving this country, and I am happy. I appreciate this culture in many ways. The climate here is perfect; the whole world lives in the streets, eating, drinking but most importantly talking; the history of this town is incredible and powerful; the Spanish language is beautiful in every way; and more than anything, it has given me a space to be myself and grow myself.

I’m sure tomorrow I’ll laugh at what I say today, but it’ll still be true what I say. What I mean to say is, I’m happy, and I’m coming home.

2006-11-09T05:08:00.000-08:00

So something happened on Sunday afternoon at around 4:20. It was unexpected, unforeseen, surprising. I had spent all morning (and the entire week before) worrying about the proportion of time I spent alone and the time I spent with people. All the time I had between classes was filled in with coffees….all my weekend nights were spent out so that I had to compensate for the lack of sleep on the next day, waking up just in time to grab lunch, avoid a siesta, and find a coffee with someone.

So I had no “free” time to crochet, knit, read, write, think, watch movies, drink tea….all the things that held me together over the last year when everything was changing so much. I have become so accustomed to preferring to be alone, quiet, thinking or crocheting, or listening to music, over going out with people. So I was beginning to feel that I had lost my identity here in Spain. But what did not connect was that I was always happy to be with my friends. I would grumble before going out saying, “Oh I’m so tired….I have no time to myself….I just want to stay home and read, but you see, this is the only day that _______ can go out” or “I haven’t seen _________ all week” or “All the other girls are going….” And I would come go out, despite my grumblings.

The difference between this and what used to happen when I would go out without wanting to is that I am generally incapable of being very grumpy at all with my friends here. I always have a good time. I, for the first time, feel incredibly at home with them. I don’t feel like I’m “too much”….when I burst out passionately about some unimportant political situation to which I have randomly attached deep sentiments, my friends here are never taken aback….I never leave them saying “Oh, I hope I didn’t freak them out with that”….and if I were to cry with them, it would be totally acceptable.

Maybe it’s that my friends here are not all from a conservative Christian area….maybe women in other parts of the States are more like me. Well, its not that we’re that much alike, but just that I’m not the weird one. Well, I may be the weird one, but I don’t feel like it. I always leave them feeling better, or if not better (we have some pretty serious conversations) at least satisfied and understood. When do I ever feel understood? Yeah, my friends here talk a lot and I can hardly get a word in edgewise, but they also know how to listen.

To sum it up: I am happy. This is miracle that happed around 4:20pm on Sunday. Mom and Dad revealed to me that maybe I’m just happier going out with my friends. And today I had the day to myself because of uninteresting details, and I realize that I don’t really like to be alone. I can do it. There are times in my life when I am happy alone….and I’m glad that I’ve established that independence. But, Katy, at the core of her, is happier with a friend than alone.

Long time no Footage

2006-10-27T06:43:00.000-07:00

The foot is back. What has transpired in these oh-so-life-changing weeks? To summarize: the exotic has become ordinary. Instead of being a country full of adventures and monuments and sights to see, now its my friends Alvaro, Dani, Ivan...the little coffee shop on my way to school...the plaza that would be beautiful but is full of ugly black birds (i try to walk around the edge so i don't accessorize my outfit with unwanted residue)...

Classes. I have those too. They are cool. I have 5 real live classes (history, lit, politics of european union, lit, and a conversation class) and 3 or 4 extra classes...phonetics, culture stuff, and grammar....its kind of a lot. This last 2 weeks have been a race...a blur...crazy fast...nuts...i watched a formula one race....its been like that. I'm at class all day so i don't have time to relax much. I go to one class, have a break (intending to study or read about the world...), and see a friend and grab a coffee...those coffees with my friends are amazing...life-changing...essential. But the problem is that when I get home for supper (we eat "early" at 9:30) and then hang out with the guys i live with (my intense spanish time)...by the time i force myself to start my homework i finish at like 2am!

Well...i've conlcluded that carpe diem is a lie. Life is not only right now. My life is yesterday and tomorrow. But, at the moment, I'm forgetting tomorrow....but i need to stop and smell my red tea with roses.

I'm starting to worry about my next semester in france. I hope i like it there. I'm afraid that when I leave all my friends here, it'll be like pulling a rug out from under my little feets. But...that's the adventure of life.

Peace.

Home Sweet Home

2006-10-08T04:31:00.000-07:00

ahh...home. i never thought home could be a 10x10 room in granada, spain, but its true. I got back last night (after a 13 hr bus ride) from travelling for a week. It was too much.

Madrid: nice town...really big (fancy that). people looked all done up all the time...i felt dressed down and very blond there. we went with the whole group from the program (60) and that was fine most of the time because we split up into small groups during our free time. However, when we were doing stuff as a group (going to Toledo, Segovia, the palace, a play) it was frustrating because (a) i don't like sticking out as an american (b) i don't like big groups of people (c) we functioned as a massive group of sheep, blindly, dumbly following each other. It was hard to feel like i was doing fun things because it was like in high school when a teacher tells you to read a book you automatically think "i hate books. stupid teacher". even though its a masterpiece and probably the best book you've read. but i enjoyed the trips. Toledo is pretty much a town built on a big rock/island. its really pretty. Segovia has a castle from a fairy tale, and the rest of the town feels like small town iowa. the play we saw "El Tunel" was really interesting...i understood most of the confusing story line.

San Sebastian: How can i describe this place? Our experience suggested a direct correlation between hostel sketchy-ness and city cool-ness. We stayed at Olga's Place. Yes, Olga was the owner, a russian woman with a spanish husband named Rafael. Olga and Rafael were more or less tipsy the whole time we were there, as far as Sarah and I could tell. Maybe they always slur and sway a bit when they talk. The first night, we got to the hostal and after a bit, we were hungry (it was about 12:00). In Granada, at 12:00 there are plenty of bars and restaurants ready to feed you...but in San Sebastian, everything shut down at about 10 pm. So Rafael kindly offered us "mslkthoysdoihgsljdf". We accepted. Olga and Rafael's kitchen is also the hostal's kitchen...it was not quite like my kitchen in dallas....as far as size, cleanliness, and content. "melksjgkhtous" is actually lentil soup...reheated from some point during maybe that day. While sarah and i waited for the soup to heat up, we slowly became less uncomfortable and more grateful. then as we were eating, rafael came in once to encourage us to eat more. then he came in again and said "slkgh dflkjtouois asdhgoutoigh slkdhgutou". then again...saying the same but without a shirt...then he came in a gain to tell us to eat more...still with no shirt....then sarah and i looked at each other, finished our soup quickly and decided to leave before he came out only in his boxers. Oh, Olga's Place.

The town itself was gorgeous. It was cloudy the whole time and rained off and on all day, but that made the town more beautiful. the bay was gorgeous...we walked along the water at night during a storm...and the people along the promenade were all old and cute and friendly. the nicest people i've ever encountered. we went up Mt. urgil to see an amazing view of the town, bay, beach, sky. it was a lovely day. we went to about 5 other places that day, running across town, but it was great. That night we got 2, 3hr naps between when our roommates went out to the bars and when they came back from the bars, giggling and taking pictures of the guy who was snoring as he slept in his black tighty-whities.

then there was barcelona. what can i say? i was "hangry" (state of being angry because of hunger...a state i am in about 75% of the time) and tired most of the time...we saw some cool stuff...including a spanish movie "Alatriste". the gothic town was cool and we saw some cool Gaudi architecture. the gothic cathedral was the coolest cathedral i've ever seen. then we woke up at 6am to take a 13 hr bus to granada.

If you are my friend, and you wonder if i think of you ever...the truth is i think of you all the time. i can't enjoy a sunset, a beautiful view, or wonderful architecture without thinking of who else would enjoy this or who i wish could see this with me.

now i'm home...watching The simpsons in spanish with a couple of the guys i live with here. soon i'm going to get a "Doner kebab" sandwich...a turkish sandwich that is really cheap. hopefully i'll get my pictures set up on a website soon. classes start tomorrow, and then we have a break next weekend...maybe portugal...and soon i'll go to morocco...i dont' know when yet.

peace
katy

A more Verbose Update

2006-09-24T13:47:00.000-07:00

Its officially been one week here. I felt like I was running a race...like it was a whole week of church camp...lots of late nights, animal crackers, and horse rides. ok, so not the last two, but i was like super social for a whole week straight. Thursday night I got to experience an amazing social phenomenon. The guys I live with, Jose Luis (JoseLu) and Alvaro, took us (me, mike and sarah) to a botellon. A botellon is when students all get together by a street and stand in little cirles and talk and...mostly drink. Joselu was done with a big test, so we were celebrating. It was amazing. One person decides when and where the botellon should be, then that person tells their friends, who tells their friends, and so on until hundreds of people come. Jose said that one time there was a macrobotellon with thousands of people. i guess it was packed. I was a little nervous to go because i (1) don't drink to get drunk ever (2) become very uncomfortable when hit on, and drunk guys tend to do that and (3) perceived a botellon to be wild. Well, it was actually really comfortable. It wasn't packed, so it was just Jose, Alvaro, Mike, Sarah, and two of jose's friends who were really nice. We just talked. Although there was drunkenness, there was no wildness, no fights, no awkward advances. Just socializing. We didn't go until 12 or 1am and most people left after 2am to go to discotecas for the rest of the night. We just stayed (much to jose's disappointment) and hung out until about 3:30. I didn't get to sleep until 4:30, and we had to get up at 8:30 for class! It wasn't bad.

On Friday, we walked forever to go up to Sacramonte. It was neat, but not really worth the walk. In Granada there are 4 cool areas (that I know of) The center, where the Cathedral and some cool plazas are, Albayzin (on a mountain/hill with a beautiful view...Former president Bill Clinton told Hillary that he loved her for the first time when he was there...and named it the most beautiful sunset in the world.) Sacramonte (where there's an old university, a made-up story about some saint, and a good view. And the Alhambra, where the old palace is...we haven't gone there yet but its the oldest part of Granada, and its beautiful. I can see all three from my back terrace.

Friday night we (Sarah, me Clarissa, Jen, and Ariana) went out for tapas. That's when you order a drink and get a little plate of free food. We had some good stuff, and some bad stuff. We're still figuring out the whole spain thing.

Saturday I took off. I felt like i'd been running on a high, and I didn't want to hit a wall, so I just slowed myself down. I did some homework, studied a little extra, and started a new scarf...no that was today. Well, it was a relaxing day/night. I did the same thing today, just rested...and started a new scarf out of the undone hat that was so very unsuccessful. i have a good pattern, so it should turn out well.

Tonight we went to a bullfight and it was out of this world. I thought it would bother me, but i really enjoyed it. I had decided to not get grossed out or horrified by the tortured bull thing, and focus on the technique of the matador, the response of the crowd, the order and majesty of the event, and the music of the band. There was one, "el Fandi", who is from the area, so the crowd loved him. he also showed off a lot and made it a spectacle...he was breathtaking...he would build the anticipation, and then do something cool, which was way cooler because you were holding your breath until he finally struck the bull, always wondering if it would be him or the bull to go down. Oh, it was awesome. Not for all the americans, some girls hated it. A few decided it would be a good time to talk loudly and be unobservant...but i decided not to get grossed out or horrified...ok, maybe i was just annoyed :)

I'm reading Thomas Merton's "New Seeds of Contemplation". It perfectly expresses what I want to think...I'm always reading it and saying "Shoot, I had almost figured that out myself", but really i probably would never...he's a smart guy. I think it is the best expression/description/explanation of my faith that could exist, so far. I've only read 3 chapters, and I've been a little over-the-top lately...wait, that's just me all the time.

I've found some good friends here...people that have good hearts and are fun. I think me and Sarah are going to Prague on the 3rd of October until the 8th. Hopefully, if we can get tickets for not a ridiculous price. Its kind of crazy.

Well, that is my update. Hopefully, I'll get some pictures posted soon. Until later, keep on talking to me! I have internet at my house and so I'm online quite a bit, and it makes me happy when i have new mail. And email me your address so that I can send you a postcard.

I´m in Spain!

2006-09-17T11:10:00.000-07:00

Amigos! Its so cool here!
Events:
Had to rush across the london airport with a couple from spain, a girl from our program, and a french girl on her way to madrid to study...sweaty, making friends.

Disappointment: didn´t get to conquer travelling in europe on my own, but i made friends with a whole ton of girls on our program.

Happyness: When we got to the hotel, Sarah and i explored a bit to find her way cool hostel where it could not be found...like the 13th floor in that one book...

I´m american: we got the group and went to eat at this turkish place that was awesome but we broke every cultural rule because we didn´t know where to go, sit, eat or pay. that was fun.

Lovely: cafe con leche with friends in a nice little plaza

Overly excited: today i caught myself saying ¨that is the coolest thing i´ve ever seen¨ in reference to a playground.

Family: i´m living in the same place mike h was last year. this woman, maria, and her husband, teodoro, and their granddaughter have two flats, one on the 5th and one on the 7th and they host spanish students...and me and a guy from our program named mike. he´s pretty cool...we speak spanish all the time, which is great.

Boy/girl ratio on the program: 5/40. boy/girl ratio where i live: 15/3 (including the mother and granddaughter). but i don´t live on the same floor as most of them. i live on the floor with the family and i guess a couple guys will live there too.

Cirles: we walked in them while we explored the city...pretty much we haven´t quite found our way back...we saw internet for 1 euro, and we took the chance.

Current state of being: content, hungry, exited that the slow climb to the top of the roller coaster is over and i´m free-falling into spanish life and culture.

Current state of love for you guys: very high.

Ok, I´m done. oh, and my number i gave you is wrong, so don´t call me.

Love and peace,

katy

Wisdom and 13 days

2006-09-01T18:48:00.000-07:00

Today I lost my wisdom...all 4 peices. A man named Ramsey ripped them out of my open mouth as I slept. What a shame. But, I'm on some great pain medicine...my brain is oddly clear and my mouth is pain-free. I never knew how simple it could be to lose my insight.

On to more important information: I leave for Spain in only 13 days! I have my cell phone, a perfect bag, and I've just gained some foolishness! I'm set to go. Only 3 days of work, a horrible trip to the Houston consulate for my visa (may God save those sad people), packing the perfect bag, and walking onto the plane. What a dream.

I think tomorrow i'll finish the bag I'm crocheting/knitting. It is 2 big granny squares in gold, brown, and cream, and I'm knitting the handle/sides. I'll put a picture up when its done. I think it'll be beautiful.

I can hear the apple sauce calling...soft and cool