This past weekend marked my first excursion out of the capital, Santo Domingo. With the help of a great friend, we rented an SUV and set off for some two-tracking, off-roading greatness. We pulled out of town on Friday around 2:00 and hit the road, destination Miches. This remote, virgin beach paradise is located on the northeast of the country and involves traversing many pueblos, climbing multiple hills and mountains, and a killer driver to get there. We managed all of those and arrived to a destination Lonely Planet told us not to even bother trying to get to...hah!
The drive was a gorgeous thing, including coastline and highways that eventually led us to small towns with broken pavement and dirt roads We passed through pueblos en los campos full of corrugated metal homes the size of a standard bedroom, laundry blowing in the breeze, bare-bottomed babies running after older siblings, working men and women, colmados blaring merengue and bachata rhythms, comedors and chimi stands preparing Dominican foods, burros lugging a day's work on their backs, gallos running and squawking, probably amping themselves up for the night's approaching cock fight, and the happiest vacas I have ever seen with floppy rabbit ears quietly pacing, grazing and standing the day away! As we drove by homes and towns, waving at every person we passed, I was quickly overwhelmed with the absolute human kindness present. Everyone we greeted, waved back to us and lit up with a smile saying money, resources, and power are not the only keys that unlock happiness. Thus, this week's verb is mostly definitely saludar. To greet is to make the acquaintance of a stranger, if even for a moment, thus opening a line of communication with someone with whom you have no previous connection.
Now, I don't give this description to romanticize the Dominican country-side and blur out the affect abject poverty has on the lives of so many of this country's people. Poverty is a reality here. It is an injustice and a struggle that way too many Dominicans share as a lived experience. Those with more resources in this country and people from abroad should be learning about the plight many face here and lend an appropriately helpful hand that will help empower communities. However, all too often I hear Westerners say things like, "Well, it's a beautiful place, but the people are just so poor...it's so sad." And when I hear this line and listen to this pity, I am reminded of places like Miches and the countryside I drove through to get there. Places where people have very little resources, yet they hand you mangos, chinolas, or limoncillos picked fresh from the trees behind their homes. Places where education, health care, a bed to sleep on, and, in some cases, a daily meal are unsure, yet many people have light in their eyes and greet you with genuine smiles. Beams that hold within them a true joy for life. I'm not talking about the medicated happiness too often sought after in my country. I'm describing a deep sense of place and peace. This condition of contentment is something that exists a lot outside of my country, in areas we deem "third world", areas we are trying to save. Sometimes I think they need to be saving us, too. Perhaps an exchange of salvation.
Back to the story at hand...after a three hour trip (which involved stopping for the BEST natural juice batida of my LIFE) we landed at Cocoloco Beach Club, just in time for a birthday party extravaganza that night! This little spot, tucked away and relatively untraveled, is owned by a Swiss woman who, like many Europeans I have met here, came one year and never went home. She has been running these cabañas for sometime now and has no plan of ever returning to the cold of Geneva. We stayed there for two nights eating wonderful seafood and walking the sandy beaches the encircled us. On Saturday, we trekked out to a pristine, blow-your-mind beautiful beach that was accompanied by a palm tree forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was worthy of a Dr. Seuss book. Even the cows, horses, and birds were laying around together! I kept searching for unicorns. After leaving the beach, we grabbed some lunch before heading up a HUGE mountain, la montaña redonda, where we screamed at the top of our lungs and stared with awe at the lagunas, forest, and ocean that surrounded us. It was perfect, every single second.
A lot opens up when we greet people and our world with a smile, respect, and a wave of the hand.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
k8elisa2011's photostream
k8elisa2011's photostream on Flickr.
This is the collection of photos I have taken so far (besides one shot by Jay Shepley) during my travels. ¡Que les disfrutan!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
to share/compartir
It's been several days since I have set down long enough at a computer to write a blog post, which is and of itself is a beautiful thing--a bit of disconnection from my techno-reality has been welcomed. The last ten days have been magical...meeting new people, being exposed to new situations, sharing new realities and moments. I continue to feel guided in this journey.
Given the lapse in blogging, I have many moments to choose from. I am going to focus on some really wonderful instants of compartiendo I have experienced these past days.
Last week my classmates and I started talking a lot with our teacher, Beatzida, about la comida dominicana. We found out through our conversations that her grandmother used to run a cafeteria here in Santo Domingo, and throughout her childhood she was trained by her abuela in the restaurant. As we discussed tostones, habichuelas, arroz con guandules, pescado del coco, jugos frescos, it became obvious that Beatzida knows how to prepare basically every Dominican dish and cooks with a lot of love! After class last Monday, I asked her if she would be willing to teach me how to cook a meal and allow me to document it for my project.
Well, this conversation led to an afternoon-long adventure with my classmates, Beatzida, her cousin and boyfriend, an afternoon of sharing and learning about one another's food histories. I shared my love for cooking, which comes from my father and grandmothers, while she talked about her abuela's restaurant and her aunt, who currently is training to be a chef and inspires her to learn new recipes and try different foods. After school last Wednesday, we went to the open air markets and purchased fish and produce for our meal, including fish, shrimp, avocados, peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, ginger, onions, garlic, lettuce, beets, leeks, oregano, limes, and plantains. We ran by a supermarket to pick up several canned ingredients we needed and got stuck in an afternoon tropical storm. The storms here are quite magical and don't have to stop life; I'm learning that being stuck in the rain can be a beautiful thing. We arrived back to the apartment, nine-deep in a tiny taxi, drenched, and ready to begin preparing this feast! The menu included the following dishes:
~ mero de coco
~camarones con salsa de queso y hongos
~arroz moro con guandules
~tostones
~ensalada de vegetal
~ensalda rusa
~jugo de limon
~ postres frances
For the next three hours, I worked alongside Beatzida learning how to prepare each dish, and with the help of several other students we made food magic! Jay recorded the process and captured some really great footage of Beatzida's love for Dominican cooking. The end product was beyond description, perfectly prepared dishes that were devoured in silence by the 12 friends present for our feast. This meal, from market to plate, was prepared with intention and love.
When the house cleared around 9:00 and I had a moment to reflect, I realized how nice it felt to share this beautiful apartment with Beatzida, her loved ones, and my classmates. When we take a moment out of our days to truly share time and space with other people, new worlds and experiences can open up to us. This is at the core of why I love to travel. These moments of sharing inevitably evolve my perspective and understanding of the world. I leave each moment richer for the intercambio.
Moving along with the theme of sharing....almost two weeks ago I shared a random, yet fated conversation at a bar called la espirral (the spiral) a fitting name for the connection I made. As I ordered my caipirinha, a conversation was struck about the United States. I found out that Dante, a Dominican now living in New Jersey, comes down to the Dominican Republic each summer to work with students in a summer film program--what a serendipity! This program, sponsored by Vin Diesel's One Race Global Flim Foundation, Fundación Global Democracia y Desarollo, Wyclef Jean's Yelé Háiti, and other groups I am now forgetting, brings students from various countries to DR each summer to study screenplay writing and film production. Dante went through the program as a student in 2006 and now serves as a teaching assistant each year.
As we talked, I explained to him a bit about my work as an educator in the United States and my deep interest in the development of 21st century linguistics curriculum that is based in the advancement of technology products--public service announcements, poster projects, music videos, short documentaries, etc. We discussed the video project I am currently working on about my experience in the Dominican Republic, and he offered to let me tour the Fundación Global Democracia y Desarollo to see the students' at work. I was blown away by what I found and returned a couple times last week to help with translations.
In its inception, the program was designed to help build the Dominican film industry through teaching script writing and technical skills to young Dominicans trying to get into the industry.
However, this year marked the development of global consciousness in the program. Focusing on the issue of of border conflicts, they brought students from Haiti and the Dominican Republic together along with students from Israel and Palestine. This added a whole new element to their project work, an aspect that fascinates and inspires me. I see so much potential in where they are moving with this work...the interweaving of screenplay writing and critical issues facing our world today, a beautiful, powerful combination of forces. I was invited to attend the graduation ceremony for the program last Saturday, and sat behind the president of the Dominican Republic...yes, in this country the president sits in the audience with his body guards. :)
It was an unforgettable night, a night that was also documented for my project so I won't say too much more.
I am learning, sharing, listening, discussing, and just taking in all I can right now. This, sometimes, gets in the way of regular blogging, but I am sure you can understand. I will do my best to keep up with the posts in these remaining 18 days of travel. This has been a journey that has already taken me much farther than I am able to communicate via the internet. Lilly, I must say thank you for the renewal.
Given the lapse in blogging, I have many moments to choose from. I am going to focus on some really wonderful instants of compartiendo I have experienced these past days.
Last week my classmates and I started talking a lot with our teacher, Beatzida, about la comida dominicana. We found out through our conversations that her grandmother used to run a cafeteria here in Santo Domingo, and throughout her childhood she was trained by her abuela in the restaurant. As we discussed tostones, habichuelas, arroz con guandules, pescado del coco, jugos frescos, it became obvious that Beatzida knows how to prepare basically every Dominican dish and cooks with a lot of love! After class last Monday, I asked her if she would be willing to teach me how to cook a meal and allow me to document it for my project.
Well, this conversation led to an afternoon-long adventure with my classmates, Beatzida, her cousin and boyfriend, an afternoon of sharing and learning about one another's food histories. I shared my love for cooking, which comes from my father and grandmothers, while she talked about her abuela's restaurant and her aunt, who currently is training to be a chef and inspires her to learn new recipes and try different foods. After school last Wednesday, we went to the open air markets and purchased fish and produce for our meal, including fish, shrimp, avocados, peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, ginger, onions, garlic, lettuce, beets, leeks, oregano, limes, and plantains. We ran by a supermarket to pick up several canned ingredients we needed and got stuck in an afternoon tropical storm. The storms here are quite magical and don't have to stop life; I'm learning that being stuck in the rain can be a beautiful thing. We arrived back to the apartment, nine-deep in a tiny taxi, drenched, and ready to begin preparing this feast! The menu included the following dishes:
~ mero de coco
~camarones con salsa de queso y hongos
~arroz moro con guandules
~tostones
~ensalada de vegetal
~ensalda rusa
~jugo de limon
~ postres frances
For the next three hours, I worked alongside Beatzida learning how to prepare each dish, and with the help of several other students we made food magic! Jay recorded the process and captured some really great footage of Beatzida's love for Dominican cooking. The end product was beyond description, perfectly prepared dishes that were devoured in silence by the 12 friends present for our feast. This meal, from market to plate, was prepared with intention and love.
When the house cleared around 9:00 and I had a moment to reflect, I realized how nice it felt to share this beautiful apartment with Beatzida, her loved ones, and my classmates. When we take a moment out of our days to truly share time and space with other people, new worlds and experiences can open up to us. This is at the core of why I love to travel. These moments of sharing inevitably evolve my perspective and understanding of the world. I leave each moment richer for the intercambio.
Moving along with the theme of sharing....almost two weeks ago I shared a random, yet fated conversation at a bar called la espirral (the spiral) a fitting name for the connection I made. As I ordered my caipirinha, a conversation was struck about the United States. I found out that Dante, a Dominican now living in New Jersey, comes down to the Dominican Republic each summer to work with students in a summer film program--what a serendipity! This program, sponsored by Vin Diesel's One Race Global Flim Foundation, Fundación Global Democracia y Desarollo, Wyclef Jean's Yelé Háiti, and other groups I am now forgetting, brings students from various countries to DR each summer to study screenplay writing and film production. Dante went through the program as a student in 2006 and now serves as a teaching assistant each year.
As we talked, I explained to him a bit about my work as an educator in the United States and my deep interest in the development of 21st century linguistics curriculum that is based in the advancement of technology products--public service announcements, poster projects, music videos, short documentaries, etc. We discussed the video project I am currently working on about my experience in the Dominican Republic, and he offered to let me tour the Fundación Global Democracia y Desarollo to see the students' at work. I was blown away by what I found and returned a couple times last week to help with translations.
In its inception, the program was designed to help build the Dominican film industry through teaching script writing and technical skills to young Dominicans trying to get into the industry.
However, this year marked the development of global consciousness in the program. Focusing on the issue of of border conflicts, they brought students from Haiti and the Dominican Republic together along with students from Israel and Palestine. This added a whole new element to their project work, an aspect that fascinates and inspires me. I see so much potential in where they are moving with this work...the interweaving of screenplay writing and critical issues facing our world today, a beautiful, powerful combination of forces. I was invited to attend the graduation ceremony for the program last Saturday, and sat behind the president of the Dominican Republic...yes, in this country the president sits in the audience with his body guards. :)
It was an unforgettable night, a night that was also documented for my project so I won't say too much more.
I am learning, sharing, listening, discussing, and just taking in all I can right now. This, sometimes, gets in the way of regular blogging, but I am sure you can understand. I will do my best to keep up with the posts in these remaining 18 days of travel. This has been a journey that has already taken me much farther than I am able to communicate via the internet. Lilly, I must say thank you for the renewal.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
to absorb/absorber
It's a slow morning here on calle 19 marzo; it seems like the whole pace of my life has slowed down a bit here in this Caribbean capital. The heat, the language, and the project work take their tolls, and I have been guarding my afternoon naps with ferocity. While my pace has become more like a meandering walk than the sprint I usually live, the days do seem to be disappearing. There is so much to take in, so much to absorb, so many experiences to be had in the next four weeks.
School is moving along, though my favorite classmate, Chris, is leaving tomorrow. Good news is there is a revolving door of students, and I hope we add new faces to class next week. A friend and fellow teacher, Kristy, will be joining me here next week and beginning Spanish classes as well. I'm looking forward to having another partner in crime! I have one more week of grammar and conversation classes, and then I add an afternoon class in Dominican culture and history to the mix for my third and fourth weeks of school. I will be interested to see what kind of teacher they bring in for this cultural studies course, as he or she is coming from one of the local universities to teach me.
So far most political or cultural discussions we have gotten into in my classes have been a bit truncated as my teachers are very conservative evangelical Christians whose religious perspectives define most aspects of their lives. Both women are lovely people, but they most definitely find me to be a bit out there, which to an extremely conservative, evangelical Dominican woman, I most certainly am! I have simply been trying to take in their points of view and beliefs about life, their country, and their people--absorb what they have to teach me. Chris and I both love to talk about race, so we have been bringing those issues up in class a lot (who will be a rabble-rouser with me now?!), and it has been really fascinating to compare how African-Americans relate to their black identity as compared to most Dominicans. Chris, who is black, pointed out to me that for Americans of color, one drop of black blood proudly allows you to claim your African heritage. Here every word in the world is used to describe people who are all of color; every word, that is, but black.
Indio, indio claro, morena/o, morenita/o, mulatta/o. To be called negro/a here is an offense, an offense that usually comes along with being called haitiana/o, as the darker one's skin is the more closely one is related to the other part of the island--the part of voodoo, creole, inexplicable natural disasters, and abject poverty. In one of my interviews yesterday, a former Dominican high school teacher and his lovely wife discussed the relationship Dominicans have with their African heritage as one of refusal and rejection. Yet, as Candi explained to me, it is a rejection that can only go so far. A woman of very light-skin and mixed background (French, Italian, Spanish, and African), she said that since childhood, she has felt her African roots through music and dance. When she hears the beat of a tambour, she feels it in her blood. Her husband, a non-dancing dominicano (a rare breed here!) elaborated on this refusal of blackness and the general quest Dominicans have always been on to set themselves apart from their brother country, Haiti, and find some sort of pure Dominican identity. This search, it seems, has led the culture to see itself as more white, more Spanish, more Catholic, and less black, less African, less connected to the cultural practices brought to the island with slavery.
Chris also turned me on to PBS's recent series, Black in Latin America, which shot an episode here in DR and Haiti. I have been consuming that series with intensity, taking in so much new information and many enlightening perspectives about the black experience across Latin America. In my own project, one question I am asking people is to identify experiences that unite all parts of the Americas...and our continental relationship with slavery and the African diaspora is one of the most important links we all share.
Well, the day stands before me, waiting to lead me to new places donde puedo absorber momentos nuevos. I am excited for this day, which includes shooting the second part of my interview with Candi and Eduardo, an afternoon of photography, and an art show tonight featuring Nathalie's collection of reportage here in Santo Domingo. I happily make myself into dry cloth ready to sponge up all the day has to give.
School is moving along, though my favorite classmate, Chris, is leaving tomorrow. Good news is there is a revolving door of students, and I hope we add new faces to class next week. A friend and fellow teacher, Kristy, will be joining me here next week and beginning Spanish classes as well. I'm looking forward to having another partner in crime! I have one more week of grammar and conversation classes, and then I add an afternoon class in Dominican culture and history to the mix for my third and fourth weeks of school. I will be interested to see what kind of teacher they bring in for this cultural studies course, as he or she is coming from one of the local universities to teach me.
So far most political or cultural discussions we have gotten into in my classes have been a bit truncated as my teachers are very conservative evangelical Christians whose religious perspectives define most aspects of their lives. Both women are lovely people, but they most definitely find me to be a bit out there, which to an extremely conservative, evangelical Dominican woman, I most certainly am! I have simply been trying to take in their points of view and beliefs about life, their country, and their people--absorb what they have to teach me. Chris and I both love to talk about race, so we have been bringing those issues up in class a lot (who will be a rabble-rouser with me now?!), and it has been really fascinating to compare how African-Americans relate to their black identity as compared to most Dominicans. Chris, who is black, pointed out to me that for Americans of color, one drop of black blood proudly allows you to claim your African heritage. Here every word in the world is used to describe people who are all of color; every word, that is, but black.
Indio, indio claro, morena/o, morenita/o, mulatta/o. To be called negro/a here is an offense, an offense that usually comes along with being called haitiana/o, as the darker one's skin is the more closely one is related to the other part of the island--the part of voodoo, creole, inexplicable natural disasters, and abject poverty. In one of my interviews yesterday, a former Dominican high school teacher and his lovely wife discussed the relationship Dominicans have with their African heritage as one of refusal and rejection. Yet, as Candi explained to me, it is a rejection that can only go so far. A woman of very light-skin and mixed background (French, Italian, Spanish, and African), she said that since childhood, she has felt her African roots through music and dance. When she hears the beat of a tambour, she feels it in her blood. Her husband, a non-dancing dominicano (a rare breed here!) elaborated on this refusal of blackness and the general quest Dominicans have always been on to set themselves apart from their brother country, Haiti, and find some sort of pure Dominican identity. This search, it seems, has led the culture to see itself as more white, more Spanish, more Catholic, and less black, less African, less connected to the cultural practices brought to the island with slavery.
Chris also turned me on to PBS's recent series, Black in Latin America, which shot an episode here in DR and Haiti. I have been consuming that series with intensity, taking in so much new information and many enlightening perspectives about the black experience across Latin America. In my own project, one question I am asking people is to identify experiences that unite all parts of the Americas...and our continental relationship with slavery and the African diaspora is one of the most important links we all share.
Well, the day stands before me, waiting to lead me to new places donde puedo absorber momentos nuevos. I am excited for this day, which includes shooting the second part of my interview with Candi and Eduardo, an afternoon of photography, and an art show tonight featuring Nathalie's collection of reportage here in Santo Domingo. I happily make myself into dry cloth ready to sponge up all the day has to give.
k8elisa2011's photostream
k8elisa2011's photostream on Flickr.
This is the collection of photos I am shooting in DR this summer. It is my FIRST attempt at real photography and stands as the pictorial partner to the blog I am writing. Cheers~
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
to choose/escoger
I took a day off yesterday, and have chosen to blog every other day to ensure I have something to say and don't feel the pressure to write every night....entonces escribo ahora....
I started school yesterday, and have been TIRED from my morning classes, homework, and project work. It's all good, though. It is all a blessing.
Yesterday I showed up thinking I was just taking a test, and found out that I was to start my classes as soon as my level was assigned. I was very happy to test into their fifth level class (out of eight), which is like a low advanced class. My classes are held on the second floor of a building about two blocks from my apartment; it is a building that one would miss easily, no sign or placard denoting it as a language school. I arrive at 8:30 in the mornings and settle in for three hours of grammar and conversation with a 30 minute break in-between sessions. The grammar block is so good for me because I understand and speak a lot more than I really know how to write or read correctly. My grammar teacher is a small morena with a large personality and presence in the classroom.We work out of a one paperback book provided by the school and she uses only a chalkboard and conversation to drive instruction. As a teacher of language myself, it is really interesting to see what she does with the limited resources they have. Compared to the endless supply of STUFF we have to use in education in the USA, it is bare bones around my school, yet in the end, sometimes the simple choice is the best. A pencil, notebook, and a good teacher go a long way in life. Following our break I return to our small room for an hour and a half of conversation with my 19 year old teacher whose personality fills the room ten times over. Today she decided that we should spend the time talking about love, relationships and our past relationships! As a 28 year old in class with two 20 year old college boys, it was an hysterical class. I like my school and know that I will walk out in four weeks with more confidence and abilities with Spanish.
Que mas...I am devouring this photography thing...loving the learning process and eagerly spending a good hour or two in the evenings doing street photography. People here are very willing to be photographed, which makes the experience a joy. When taking a photo, choice is so important. What are you trying to capture? Who or what draws your attention most? What feeling, emotion, or moment do you want to be recorded? Thus, I have been thinking a lot about choosing these past two days.
Choices are everywhere in this post-modern world, especially for educated Westerners, like myself, who have evaded early marriage and familial commitments. Sometimes I feel as overwhelmed with the choices my own life presents to me as I do when trying to choose what to photograph. Travel opens up new worlds, new places, and if you are like me everywhere you go, you can envision a life there and see how that reality would be possible. The choices are overwhelming, like being stuck in a Baskin Robbins for eternity, but instead of 31 flavors to choose from, there are an infinite number of options. How do you know where to be, what career to do, who to love? These are questions that rattle around my brain often, especially when I escape my dictated reality of teaching high school in Indiana. Don't get me wrong, I am so blessed to have the career I have...I am absolutely in love with teaching. It defines me in so many ways. At home in my bubble, I can forget how big the world is and how many options I have. I become focused on my students, my friends and family, my daily life, and I let the choices drop away. When I am traveling, it reopens the enormity of our world and the various realities in which I could be living. In the end, I come back to the knowledge that intuition has always been my ultimate compass, thus far it has guided me pretty well. The challenge is simply to create the space in life to hear myself and know why I choose what I choose. Whether taking a photo or making a major life choice, may I always move with the assurance of intuition...could I be so lucky?!
Choice. What do you choose to do with your life's energy and why? I would love to know.
I started school yesterday, and have been TIRED from my morning classes, homework, and project work. It's all good, though. It is all a blessing.
Yesterday I showed up thinking I was just taking a test, and found out that I was to start my classes as soon as my level was assigned. I was very happy to test into their fifth level class (out of eight), which is like a low advanced class. My classes are held on the second floor of a building about two blocks from my apartment; it is a building that one would miss easily, no sign or placard denoting it as a language school. I arrive at 8:30 in the mornings and settle in for three hours of grammar and conversation with a 30 minute break in-between sessions. The grammar block is so good for me because I understand and speak a lot more than I really know how to write or read correctly. My grammar teacher is a small morena with a large personality and presence in the classroom.We work out of a one paperback book provided by the school and she uses only a chalkboard and conversation to drive instruction. As a teacher of language myself, it is really interesting to see what she does with the limited resources they have. Compared to the endless supply of STUFF we have to use in education in the USA, it is bare bones around my school, yet in the end, sometimes the simple choice is the best. A pencil, notebook, and a good teacher go a long way in life. Following our break I return to our small room for an hour and a half of conversation with my 19 year old teacher whose personality fills the room ten times over. Today she decided that we should spend the time talking about love, relationships and our past relationships! As a 28 year old in class with two 20 year old college boys, it was an hysterical class. I like my school and know that I will walk out in four weeks with more confidence and abilities with Spanish.
Que mas...I am devouring this photography thing...loving the learning process and eagerly spending a good hour or two in the evenings doing street photography. People here are very willing to be photographed, which makes the experience a joy. When taking a photo, choice is so important. What are you trying to capture? Who or what draws your attention most? What feeling, emotion, or moment do you want to be recorded? Thus, I have been thinking a lot about choosing these past two days.
Choices are everywhere in this post-modern world, especially for educated Westerners, like myself, who have evaded early marriage and familial commitments. Sometimes I feel as overwhelmed with the choices my own life presents to me as I do when trying to choose what to photograph. Travel opens up new worlds, new places, and if you are like me everywhere you go, you can envision a life there and see how that reality would be possible. The choices are overwhelming, like being stuck in a Baskin Robbins for eternity, but instead of 31 flavors to choose from, there are an infinite number of options. How do you know where to be, what career to do, who to love? These are questions that rattle around my brain often, especially when I escape my dictated reality of teaching high school in Indiana. Don't get me wrong, I am so blessed to have the career I have...I am absolutely in love with teaching. It defines me in so many ways. At home in my bubble, I can forget how big the world is and how many options I have. I become focused on my students, my friends and family, my daily life, and I let the choices drop away. When I am traveling, it reopens the enormity of our world and the various realities in which I could be living. In the end, I come back to the knowledge that intuition has always been my ultimate compass, thus far it has guided me pretty well. The challenge is simply to create the space in life to hear myself and know why I choose what I choose. Whether taking a photo or making a major life choice, may I always move with the assurance of intuition...could I be so lucky?!
Choice. What do you choose to do with your life's energy and why? I would love to know.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
to recharge/recargar
I spent the first part of my day reading Feast of Goats, an intricate historical fiction novel about the assassination of Trujillo and those involved in this historical turning point. I sat in the same cafeteria as I read this afternoon while Jay worked on video and still shots around the city. It was a peaceful day of taking in our surroundings and getting ready for the coming week, thus making today's word recharge/recargar.
After a slow afternoon in the cafeteria, we came back to the apartment to do pretty mundane things--laundry, dishes, image uploading, email writing. Asi pasemos la tarde.
We were told yesterday that a famous concert happens every Sunday in a spot called las ruinas del san fransisco, so we decided to cart the camera gear up to las ruinas to see what it was all about. What we foudn was more than I could have hoped for. It was like a scene from Buena Vista Social Club--tons of older Dominicans, Cubans, Spaniards, and who knows who else making mind blowing music and dancing to the pulsing rhythms of original island dances and the far away cadence of Spanish flamenco. With Jay's guidance, I began working on my photography skills! I can now talk about ISO, f-stops, and am learning how to focus my eye and be patient enough to capture something meaningful in an image. I have always been drawn towards photography and am really engaged in this learning process.
I felt recharged by taking in our environment this evening and encouraged by the agelessness of dance here; equally fluid and beautiful were the 75 year olds dancing salsa as the 18 year olds beside them! Dancing keeps us young and open to our world. It allows us to recharge our internal batteries through movement and expression. You might feel physically exhausted after dancing, but something inside yourself has been strengthened and recharged. I can tell that many of the people around us tonight come to las ruinas every Sunday to take in that awesome scene and recharge themselves on the dance floor.
This is it for a lazy Sunday...I start my language school tomorrow, and a new world unfurls.
After a slow afternoon in the cafeteria, we came back to the apartment to do pretty mundane things--laundry, dishes, image uploading, email writing. Asi pasemos la tarde.
We were told yesterday that a famous concert happens every Sunday in a spot called las ruinas del san fransisco, so we decided to cart the camera gear up to las ruinas to see what it was all about. What we foudn was more than I could have hoped for. It was like a scene from Buena Vista Social Club--tons of older Dominicans, Cubans, Spaniards, and who knows who else making mind blowing music and dancing to the pulsing rhythms of original island dances and the far away cadence of Spanish flamenco. With Jay's guidance, I began working on my photography skills! I can now talk about ISO, f-stops, and am learning how to focus my eye and be patient enough to capture something meaningful in an image. I have always been drawn towards photography and am really engaged in this learning process.
I felt recharged by taking in our environment this evening and encouraged by the agelessness of dance here; equally fluid and beautiful were the 75 year olds dancing salsa as the 18 year olds beside them! Dancing keeps us young and open to our world. It allows us to recharge our internal batteries through movement and expression. You might feel physically exhausted after dancing, but something inside yourself has been strengthened and recharged. I can tell that many of the people around us tonight come to las ruinas every Sunday to take in that awesome scene and recharge themselves on the dance floor.
This is it for a lazy Sunday...I start my language school tomorrow, and a new world unfurls.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
to peregrinate/peregrinar
Today I awoke at 8:00...looked at the clock, realized I had no where to be, and rolled back over until close to 10:00. The sun was blazing when I chose to enter this world. I'm not sure what the weather channel was talking about when they prepared me for stormy days.
After re-learning how to make the all important cafe with the old fashioned drip pot that came with our apartment, I was ready to take on this day.
Today that can only be encompassed by the verb to peregrinate, to meander on foot with no real purpose...translated in Spanish to peregrinar, which I learned this evening takes on a holy meaning here...those who search on foot for that which is holy, akin to a pilgrimage.
Jay and I left the apartment with camera gear in tow in search of a place to change money and the idea to find what there was to be found on this Saturday. We ended up at the cafeteria situated on El Conde--the main walking street of Santo Domingo. We walked past this place once on our way to the casa de cambio, and the ambiance drew my attention...outdoor tables, groups of Dominicans involved in conversation or games of dominoes and cards, and a spattering of tourists taking a break from their sight seeing itineraries. We circled back around that way, and I just had to go in for some people watching and una limonada frozen! Jay began jumping up periodically to shoot interesting moments happening around us while I soaked in the scenery. This must have drawn the attention of our waiter, Jesus, who asked me what we are doing here with so many cameras! After a quick explanation, he pointed out several individuals he said we needed to meet who were sitting around us.
As it turns out, this cafeteria is a well-spring for la cultural bohemia de santo domingo. The country's most prominent artists, poets, historians, and professors pass their Saturdays drinking cafe and el presidentes in this very spot. Serendipities abound. Sitting to my right was a tall man reading Roald Dahl and scribbling away in a moleskin, who Jesus introduced me to right away.
Joan is an advertising executive here in DR who in one days time has become our new favorite person in Santo Domingo! After our introduction, he immediately pulled up a seat and engaged in a fascinating conversation with us about the nature of Dominican culture and history. For the next couple hours, we sat under an umbrella while the afternoon rain passed discussing the intricacies of Dominican identity. Joan might be the Dominican equivalent of Woody Allen--he has lived here all of his life and deeply loves, appreciates, and has sought to understand his people. Talking with him today helped me focus this project while also expanding my ideas. One point of Joan's that is sticking with me tonight is the idea that an essential aspect of Dominican identity is the suppression of culture, the hiding, pushing aside, or diminishing of that which is most fully full of the essence of what it means to be Dominican. This is an idea I am just starting to learning about, so I cannot say much more...but I find that statement fascinating.
As we were wrapping up our conversation, his friend, Milton, peregrinated by the cafeteria. I believe peregrination is an art form here, something Americans could learn much from when it comes to daily life. Milton is a painter and musician who is leaving in one week's time to study music in Paris. Milton became interested in our conversation about fuku, and wanted to hear more about our project. As all synchronisities seem to unfold, Milton had an exposition of his paintings up in a cultural center a few blocks from this cafeteria. He invited us to see his paintings and offered to do an interview!
What ensued was so magical, the fruit of peregrination...walking, exploring, and being present in a moment. We set up in a beautiful garden connected to this art space under statues of cristobol colon y los reyes catoloicos and began our first interview. Joan gladly helped Jay behind the camera, utilizing his own skills and background in film and video work. Milton and I dove head first into the topics of Columbus, fuku, our shared American story, the path we must walk as a global society to heal our historical wounds, and the expression of these ideas in his art...Jay is working hard to convert video tonight so that we can post clips tomorrow.
Following the interview, our meander continued; Joan invited us to meet some of his friends at a new bar that opened around the corner from our apartment. The front the building is a shoe store--shoes that resemble the oh-so popular Toms that are blowing up at home, except these are a handmade tradition produced by one family from Spain! They just opened an indoor/outdoor bar and restaurant connected to their shoe store that has such a relaxed, inviting vibe. There we were introduced to Jaime and Nathalie--a gorgeous couple of great talent. Jaime is a photographer and videoographer whose photos Jay and I actually saw from his Flickr account during our pre-trip research! He might be the most talented photographer working in DR today. Nathalie, who studied at the New School in NYC, does reportage and is incredible. We passed the evening in conversation with them about their artistic styles, histories, and perspectives. We also planned a beach trip for next weekend with them, exciting.
I am tired from this day, but filled with the knowledge that there is so much to explore...so many holy moments to embody. Day two, focused on the art of peregrination, has centered me fully in this journey and set the stage beautifully for the work Jay and I want to do while here.
After re-learning how to make the all important cafe with the old fashioned drip pot that came with our apartment, I was ready to take on this day.
Today that can only be encompassed by the verb to peregrinate, to meander on foot with no real purpose...translated in Spanish to peregrinar, which I learned this evening takes on a holy meaning here...those who search on foot for that which is holy, akin to a pilgrimage.
Jay and I left the apartment with camera gear in tow in search of a place to change money and the idea to find what there was to be found on this Saturday. We ended up at the cafeteria situated on El Conde--the main walking street of Santo Domingo. We walked past this place once on our way to the casa de cambio, and the ambiance drew my attention...outdoor tables, groups of Dominicans involved in conversation or games of dominoes and cards, and a spattering of tourists taking a break from their sight seeing itineraries. We circled back around that way, and I just had to go in for some people watching and una limonada frozen! Jay began jumping up periodically to shoot interesting moments happening around us while I soaked in the scenery. This must have drawn the attention of our waiter, Jesus, who asked me what we are doing here with so many cameras! After a quick explanation, he pointed out several individuals he said we needed to meet who were sitting around us.
As it turns out, this cafeteria is a well-spring for la cultural bohemia de santo domingo. The country's most prominent artists, poets, historians, and professors pass their Saturdays drinking cafe and el presidentes in this very spot. Serendipities abound. Sitting to my right was a tall man reading Roald Dahl and scribbling away in a moleskin, who Jesus introduced me to right away.
Joan is an advertising executive here in DR who in one days time has become our new favorite person in Santo Domingo! After our introduction, he immediately pulled up a seat and engaged in a fascinating conversation with us about the nature of Dominican culture and history. For the next couple hours, we sat under an umbrella while the afternoon rain passed discussing the intricacies of Dominican identity. Joan might be the Dominican equivalent of Woody Allen--he has lived here all of his life and deeply loves, appreciates, and has sought to understand his people. Talking with him today helped me focus this project while also expanding my ideas. One point of Joan's that is sticking with me tonight is the idea that an essential aspect of Dominican identity is the suppression of culture, the hiding, pushing aside, or diminishing of that which is most fully full of the essence of what it means to be Dominican. This is an idea I am just starting to learning about, so I cannot say much more...but I find that statement fascinating.
As we were wrapping up our conversation, his friend, Milton, peregrinated by the cafeteria. I believe peregrination is an art form here, something Americans could learn much from when it comes to daily life. Milton is a painter and musician who is leaving in one week's time to study music in Paris. Milton became interested in our conversation about fuku, and wanted to hear more about our project. As all synchronisities seem to unfold, Milton had an exposition of his paintings up in a cultural center a few blocks from this cafeteria. He invited us to see his paintings and offered to do an interview!
What ensued was so magical, the fruit of peregrination...walking, exploring, and being present in a moment. We set up in a beautiful garden connected to this art space under statues of cristobol colon y los reyes catoloicos and began our first interview. Joan gladly helped Jay behind the camera, utilizing his own skills and background in film and video work. Milton and I dove head first into the topics of Columbus, fuku, our shared American story, the path we must walk as a global society to heal our historical wounds, and the expression of these ideas in his art...Jay is working hard to convert video tonight so that we can post clips tomorrow.
Following the interview, our meander continued; Joan invited us to meet some of his friends at a new bar that opened around the corner from our apartment. The front the building is a shoe store--shoes that resemble the oh-so popular Toms that are blowing up at home, except these are a handmade tradition produced by one family from Spain! They just opened an indoor/outdoor bar and restaurant connected to their shoe store that has such a relaxed, inviting vibe. There we were introduced to Jaime and Nathalie--a gorgeous couple of great talent. Jaime is a photographer and videoographer whose photos Jay and I actually saw from his Flickr account during our pre-trip research! He might be the most talented photographer working in DR today. Nathalie, who studied at the New School in NYC, does reportage and is incredible. We passed the evening in conversation with them about their artistic styles, histories, and perspectives. We also planned a beach trip for next weekend with them, exciting.
I am tired from this day, but filled with the knowledge that there is so much to explore...so many holy moments to embody. Day two, focused on the art of peregrination, has centered me fully in this journey and set the stage beautifully for the work Jay and I want to do while here.
Friday, June 17, 2011
to settle/afincarse
Here I am--day one on this Dominican odyssey--ready for a million more days, but I will settle in tightly for 36.
It is a breezy, cool evening in Santo Domingo and the smell of a well cooked dinner is distracting me from the computer screen in front of me. My roommate and film making partner cooks! Our home for the next five weeks has high ceilings, white walls, well placed art, a balcony where I could waste away my life listening to the waterfall outside our apartment, and a rooftop pool that offers relief from a sweltering Dominican afternoon. Today we passed la tarde caminando por la ciudad. As I floated on my back in the pool this evening, staring at the same stars I see at home in a different alignment, I am once again overwhelmed with my blessings. Thank you to all who have helped me be here enjoying this moment.
It has been a day of settling into the rhythm that life will hold for the next five weeks.
My aunt helped me pick out this really special book during my time in Chicago before leaving called Life is a Verb. I have only started to explore the lessons it offers, but today I am taking from it the idea that to be engaged in life fully one must look at every day as a moment for action...today's action word is SETTLE, afincarse.
Today I arrived to this gorgeous apartment and began settling around 12:30; I was ushered into DR by Ezekiel, the airport pickup from my language school. He was the angel holding my name thus rescuing me from the cart of luggage and camera gear that has traveled with me from Indiana. I never knew how many conversations an oblong bag (suspiciously denoting film work) can bring to travel moments. As great as those random talks were, I was happy to see a friendly face willing to share my load. As soon as we got in the car, Ezekiel asked me, "Bachata o Merengue?" My response... "Me encanto los dos!" We spent the next 30 minutes driving into the capital singing along to the enticing cadence of these Latin rhythms...I felt my students with me as a belted Bachata lyrics I know mostly due to their influence in my life. He turned down the music only to point out the monument erected to Cristobol Colon...with a grimace he pointed it out to me, waiting for my response to this historic spot. I, in turn, asked this new friend what he thought of the father of the el mundo nuevo. What ensued was EXACTLY why I am here--honest, profound, off the cuff conversations with people who have something powerful to say about the continents we call the Americas. Ezekiel will be one of our first interviews...so I won't ruin his story by divulging too much in this post.
I took that encounter as a good omen, telling me that there is a story to tell. A story I have prepared for years to record.
It is a breezy, cool evening in Santo Domingo and the smell of a well cooked dinner is distracting me from the computer screen in front of me. My roommate and film making partner cooks! Our home for the next five weeks has high ceilings, white walls, well placed art, a balcony where I could waste away my life listening to the waterfall outside our apartment, and a rooftop pool that offers relief from a sweltering Dominican afternoon. Today we passed la tarde caminando por la ciudad. As I floated on my back in the pool this evening, staring at the same stars I see at home in a different alignment, I am once again overwhelmed with my blessings. Thank you to all who have helped me be here enjoying this moment.
It has been a day of settling into the rhythm that life will hold for the next five weeks.
My aunt helped me pick out this really special book during my time in Chicago before leaving called Life is a Verb. I have only started to explore the lessons it offers, but today I am taking from it the idea that to be engaged in life fully one must look at every day as a moment for action...today's action word is SETTLE, afincarse.
Today I arrived to this gorgeous apartment and began settling around 12:30; I was ushered into DR by Ezekiel, the airport pickup from my language school. He was the angel holding my name thus rescuing me from the cart of luggage and camera gear that has traveled with me from Indiana. I never knew how many conversations an oblong bag (suspiciously denoting film work) can bring to travel moments. As great as those random talks were, I was happy to see a friendly face willing to share my load. As soon as we got in the car, Ezekiel asked me, "Bachata o Merengue?" My response... "Me encanto los dos!" We spent the next 30 minutes driving into the capital singing along to the enticing cadence of these Latin rhythms...I felt my students with me as a belted Bachata lyrics I know mostly due to their influence in my life. He turned down the music only to point out the monument erected to Cristobol Colon...with a grimace he pointed it out to me, waiting for my response to this historic spot. I, in turn, asked this new friend what he thought of the father of the el mundo nuevo. What ensued was EXACTLY why I am here--honest, profound, off the cuff conversations with people who have something powerful to say about the continents we call the Americas. Ezekiel will be one of our first interviews...so I won't ruin his story by divulging too much in this post.
I took that encounter as a good omen, telling me that there is a story to tell. A story I have prepared for years to record.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Fukú
It's late and I should be sleeping, but I just started re-reading Junot Diaz's The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao in preparation for this project, and it's provoked a post. The first lines of this book helped me more clearly pinpoint the energy I feel in this work. I wanted to share:
"They say it came first from America, carried in the screams of the enslaved; that it was the death bane of the Tainos, uttered just as one world perished and another began; that it was a demon drawn into Creation through the nightmare door that was cracked open in the Antilles. Fukú americanus, or more colloquially, fukú--generally a curse or a doom of some kind; specifically the Curse or the Doom of the New World. Also called fukú of the Admiral because the Admiral was both its midwife and one of its great European victims; despite "discovering" the New World the Admiral died miserable and syphillitic, hearing (dique) divine voices. In Santo Domingo, the Land He Loved Best (what Oscar, at the end, would call the Ground Zero of the New World), the Admiral's very name has become synonymous with both kinds of fukú, little and large; to say his name aloud or even to hear it is to invite calamity on the heads of you and yours. No matter what its name or provenance, it is believed that the arrival of the Europeans on Hispaniola unleashed the fukú on the world, and we've been in the shit ever since. Santo Domigo might be fukú's Kilometer Zero, its port of entry, but we are all of us its children, whether we know it or not."
~ Junot Diaz, The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao I offer this up for thought and discussion. Do you consider yourself a child of Santo Domingo? What do you know about this idea of fukú? Is there any credence to such a thought?
"They say it came first from America, carried in the screams of the enslaved; that it was the death bane of the Tainos, uttered just as one world perished and another began; that it was a demon drawn into Creation through the nightmare door that was cracked open in the Antilles. Fukú americanus, or more colloquially, fukú--generally a curse or a doom of some kind; specifically the Curse or the Doom of the New World. Also called fukú of the Admiral because the Admiral was both its midwife and one of its great European victims; despite "discovering" the New World the Admiral died miserable and syphillitic, hearing (dique) divine voices. In Santo Domingo, the Land He Loved Best (what Oscar, at the end, would call the Ground Zero of the New World), the Admiral's very name has become synonymous with both kinds of fukú, little and large; to say his name aloud or even to hear it is to invite calamity on the heads of you and yours. No matter what its name or provenance, it is believed that the arrival of the Europeans on Hispaniola unleashed the fukú on the world, and we've been in the shit ever since. Santo Domigo might be fukú's Kilometer Zero, its port of entry, but we are all of us its children, whether we know it or not."
~ Junot Diaz, The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao I offer this up for thought and discussion. Do you consider yourself a child of Santo Domingo? What do you know about this idea of fukú? Is there any credence to such a thought?
Saturday, March 26, 2011
An explanation
If I'm going to name this PROJECT AMERICAN BELLYBUTTON, it seems like I should give a sort of explanation....
As I entered year three at Warren and decided to go for this Lilly Grant, I number of ideas for travel and adventure entered my head. I pondered India to delve into my love of yoga and spiritual questing. I considered Argentina to study tango and the interplay of Italian and Spanish histories that exists within that culture. I thought about a cross-country trip within the United States to explore history of the Native peoples of North America. Yet in the end, I decided I wanted to go to the source of American history so as to gain insight into the American society in which I live and teach. My first internal question became what is the source of our creation story? Every culture has a story they pass down generation after generation that explains society's origins...as I ran through the versions of American history I learned growing up in the Midwest, I kept coming back to,
"In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue"....
Oh yes, he most definitely did arrive in the "New World", which was quickly named Hispaniola, though it had been occupied for over 5,000 years by the Taino, who called their homeland Quisqueya, Haití, or Bohío. What ensued following Columbus's arrival is nothing short of the nexus of American history...our metaphorical bellybutton and the subject of my questing, questioning, and exploration over the next few months. I want to understand the source of our history with the hope that this will give me insight into the ways in which we choose our identities today.
This will be a participatory blog--I want your input into my question-making process. Are there any questions related to the story of how we all got here that you've always wanted to ask? Please post them if so.
As I entered year three at Warren and decided to go for this Lilly Grant, I number of ideas for travel and adventure entered my head. I pondered India to delve into my love of yoga and spiritual questing. I considered Argentina to study tango and the interplay of Italian and Spanish histories that exists within that culture. I thought about a cross-country trip within the United States to explore history of the Native peoples of North America. Yet in the end, I decided I wanted to go to the source of American history so as to gain insight into the American society in which I live and teach. My first internal question became what is the source of our creation story? Every culture has a story they pass down generation after generation that explains society's origins...as I ran through the versions of American history I learned growing up in the Midwest, I kept coming back to,
"In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue"....
Oh yes, he most definitely did arrive in the "New World", which was quickly named Hispaniola, though it had been occupied for over 5,000 years by the Taino, who called their homeland Quisqueya, Haití, or Bohío. What ensued following Columbus's arrival is nothing short of the nexus of American history...our metaphorical bellybutton and the subject of my questing, questioning, and exploration over the next few months. I want to understand the source of our history with the hope that this will give me insight into the ways in which we choose our identities today.
This will be a participatory blog--I want your input into my question-making process. Are there any questions related to the story of how we all got here that you've always wanted to ask? Please post them if so.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)