Like precious gems

I thought I would give a little update from the frontlines-- of chic-ville, that is. Mom and I have a homebase this week on the Costa del Sol in Malaga. IT's convenient because it gives us easy access to the rest of Andalucia, a view of the ocean, and a little kitchen. But man, is this place my nightmare. It's costing me a Euro for twenty minutes of internet. Robbery, I say!

Today we want to the Real Escuela del Arte Escuestre in Jerez, which is the most famous equestrian school in Spain. The horses are amazing, and, like true horse junkies, mom and I tried to sneak away from the tour so we could go watch the horses during training. The tour guide found us and chastised us publically. So, tails between our legs, we finished the tour and went back to watching the training sessions.

After horses, we drove down the coast of Cadiz and had lunch in Tarifa, which is still a really cool little town with lots of wind surfers and not much else. We had some really beautiful views over to Morocco and a little walk on the beach. It feels REALLY good to be out of the city.

I have to run because my internet gold is running out. Update soon. LOVE!
H

Short on top for the fellas, long in back for the ladies...

I am sitting next to my mom in an internet café here in Granada, and it may be one of the more hilarious things I´ve ever seen. It´s her first time using a p.c., and it´s like a disaster area. It took her ten minutes just to figure out how to press the mouse button. As I write this, she is grumbling away to herself about her new-found hatred of Spanish keyboards. It´s an evening´s worth of entertainment.

I suppose I provided the entertainment last night, with more long-lasting effects. I went to my first Spanish hairdresser and came out definitely the worse for wear. I thought maybe I would try a little trim and some bangs to, you know, make my face thinner or some other bullshit that you hear in magazines. He thought I would look good with a mullet. My thick, curly hair, which I actually like, is now a sort of deflated rat-tail.
Mom´s first reaction when she saw me was, "That´s interesting." Then she tried to assure me that maybe it would look better when it´s curly. I asked "Do you remember what happens when my hair is short and I let it go curly? A hint: it rhymes with bushbroom." She almost suffocated because she was laughing so hard.

I managed to not freak out until I got home, at which point mom had to force-feed me a horse tranquilizer to keep me from sawing off my hair with a kitchen knife. (Just kidding-- It was more like a sheep tranquilizer.) We managed to make it through one tapa down the street before I totally bonked and fell asleep like the most tired mushroom you´ve ever seen. On the bright side, I am a hat person, so people won´t be totally surprised when I wear a hat for the next, oh, six months.

Moral of the story: Never get your hair cut in a country where mullet dreadlocks are the mode du jour.

ps- That´s not really me up there, but you get the idea... It´s really not that bad, I swear.

"Singing my song..."

What a beautiful day. For many reasons, I guess, but really because fate sort of threw a series of incidents my way that make me feel renewed. Almost new-agey.
Last night, I had a great night with friends, secret Santa-ing and watching an Argentinian band with two great women singers (YES! Spanish that makes me feel at home!) Then I had good conversation with Ben about happy/sad/exciting things and slept like a rock after running to catch the bus to Otura.
This morning started off slowly but ended up being really nice. There´s this little workshop around the corner from my house where a woman sells these beautiful leather bags that she makes. Now, mind you, they´re leather, and I really dislike wearing leather, but I am drawn there every time I pass. So I went in. We ended up talking about a lot of things, and showing each other art, and by the end of the conversation, she had asked me if I would be interested in sharing a booth with her this coming year at the art market. And giving my name to a friend of hers that plays in a blues band. God, I love people and how they come in at all the right times! Now I visions of sugarplums and art supplies and sun-lit studios dancing in my head. I wish it wasn´t so frickin´expensive to just do the things that I love.
This afternoon, I have been working on my midterm report, and ideas are actually coming. I feel so relieved to be getting it done that I may actually celebrate a little tonight over at Michael Landon´s. (Mom thinks I´ve become a little bar-hopper here in Granada. I had to explain that, since we have no heat, bars seem awfully warm on a cold night... I´ll still take water any day!)

The picture above is by Miska, one of my faves. She´s in a lot of the galleries in Oregon... More later. Sending so much love, it hurts. H

Anarchy and Flamenkulele

After spending the afternoon filling out a form trying to convince SIT that I will be an ethical researcher, I really don´t have the ganas to work on my damn capstone anymore, especially since, if I had it my way, I wouldn´t do research at all. My midterm report is due Friday, but I always do my best work at the last minute, so this will probably be brilliant.
After the news about Pinochet yesterday, I got distracted from the fact that I had a really great weekend in the mountains, hanging out at my new favorite place with Mathis, Mariann, and the kids. My pololo Ben came with me and fell in love with it just like everyone else does. Leo, the WWOOFER, was still there, along with another great girl from before, Jeany, and some new WWOOFERS from Denmark. I got to do my first olive harvesting, which was a great excuse to climb really high up into a tree and whack at things. I only got thwacked my Mathis once, and nothing was broken, so all in all, I think it was a great work day.
Florina, who is two, has been my challenge for the past few weeks. She finally decided to be my friend this time, and spent a good hour filling my sweater pouch with olives, then emptying them onto the net. I am amazed my how fast she´s growing. Suddenly, she´s starting to talk all the time, and since the last time I visited, she´s started to eat vegetables. It makes me all broody. As if raging mid-20s hormones weren´t enough, now I actually have a beautiful little duker picking olives with me. As they say here in Spain--fatal.
Birta, who is the oldest, spent a lot of time with me this time, and we´ve decided that we can call each other sisters now. She´s been taking care of a neighbor´s horse, Mina, so I taught her how to pick hooves, and got to go on a nice bareback ride. Then we braided each other´s hair and jumped on the trampoline. It´s like happyland for freaks.

The semester´s winding down here, and working is almost impossible. The whole city is like a mythical Christmas parade, and it´s almost enough to get me in the Christmas spirit if it weren´t for the damn Christmas carols. Here, we get the English and then the Spanish version. As a little act of rebellion, Zack and decided we are going to buy a menorah and celebrate Chanukah. Being the bad non-Jew that I am, I don´t even know when it starts this year. I beat Zack, though. He´s just a bad Jew. Gotta love the matriarchal lineage thing.

Mom gets here in less than a week, and I am so excited. I´m not sure how she´ll handle the fact that it´s really cold everywhere, but we´ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We have a week in Malaga, and I think if we close our eyes, put on a bathing suit, and get the bathroom all steamy, we´ll be able to pretend we´re somewhere tropical. I´ll even buy a little palm tree just to add to the illusion. My email says that it´s dumping snow in Colorado. I don´t want to hear about it because I might cry, but for those of you there, please enjoy it. And make a snow angel. Next season, I swear...

Pinochet is dead.

Good riddance. Too bad he was never prosecuted for crimes against humanity, but it is some type of closure for Chile.
Aquí hay una lista en español de sus victimas (algunos, por lo menos): http://www.derechos.net/doc/pino/proceso.html

Things turned violent, which is a shame but not surprising. It´s been there under the surface for thirty years, and no one in Chile doesn´t have an opinion. The difference is that now they aren´t afraid to express it. I have to remind myself over and over to find that place in me that is different from him, because my first reaction was to say that they should have thrown him (alive) out af an airplane long ago, as he did to his opponents (and their families). But then, am I not as bad as he was?
Last year in Vermont, we saw this performance by a Rwandan dancer and musician who had watched his entire family as they were raped and executed. He talked about his process of forgiveness, and how he has forgiven the men who murdered his family. It´s something that I struggle a lot with (and I am a pretty forgiving person), and I am not sure that I can forgive that easily. I am angry with people like Pinochet because I saw the fear that he created in some of my friends, and the deep division that grew in Chile over this great, black abyss of thirty years. People are still scared to talk about it.

Okay, too much ugly stuff after a really great weekend. I have to work, but this is just so much more fulfilling... More later.
H

Día de la concha

It´s yet another holiday in Granada (that´s two this week), so everything is closed and I forgot to buy food. We are amazingly good at scrounging up something to eat, though, and in the process we´ve discovered some pretty tasty meals. Frank Sinatra´s favorite breakfast, which was apparently a pasta omelette, turns out to be delicious with a little hot sauce. Add some coffee and Bailey´s and you feel like you´re rolling in luxurious... well, luxury.
I just got back from my last trip to Morocco for the semester and had the chance to say a little goodbye to my friends in Rabat and Asilah. I had the best group ever, and they made the trip great. I learned a lot as we went, which always makes the trip better for me. This weekend I am headed back up to the Alpujarra to see Mathis and Mariann and the family, so I can´t ask for a better way to end the semester.
I had a good meeting with my boss yesterday, and things in that department are getting better. I am working with him to develop the Alpujarra program, and also starting to talk about creating an organization in Colorado. He´s the detail mastermind, so he is good at helping me recognize what questions I am not asking. We´ll see how it goes.

Mom comes next week. I have until the 15th to finish my midterm report for my capstone. Considering that I haven´t really started, I guess I will be in front of a computer a lot in the next few days. It will be a good distraction from waiting for mom to get here. Anybody have any creative ideas about writing something about social identity/immigration/art/music that might be something someone would want to read? I don´t think academic writing and I will get along well right now.

After talking to Arnd, I´ve been thinking about what kind of organization I would start if I could. Pablo? Spencer? I know you´re out there. Wanna do something cool and on a mountain and in Spanish? Look, Paul, you even have a Spanish name already, so you´re halfway there!!

I´ll keep daydreaming and meet you on the other side. Love you all. H

p.s.

Granada is freezing, the mountains are not. I was in a tank top yesterday.

Strawberries and hammer dulcimers...

It´s been a while since I have had the time or inspiration to sit and write, but I have to say, there have been good things happening here in Spain. Last Wednesday we had an improptu dance party in the house with a few of new friends, Josh and Nick, who I met in the Alpujarra, and Ben, who is living with Annette and José. We ate a big, delicious meal, played lots of music, and drank several boxes of wine.
We then (pretending to be real Granadinos) stayed out till all hours at this really great bar, Pata Palo, where the music was absolutely delicious and forced us to dance. I like the nightlife. I like to boooogggiee... When we got back home, Nick and Josh demolished the leftovers (actually, most of it ended up in their beards), we laughed a lot, and then every one sort of found a happy cacoon spot to sleep. Mine was the happiest, but maybe I´ll go into that later.

On Saturday, I headed back up to the mountains with seven students who were willing to fly by the seats of their pants on the pilot trip. It was a great group. I spent a lot of the trip with Lauren, who is blind. She put a lot of faith in me to get her up and down little the precarious trail to the toilet, played a mean recorder during our late-night jam session, and picked strawberries with me for the first time. We had a traditional basketweaving workshop with Paco, who is from the house above Mathis´ and Mariann´s, and has never really left his little valley. I am officially proficient at plaiting with 7 and 9 strands, but he tells me now I have to learn 13. He assures me it´s the easiest thing in the world, but I don´t know if my attention span is that long.
In the evening after dinner, we had the chance for the students to learn from Mathis about CSAs (http://www.localharvest.org/), biodynamic farming (http://www.biodynamics.com/), and Steiner schools (http://www.steinerwaldorf.org.uk/). The WWOOFers (http://www.wwoof.org/) and kids joined in the conversation. Then we dropped the serious stuff and played music for a couple hours. Pretty much every one joined in. I got to play a Hammer Dulcimer, which could definitely keep me occupied for many hours. We ended with Leo (a WWOOfer from Wales) and I playing a dulcimer/ukelele/voice duet as the fire died down. Yep. Rough life.

The students learned a lot and got to see with their own eyes a family that lives pretty much off-the-grid in a 500 year-old house (and is REALLY happy doing it). It really is this sort of strange Eden. Only, an Eden where we made pizza with fresh organic veggies from the garden and munched on fresh herbs from around the table.

I think I am headed to Morocco this weekend for the last trip of the semester. I am excited because I have missed it, but I have had such a peaceful weekends the past couple weeks that the thought of leading a trip there seems like braving a hurricane! I look forward to seeing my friends and eating amazing food and being in Rabat. It´s a phenomenal city. For now, I have work to do top get ready, so I should quit this blogging stuff! It´s too much of a distraction...

Be good. Love H

Mountains and Voodoo

I leave tomorrow with Kate on my great adventure to the Alpujarras to plan next week´s trip. The house where we´re staying is more than 500 years old and was built when the Arabs fled Granada in 1492. Not much has changed since then. I am really excited, and prepared to be really cold. There´s snow in them thar hills, and that means that skiing is within reach. I think I might have even found someone with a car that is as addicted to mountains as I am!

The other night, Kate, Zach and I tried out Spain´s public transportation (which is really fantastic). We did have a little bit of an adventure and ended up waiting for an hour and a half at, apparently, the wrong bus stop. Luckily, we were well rewarded by the amazing hospitality of our friends Annette and José. They also have a cute baby, Iker, and two quite spunky dogs, Pincho and Frank. I am helping house-sit this week while they are scouting a trip, so that means I get some doggy snuggles.
Last night there was a big Smiths celebration at a bar near our house, so we decided to see what kind of freaks come out for melodramatic, androgynous ´80s music. Apparently good freaks, because we had a nice time, and managed to leave quite happy, which, after three hours of the Smiths and Morrissey, is quite a feat.

I just talked to Chris on the phone about my new linguistic habits. First off, I have officially dropped "S" from my Spanish, mimicking my dear Spanish friends (but better, I think, than adding the hideous "th" that Spain is famous for-- "¡Vamoth a Tharagotha!") I´ve also begun saying "insha-allah," or God willing, anytime I am making plans for the future, which is a key part of speaking with Moroccans (and Muslims in general). "I am going to mail this postcard, insha-allah." "Let´s meet in ten for ice cream, insha-allah." "I hope the gas man comes before I get dreadlocks, insha-allah." I think maybe God is too busy willing other things to worry about those sorts of things, but you never know, I guess. Better safe than sorry, although that´s never really been my religious philosophy so I may have to make up for a few years...

I thought this was funny:
Voodoo Practitioner Tries to Jinx Bush
http://www.wtop.com/?nid=456&sid=977070

This is my beautiful horse and my hot mama...

My roommate Colleen got back from her run today all sweaty and excited because she had just seen a Spanish fireman who looked like Colin Farrell. "I wish I knew how to meet hot Spanish guys like that," she said.
My other roommate, Kate, responded, "Well, if we had gas, we could start a fire."

It´s officially cold here in Granada. We´re out of gas in my apartment, so I haven´t cooked or had a hot shower since Thursday. It´s like college. Like many things in Spain, getting new gas tanks is more complicated than it really needs to be. My neighbor told me that all I have to do is listen for the jangling of gas tanks in the street in the morning, run outside in my pyjamas, and hope that I catch the gas truck. Every time I´ve needed gas, I sort of will the gas man to come, and he comes. It hasn´t worked so far this week.
The trip to Jerez and Sevilla was a nice break. The equestrian school was, of course, awesome, and it was really interesting to see how impressed the students were, even though most had never really been around horses. We spent the night in a really nice hotel (they had a bathtub!), and the students were excited because Starbucks was right across the street. It made me a little scared. Nothing like a $5 cup of chain-coffee when you live in a country that actually knows how to serve the perfect cup for a buck.
Coming back to Granada is always nice, although it is really brisk these days. I always forget how frickin´cold it is living in an apartment with tile floors and no heat. Things in my job are worse than better. I have to say, it really bums me out because I am really trying to learn from this experience and stay with it. I love Granada but I am not happy right now, and the echoes of past self-confidence demons are tapping my shoulder. As if I had forgotten their looming presence.

Since I have started writing this blog I realize how rusty I am at writing. I feel like, much like my Spanish right now, I can sort of fool people into thinking I´m much better than I am, but my brain hurts after about twenty minutes, and the sentences start to come out all mushy. It´s really therapeutic for me, though, so maybe, despacito, it will come back.
I talked to my mom last night, and it looks like we have to put my mare down soon. Rationally, we both know it is the right thing to do, but it is really hard to say goodbye to this beautiful creature and friend that we´ve loved for twenty years. And the truth is that, in all probability, we´ll be saying goodbye to Brackett too, since he´s been pasted to Nickers´side for years, and he´ll be losing the love of his life. What a time to be living a couple thousand miles away...

Well, if that isn´t some happiness and joy bleeding onto the screen, I don´t know what is! Sorry about that, folks. I promise I am still a smartass, and generally a happy person. I´ll be back soon. It´s been a rough couple weeks!

My comrades have left on another journey to Morocco, and I am left here in Granada to work on my new program. I was also really hooked up today by the director of a program that I led a couple weeks ago (my first time leading, so it was a little intimidating.) Anyway, apparently I didn´t suck because he invited me along with his students to go to Jerez and Sevilla this weekend. Jerez is the home of a really famous equestrian school, where we happen to be spending the morning. Considering that I have had horse dreams for a good three nights now, this may be a real immersion into temptation, but I am excited.
It also gives me a good excuse to get out and about in the name of work, since I can also recruit. I really enjoyed the students from his program that came with me to Morocco, and I am sure a few of them are sucker enough to come along on my excellent adventure. We also get to play in a national park on Saturday.

Speaking of students, Kate and I were ruminating last night about our current drought in the friendship desert of Granada. This, after we spent the night out with our little homies from Morocco, none of whom breaks the 21 mark. They are really great, but the truth is, they don´t know who Michael Landon is. Our favorite bar is dedicated to Michael Landon. It ages us a little.
More amusing last night was, at about one in the morning, when our little friend Mike was trapped in our bathroom after our diabolical doorknob decided it never wanted to work again. After I spent a good fifteen minutes prying apart the outside plate with a knife, we ended up having to let Joey (who, thankfully, is quite a bear) do the classic breaking-through-the-door move. Unfortunately, he was a little too successful, and in his momentum, almost ended up with a foot in the toilet. Thankfully, he managed to avoid crashing into the mirror.

Hey! Rummy´s gone! Only six years (actually, about 30...) too late. But good news, nonetheless. I think more people are talking about it here than in the US, because they really wonder what magic stupid-making potion the government´s been feeding us. I try to explain it´s only cherry Kool-Aid, but it´s lost in translation.

It´s good to hear from Paul and Tristan (give Peru a big, fat kiss for me...) This blog is more for my sanity, I think, but it´s nice to see people´s names in the comment screen. Love you all...

Yeah. This is where I live. It´s pretty rad.

My main man couldn´t pull it off.

Everyone in Colorado is sleeping, but I just got the Secretary of State results, and it looks like Ken Gordon didn´t win. It´s really a shame, because he was the only candidate running on the donations of only individuals and no PACs. He also kept me well updated while I was living in Vermont. And he´s a smartass. I seriously laugh out loud when I read his emails, even though I imagine un-smartass people probably think he´s not so hilarious.

At least these elections did not play such a huge trick on me, and I woke up to find that at least some people are coming to their senses. We still have a long way to go in terms of civil rights, and I hope that in the near future I will be able to celebrate the weddings of all my friends, not just those who happen to have a partner of a different gender. By the way, did anyone notice that I actually posted a picture??

For the blog stuff, I think I´ve set my comments so that any of you can write comments, not just members. That´s not 100%. Probably hovering around 87%. I´m off for now, but I´ll be writing more later.

I guess this is a better time than never to start posting on a blog since my budget for postcards and phone calls is nearing (over) it´s limit. I got depressed the other day when I was robbed by someone in Granada, partly because I had a bit o´cash, my credit card, and my driver´s license (I would seriously pay a pretty penny to never have to deal with the DMV again, and this is coming from someone who has been working with Moroccan bureaucracy for the last month). I was really bummed, though, because I had just bought new stamps and was ready to send out some letters.
It´s been quite interesting to see the reaction of Spaniards to my brilliantly-executed pickpocketing, though I´m not necessarily suprised. When I went to report it to the police, they assured me that the thief must have been Moroccan, a sentiment echoed by pretty much every Spaniard I talk to. Yep, I am pretty sure there was no Moroccan involved, since it happened in a bar where, if a Moroccan were to enter, the world would come to a halt.
Even worse, for the police and everyone else, is that I actually work in Morocco, a concept which is beyond their understanding, even as they wander these amazing cities built by Arabs, and speak this language which would not exist as it is without its Arabic precursors. What I usually don´t get the chance to tell them is that, even here in Granada, my closest friends are mostly Moroccans, immigrants, or Muslims, and usually all three. Granadinos don´t make it easy to start up a conversation, and I don´t even have a language barrier to deal with.

On a lighter note, I really do love Granada and have really enjoyed living here. There are so many amazing little shops and restaurants that I discover every day. The award for the best ever, however, has to go to our favorite little bar, el Rincón de Michael Landon, which comes complete with a shrine to the prince of Little House on the Prairie and a Wednesday night trivia game called Trivial Landon Pursuit. Yes, we go every Wednesday. We won once. We got our asses handed to us on a platter once, too.

I have been to Morocco four times, and led two of my own groups. After being overwhelmed for a minute, I am finally figuring out how to be in Morocco on my own terms. It´s made a huge difference in how I feel about my job, although there are still a lot of doubts I have about the organization and the effects we have in Morocco. They are generally overshadowed by the reactions of the people who come on the trip. Without fail (even after a Bubonic plague-like flu from Spain left 10 of 15 people with explosive, well... everything), they leave with a whole new perspective of Islam and Africa and globalization. And they LOVE Morocco.
Still, I had a stint last week where I was really feeling dismal about everything (and the news of tons of snow falling in Colorado made me homesick). My wallet was snatched. My beautiful and strong horse, Nickers, is not too long for this world, and Bracket, her partner in crime, has never been without her. I miss my doggy-snuggles and my mama, and I wish I could have been there for my brother´s birthday. I had a massive breakout.

Then goodness happened. My boss called me the other day to see if I would be interested in developing a two-day program in Alpujarras, in the beautiful Sierra Nevada mountains in Spain. There is a really rich history in the area, as the Arabs managed to stay deep in the mountains for almost a hundred years after the rest of the Muslims and Jews were forced out of Granada in 1492. I get to lead a program of 6-8 students to the 500 year-old house of some friends, which runs almost entirely on solar and wind power. They grow most of their food, and are almost entirely self-sufficient.
Along the way, we will hike, sleep in tents, learn about basket-weaving and organic cooking, and generally get to do really awesome things while talking about alternatives to the consumer-taker-user-dominator bubble around us. The goal is to have some US students and some Moroccans on the trip together, but I will be happy to just fill my first trip.

Well, there it is. The first real entry. Now I´ll figure out how to get some pictures onto this things, and you can see the beautiful place where I live. I hope you all voted today, because the rest of the world is waiting to see how long it takes us to wake up. Go KEN GORDON!!!!!
I love and miss you all, and would love to get a letter or email to know that you are well.
Peace. H

Well, I guess this is it. My first entry into the blog world, which, depending on the moment, makes me excited or tired. I keep thinking of things that I would love to write about for my friends and family to read (because there are a lot of things running through my brain), and then I get distracted by, well, life, I suppose.
For now, I think I will just try this out to make sure that something actually comes up on the screen and doesn´t look too stupid.