The Gypsy Book

Randoms...

2011-04-01T03:59:00.000-07:00

My doll! Made by the talented women in Hanna's Co-op (Peace Corps Volunteer, Marrakesh region)

On the rare occasion when the internet is willing to upload pictures I plunge into my messy folders and randomly select a few moments to share. I've been in Morocc0 for 21 months now and although my intention was to write; I've found myself retreating into a space of uncertainty and cloudiness lately. Its not a bad space, its actually a familiar one; its a reminder of what's to come. Another transition is near, but my eyes have not adjusted yet... it's blurry, like I'm an outsider looking into myself now a days. Like "my doll" in the photo above, its a symbol of me... but what's inside is not clear,
I just know that it's way more than fluff...

Craft fair in Marrakesh.

This is the first time Aicha has been to the most famous of Morrocan cities. I'd like to thank my friend
Iva Lee Smith for donating the transportation funds which allowed Aicha to attend this craft fair. A grand opportunity for the Association to sell their Rustic Rugs!

Cultural Exchange; its happens on the daily here. But on this day it was tastier than ever. Empanadas! I can't say if they are Colombian, Dominican or Argentinian, I can only say that the women loved them and with all the food that they have shared with me, making these with them was a tiny tasty token of my affection (especially towards stuffed dough!)

Sadaqa - One of the principles of Islam - sharing / giving (charity) to the less fortunate. The women made a Cous Cous lunch for the whole village.

My awesome neighbors and their tasty kabobs...yum

Abdou!

the kids in their holiday best (leid kabir)

the single ladies of Baknou!

color combination success!

processing the wool...all by hand

no day care center here... bring your child to work day is everyday in the village. Ijelas has been immersed in the weaving culture since she was in her mothers womb. She will be sustaining her family's craft (inshallah)

So the internet has spoken, I cannot upload more images at the moment, but I am grateful to have shared these as they are a true reflection of my experience here.
until next time...

village life 101

2010-11-15T04:28:00.000-08:00

Henan, Abdou and Ijelas

Village life is simple. There's a lot of hard work to be done; but when it is, enjoying the fruits of your labor with your family is all you really need here. It takes less and less to make me smile these days, so as my time here winds down, I'd like to take time to reflect and give thanks to some of the reasons why I smile...

Always making time for fun during work - sandwich bags turn into labels for the women's carpets and hats for Ijelas and I.

Miriam enjoying the winter sun, and crocheting the day away

walking home from the association...

Fatoum and Hiba, lovely as ever.

Naima and Zhor

Corn is harvested primarily as food for the cows here. In return a healthy cow will produce milk (organic!) which they will make into butter, hence a healthy and happy family!

I highly encourage play time (I hope the ladies don't mind!)

getting ready to go to the association

Ihlam's little shoes = huge smile for me!

self explanatory...

Sometimes, they actually understand me when I speak! Oh Tamazight (I'm still struggling with language, but I've come to terms with it cause a smile goes long way!)

cleaning some wool with Saidda

Food for the next few months...

Making friends with the food... they actually ran into he house a couple of times; oh if they only knew what was gonna happen to them...

a good man in the making; he accompanies his father to the fields and his mother to the association.
oh Abdou!

heading to work with Jason... again encouraging play time.

Jason is the closest volunteer to me, he lives in my market town where I go to at leat once a week to buy groceries. (I always say he got stuck with me!) I hold him very close to my heart! Once in a while I join him and the youth of Gouramma in the "dar chebab" (youth house). Here we were on our way to teach a workshop on AIDS/HIV/STI's (one of a series which led to a great turn out and a fantastic culminating event!)

Peggy came to visit me! Friendship, fun, and food all in one! Taking a stroll towards the river...

Peggy, Vincent and I hitchhiking home on a hay truck...

At home... my washing machine...
labor intensive but worth the awesome feeling of wearing fresh, clean, clothes!

Moroccan hospitality is a culture of its own; never have I experienced such. Being a stranger in a foreign land quickly became a feeling of the past here. Village life requires you to participate, acclimate, adapt, and live as the locals do. It becomes very clear to me when I arrive in a big city here and don't know how to cross the street; the fear overwhelms me! Coming from NY you'd think hailing cabs and street smarts are embedded in me after years of subways, buses, plain ol' funky folks and everything that comes with city living. I'm officially a country bumpkin now and I'm embracing this new found love for the simple life. I'll take it while I can!

Thank you to my community for accepting me as one of them, yet respecting me enough to let me be me.

Rustic Rugs

2010-10-16T16:50:00.001-07:00

I've been in Morocco for a year now...

Too many thoughts to blog, too little time to waste;
I find myself busy with village life, yes, in this tiny little place.
Don't judge a book by it's cover, don't ever be fooled by one's size,
these women are huge in heart, talented & smart and
shwiya shwiya (little by little) will rise...

Hiba decided to take over after Aicha left for the day...

I'm working with women weavers. Long story short; they have talent, they have a vision, they have tradition. They need an outlet, an opportunity, a chance; to share their attributes outside of their
30 home village.

They meet everyday to work. Whether it's inside the association or at home sheering their sheep and washing the wool, "tadot" (wool yarn) is constantly being produced. Then the carpets are woven; they can take anywhere between 4 - 6 days to complete. (This style of carpet, which are 2x4 feet, with stripes)

The following photos are those of "my ladies" and their work. I refer to them as my ladies because they are my friends, family and everything here in Morocco. The share so much with me; so selflessly, (they're even teaching me how to weave) and expect nothing in return.

I share these in hopes or of you tasting a bit of our daily life...
Marjaba! (you are welcomed in)

Zahra (me!)

some of the finished pieces...

sourroundings

2010-02-09T11:14:00.000-08:00

Azalia Soussi; that's me!

You've already met Amal, my 11 year old sister. I'd like to introduce Mohamed and Itto Soussi. More than my Moroccan parents and friends, they have been an entry way to the community, the culture, and a grand source of caring and comfort. Itto refuses to take I'm full as an answer as she constantly insists that I eat more, Mohamed likes to watch the French news with me and discuss world politics using the magical talents that develop when you are learning a new language, and Amal... well she's still the energizer bunny!

Having this beautiful family by my side as I adapt to my surroundings has been invaluable...

when I first saw these all I craved were peanut m&m's

Zatoons: welcome to Olive Country

happy goat...

Plastic may be inspired by nature...
where does the pomegranate end and the plastic table cloth begin?

fish faces make create bonding experiences

baby Ishaan, hours after being born
(Moroccans don't name their sheep but born on the same day as my new cousin, it was meant to be)

Amal and I taking a break from pizza making to dance, shwiya

the foundation for many of the dishes here, yum!

donkey parking; seriously, this does exist

Not many things surprise me now a days, but the few that do, tend to be in nature. These flowers started blooming out of the blue, in the dry, winter, high mountains that I now call my home.

walking in a painting

2010-01-19T10:55:00.000-08:00

September 28, 2009

The concept of day and date has become distant. The routine of school, home, eat & sleep; 6 times a week is incredibly impactful. As beautiful as "walking in a painting" is, the opportunity to enjoy it is partially lost by being in a classroom for 10 hours a day.

our classroom window

The other day we moved the classroom outside. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon. There was just enough shade under a nearby tree to shelter 4 chairs and a dry erase board. We continued class outside and all of a sudden my day seemed so much brighter.

As soon as it changed for the better, we learned that a surprise was brewing on the other side of the mountain and it presented itself with full force within half and hour of us being outside. We heard rumbling, for a good 5 minutes or so then... there were deep dark sounds penetrating the peaceful blue sky. The gray clouds literally stormed in, they pushed the cotton ball clouds over and started releasing what looked like little round ice balls. I have never experienced hail up close like this…they hurt! A hail storm in the midst of a 70 degree day!

Before we knew it the dry Terra Cotta colored earth was covered in ice balls; it sounded like rocks were being thrown on to the rooftop of the school that we ended up running back into with the chairs and the dry-erase board; which was no longer dry.

hail!

The best part of this experience might have been the rainbow that appeared at the end of the storm, but as beautiful as it was, the best part ended up being Jamal getting his haircut.

Jamal is one of the members of the community. He is 17 and very involved in the school and Peace Corps. He has one of the sweetest faces I’ve ever seen and he was getting his haircut outside of the school while we were having class under the tree. The school became shelter for him and his barber and the cut was continued in the stairwell leading to the roof …it’s hard to keep track of all the things that make me smile; but, this experience and being able to capture it with photos as well as words is definitely on the list.

the sky, later that evening...specifically, I live in "walking in a watercolor painting"

2009-10-10T09:06:00.000-07:00

my trusy boots and Grandmothers shall... I never leave home without them

So in one day, there was a new language presented to us: Tamazight. (8 out of the 63 – now 62- volunteers are learning this language) A new terrain: picturesque mountains with olive tree filled rocky terra cotta land; a combination of watercolor blues streak the sky which changes all day long. My host family: Itto & Mohammed, a married couple and their 11 year old daughter Amal. Food: another change. Break-fast: 7pm, fresh baked breads, mint green tea, chicken/potato stuffing for the bread, honey, olive oil, almonds, tomato chick pea soup…deliciousness. I never made it to the next meals (lunch & dinner) which were at 11pm and 4 am; too full, too tired. I found coziness in my new room, a long thin mattress on the fuzzy carpet covered floor. Warm blankets, a window, a table, a light bulb…perfect.

A PC Volunteers essentials... Pepto Bismol, lotion, camera, toilet paper, vitamins, water and apples (BRATT diet, look it up for a good laugh)

New experiences yet with a familiar taste…

Similar to my experience in Guatemala and the Dominican Republic...when you’re heart is good and you are around good hearted people, you are family. The day I arrived here, as chock full changes as it was, hearing the word family come out of my host mother’s mouth was enough to know that the next 2 months here will be spectacular. The warmth expressed through peoples eyes and actions will surpass anything that can be communicated with words. At this point, I feel confident using a handful of words in Tamazight and somehow I’m able to communicate with my host family and community comfortably…plus, a smile goes a long way. Already I’ve been told that, I’m known to be the volunteer who is always smiling… I’ll smile to that.

Exhasted but excited... I took a walk during our luch break. I didnt realize how tired Ive been, looked and felt until I stopped in front of this twisted tree and took a minute to take it all in.

I can’t help but think about my experience in Guatemala by being back in the mountains, in a small town, within a new culture. There are many differences, such as the process of learning a new foreign language versus a handful of new Spanish vocabulary or Guatemalan slang. The isolation of “Walking in a painting” is different than that of where I was in Guatemala… here, I have to walk up the mountain for 20 minutes to get to a main road, then try really hard to find an empty seat in a taxi (or a donkey; but Peace Corps does not allow us to ride on donkeys, perhaps for security reasons? l.o.l! I have to get use to a bunch of new rules!) to ride for 30 minutes to the closest “big” town which would have internet access, stores, and a market.

Giving Amal a chance at using the camera... In our living room, Itto, Kathy and I.

I’ve accepted the idea of not having easily accessible internet for the next two months. I’d like to write and share as much as possible and am certain that if there’s a will there’s a way and at some point, inshallah (God willing) it will happen. Speaking of God, we had a whole session of class dedicated to God phrases. It was great! These phrases and words are incorporated into most of the Tamazight and Darija daily dialogue. From greetings, goodbyes and everything in between, God is in the conversation. It’s incorporated in a way that doesn’t make a non- Muslim feel uncomfortable or strange about saying it. Very similar as to how you may use God willing, God bless you, thank God… it’s part of the culture, which is very much influenced by the religion. Little by little I’m starting to understand Islam through culture, not necessarily through religion… it’s very refreshing and respectable as an outsider looking in, or and outsider who has been welcomed “in”.

September 23, 2009

The Small Business Development (SBD) volunteers were split up into 5 groups. I’ve learned that our site, “Walking in a painting” is the most rural of the 5. The other sites have internet and definitely more than 30 houses… I’m starting to doubt that there are even 30 houses here; looking forward to take some free time to hike around and “investigate”. The Youth Development volunteers are all in cities or small cities, with all of the common amenities like indoor plumbing, internet, restaurants and shopping.

Said and our school

What I’m leading to is something that I’ve been thinking about since I’ve arrived…the idea of disconnecting from 2009, from comfort, from day to day technological and “normal” life. Meaning…my response to most of the questions I was asked by Peace Corps was, “whatever”, “I’m down for whatever”. With the exception of being placed somewhere extremely cold, I would be down for whatever, bring it on! So her I am in “Walking in a painting” with 2 other female volunteers, (the male left) living life…Out of the 63 that arrived here a couple of weeks ago, it’s us 3 who are in the most rural, disconnected place and lifestyle…we are healthy, we are happy and somehow I feel a bit closer to heaven…literally in these mountains, it doesn’t feel so far away.

Said [ and Jamal ] carrying his suitcase to his new home, for our LCF= Language and Culture facilitator; this is a new home as well

Feeling doughy…

If you are what you eat, then I have become bread. The body type up here in this mountainous region is similar to what I saw in Guatemala; slender limbs and a round torso. With all the walking up and down the hills and long distances I would imagine a more muscular bulid, but in general, people are long and lean and if anything a but a bit round in the mid section. Although I have not seen many “fat” or any obese people, I also haven’t seen any focus on a balanced diet. Similar to the idea of eating rice beans and spaghetti together (what I experienced in the Dominican Republic) here you are served bread at every meal. Don’t get me wrong, it’s homemade, fresh and delicious; but 3 times a day? Even if I was a bread person, 3 times a day of a lot of bread or sometimes only bread with some olive oil or honey to dip it in, is too much for someone who is not use to it. Bread with potatoes, bread with rice, bread with cous cous and then bread during tea time which is twice a day in addition to breakfast and dinner tea. In Guatemala it was tortillas, I was considered weird because I didn’t eat them at every meal, and although I liked them very much…it was just too much.

Suk Su - Cous Cous, a special lunch prepared by Fatima our beloved cook (in school

Here in Morocco, the bread is used as a spoon in many meals. Their usually isn’t any silverware or plates, you eat the bread off the table and the meal is shared by everyone…the meal is placed in the center of the table on a big plate and you eat from your triangle of the plate. This occurs with most meals, specifically tagine or cous cous. A tagine is a terra cotta cone shaped vessel with a circular base/plate as the bottom. Food is cooked inside (usually meat & vegetables) by placing the tagine on the stove or in an oven. Then it is taken to the table and everyone eats from it. There are a set of rules; Moroccan table etiquette that we have learned little by little from Said. They have come in handy, and prevented us from looking like complete fools in front of our host families (just partial fools!) It’s great to learn from your mistakes, especially when you’re in good hands and not being judged or frowned upon. Last night I want to ask if I was eating lamb or beef (they are prepared the same way most of the time and really taste similar). I couldn’t remember the Tamazight word from either of them so I asked if I was eating “bahhhhh or mooooo”. My host family burst into laughter, we all did, and had a blast communicating the answer. I told Said what had happened and he explained that there is a verb that expresses the sheep sound, referring to a human sounding like a sheep, meaning they are saying nothing. Interesting…it made me think of my reference to Charlie Browns teacher…you know she was there talking, “wa, wa, wawa, wawa wa wa”, but who knew what she was saying.

What to do, what to do…

Amal a.k.a. little sis and baby ulli (sheep) at our house

I think I just hurt my little sisters’ feelings. Somehow with the morsel of Tamazight that I know and feel confident in using + facial expressions + hand gestures + body language and random Spanish and English words that I hope they will recognize because of their French as a second language background… I can communicate with my host family. Through laughter and me definitely making a fool of myself, pretty much everything can be expressed. But how do you tell an 11 year old, who gives the Energizer Bunny competition, that you need alone time?
The concept of alone time here doesn’t really exist. A closed door is considered rude, if you’re not interacting with the others in the house something is wrong, if you’re in your room it’s because you’re getting dressed or sleeping…why else would you be in there?

My closet - post organization with Amal

Then she brought her closet into my room, we had a blast organizing

Today I came home determined to express my need for alone time in the best way possible. Not because anything is wrong nor do I feel a desperate need for it, but if certain routines and behaviors and aren’t understood in the beginning of a relationship, what ever kind of relationship that it may be… boundaries will be broken and misunderstandings are bound to occur. Spending hours at a time amongst guests in the home speaking Tamazight at first is exciting. I try to see how many words I can pick up from their conversation; observe behaviors between family members of different ages and sexes and interact as much as possible, even if I sound and look ridiculous to them. After a while, the excitement dies down and I’m left to think about all of the other things I can be doing with my precious time left here on earth… it takes me back to my ultimate struggle of living in the moment or focusing on the future and what’s to come. In trying to find or create balance in everything that I do, I don’t feel as if it was wrong to ask for some alone time (which was explained as reading – finger running across words in a book, writing – an imaginary pen writing in an imaginary notebook, and focusing – making a motion with both hands from head to imaginary paper….this is all a lot funnier in person) I was in school from 8am - 6:30pm, stayed in my room from 7 – 9 pm and then came out for company and dinner. 2 hours should be enough time to write, read, focus, pluck my eyebrows, organize my suitcase, stretch, and sew the hole in my shirt, but I’m starting to understand that it won’t be…another cultural adaption, another reason why living in the moment makes more sense… I have two months to share with this amazing little girl, she is brilliant, energetic, fun, caring and willing to spend every second she has with me… I can read when I find myself living alone, I can write notes here and there while I’m in school, I’ve always struggled with my eyebrows, and a messy suitcase doesn’t offend anyone…but a closed door might.

Salaam...

2009-09-12T15:45:00.001-07:00

September 12, 2009

One hour before diner, it was the first moment that I had to be in my room and find something to write in. Laura gave me a gorgeous red journal as a going away gift...I write...at some point it flips back to the first page (I missed it before) and notice that she has written me something... (Gracias Laura!)

Say not, "I have found the truth" but rather "I have found a truth."

Say not, "I have found the path of the soul" say rather,

“I have met the soul walking upon my path."

For the soul walks upon all paths.

The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a weed.

The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

- Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

My soul is talking to me in ways that I cannot explain (literally, in Darijah, Moroccan Arabic) I have found truth within; many versions of it, I am open and ready and somehow found myself saying to my Moroccan counter- parts and supervisors, "I'm down for whatever!" This is me; the New Yorker who has already been officially mistaken for a Moroccan. (I didn't even make it out of the airport before being confused for a national, I love it!) The cultural exchange, the unfolding of my petals, begins…

- driveway, door, décor, detail, divine…

p.s. I can't upload as many photos as Id like right now due to the the internet connection, but you will have photos, Inshallah ( God willing) one day!

September 13, 2009

Sunday...our day

Azziz and his red sneakers; I couldnt resist

Today was our day OFF... off from paper work, from vaccinations, interviews, power point presentations, routine, U.S. officials, language skill development, volunteer stories, the conference room, coffee breaks, rules, regulations, policies, handbooks, note taking, discussion groups... off of training. It was our day ON for relaxing on the beach & going to another town on public transportation, seeing the locals, using Dirhams (Moroccan Currency), getting stared at, police, security, pointing, laughing, yelling, begging, Ramadan in public, eye contact, new scents, new color combinations, negativity, positivity, a melting pot of VISUAL, EMOTIONAL and SPIRITUAL ingredients… a little bit of everything for the first day OFF, the first day ON.

There are 63 of us. Not a common site in the medina (an old labyrinth of streets where most of the shopping is done) on a Sunday afternoon. 63 foreign faces with a few Moroccans thrown in the mix; our English speaking counterparts, they are priceless. Our right hands, and our left. They are our well being for this crucial time of transition and adaptation. It was quite a spectacle and a bit frustrating to be the center of attention in town today, but the experience was valuable; people would stop and stare, point, speak to our Moroccan peeps and sound angry or laugh; of course I didn’t understand a word, but I understood their eyes. One man in particular had to be calmed down by the police, all of a sudden we new who the undercover folks who roll with us were; they approached the uniformed police and did what they do. Pretty intense for going to the market; I'm hoping that the next time I find myself there I will be able to ask for 1/2 kilo of pastries, a bunch of mint and a handful of figs without sounding or looking like a stereo - typical American...oh wait, I don't fit into that profile! (we had a short diversity workshop during one of the trainings).

Turns out I don't fit the Moroccan stereo typical idea of an American so there may be a possibility that my host family won't be too excited when I arrive and see that I don't have blond hair and blue eyes and that they won’t have their prototype American to show off around town. There is also the chance that I can blend in with them perfectly so they can introduce me as some long lost family member who has lived abroad and has developed an American accent. I've learned in training that it depends, everything depends! Usually that is the answer to most of our culture questions, “it depends”.

- My first street art spotting... confirmation that visual communication is just as valuable as verbal.

By my next entry I should be living where I'll be for the next 2 months; with my host family, in my new community immersing myself in Moroccan culture. Embracing what lies ahead and digesting the daily intake of knowledge, a.k.a. life experience…there are certain things that you cannot learn in a classroom; those are the things that I hope to share with you through these words and images. What I will learn from this… “it depends!” yet, I am certain, it will be invaluable.

September 21, 2009

Immersion... Intense Immersion

I am now in “Walking in a painting”, the name of my new town. I have given it this name because it is precisely how I’ve felt since the moment that I arrived. I’ve been walking in a painting…plus, due to security reasons, Peace Corps won’t allow us to state where we are, but “Walking in a painting” is not on a map so I’m not sure if it would really make a difference.

I went from being around 63 volunteers + staff, in hotels, conference rooms, schedules and coffee breaks to a village of 30 homes, inhabited by the Berber people of the Atlas mountains who speak Tamazight, a new family, a new eating schedule, a new landscape and temperature, and a change of group, now consisting of 4 volunteers + 1 instructor… a new experience all over again. Not to sound redundant, but since I’ve arrived I’ve been immersed in a cycle of new experiences, yet with a familiar taste…more on that later!

We arrived in Morocco during Ramadan, the holy month of sacrifice and worship in Islam. At our first location, a hotel in a beach town not to far from the capital, we ate 3 meals a day and drank plenty of tasty tea, coffee and water in between. The Moroccan staff fasted from sunrise to sunset and ate at different times than us. Now that the group has been split up; first by programs, Small Business Development (SBD) and Youth Development (YD) and then in to Community Based Training (CBT) Sites (groups of 4 – 6 people) our eating schedules are based on our host families. Note: Peace Corps (PC) is full of acronyms, as an organization I would say they speak in acronyms, not English, Darija, Tamazight or any other language; it’s a language of their own…I’m starting to get use to it…Ok, back to eating… no food or water while they are fasting and eating with them when fast is broken (hence the word break-fast) means now we are going through our new daily routine of school (8am – 6pm) with an empty stomach. My instructor Said is so chill… he doesn’t mind us snacking or nodding off because of our caffeine with-drawl. He completely understands and admits to being tired at times as well. I’ve decided to fast next Ramadan. By then I hope to be intergraded into the community and culture enough to go with the flow of my surroundings.

We have no electricity in our school building so the cold dark space becomes a difficult environment to embrace learning in at times, but it’s actually cozy and a perfect fit for the four of us. Our group started of as 5, four volunteers and our instructor Said. One of the volunteers left after 2 days in town. Deciding to join the Peace Corps is one thing, actually getting here, learning, seeing, feeling, smelling and tasting what you’ve gotten yourself into for the next 27 months is something else.

From now on it's officially The Gypsy Book...

2009-07-22T21:20:00.000-07:00

Another "Corps" - another side of the world?

The universe works in mysterious ways... and as the King explains to Santiago in The Alchemist, "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." A couple of years ago I began an application process for an opportunity which would allow me to continue working abroad, learning new languages and cultures, making art, educating, living, loving, learning. The process has finally come to an end, meaning the opportunity is finally here!

I have been invited to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer in Morocco as a Small Business Developer (assisting Moroccan artisans living in rural areas). The opportunity to work with the one (out of over 75) Peace Corps program that is art related is a calling for me... I've been mystified by the mountains of Guatemala, blessed by the beaches of The Dominican Republic and now preparing to be dazzled by the deserts of Morocco.

In waiting for the political situation in Honduras to clear up, I received clarity. Transition after transition has led me to having options;so blessed, so lucky. While pondering going back to school,continuing with a job hunt in NY, going back to Central America, and a million other locuras that ran through my mind... the clarity came in a FedEx envelope, LOL!

Although I am heading in a different direction, I'm going to leave the previous post on the blog to remind me of the awesome opportunities life has brought my way...

"Mysterious Force - It's a force that appears to be negative, but actually shows you how to realize your Personal Legend. It prepares your spirit and your will, because there is one great truth on this planet: whoever you are, or whatever it is you do, when you really want something, it's because that desire originated in the soul of the universe. it's your mission on earth." - The Alchemist

* thank you to everyone who was ready to help me fund-raise on such short notice! I hold that gesture very close to my heart, gracias!

Heading to Central America!

2009-07-03T10:15:00.000-07:00

Hola from New York! I'm just got back home and I'm taking in the tastes, scents, sounds and sights of my city, family & friends... and yet, during all of that, I've decided to work with ArtCorps again on an amazing project in Honduras!

To retain my "citizen of the world" passport, I must oblige to the super strict guidelines of living in the bush immersed in another culture ever so often! It's actually a huge part of what makes me me, and what makes working abroad so inspiring; it's a blessing to have a job that defines you, it's a blessing to have a job period!

"mis manos trabajadoras" - Guatemala, 2007

Now, I am "publicly" (as far as the Internet will allow!) fund raising for this Volunteer position with ArtCorps. This is to cover personal expenses for my next year and a half in Honduras. ArtCorp will be accepting donations in my name; following is my official fund raising letter and instructions to make your tax-deductible donation. I can't emphasize enough how without your support none of this would be happening! Anyone who follows this blog - supports the arts, non-profits, the environment, children, education, impoverished communities, and believes in making this world a better place... if you didn't, you wouldn't be following this little gypsy's words & photos around!

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June 30, 2009

Dear Friend,

I write in support of Adriana Guzman’s efforts to raise funds for her volunteer project with ArtCorps that begins in August of 2009.

Adriana was selected through a competitive process to work as a volunteer artist with ArtCorps in Honduras for 17 months. She will support the work of the non-governmental organization Bosques Pico Bonito (http://bosquespicobonito.com/), an innovative social enterprise that works toward solving the global climate change crisis through the production of carbon offsets. Adriana will use her art to raise awareness about the environment, as well as to promote productive and cooperative relationships between community members and Bosques Pico Bonito. She will also train the local employees in the use of arts as a sustainable, effective communication tool.

Adriana’s sincere wish to commit to this work and help others is striking. The work requires a skilled, creative and resilient person. Adriana demonstrated all of these qualities during her first year as an ArtCorps artist as well as a contagious energy and passion for community art. We are thrilled and honored to have her return to take the lead on this groundbreaking project.

ArtCorps is a young initiative. We are able to provide international transportation, medical insurance, and a stipend for art materials to the artists. The host nonprofits contribute food and lodging. However, the artists need to cover additional personal expenses such as visa fees, travel home and educational loans. You can give directly to Adriana or make a tax-deductible gift in her name to ArtCorps by following the attached instructions.

I appreciate your consideration and encourage you to support Adriana’s project. Your contribution will have an important impact. Don’t hesitate to contact me with questions.

Sincerely,

Marta Oslin

Program Manager, Communications and Outreach

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Instructions for making a tax-deductible donation to ArtCorps Artists

Option 1: Pay online by credit card

Visit http://www.artcorp.org/sponsor.html and click on the Donation button. You will be taken to a secure PayPal site. Follow the instructions on that page.

Important! Before confirming payment, you will have the option to include special instructions for the merchant. Make sure to write the artist’s name in this space.

Important! PayPal subtracts a small fee (approximately 3.5% of your total donation) for using their services. ArtCorps will remit the entire amount that we receive (your total donation minus the fee) to the artist.

Option 2: Check

Mail a check payable to ArtCorps with the artist’s name written in the memo line to:

ArtCorps

240 County Road

Ipswich, MA 01938

Receipt

ArtCorps will mail a thank you letter acknowledging your donation that includes ArtCorps’ nonprofit tax ID number to you at the address included in your payment information. If you need us to send the thank you to you at a different address, make sure to let us know.

Thank you!

"Equality, Liberty, Solidarity"
- Maya Mural - Chiche, Guatemala 2007

GRACIAS, THANK YOU, OBRIGADA!!!!!!

I'm looking forward to keeping you posted on my work at Bosques Pico Bonito - planting trees and teaching others why we should, working with agro professionals to sustain our planet and most importantly working with the people of Honduras; youth groups, woman's groups, school children and farmers - all through art, all with peace & love.

To make a long story short

2009-04-08T16:06:00.000-07:00

Contrasting realities in Cabarete:
the extremely large amount of foreign influence / the extremely low level of education

Working for the DREAM Project in Cabarete was an eye opening adventure which taught me about the Dominican community, children and education system, but most importantly about myself (again!); what I am capable of and what my limits are.

To make a long story short, I left The Dominican Republic a bit earlier than I had originally anticipated, but even so, I left fulfilled with the job I had done. At times I struggled with what my job was and how much my work was/ or was not benefiting the Cabarete community, other times (most of the time) I was down for whatever.

So, in honor of Cabarete, DREAM, the people that welcomed me, the doors that opened, the noise that didn't let me sleep, the mosquito's that feasted on me, baby donkey, the rice & beans, the wonderful friends I made, the 10 pounds I gained, the stinky summer camp t-shirts, the ocean breeze, and the kids... I'd like to leave you with some words & images of unforgettable times, faces & places.

Teaching Restaurant Class at Luis Parilla's (best grilled chicken you'll have in your life restaurant!) always opened our appetites.

Come to think of it, there are plenty of memories revolving around food...yum

At Mercedes (one of our favorite lunch spots) Rooster & Hen enjoyed lunch time conversation as much as we did!

Brunch at Laura & Raquels

My last tapas & rum chinola order at Onno's (gracias chicas)

whipping up something delicious at home

Panaderia Dicks, how I miss you (Merrill too!)

Fresh ripe fruit, chocolate and cold beer, outdoors, while your bike chain gets oiled and the tires get filled with air; all at the same spot on the corner. Perfect.

Some of my favorite artwork (some refused to rotate!)

Laura's library / literacy class creatively brought books characters to life

Teamwork; one of the many ways students in the Writing Through Art class focused on.

A job well done!

Papito, like so many of Cabaretes' youth, has a whole world ahead of him to explore if he keeps up with his positive attitude... he's one of the sweetest, brightest, and realest kids I've met.

Our hurricane party

As we awaited hurricane Ike (I think that was its name), we decided to make an event of it. Our grand welcoming of it at the beach was followed by pedicures, cooking and a slumber party at my house (I lived on the 3rd floor, we imagined it would be the least likely to flood) Luckily we didn't have hurricane outcomes in Cabarete...otherwise we would not have been at the beach taking pictures, or at home having a party.

Lost the top to the black pepper as we prepared our hurricane dinner. Laura, Raquel, Merrill, & Brian arrived wet, bearing gifts and ready to slumber. My moms inflatable mattress added extra coziness to our refuge.

Pure adrenaline hurricane kite-surfer

my taped up building

Laura, Raquel and I observing mother nature at work

The Dominican flag flew proudly accompanying Ike

El Batey / Caraballo

When it appears as if nothings there, something could just be beginning if you look close enough...

The bad-asses of the Batey, ( unfortunately just beginning to develop their bad-ass ways)

hanging out at the river

Coco & I after a long sweaty day of hiking to reach the river.

Back at the DREAM Center...

I left right before Carnival started and dedicated our last our project to the grand event. We made life size carnival alter-ego self portraits. We traced each others bodies while we listened to carnival music and used our imagination to create our carnival costumes and personalities.

Cassandra gets inspired to dance instead of to draw

Ronel is ready to be traced

Massiel (my co-teacher) sent me images of the final results!

My carnival alter ego is on the left, Massiel's on the right...

and the students work was dancing with the breeze (hanging from the ceiling) that filled our classroom.

A pleasant surprise on my beach blanket...

Precious Baby Donkey and the man who asked me to take him to NY in my camera

Another baby donkey moment, this time at the Dream Center

Our mural...
the essence of Cabarete; the town, the beach, the sports, the schools, the churches & even the motorcycles!

Just getting started painting after weeks of observational drawing around town

taking a break...

explaining things...

understanding things!!!

Whew, it's hot

finishing touches (adding Julie on her surfboard)

finishing up the high parts; children painting while standing on plastic chairs that are on top of a plastic table is not a good combination (we had a more stable wooden one at some point, que le paso?)

signing their masterpiece!

First time painters, life long artists!

around the neighborhood...

Towards the end of my stay, I tried to spend as much time as possible with family and friends. My sister Karen, (born and raised in the Dominican Republic) her husband and 2 boys, came to visit the island after years of living in NY. It was so special to hang out with them and head to the farm to say goodbye to the family.

My nephews on the way to the farm

Now at the farm, a bit more composed

La familia

Beans from my dad's farm.
A medley of color, texture, flavor, health and tradition, from the earth to our bodies and back to the earth. An ongoing cycle to give thanks to, and enjoy to the fullest.

Saying goodbye to the kids and to Cabarete was harder that I thought. Deep down inside I believe that I will have the opportunity to see family again, in the US or in DR, but to go back to Cabarete and find the same people and places is not as realistic.

The kids (plus Laura & Massiel striking a pose!) turned my farewell into a fun event, as they do with everything; always ready to take pictures, they decided to try to knock me down as well.

The sequence follows...

In the end, we all went down!

I took my final walk down the beach, the callejon, ate my favorite lunch, with my favorite people and prepared myself to physically let go of such a profound experience, although emotionally it can't ever be erased.

the beach...

Pablito; teaching Cabarete's youth to swim, to surf, to smile.

the callejon...

lunch...

the best salcocho ever

& favorite people...

Contrasting realities in Cabarete:
As much as I felt that it was time to go / I can't ever really say why I felt that way

Adios...

La gitana original / The original gypsy

2009-04-05T08:43:00.000-07:00

R.I.P. Tita

Grandma: the foundation of my family, the glue that holds us together, the spirit, the joy, the bravest, the strongest, the most honest, the fighter...

Bertha a.k.a. Tita left us here on earth recently. Although we can't see her or hear her right now, she remains with us; guiding us with her wisdom. Tita, the original gypsy, left her native land of Colombia and embarked on a journey to the United States that changed her life forever. Through that journey, my parents and the parents of all of her grandchildren and great grandchildren were brought together, born & raised. She leaves behind an immense family and is an inspiration for us all... "Que bonita es esta vida"

When I look at this picture of us, many moons ago, I see the spirit of adventure that she instilled in me, and the everlasting support and blessing of my grandma. Gracias Tita, te amo.

Feliz Navidad and all that good stuff!

2008-12-24T11:40:00.000-08:00

It seems as if the snow follows me everywhere I go.... I was born during one of the coldest, snowiest, February's on record in N.Y.C... guess that's why I'm a worshiper of the sun and the heat!

From the snowman on the sand in Cabarete, Happy Holidays!

COLOR

2008-11-08T04:04:00.001-08:00

I've learned that in the Dominican Republic there are about 6 of or more ways saying brown; brown as in not "white" in regards to skin color.

For ex: Indio Claro (Light Indian), Indio Oscuro (Dark Indian) Moreno Claro (Light Dark Skin) Moreno Oscuro (Dark Dark Skin), Negro (Black) y Negro Azul (Blue Black) ...you're never just brown here, there's a level of your connection with Africa and your disconnection with the Spaniards that is measured by your skin color. Women walk around with umbrellas when it's not raining; trust me they're not worried about getting skin cancer, they're worried about getting Morena, or Negra!

The issue of race in the Dominican Republic is pretty serious. In general, what I've observed is that Dominicans like to emphasize their white European heritage (even if they were the ones who slaughtered their indigenous ancestors) and to downplay their black African heritage. The fact that the DR shares the island with Haiti, and that there has been a history of conflict betwwen the two, (a Haitian conquest of DR) mainly, makes it even more difficult for them to accept their "blackness". Most Dominicans are mixed like most of the Carribean, yet they rather refer to themselves as the different degrees of "Indio or Moreno" versus Black, since the lighter they are the prouder they are even if the "light ones" killed off their ancestors!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't understand.

We all know that this is a world-wide issue that will not change over night and that regardless what country we're in, the magazine ads & the TV will have blonde hair and blue eyes as beuatiful (which they are, don't get me wrong) and brown as a second choice, an after thought, a politically correct move, or an advertising strategy.

Black & White or Moreno Oscuro & White?

Brown Issues:

Check out the DREAM Volunteer profiles at

http://dominicandream.org/who-makes-the-dream-possible/volunteers.html

I'm the only brown one in our bunch of volunteers right now… what’s up with that?
I’ve been working with brown folks for as long as I can remember, but outside of NY, or the “inner cities”, where are the brown folks working with each other? Note: I'm looking for them, keep me posted on any sightings...

So what happens you’re the brown volunteer living in Cabarete? At least for me, this is what happens…

1. The men on the beach side of town don't hit on me because I'm not white, but the men on the Callejon (where I live and work) call me morenita linda (pretty little brown skinned? something like that) and everything in between.

2. When I walk around town with the DREAM volunteers, I am visible, people practice their English on me, they acknowledge that brown one with the "gringas" (a word I can't stand, but that's another entry!) - When I walk around town alone, I am Dominican, at least most of the time. Usually I'll get the brave Dominican who dares to ask are you Indian? Or mention that I almost look Dominican but that I can't be, something is off.... it's actually pretty funny, it's better than the ones who just stare and don't say anything.

3. My students call me gringa even if they know that I'm hispanic, 1/2 Dominican 1/2 Colombian & brown. It doesn't matter, I'm a gringa. One day in my frustration I slipped and asked them, "what do I have to do to prove that I'm not a gringa, throw in a Coño (the Dominican equivalent to damn it or fuck!) and drop my "s" to sound Dominican!!!!!!"

Setting the tone for our skin color/multiculturalism project with my COLOR shirt

(gracias Geebas, Chris y Juli)

4. What else, oh, most importantly you take your brown issues into the classroom with you and do projects on multiculturalism and breaking down black /white, and Dominican / Haitian stereotypes... have you ever seen anyone with skin the color of these papers, no... so why do we call them black or white?

The idea behind the project was to mix imaginary skin colors and paint circles which would later turn into faces and people; Dominican, Haitian and Gringo, a representation of the island.
Emphasizing multi-culturism, how people are all made up of the same flesh and blood and how color shouldn't matter... but of course it did, in general it was a tough topic to address.

This is what our faces look like when a student says "oh, there's a black circle on the paper, that one is Haitian"

Yeeaaaahhhhhh, Joel got it... smiling with pride.

There's always a reason not to do your work, like using Miguel Angel's hair as a pencil holder.

The example I made for the class

Some of our results, yeah!!!

More brown issues...

Various shades of brown...

Merrill's youth group came to visit Cabarete one weekend. We spent the day on the beach. Looking back, there were some serious brown things going on. For example, there's a Haitian woman who sells fruits on the beach. When Juan Carlos, the obviously Haitian young man calls her over to buy fruit she refused to sell it to him. At first I was outraged thinking that she refused since he was hanging out with a rainbow of people starting with Merrill who is blanca "white", Dominicans and Haitians of all browns in between. I jumped to this conclusion because a situation as described would be very common here. But it turns out that the woman didn't sell it to him because she didn't want to charge him the price that she would charge the tourists on the beach (a huge mark up) since he was Haitian; so she decided to save her merchandise for those who can easily afford overpriced fruit.

Mama Bear and her Brown cubs

Juan Carlos, after a day in the sun with his 70SPF sun block says, "I better put this stuff on, if I come home blacker than I am my mother won't be able to recognize me"

This is the world we live in...if you can't change it, love it, or at least try to laugh!

Mama Bear

2008-10-13T10:39:00.000-07:00

Baby bear & Mama bear

So, some of the girls have labeled me “Mama Bear”. I am the oldest of the DREAM Project volunteers, but regardless of age, somehow I always end up being the mama bear of the bunch. It's happened in NY, and it happened in Guatemala. Although I wasn’t the oldest somehow I acted as if I was and the ArtCorps crew referred to me as “Mama Hen”...plop, there go some eggs...

Even mama bear goes to house party's!

Am I an old spirit? When I think of old spirits, I think of super mature and motherly/fatherly folks wrapped up in young looking packages, like my cousin Jenji who doesn’t look a day older than 17 but is a working wife and mother of two, way older than 17, who pretty much raised my grandma’s house full of cousins. In between piano lessons and little league, playing in the backyard, having crushes, getting into 80’s freestyle, then heavy metal ,then hip hop, Karl Kani and Cross Colors clothes, handball in the schoolyard, youth-groups and going to “The Ave” (you Queens folks know what I’m talking about)... Jenji stood out as the serious one & always looked out for us. As a child or a teenager, growing up with the rest of us, she knew how to change the crew of little cousins diapers, she knew how the feed them & she could regulate any hair-pulling or name calling situation that would get out of hand. That’s a Mama Bear!

Ingrid, one of our students, invites us to a house party. Rubiel (another student) is the resident DJ.

Although I have never have given birth to any of them, I've actually come to the conclusion that I have a lot of children. Lately, it has been more and more likely for me to develop motherly relationships with the people around me; and now that we're both adults the reltionship between my mother and I has strenghtened. It's funny how mothers are always right, although I hate to admit it!

There was plenty of merengue...

and bachata...

Erica & Ingrids mom "bachataing" under the rain

Oh wait, there was mambo too!

the party animals!

Elisa took her little cousin home after she fell asleep on my lap, I couldn't help but feel the mama bear in me as I enjoyed the warmth & trust I shared with this precious little girl.

What I’m learning through my amazing experiences abroad, is that when you chose to work with a culture different than your own, whether it’s volunteering or not, you and the people you work with will always have a commonality – your desire to work in that particular field, or with that particular culture or that community - outside, different, sometimes far away, yet so close to home; but most importantly close to our hearts, why else would we do it?

Whether we’re all artists like with ArtCorps or educators, community developers or educators in the making, like with DREAM, we’ve all come to help, to give, to interact, with the hopes of influencing positive social change, through our personal strengths, our weapons of choice- mine being ART.

I say weapon because influencing & seeing change might as well be labeled a battle – and this is where the Mama Bear label kicks in, what stronger beings are there on earth? Without the mama's we wouldn't exist, there would be no human race to interact with, to care for, to live for.

Rollin in to the Batey like a rock star!

So Merrill (a.k.a. Baby Bear) lives in the Batey, she's working with a youth group and developing various community projects out there. Laura & I decided to tag along one Sunday...

After taking the gua gua (bus) to Montellano, the only way to arrive to the Batey is on moto. Through the sugar cane fields we go... an almost surreal experience which lasted for about 10 minutes. 10 minutes is a lot of sugar cane!!!

Sunday's are Dominican hair day... we rolled into town and women had their curlers on or were getting their hair blow dried. I was almost embarassed with my helmet hair which hadn't been washed or combed. Glenny was on it right away, I couldn't go walking around her town looking like that!

Hanging out in front of Merrills house.

Glenny hard at work. She decided to braid my hair.

After my hair was done, we walked around town. I met Enrique, it was love at first sight.

Looking fabulous with our sunglasses, and Enrique,

and the girls.

Looking fabulous without sunglasses and Enrique's brother

Then we went to the playground!!

Observe the little boy on the bottom of the slide... can you imagine going to the playground naked! If you grew up in the States, I dont think so... woul that be illegal? Would they have pinned our mom's with tickets for indecent exposure? The contrasts in this worlds are unbelievable, they're actually what keep in inspired!

On top of the world...

So, is it strange that I wanted to bite this child? As Tia Rosita would say, she's "esqueezable". So chubbs, so cute, hanging out on the swing all on her own!

After the swing, she went to go interupt his siesta.

Note; it's 2008 & children still make there own toys and still live in houses like this...

there is so much beauty in simplicity and there is still hapiness through poverty... maybe it sounds weird but I've come across more people who are genuinely happy in life and are poor. More money more problems? What do you think?

BEAUTIFUL!!!!! Sisters hanging out (miss you guys!)

Merrill wearing Enrique's hat, the student not the bunny.

Enrique's mom (and her owner...they might eat her one day)

Some of the kids were rolling around play fighting. I was motivated to organize them right away (is it possible to stop being a teacher when you leave the classroom?) So I shared my ANCIENT karate knowledge (You would have been proud Big Dragon!) although my form and posture was way off - comfirmed by this photo!!! So much fun...

Merrill & Laura hard at work with two of the youthgroup participants. After they did some planning for an upcoming activity, we went dancing! The group is coming to Cabarete to present to our students some small "dramas" on the subject of racism and immigrating from Haiti to the DR. Learning how to dance to different types of Haitian music on a Sunday afternoon was a perfect way to end our visit and prepped us for theirs!

Laura & Juan Carlos (Vice President of the youth group)

Learning how to dance Konpa with Jason

Mama Dog with multi colored puppies, as real as it gets...

Who, What, Where, When, Why

2008-10-12T18:31:00.000-07:00

Morning activity outside my window…

6:00 am – Alarm goes off, a romantic Bossa Nova song on my phone attempts to wake me up… snooze button

6:15 am – snooze button again; this goes on until 7:15 am

7:15 am – now I’m rushing. Make the bed, brew the coffee – plenty of cinnamon & nutmeg – take a shower, eat tortillas with cheese, refried beans and avocado – somehow, at times, I’m still in Guatemala, clothes, earrings, scarf on the head – no time for combing. Backpack – check, helmet – check, umbrella – check.

7:53 am – I’m zooming down the callejon, walking as fast as I can – which is not that fast as you guys may know. I gotta be at the school by 8:oo. Half way there, half way through the “buenos dias” and “hola’s” I hear “Adriana… hola corazon, te llevo?” Cool! Got my helmet! Sweet moto – concho (motorcycle taxi) guy, whisks me away on a one minute moto ride.

8:00 am – I’m walking through the door of the DREAM Center ready to prep & plan, teach & be taught, to live & to learn.

In my classroom, I say good morning to our little friend; it tends to hang out in our supply closet…

A brief description of what I’m doing here…..from 8 am to 5 pm, alongside 4 other volunteers, I am teaching in the Estrellas Juvenil program at the DREAM Center. It is an academic support program focusing on math, reading, English, library skills and writing through art – my class. I might have mentioned (I’m not sure) that the kids here study for ½ a day. So the students that go to public school in the afternoon come to our program in the morning and vice versa. This has been one of my hardest teaching positions. I thought that the students in Bedford-Stuyvesant were tough and gave me a hard time…. this is another story.

I have to reset my patience meter with these kids everyday. It’s not because they give me a hard time but because the teaching system and level of development that these kids have for their age is so out of whack compared to American standards that I’m finding myself un-teaching them what they have learned in order to teach them again, correctly!

For example, the kids tend to write like this, AlTeRnAtInG LoWeRcAsE and Ca Pi Tal and leaving sp ac es in between syllables or nospacesatall in between words! Obviously I don’t think they were taught this but they definitely have not been corrected enough to change it. We are working with teenagers that are on grade-school academic levels, I’m talking about 12 year olds that can barely write their name… this is why I’m here, this is why DREAM exists, this is why I am publically thanking my parents for choosing to be involved in me & my sisters education by pushing us to do good and reinforcing it with constant support. And I’m talking about all types of education; piano lessons, little league, growing up in the melting pot of the world , n.y.c.– that’s education!

Sometimes our pencil sharpeners work...

Sometimes they don't work!

My mom is a walking encyclopedia and will always be first choice as a teammate in any trivia/board game, she would take as much time as me (maybe more) in working on my projects and reports in elementary school to make sure I put 100%, in all aspects, we weren’t even allowed to play Hungry-Hungry Hippo on the stoop with the neighbors if our homework wasn’t finished first, she never missed a parent teacher conference, and always brought us books home from the library (she still does!)… Till this day, my dad always says “I just want that paper (referring to a diploma), then you can do whatever you want”… High School, Associates, Bachelors, & Masters (NYU, my sisters!) he got his papers and has more on the way… THANK YOU, GRACIAS. Now I can appreciate more than ever my parents’ efforts.

I see how my students struggle even to get a parent to enroll then in our program, come to a meeting, help them with their work. Starting with the fact that many adults here can’t read or write, there are a million and one reasons why these kids aren’t progressing. My job is to do my best to change that. It’s not going to change overnight, or in a year, but I can guarantee that any child that experiences time in a DREAM classroom will always have a different perspective on learning, on teaching and possibly on life. I can also guarantee that my students now know that New York is a city and not a country (as they believed) and that my mother from Colombia & my father from the Dominican Republic met & married there and had my sisters & I in N.Y.C. They can show you all three places on the world map and explain that the island of Hispanola is shared by two countries – Haiti and DR & how Colombus reacted (violently) when he landed and met the Taino Indios… the more personal things are here, the more they are retained. I live within a gossiping Carribean culture, turn anything into romance, drama or violence, and it will get their attention – gotta love it!

The last of the yellow t-shirts...so it seems!

2008-09-12T18:35:00.000-07:00

Summer camp (yes I'm still talking about it!) ended with a big parade on the beach. Shortly before the last day, the Bananas & Carrots (t-shirt colors) united and said farewell to an eventful camp experience. Sandro, has been attending camp since it started a few years back, he & his wheelchair go everywhere else the other students go, including the beach.

Adri & Efen

Rice for 70 please!

Julie helped serve rice, beans & chicken, the traditional Dominican lunch, for 70 kids & counselors.

Back at camp, steal the bacon...

and observing the little things that make life work, like when you don't have money for enough classroom chairs, & you improvise.

The last day of camp, not the last day of the camp t-shirt!

It is currently September 25th and a day has not gone by that I don't see a DREAM summer camp t-shirt on a Cabarete resident, regardless if they were in the camp or not! It's pretty funny!

Summer camp ended August 1st. The teachers & councelers left the 2nd & 3rd. I spent most of the month of August adjusting to this instant loneliness that overwhelmed me. I worked on changing everything I had gotten use to since I had arrived...the girls who greeted me at my classroom door every morning, "buenos dia Profe", "Hola Adriana" & the boys which I would hunt down in order to take attendance - kisses on cheek, way too tight hugs.

As a group, we said goodbye to the students through an afternoon at the "play"
(all sports playing fields here are called "play") We had a t-shirt signing fest, softball game, futbol game and most importantly some quality hang out time with the students.

our birds eye view

So I decided to join the softball game after it had already started, *note* - not a smart move. As I wait in the makeshift dugout for my turn at bat, a zooming softball decides to hit me in the face. Luckily the sunglasses that I'm getting use to wearing now, were sitting on top of my head, they save me from a super direct impact - the ball hits the arm of the glasses and the side of my eye socket. The kids that noticed freak out and come to my aid, they continue to stare at the red lump that has developed and reinact the scene over and over again. Lina saves me with some ice. Jaime's doctor dad teachings kick in, she doesn't leave my sight for the rest of the afternoon. My little leauge days may be officially over, we'll see how the year goes...

Josefa hanging out...

The academic teachers say goodbye...

Some of them have already decied to come back next summer, the kids & I are already excited about it!

The colors of Cabarete

The relationships that were born during this super intense month continue to flourish daily in and out of the classroom. My interaction with the kids and the community starts the second I walk out my door and doesn't end if the door is closed... it's taken a while to get use to but a knock on the door can be anything from my neighboor sharing some rice & beans with me to summer camp students that I've never had in my classroom inviting me to the beach. Students which I did have in class, at times stop by for romantic advice (the wrong person to ask, if they only knew!) or to invite me over to meet their mom.

I remember walking home alone after saying goodbye to who I felt was everyone at the moment and feeling pretty down. Right before I reached the house, 3 little friends (about 9 or 10 years old) show up, and just by looking at me knew and read my mind, "don't worry you're not alone, you got us! " Later that day they brought by some lemons. We had lemonade, they used my yoga ball as a drum, wore my sunglasses and hat, and performed a song the trio had written themselves... they were right, I will never be alone, my work has blessed me with a community to be a part of.

I'm still on July!

2008-08-31T14:59:00.000-07:00

Cabulla - La Vega

My father owns a small piece of land, green and wet, fruitful, blessed. It mainly produces rice and plaintains but on the side it's the neighborhbood kids playground, the place to go to for a plate of food if you're a bit short and mosquitolandia (just in case I didn't mention it last year) hence, I wear long sleeves and pants in the 90 degree weather - but it's all worth while, full of cocunut tree climbing adventures with the kids, yummy fresh food and of course mother nature at full force, especially for the New Yorker who is still struggling with accepting the fact that outside of NY there are roaches the size of her middlefinger.

color and contrast, green and ripe, before and after, present and future...

the crew

Nelson - compadres son (my Dominican fam) working the land

the cutest dynamic duo ever

cocunut tree climbing equals a yummy snack

no sweat for the boys...

rice... a worldwide staple

Summer camp trips...

The beach at La Boca... this is the final destination of our trip. Let's rewind to the beginning...

La Boca (The mouth) where the river meets the beach

Arielle, Warlin, Billy, Christina lounging in the river

Showing off our muscles...

Showing off period...I tried!

So, before we got to the beach, we stopped at a house/zoo where we checked out some local animals and jumped on a lancha down the Yassica river to get to the beach.

Johanny was determined to get her snake on regardless of how much it freaked her out...

Where they keep the snakes, notice the spelling of snake...

On our way to "the mouth" where the ocean and the Yassica river meet.

Homeboy's pet, seriously.

Sea Horse Ranch

Imported pure-bred horses, carefully tended too - multimillion dollar homes - bars - restaurants - $$$$$$$$$$$$. We visited The Sea Horse ranch and received a grand tour... with the hopes of inspiring the young Dominican studens of the DREAM Project towards a career in the tourist/ex-pat infused Cabarete that they belong too. The students pointed to various houses and claimed them as their own as we drove through the grounds in our school bus. Other students would bluntly respond by saying something along the lines of "in your dreams"

kisses being blown at the students...

Yaritza picks up a critter along the way

amigitas...

In the kitchen... luckily those tacos ended up being for us

El Batey
( Housing for sugar cane workers & their families)

Two friends I made that afternoon - we exchanged some words in English and French

El Batey is a prodominately Haitian community where the sugar cane workers of the past live in, mixed with Christian Dominicans and Haitians who have converted and left their native Voodoo practices behind and others who continue their loyalty to their spiritual leader (the town's Voodoo preist). They live together yet separate, for many reasons, yet this poverty strucken community is a prime example of religious & racial discrimination, as well as a place which inspires hope. With the good comes the bad and in a prodominately Christian country who struggles to accept it's African & Indeginous roots at times, the Haitians who have migrated here in search of work, opportunity and basically just a chance at life, have & will struggle. The unfortunate truth has been right in front of my face ever since my arrival.

I'm lightly touching on the subject now mainly because of what happened by the end of this afternoon, but be sure that it will come up again. There is no way that I can be in The Dominican Republic and live amungst this madness and not be affected by it.

Three other friends I made that afternoon

The five friends together (3 Dominican, 2 Haitian)

I asked the Dominican brother and sisters where they lived...they pointed up the hill. I asked the Haitian girls where they lived... they pointed towards the left of the hill. I asked them if they had met before, they all said no; I told them that now they have.

After some mingling the kids decided to get a futbol game going. The kids in the Batey (Haitian) were already playing. When we arrived (a mixed crew of Haitians and Dominicans) a new game got started and all was fine until the end when our crew won and the Batey crew was pretty sore about it. The pushed one of my Haitian students and called him a traitor for playing with our team. You can only imagine what that led too...

Moments before the brawl

We left the Batey unfortunately after a huge brawl between Dominicans and Haitian teenagers and adults almost got severely out of hand. As we pulled off in our school bus, a fist fight in between a Haitian man who was defending us and another local broke out. There were extremely ugly words being exchanged, in and out of the schoolbus...the tension was heavy, the tone was angry overall it sucked. Miraculously a Bachata song that I knew all the students liked came on the radio, so I asked the driver to pump it up full blast, loud enough to wash out their voices and their angry tounges, loud enough to forget momentarily what just happened because this racism is not going to change from one moment to the next.

They all sang in unison, Dominican, Haitian, it didn't matter... music to the rescue...a Bachata saved the day, or at least the ride home.

Pizza Hut

In the kitchen

Regional recipes!

The girls chowing down on the pizzas they topped themselves

Volunteering for Pablito Guzman's Cabarete Classic

(International Windsurf Competition)

Cabarete beach, full of surfers of all ages, kites and sails, surf & sand, locals & tourists,
life & love

And their off!

All of the volunteers for the competion rocked the official Cabarete Classic t-shirt

Warlin, Fraylin & Billy, chillin on the beach

Dinner at Villa Taina for the volunteers and competition participants

The evening event of The Cabarete Classic - The fashion show @ Onnos Bar

local shops showcased their surf/beachware, and the local models showcased their stuff!

Jose Manuel during his fitting at Stone Fish

Partying after the fashion show

Alex out way past his bedtime!

Tonia & I organized the fashion show. It was alot of work but a lot of fun and a wonderful way of getting to know some of the local shop owners & surfers. Many of the child surfers were sponsored by DREAM and in our summer camp.

Love

2008-08-10T19:26:00.000-07:00

Love for all color & culture...

Love is patient, love is kind, love does not envy....etc. etc. We all have our own definition of love, even the bible does. Today I'd like to share what I've been feeling in regards to love, not an easy subject to discuss at times, but absolutely appropriate and necessary at others; like now.

Love for life - mornings outside my balcony ...

Love for your teacher, inside & outside of the classroom...

Love the children of Cabarete - Love for summer camp!

photographed by Silvan Wick

Love for your friends who come & visit you from NY!

Love for the friends & collegues that I share this experience with...

photographed by Silvan Wick

Love for your love who brings you fruits from the lands he hiked that morning...

Through the ups and downs of life I truly believe that love is one of the only things that will allow you to get through anything - even if love is the cause of one or many of those downs! Love for life, for the people and places around you and love for yourself will allow you to conquer all. It's what keeps me going and what generates everything that makes me happy. Am I just a romantic fool or is it one of the most powerful and at times incomprehensive forces alive?

Have you ever been bitten by a mosquito while using the toilet?

2008-07-17T12:41:00.001-07:00

Banos / Restrooms

Have you ever been bitten by a mosquito while you're using the toilet? How bout while you're taking a shower? I have, in various countries, and with various allergic reactions. I've also been super lucky that I don't have to deal with mosquito's in my apartment since I have the great breeze Cabarete is known for flowing though it. Anywho, one of my most memorable summer camp events was using the bathroom. Going and mentally preparing myself for the battle that was to come...squatting and swatting! Especially after it rains, it's like organized crime against the residents of Cabarete, "we'll get them on their tush while they're in the bathroom"

In addition to the mosquito battles, my collection of summer camp memories are enough to start a whole new blog, but for now, I'd like to recap my experience from July 7th - August 2nd...as a "gineo" - banana, in the DREAM Guzman Ariza adolescent summer camp.

Meet “The Restaurant Crew”

In no particular order, I’d like to share some of the activities that kept me busy throughout summer camp. I was the Restaurant group teacher, along side my two wonderful camp counselors and our part time Dominican co-teacher. The four of us were responsible for about 25 students, an excellent student teacher ratio considering that an average Dominican classroom during the school year has a student teacher ratio of about 50 students to one teacher.

Summer camp was anything but easy. It was about 90 degrees everyday, we were competing with the noise of the traffic (the school is located on Cabarete’s main street) and with the electricity coming and going as it pleases, the one fan in the classroom was usually off. The students in the Dominican Republic go to school for half a day, either morning or afternoon, all of the students would not fit in public school buildings at the same time. We worked from 8 am to 3 pm in summer camp. It was double the time they’re use to; keeping the students interested, motivated and awake was the biggest challenge of all.

One of our trips - In the kitchen of Sea Horse Ranch, an exclusive private community which allowed us to have a tour of their grounds including their tennis courts, beach side restaurants, pools, and the million dollar houses that one student would point at and say "that one is mine" while another would respond "in your dreams"

This day in health class, the students played Jeopardy with questions based on what they had learned in class so far

Our daily schedule consisted of 3 academic classes, English, Health, Futbol para la vida (a sex-ed / HIV-AIDS class for teenagers) lunch and curso especial, in our case – Restaurant class.There was also a trip scheduled at least once a week. My students ranged from 12 – 19 years old.

Yaritza, one of my older students, super creative, decides to make some pesos (Dominican currency) for us to use during our Restaurant simulations.

Here we see Warlin being a true gentleman and serving Elisa the wine (the bottles are filled with water) she’s ordered. Warlin also is one of my older students (19) he struggled with behavior issues throughout the entire summer camp. The “at risk” youth here in Cabarete are the DREAM Projects target. We are the healthy alternative to spending your summer un-occupied and possibly getting into “trouble”. The purpose behind the Restaurant class is to introduce and teach basic skills that will teach the youth how to acquire a job in the growing restaurant/tourism industry in Cabarete.

We set up work stations so that the teams can work individually on their simulations, ie: waitress/waiter, customer, chef, bartender.

Claribel works on her serving skills. The timid 19 year old shows a level of maturity that constantly impressed the teachers and myself. Off the subject - she invited us to her house for her birthday party. We ate asopado (a soupy rice) and danced (which equals sweat!) all night with her friends, family & neighbors. We had a blast!

Asopado cooked on this outdoor stove by Claribel's mother

From left to right : Bethania (summer camp student), Ariel (restaurant class counseler), Claribel (the birthday girl) Christina (restaurant class counseler) George (little brother) Me, Calribel's mom, and another brother...

Isaias show us the bill he & his group have created

The "customers" are deciding what to order

Danny's reaction to being tapped on the shoulder and being asked to sit up and pay attention - please!

Welcome to Cabarete / Bienvenidos a Cabarete

2008-07-07T13:30:00.000-07:00

Mi casa - I'm on the third floor, I see palm trees, people & motorcycles, I hear palm trees blowing in the wind, people starting and ending their day and motorcycles zooming back and forth competing with the bachata and merengue oozing out of every corner. I love it.

I flew into the Puerto Plata airport on June 26th. To my surprised I was bumped into first class and offered champange or a mimosa. Knowing it was a mistake I informed the flight attendant and her response to my bewildered face was simply a "don't worry honey, we know what we're doing, champange or mimosa?" As I sipped on my champange and settled into the cozyiest airline chair ever (since I've never flown first class I can only compare to my coach cramped experiences) I began to wonder about the supposed other 2 DREAM volunteers that should have been on that flight as well and if they were being offered champange, or if they were actually old enough to drink it.

Turns out they were! I met Tonya in the baggage claim. She was sitting right across from me sipping her mimosa and overheard the flight attendant call me Ms. Guzman. She was mysteriously bumped to first class as well and approached me as we looked for our luggage spinning around and around. Turns out we're about the same age, way past legal drinking age and had/have plenty in common. Tonya has become what Sandra was in Guatemala. The first volunteer I met upon arriving and the one I've developed the closest bond with.

We took a walk on the beach after we were dropped of at our apartments. Tonya and the teachers are staying at a hotel with rooms the size of 2 bedroom apartments. The year long volunteers (mu-ahh) are staying in apartment buildings right down the street. A simple studio, more than enough for me and my coffee pot.

We arrived during the world cup of kite surfing. It is a huge part of Cabarete culture. Although this storm cloud appeared to be a threat a small sun shower tickled our noses as we walked.

Later that day I met who has come to be (in two weeks of being here) my Dominican family. Marisol and Rosaline. We went to eat at "Parilla Luis" which grills the best chicken on the planet. Marisol is the waitress in this family owned/run restaurant. Rosaline the cutest 10 month old is now my personal squeezable, huggable bundle of carino. We're glued to the hip, I'm having difficulties thinking about actually leaving this place at one point - again, it's been 2 weeks!

The teachers and I go to Luis' a couple of times a week . Here, John, the Colombian Jewish New Yorker and Ricky, the main grill guy at the restaurant show off the catch of the day. Yum.

"This is the true story... of seven strangers... picked to live in a house...work together and have their lives taped... to find out what happens when people stop being polite... and start getting real...The Real World" - Cabarete!!!

OK, so its not really like that but there are a bunch of us living together for 5 weeks volunteering as teachers/educaters for the DREAM Project. I'm the only one out of the "crew" (which you will meet soon) that doesn't live in the "house" but I spend more time there using the free wi-fi, swimming in their pool and taking hot showers in their rooms than I do in my house. There is no drama in the house and we're not being video taped but since the whole town knows of DREAM and its volunteeres, it's very BIG BROTHER-ish. When the teachers leave in 5 weeks, I'll spend more time figuring out when the electricity goes out - hence no water - in my apartment. Either way, it's all good!

Justin's reaction to a roach on the wall outside of his room. It was like the size of a New York City waterbug on steroids.

Our friends at the Hummingbird (the house/hotel) Princessa, Franco and the white dog (not sure of its name) Franco is the coolest chi-wa-wa I've met. He's Princessas' man and is constantly trying to impregnate her. I have a video of it but consider it rated X and feel that doggy porn is not appropriate for this blog. (But its hysterical!)

Back to why I'm here! The kids, education, creativity!!! Nico & Freddy are teaching "Futbol Para La Vida" - a curriculum focusing on HIV-AIDS education using futbol, & classroom games to present it. We work at the adolescent camp (yellow t-shirts) with 13-18 year olds. Turns out I'm teaching a restaurant class as well as observing the mini courses (Restaurant, Cookbook, Newspaper & The Young Ladies group) plus "shadowing" the director of adolesenct camp who is also staying for a year. My job in a nut shell is to take what works during summer camp and implement it during the school year.

As I get settled in, I'll be spending alot of time here, my kitchen table with a view of some palm trees and rooftops. It's very Carrie Bradshaw like; me, my laptop, my thoughts and my window.

The last thing I thought I'd be doing in Cabarete was celebrating 4th of July but it turned out that most of the island was heading this way to do so. There was a huge U2 cover band (who aren't even American) concert in Cabarete who drew in thousands! The beautiful part about it was that locals, tourists, foreigners and people from other parts of "the DR" - as the foreigners call it, came to see it and celebrate.

I almost tripped on these fireworks which were scattered throughout the beach. Imagine going to the South Street Seaport and being this close to the fireworks!

In the DREAM Office, Julia Alvarez (the honarary chair of the board) books and coffee are on sale to raise funds for the program.

My favorite tree - Flamboyan

Part of the crew and I took a day trip to Sosua, it's about a 20 minute car ride away. We tend to attract kids where ever we go, it's a beautiful thing.

Back in Cabarete, Luis, the owner of our favorite restaurant, gave me the honor of working on his grill. I mentioned that I couldn't leave DR without knowing how to make perfect white rice like theirs and my dad's. I asked if I could work in the kitchen sometimes and he said sure. So I went, and so did some of the teachers!

First I had poked a hole in the foil with my nail, Luis explained that we couldn't have all of our fish juices sneaking out.

We patched up the hole and were ready to go!

As I was working the grill, Ian chatted with some visitors from Santiago who had spent the morning in Cabarete.

interpretation, interpretation...

2008-06-09T19:26:00.000-07:00

Something told me to research this quote before using it, ("We are the ones we have been waiting for") but then I felt that it applied to where I am in my life right now so regardless, it made sense. Interestingly enough, I did as my wise sister always does, I GOOGLED it, and this is what I found...

http://poplicks.com/2008/02/we-are-ones-we-have-been-waiting-for.html

I'd like to give thanks to who ever wrote it; first second or third. Who ever says it; plagiarized or not. And whoever believes it, lives it and keeps it alive.

Let's DREAM a bit...

2008-06-01T21:07:00.000-07:00

Children of Batey Caraballo - of Haitian or Haitian-Dominican descent.

As of June 29th, 2008 I will be volunteering with The DREAM Project (The Dominican Republic Education and Mentoring Project) in Cabarete, Dominican Republic, for one year. My role within DREAM will vary from teacher, to artist, to everything in between; working with students from pre-school through high school and their parents as well. This summer I'll be working with adolescents in the Guzman Ariza Summer School & Camp. Their two main on-going projects are a community newspaper & cookbook; I'll be their design teacher (and of course will volunteer to be the taste-tester of the recipes as well!)

I'm looking forward to continuing this journey with you. "We are the ones we have been waiting for" is a Native American saying - Julia Alvarez mentions the term as she narrates the DREAM Project mission video. As I try to live my life in the present, I interpret the quote as a message to do what you can now, not to wait for later or for someone else to do what you can. How do you interpret it?

Goodbye...for now

2008-05-20T02:16:00.000-07:00

I started this blog as a requirement for ArtCorps. During one year of sharing my words and photos with you, the process became less and less of a requirement and turned into a need, a desire, a pleasure. Sharing with you has allowed me to feel supported, has answered questions & doubts, has calmed fears and has excited emotions. More than just Thank You, I’d like to commend you on taking the time to interact through comments; to read, to think, to laugh, to cry or to just look at the pictures (after speaking to some of you, now I know that you only looked at the pictures!!!) Either way, you shared this experience with me…Gracias!
I’d like to finish this chapter, adventure, experience, with one more entry; a blurb on my experience coming back into the US, and images (lots of images) of what I have left behind in the physical sense, not in spirit.

"BLURB"

December 23, 2007

Identity crisis, what gives?
I’ve pretty much been speaking English all day long. It’s strange to hear myself talk and notice a combination of accents, including my New York self coming out. Stumbling with my sentence structure, even as a write, I wonder how long this will last. Feeling much more confident with my Spanish, proud; ready to show Grandma that I can pronounce everything correctly, it feels strange switching back to English. Even the airport folk contributed to the strangeness; only after the saw my American passport did they begin to speak to me in English.

$ Observations; sadly I notice my attention switches over to $ now that I am here…

Bush International Airport, Houston Texas (my layover on the way to NY)
vs. Aurora International airport, Guatemala.
- Wireless internet costs $7.95 for 24 hours, convenient while you wait for your delayed flight, if you can afford it - In Guatemala’s airport, which is still in the process of being renovated, the wireless connection is free.
- A shoe shine in Texas costs $5.00 - a shoe shine (lustre) in Guatemala costs 5 Quetzales (About 70 cents) - they’ve helped my boots survive a year of living in the highlands.
- I just paid $3.29 plus tax for a cup of coffee. The beans were probably picked from a finca in Antigua, Coban or the Atitlan volcanic region by folks who aren’t even getting paid $3.29 for a full days work.
- Folks are walking round and talking to themselves, oops, no it’s those little headset blue tooth devices that I forgot existed. I think I’m the only person in this airport who doesn’t own a cell phone, who just used quarters and a payphone to call home ($1.00 = 4 minutes) - Calling home from Guatemala was cheaper than that.

On top of being entertained by the $ conversions and the battle (of why $ sadly rules this world over love) going on in my head... what was the highlight of emotional madness during my airport experience after one year of not being in America?…

The U.S. Customs agent stamped my passport and said “welcome home Adriana”, the lump in my throat was overwhelming as I thought about the word home. What did I just leave behind? Wasn’t that home? For the last year it was, yet I’m super excited about going “home” with my family & friends, but who was I just with for the last year, weren’t they family & friends? What the fudge! That’s my same reaction when people ask, where are you from? New York was never enough of an answer, or America as an answer, always lead to “but you speak” Spanish, DUH!!!! It’s 2008, this is not the pilgrims land anymore!!!! Colombian & Dominican with everything in between; lived in Guatemala but born in New York…. that’s me right now, that’s part of me at least…

My last night in Chiche -
goodbyes are hard, not knowing when you'll see each other again is harder.

Caught stepping out of the house

Chiri and I in Judith's house on my last night in Chiche

One of the few times I saw any type of vandalism...

Something I will never see in New York

Sunday's lunch - for both of us...

Fresh tortillas at the twins (Miguel & Juan) house

A Garifuna woman from Livingston braided my hair. Everyone in Chiche noticed, especially the jovenes; it's not common to wear your hair in "corn rows" up in the mountains.

Puzzles!

Dona Carmen in her store

Library field trip - A local farm with a pool (freezing!) and a river (freezing!) nearby. We swam, hiked and barbecued!

the ride over to the farm...

Somehow I was elected to be the lifeguard - I've never been in water that cold in all of my life.

I need to work on my rescue dive...

Giving the guys a hand in painting the butcher shop.

The community knew I was there to help and that I wasn't bound to the library; so they often asked for help. We all got somewhat high and nauseous off the fumes of the oil paint mixing with the smell of raw meat; after painting all of Sunday afternoon. I learned through my latest visit to Home Depot (here in NY) that oil paints are banned in NYC because of their high hazard level. Great, I spent a whole year inhaling and absorbing them into my skin, whoo hoo!

Mother and daughter. I miss them so much.

Talking politics. It doesn't matter where I go, there's always politics to be spoken of, and everyone seems to agree, Bush is a dork (I'm keeping this G rated)

My Hupil! I couldn't leave Guatemala without one. I bought it in Chichicastenango, this was is used, very old and belonged to a little girl. I had to cut the neck open to fit my cabeza in it.

Mercedes and 5 Quetzales

I love the fact that I am still in touch with them. Since my return to NY, the family and I have kept up our communication, Brayan started college in January and Hugito graduated on to what we call Jr. High School. Judith (their mother) sent me a birthday card, it was nice to see Guatemalan postage stamps here in NY.

potatoes...

salad...

the last tamal...

steak...

and Jesus of course...

My going away/ Angel's birthday dinner was a blast, good food, good folks. Angel, Dona Carmen & I, being housemates and all, definately developed a bond that will never be broken. I look forward to seeing them again one day.

My last visit to Chichicastenango

A costume I designed that the brothers brought to life - for a community member dancing in Chiche's Fiesta Titular!

El palo volador - somebody actually climbed that and decided to swing around in circles from the top, another guatemalan tradition.

A Christmas tree made of dry corn husks, beautiful

Aneth, cute as ever - Chichicastenango market

Chichicastenango, always something going on....

The male convite (costumed dancers) in Chiche; invited me to their rehersal diner.

Their president Jordan : Ashley and Jordy's dad...

Ashley

Jordy

Jordy, Ashley (as a newborn) and I

Las chicas de Quiche. My library team; my home girls.

One of the volcanoes in Antigua

After the big kids completed their mural, the kindergarten teacher wanted the little ones to make one too. Soooooooo much fun!!!! The teacher her boyfriend and I painted the wall white over the weekend, we had ONE sketching class and the kids did the rest..they drew and painted...kindergarten kids!!!!!!

Sandra & I in Antigua; we met up to check out an arts event and to catch up, we hadn't seen each other in months.

There's always a procession or something Holy going on in Antigua.

Zacualpa

Student Artwork for the "International Children's Painting Competition on the Environment" - The United Nations. Children in Zacualpa participated, I submitted their artwork and was informed months later that they were the only entries from all of Guatemala and that some of the work was up for judging!

After work with the Zacualpa fam - Hilda and her niece & nephew

Jess & Yoli came to visit! We did a run around the country in just a few days, Livingston, El Lago Atitlan, Antigua, Chichi, El Volcan Pacaya, Chiche and even hopped over to one of Belize's little keys, amazing!

We were on a turtle nesting beach (Belize)

From Belize back to Guatemala on a speedboat.

Soda in a bag, yum...

las hermanitas - the sisters

technical difficulties...

El volcan Pacaya - After climbing up for hours...the sun set shortly after. We walked on the warm volcanic rock under a pitch black sky and rode our horses back down in even more darkness.

Our guides up the volcanoe. I believe Josue is 9 years old.

Sunrise on the shores of The Lago Atilan. Yoli and I set the alarm to wake up in time. We were complementing the sunset on Pacaya with this sunrise.

The last 5 standing. The crew got together one last time to do some final touch ups/clean up work on the mural; I said goodbye to the piece that morning.

This abandoned house was one of my favorite places to walk by in Chiche.

This one is for the "pico-peros" the pick up truck taxi drivers, who are stationed outside the library and play cards in between rides. They actually helped me paint it after I kicked them of the bench for a while.

My favorite bench in the plaza. The jovenes wanted me to paint this one because they were too shy about the topic. A male and a female, it's just showing the backs of their heads; it leaves plenty to the imagination. We spoke about identifying the benches with actions, locations and moods; this bench was under a tree on the corner of the plaza, how romantic. (They all teased Iris and Mynor that the image resembled them - I think they actually liked that it did, but they would never admit it)

My last day at the library...for now

The “gypsy-book” will continue one day, in the meantime I will focus on “Being the change that I’d like to see” and continue to have faith that with peace & love in my heart and in my life, I can accomplish anything... we can acomplish anything…