Kink in my plans!

So here's what I get for being just a bit too smug about things in general. I find out this morning that I am currently number 43 on a list in the Student Family Housing Department at NMSU. And there are 10 houses available now for summer and fall. SHIT!!! It would've just been too easy, right? Only $575 a month, rent and utilities, including phone and internet, right on campus basicall, which = saving on gas money, a bus that comes right by to take the boys to school. Yup, too damn easy. The lady on the phone was like, 'The soonest you'll be coming up for a house in maybe October or November'. Which is odd, who moves out of student housing in the middle of a semester? So I'm assuming that the earliest will be next semester. So, I'm thinking, not the end of the world, I can go along with this, right? Rent a house or apartment until then, right? And SHIT!!!! again. Money-money-money-money, etc. Lord help me, I'm busted!

How does my garden grow?

Bad-ass, that's how!!

'My' garden is actually a cooperative effort between me and my Nanny and Papa. However, silly, capitalist, westerner that I am, I like to refer to it as "mine". Sick, I know...



However, that is neither here nor there where members of the nightshade family are concerned! The tomatoes are flourishing! The potatoes are thriving! The peppers are doin' a dancin' jig!



We actually have two separate gardens going. Behind the house, there are 10 tomato plants in a bed with 3 pepper plants sprinkled in. It's a great spot, protected, and when it rains (however often that is) half the roof drains right there. There are also two old bathtubs filled with basil, rosemary, parsly, dill, chives, and other various yummy herbs, along with some loose leaf lettuce. In the big plot, we have a couple rows of sweet corn, a row of yellow wax beans, various cucumbers, beets, cantaloupe, okra, and potatoes. We also have a squash and zucchini plant. Mmmmmm, I can't wait to reap the harvest, man!

I've been using some old hay as a mulch in the big plot. Once the seedlings get a decent size, I put the hay up and around them, and along and in between the rows. It seems to be working well both for the moisture retention and keeping the weeds at bay. It's pretty noticeable in the spots that have a good, thick layer of hay versus the spots that were planted later and therefore don't. I'll keep you updated and post some pictures soon.

In Other News

1)So, it's been a few weeks since I've graduated and guess what? I still haven't heard a peep from my dear old dad. Ugh! Irritation. I mean, we've never kept up a constant and close correspondance, but generally we're on good terms. We're both just lazy about keeping in touch. However, I felt that this (graduation) was a pretty momentous occassion. Whatever. I've had a bit of a thorn in my side since a few years ago when I asked him for some help (ANY help) when I wanted to go to Dominica to study abroad. Now, I know my dad's not rich, but neither am I! Or my grandparents, for that matter, and they constantly go out of their way to help me and the boys, when they had no hand in the creation of moi, and, therefore, no obligation really. Apparently, my dad feels that his obligation was $180 per month until I turned 18, with a year of living with him in high school thrown in. Ugh, whatever. It's one of those things that shouldn't surprise you, and you really expect nothing more, yet it still bothers on a very deep level. Blech!

2) I'm getting cabin fever! I want to get on a plane and get out of the country! I'm so restless! Let's face it, gardening and blogging can only take up so much of my time.....:)

A Strange Summer

But lovely, no doubt...

So, I've graduated, completely finished my undergraduate career. After 6 long years, it feels a bit strange and a bit not. Like when you have a birthday and are supposed to feel old but don't. But this might just be better :)

And next up? Graduate school in Las Cruces, Cultural Anthropology. Yay! I'm completely excited and impatient. I'm pretty sure it's going to be amazing, though the last few days have been more numbing in my brain than anything else. I mean, I'm hopeful and pretty sure that things they are a'changin', but after the flurry of classes was over this semester, I went into weird mode. Mostly, it doesn't feel real yet, like when I'm about to travel somewhere new, and I know it, but I just can't fell it. Like that.

Which brings me to this: I'm not going anywhere (that I know of) this summer! Achk! I think it's kinda been seeping into my brain and depressing me a bit. Blech. But I am moving. And I am starting this whole new chapter of my life, with just me and my boys, thrown adrift. Well, ok, not really, I have a friend or two (including one totally amazing one!), a relative or two there, so we'll get on fine, I'm sure. There is worry, however, seeing as how this will be my first time, ever, with just me and the kiddos. I've had either my Mom, or mostly, my grandparents within yelling distance ever since I've had these boys. That's going to be quite a shocker, I'm assuming. We'll see.....

On another note, Erykah Badu has become the soundtrack of my summer, I think. Or part of it, at least. Along with Manu Chao and Lila Downs, my summer is groovin', yo! Blissful!

Mas Guatemala!

I distincly remember that bus ride from Guatemala City to Flores. Up to that point, the city was all I knew, and even though I knew the place was holding out on me, I had no idea. I was enthralled, I was enraptured, I was in love before I even knew the place's last name. The countryside was mountainous and green. So blasted green! Being from the desert, I have a deep reverence for anyplace so wet and vitally alive.



We stopped for lunch at this little gas station/restaurant. I was on this journey alone, but I felt completely fulfilled. Stepping off the bus around 2 in the afternoon after being on the bus since 9 that morning was amazing. The balmy air hit me in a burst, and I just couldn't keep a smile off of my face. Even though we were at a gas station (surely not glamorous), it was a fairly isolated one, the trees grew right up to the edge opposite the road. "This is it," I thought, "I'm getting to where I want to be."







I walk towards the bathroom and have my first, and only, experience with public toilets that require payment. Only 1 quetzal, but still. I was trying to be thrifty on this trip. However, the bathroom attendant lady (administrative restroom professional?...) was very nice. I think so anyway, since she didn't speak English and my Spanish, strangely enough, still sucked. I then went the little restaurant there, walled in on two sides only and completely absorbing. The weather was cooperating that day, though, it might not have been as charming when the sun was beating down in extreme mid-day heat. I have no idea what I ate, but it was delicious. This was also my first, though definitely not last, with the corn tortilla/s. They were to be one of my constant companions on my entire trip, luckily enough.







After lunch, the bus ride passed in a blur. We got held up when crossing into Petén, and I'm still not even sure why. The guards were looking in the luggage holder for a while, but then it turned into us waiting for someone to bring something to fix something on the engine of the bus. I think. After this, I was only ready to get to Flores, my next stop. I was planning on the bus making it by mid-afternoon, but it was dark well before we were near Flores. By this time, I was getting tired and crampy, and a bit uptight about my next move. I was planning on playing it mostly by ear, I had a phone number to call in San Andrés (where I was going to volunteer and stay) but I felt it was too late. All I wanted was a safe, comfy bed. And, of course, since it was only my second night away, I was feeling homesick for my boys already in a very achy way.





As soon as the bus stopped, I was thinking only of wanting a taxi. Luckily, about a dozen guys were standing around offering their taxis for the road-weary. I grabbed my bag and the first taxi driver I saw. I hopped in his little white car. I was far from feeling adventurous now, so I gave him the name of a fairly touristy looking hotel that I had seen in my guidebook. "Si, si," he said, he knew the place. I don't remember this dudes name, but his friendliness and helpfulness were a godsend at that point. We find the hotel, and I find out it's ridiculously overpriced and so ridiculously bourgeois that I couldn't stomach it, no matter my state of mind. Nice taxi driver tells me he knows a place. I place my fate in his hands (luckily for me) and we head into Flores proper, an island on Lago Petén Itza connected to the mainland by a bridge. It was a lake I would come to know very well over the following weeks.

Here's a map of Santa Elena/Flores in Petén

My driver takes me to a small hotel on the shore (most of the town is on the shore...), someone he knows and probably gets money from for sending clueless travelers their way. I get a small room with a bed, t.v., A/C, and bathroom with a shower and hot water. Luxury, for sure, and only about $15, definitely my priciest stay of the trip, which I gladly paid. I locked the door behind me. I just didn't have it in me at this point to dredge up enough curiosity to do anything more. I could feel homesickness and sadness setting in; it's a pattern, I get crazy homesick/sad/depressed the first 3 nights I travel alone. So I knew I'd get over in a couple of nights and just let it come, but I tried (kinda unsuccessfully) not to let it drag me down. I take a hot shower with a very strange contraption indeed (pictures next time), put on some comfy clothes, tried to write in my journal (the short entry for that day talks of nothing but my despair that nite...), then turned on the air conditioner and tv, watched Pride and Prejudice and had a good cry, then went to sleep. Maybe my brain would start wrapping around this in sleep.

Next up: Welcome, Krysten! Here, shovel that dirt!

I Have a Problem

I cannot get off the damn Myspace forums! I can't stop. I mean, sure, part of it is engaging in interesting converstions with like-minded people, but most of it is verbally bitch slapping ignorant people on the News&Politics forum. Crap. I should be above it and know better, but I get drawn in. Of course, all the enjoyment wears off after a while when they have no comeback other than to call you a 'dope smoker', but still, I continue. *sigh*

Politics As Usual....Surprise!

While I am always prepared for news of a lot of talk and absolutely no action (or more accurately, the worst possible action) from most governments, it still just pisses me off. In this Amnesty International article, more proof that for all of their jaw flapping, these politicians really don't give a flying fuck. Don't get me wrong, I like Obama. I do. And I'm not expecting miracles from one man, I never was. But when I read that the indigenous leaders of Latin America were told that there would be no venue for them in Trinidad and Tobago (where the Summit of the Americas was recently held), I about wanted to spit. Blah blah blah! How can we make more money, guys? Cuz I don't give a flip about those pesky natives...Argh!

And how 'bout that Cuban embargo, eh? Obama says he wants to use it as an incentive for Cuba's leaders to get a move on in the human rights department, among other things. Yeah, cuz it's worked so well for the past 40 years, right? And because human rights was such an important issue that is was brought up and discussed at the Summit of the Americas, right? You have to be shitting me. I mean, yes, Cuba's leaders have a lot to answer for. Come on, the idealism that started the Cuban revolution has sizzled and burned down to a hard turd. Don't get me wrong, probably most of those that engaged in the revolution were doing it with pure intentions, and Che was one of those, but no one can tell me that Fidel Castro is not as much a politician as any republican in the U.S. Sure, a communist (though he was a bit shady about that, too, wasn't he?), but still a bleeding politician. When has hurting the people of a country in order to get their government to do the right thing ever been a sound solution? Huh? Yeah, that's what I thought.....

Viva la revolucion!!

That's my man, yo!

This past weekend, I went to Las Cruces, and it will go down in the books as one of the best weekends ever, and one of the biggest regrets of my life ever (ok, that last one may be a bit melodramatic, but you'll see......)

A few weeks ago, I discovered that Immortal Technique, my most favorite revolutionary hip-hop artist in the world ever, was going to be having a free concert in Las Cruces (my future home, no less!). Fuck yeah!! Before I talk about my weekend, let me tell you about Tech, or at least my interpretation of him since that's all I really know. I have a deep respect for this guy, his work and his music are something that I can really relate to, that I understand and love. He knows the injustices and the most ridiculous aspects of this world and its systems and raps about them. Some of it is angry, but if some of this shit doesn't make you angry, then you really must not give a shit (thanks, Ani!). I am instantly drawn to anyone who expresses their dissent of the institutions, especially in this country. I'm probably more radical (much more radical) than most of my friends, with the exception of Talia. I don't think our capitalist system and our falsely labeled democratic government can be fixed. I think it's going to have to burn to the ground and we're going to have to start over (literally or metaphorically, either will work). If I were to label myself, I would be closest to an anarchist, I think, though I'm not too worried about what to call myself. I don't believe people need to be policed and told what do in order to be decent people. I do believe in community and cooperation. I believe that this world is fucked up from the basement to the attic and everywhere in between and that most people don't know and /or don't care. But I also appreciate life and find the beauty and love everywhere I can and just soak it up. I'm happy, but I'm also angry at injustice and apathy. I don't like violence as a general principle and I think that things can and should be resolved peacefully if at all possible. However, I think there are circumstances that will require us to fight for the things that we know are right and just in this world; that sometimes, we must fight oppression in every way that we know how. With all of that said, Immortal Technique is just about my favorite artist right now. I know and love his music, and I was freaking pumped to go see him in concert.

So, back to this weekend, from the beginning. Talia and I left at 6:00 in the morning, because I thought the show was supposed to start around noon (turns out, it wasn't till 9:00 that night, but the day was so wonderful, I'm glad we left early). T and I have been friends since kindergarten, she's my best friend in the world, and I love her and all of her ridiculousness. Anytime I take a roadtrip with her, we have the best damn time. We talked about any and everything, and laughed our asses off.

Once in Cruces, we met up with T's cousin Sam and his girlfriends Sarah. And what ensued was the most perfect day. We were at the park for a few hours for an Earth Day celebration, saw my gal Niki, the best little ray of sunshine ever. We listened to some drums, some bluegrass music, and rolled around in the grass on this fantastic, warm day. Afterwards, we went to Mesilla and drank some mojitos out on a patio and listened to live music, Latin music, a woman with a fantastic voice.

Then! Oh yes, then! We went to the campus to see the concert. We got there a bit early, watched an emcee battle (kinda wack, I probably could've done better than most of those dudes..:) ) So there I was, standing near the front of the stage, when T runs up out of nowhere "I just met Immortal Technique! Come on!" I was like, "Yeah, right bitch, leave me alone, I have a good spot!" "No I'm seriouss! Let's go", she said and started dragging me to the side. I finally paid attention to her and realized she was fairly sizzling with excitement. I kinda felt my insides turn into jell-o as I followed her to the side of the stage. Oh....shit....man..... There was a merch table with 2 guys by it, one in a camo jacket and hat. I don't think anyone there realized who he was, really. Oh shit. I looked at T. "Really? Are you sure? Is that him??" I ask. "Yes!!"

I almost turned right around and said, "No! I don't want to go over there!" Looking back, there was probably some starstruckness going on, and I realized it, and I didn't want him to think I was wack and groupie-like. In a nutshell, I froze. We walked up to the table and he looked up. I smiled, shook his hand. "Hi, I'm Krysten," I said. I can't remember what he said. Hi? How's it goin'? I really have no idea. I made eye contact then looked away to the table with his CD's and some shirts on it. And that was it. I couldn't talk to him! What?!?! I know, I know, trust me, I know. I had about a million things to say, a thousand conversations to start. But how do you communicate your nature to someone whose nature (or at least a part of it) you already know? I guess what it came down to was that I didn't want to look like a fool in front of someone that I've admired from a distance. Lame, I know. What the hell happened to my balls, man? They left me at a critical moment.

And that was it. My interaction with him. Oh, I mean the concert rocked my world, I went hoarse from yelling and I was throwing my fist up in the air. He was an amazing performer, and I was impressed with the way he carried himself. People ended up on stage after ignoring the ropes (me and Talia included!), and he just kept on. Bad flippin' ass man, I'm not kidding. The show rocked.

He had nice hands. Soft.

Part 4 of A Guatemala Story

When last we left off, I had just spent my first night in Guatemala. Thus began my adventure to find a bus to Flores. Before I left home, I spent literally hours poring over my Guatemala Moon guidebook, and I had felt fairly confident about getting around when I was leaving the US of A. However. Being in Guatemala in reality was different than being in Guatemala figuratively. I asked my guy in the office if he could call a taxi for me so I could get to the bus station. He comlied, and let me just say, kudos to him, it must be a fairly frustrating job to deal with turistas on a regular basis who just suck at Spanish. So, I sit in the sitting area (fittingly enough...), reading Walden until my taxi comes. With the hostel guy acting as intermediary, it's established that I need to get to a bus station. "Si!", I add helpfully, "autobus!" (It is a testament to their kindness that neither of them rolled their eyes.....)

So I said goodbye to Hostel Los Volcanes.....

The rooftop patio outside my room











The inner courtyard at Hostal Los Volacanes



The taxi ride to the bus station was uneventful, but in a good way. Guatemala city was just as I expected it to be. No, no, rather, it was familiar in a way that your hometown is familiar. Everything fit, felt right to me. The city seemed huge. It's actually the largest city in Central America, I believe. The roads wound round and round. I couldn't have found my way back if I had to. I was wrapped up in looking at everything I possibly could, even the asinine and ridiculous, like the KFC I saw.



We reach the bus station. I pay the taxi, take my bag, and gather my bearings. Kind of. The station is a building that does not lend itself to bus stations. Homeless are sleeping on the sidewalks. The station and bus yard take up about a quarter of a block (not a city block...). I drag my bag towards the tiny door, through a group of people who regard me with eyes that I cannot fathom. People are everywhere. For a moment, I feel lost. Like this place is something I will never, could never, understand. Once inside the station, I walk straight to the woman behind the glass at the counter. I need a bus ticket. I can do this. I understand this. "Speak English?" I ask in Spanish. Her face is inscrutable, she shakes her head. This woman has no compassion for me, who she does not know. "I need go Flores?" I try. She nods, starts speaking. She writes down the time the bus leaves, the cost of the ride. I feel myself exhale and relief floods my body. I gather some courage from the situation. I pay my US$22 for the 8 hour ride and go and sit in the fairly spacious waiting room. I have an hour to kill and Walden is not going to fill me right now. So I sit and observe and try to relax.



People, men, women, and children, stick their heads in the door every so often with something to sell. Sunglasses, candy, belts, newspapers. That and more they are peddling. Ocassionally someone will buy something, a candy for the patiently waiting 2 year old.



I wonder where these people are going, what their story is, but I'm too shy, too unsure of my meager Spanish, to strike up a conversation. Next time, I will know better.



Finally, it's time to get on the bus. I drag my bag out to the waiting bus (there are two and I find the right one). As the bus drags out of the tiny yard into the tiny street, I smile. My journey continues. The bus ride is punctuated by frequent stops. We pick up some people, drop off some people here and there. At every stop, women and occassionally men board with food and drinks to sale. At some stops, people get off and return with plates of deliciousness. I buy a plastic baggie filled with fresh mango slices, with a wedge of lime in it. As the bus rattles along, I sit back and wallow in the juiciness of fresh mangoes and the overwhelming countryside.

Up next: Getting in Late, Homesick?!?!, and The Lake

I got my graduation present from my Nanny and Papa today, a laptop! Woo! This is my first one (yeah, I know, I'm a little behind the times....) so double the excitement, man! It's a refurbished Dell, it seems like it'll be good, decent memory and speed. I'm mainly excited that now I have my own computer to download music to and, ergo, my iPod. New running music! I'm pumped!

Speaking of running, I've been such a lazy slacker. Ugh! However, I'm getting back on track. I'm running 1.5 miles easily in about 18 minutes. Not something marvelous, but decent, I think. I'm about to up it to 2 miles.

I was just looking at some old photos of my trip to Dominica and I got so......flippin'.........melancholy. Oh man oh man! The feelings I get when I look at old pictures of wonderful, amazing, life-changing experiences just about keel me over and kill me in the best possible way ever. :) Here's one, and do I ever miss these gals!

On a bit of a sad note, I think travel is out this summer. Kinda kills me, but what can ya do? I'll be moving, most likely, which is a good/fantastic thing, I know. But I've been out of the country the past two summers, and having to stay put and keep my travelin' boots locked up breaks my heart a bit. Aye, mi.......

An Extra Day

So, my little E has a sore throat today, which means I get one extra day of spring break. Good, for an extra day, bad, for having to put off seeing my gal J. I think I'll try and get everything caught up and under control. I still have some reading to do for my English class, I'm in the midle of a Jack Kerouac that needs reading by tomorrow, so I'll probably delve into that.

It's almost graduation time! Yay! Even though I'm a bit tense about my next step, the fact that I'm about to graduate with my bachelor's degree pumps me up. :) Seeing as how I never got around to graduating high school (GED, baby...), it's even a bit more exciting for me than normal. 6 weeks! Begin the countdown...

Grad School Worries

I'm completely pumped to be going to grad school in Las Cruces this fall. However, I'm totally at loss as to how I'm going to pay for...well, anything, really. Tuition, rent, bills, kids...achk!! I didn't get an assistantship (not that I was banking on it, my undergrad degree is wildlife and I'm going into Anthro now, and aside from that, my transcripts suck hard core), and I now find out that I'm nearing my "aggregate loan limit" for student loans. Crap! I'm already in debt over my head 10 times over because of student loans, so I figured, what's two more years of accruing humongous amounts of debt? Right? Besides, in some small corner of my mind, there is a part of me that is wishfully thinking that the thing that's supposed to go down in 2012 will adversely affect the computer systems that my loan history is on. (Hey, a girl can hope!). However, apparently that may not be possible. So on to plan B....wait, I never had a plan B! Shit!
I have spent some time looking around the net at grants and whatnot (for some reason, I didn't think to think of this sooner...lovely), and, of course, most of the deadlines are far gone. Ugh. I'm not really sure why I let myself get into these situations.
However, I did find a NSF grant for a master's thesis combining the effects and affects of the interactions between human and natural processes. It's for a measly 500,000 to 1 million (no shit).....like I said, a gal can always hope.

I'm stressed about this, but not too stressed (yet) as I haven't talked to a financial aid advisor. I'll save the full-on panic and tears mode for after.

A Guatemala Story, Part 3

So there I was, at my hostel in Guat City, finally finally. We enter through a gate into a small couryard in the front. I'm so loving everything right now, the fountain in the courtyard, the carved wooden chairs and tables in the living area, the worn, rustic look of the stairs as I lug my huge suitcase up them. I'm shown into a dorm room with three bunk beds and an extra bed. A door leads out onto the roof. Left on my own, I drop onto the bed, my insides still tingling with expectation and nerves. Exhale.



I walk outside, on the roof patio, to smoke a cigarette and get my bearings. Breathe deep. Look over the rooftops of Guatemala City, mountain tops in the distance remind me that I'm in the tropical world with their shining green glory. The sky is glriously gray and overcast, the day is cool. Breathe deep.

I head downstairs to check the hostel out. A group of giggly American teenagers is sitting at the dining table chowing down on pizza. I gather, from their shirts, that they're with a volunteer group. From their chatter, I choose to not talk to them, inane talk will not sit well with me right now. So instead, I sit on the wicker chair in front of the television (I know, I know....). There are two guys, both American, talking about Nepal. My interest is piqued, so I join in the talk. One of the guys is a doctor, he and his girlfriend have been traveling the past year, volunteering with different medical organizations. He said they worked for two years, saved money, and then traveled for one year. Oh, the joy! I end up having a great conversation with these two guys about Guatemala, conservation, globalization, and soccer.

I later meet Loti, a blonde Swede who is going to fly out the next day to see some friends in L.A. Her and her boyfriend have been backpacking up from South America for the past 5 months. She tells me some fanstastic stories. I admit that I just arrived and have no wonderful travel stories. We head out to go to the Artisan Market some blocks away. We catch a city bus, which turned out to be a fairly awkward situation. We hop on and head to the back, there are a few seats here and there with one spot open, but no one will scoot so we can sit. Loti crams into a seat and I keep looking. Finally I plop down by some guy, he is then forced to scoot over and exchange comments with some other people. I am completely in the dark as to the nature of those comments, but before I can get irritated or haughty, we reach the market. It's fairly touristy, but full of fantastic goodies. I make a mental note to stop back by here on my way back to the states in 4 weeks.

Loti and I decide to walk back to the hostel, as it's only about 10 or 12 blocks away. As we're walking, we come upon kids leaving school, walking down the road in their little uniforms. (I find out that pretty much all children who go to school, anywhere, wear uniforms here.) Loti causes quite a sensation with her pale skin and blonde hair. We get sly glances, grins, giggles, and twitters from the younger kids. As we're walking, I also notice men in army-type uniforms with machine guns standing in front of various stores or buildings, the majority of them banks. They seem fairly ominous to me, though I wasn't sure if it was based on intuition or the horror stories that have come out of Guatemala and their dirty civil war, or perhaps a combination of both. Though I'm wary, I don't feel threatened walking on these streets. It feels exactly as it should. It feels like Guatemala. The only words I understand on this walk are "Eyyyy, guapas!" from a couple of men we pass. I grin to myself, Loti looks the other way, and we both roll our eyes. A word about machismo and comments from men: I think machismo is wack. However, getting catcalls from men in Guatemala never upset me; in fact, it was nice. (More on this feeling later in another story!)

After we get back to the hostel, Loti and I splurge and call in an order for some yummy food and lots of it. It was almost 280 quetzales, roughly $40 US, for the both of us and was by far the most I ever spent on one meal in Guatemala. But it was delicious and made me very happy.

I went to bed that night filled with expectation and a sense of accomplishment, for some reason. The air was muggy, night was dark. I was a bit homesick for my two boys, missed them like crazy, actually, but I knew I would feel better in the morning. I drifted to sleep enveloped in a strange kind of melancholy.

When I woke up, Loti had already left for the airport. I stretched. The dr. was packing up some stuff. "I had a weird dream," I said. " My eyelids fell off, but it didn't bother me."

He said it meant something; I only remember the gist of it, that I was going to transcend something, have a spiritual experience, something of that nature. Then I said something totally goofy and retarded and ruined the moment.
"I better find some coffee," I said.

Next up: Off To The Bus Station, The Bus Ride, and Finally Flores!

Running, Day 10 and Having of the Spring Fever

Run, girl, run!

Well, I'm up to a mile and a half. Lame! I want to run, run, run like a crazy gal. I love how I feel after I run, and I've decided that I love the actual act of running. I almost started letting my really out of shape body get to me, then I read a running blog, and I feel much better :) One girl had the same quesiton that's been going through my head the past 10 days : Why does every time feel like the first time? aka: Why aren't I getting better at running? And she's been running for 2 months, so I feel better.....or wait, does that mean I'll still feel like it's the first time after 2 bloody months?? Say it isn't so! However, I'm trying to mentall prepare myself against all things anti-run: like, say, myself in a few weeks....



I do feel proud of myself, though. It's only been two months since I've stopped smoking, and I'm pretty sure I haven't actually ran since high school track. I'm pretty sure I'm going to stick to this; however, we'll see.

Spring Fever

I have the worst case of cabin/spring fever EVER! Ugh, I'm so ready to go out and about, go swim in a lake, lay on a beach, hike in the mountains, something! Get me out of this flat-landed, school-filled, lame-o place already! I'm not bitching, I'm just really....really....ok, I'm bitching, but still. It's that time of year, and I need adventure right now. I'm pretty sure that if something doesn't present itself soon, I'll be making up something to entertain myself, and that hardly ever turns out alright....

I Keep On Running But No One Is Chasing Me

So, I started running. As of yesterday. That would make today Day #2 and man on man! Am I ever glad I quit smoking when I did, because my lungs feel like purity shit! Blech! I actually am getting satisfaction out of this, which is great, considering that I kind of hate running....Wait! NO! I love running, actually. This is my new mantra, I LOVE RUNNING. Yesterday, my lungs felt like they were cobwebbed together with tiny wires criss-crossing everywhere, trying to function while underneath a suffocting wet feather pillow. A bit better today. My legs felt like cement today. I felt like I was literally dragging them around with my hips, my thighs and calves nothing but dead weight. Makes me wonder what tomorrow will be bring, that's for sure...

So, I travel 2 miles a day. I don't run the entire way (yet!), but I'm working up to it. I run half a mile, walk a mile, then run the last half mile. I thought I could up the running part a bit today, but no luck. My cement legs made me want to cry, so I stuck to the mile.

Aside from running, I'm doing yoga twice a week, though I'd like to up that to at least 4 or 5 times a week.

I will get in shape and healthy and I will enjoy doing it. Period.

Can't A Girl With Glasses Get A Break?
Crap-ola, my contact finally finished tearing this morning, and now I'm stuck in glasses, woefully so! I honestly feel like I'm handicapped, my sight just isn't right somehow. I feel off-balance and out of control. It's kind of a horrible feeling. Luckily, though, I'm dealing with my feelings of inadequacy by doing as little activity as possible and as much laying-around-reading-a-book as possible. Ha! Take that, you horrifying contraption stuck on my nose! You will not get the best of this gal, that's for sure!
Also, my parallel parking, which is stupendously horrendous to begin with, is now positively abyssmal, what with my lack of depth perception. Ah, the woes of me...

Flying Solo
So, I am now officially single, again. (You might have noticed how this is not some tragedy, as it is not the first thing on my mind these days....) One lessen I've (re-)learned: Relationships built for convenience never turn out to be at all convenient. Blast!
And now I am faced with that both terrifying and liberating status: single mother with two young children seeks loving revolutionary with whom she can live, laugh, love, fuck, and tear down the state. Now really, is that so much to ask for? I thought not.
Perhaps it's because I'm just newly single now, (but hopefully it's because I'm growing spiritually as a human being) but I'm not at all worried about finding someone to spend my life with, i.e. finding someone to keep me from being alone in my old, decrepit years. Since I tend to be such a hermit anyway, it's just not something I'm that worried about. I have complete confidence in being able to raise my boys as loving, compassionate, intelligent people, and complete confidence in being able to realize my wildest damn dreams. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure in about a month or two or five, I'll stumble into a slump, but I feel more able to cope with those now. Even though I'm only 26, I feel as if I've grown enormously in the past 3 years or so. I feel more confident in my skin, and even though I know I still have some more work and tons of learning to do, all prospects excite me right now. I know it's at least partly because I'm in a really great place right now, but I also know it's because I'm a stronger woman than I used to be.

On one last note, it's officially been 7 weeks since my last cigarette! WOOOO! I've been thinking about Borneo lately......

Africa On My Mind, and A Guatemala Story

Africa



So, my brain has been completely occupied with thoughts of Africa for the past week or so. This Africa obsession happens every couple of months or so, and now I guess the time has come again. It starts with me watching my Africa movie staples (Hotel Rwanda and The Constant Gardener), throw in a documentary or two (this time it was Wardance and Invisible Children) and I'm a total goner. I have a feeling I could easily fall in love with that continent. No, wait, scratch that; I'm already in love with that continent and I've never even been there.



I'll give you one of my favorite quotes, it originated with my professor in Dominica and I tweaked it a bit

"My heart is New Mexican, my rhythm is African, and my soul is Latin American." Seems to fit pretty well. And at first, I underestimated the rhythm part. Now, I'm pretty sure it's something much deeper, something primeval and essential.



Guatemala Stories, Part 2



When last my story left off, I was just descending into Guatemala City. My level of excitement was through the roof and I had a fire burning in me. The air felt different the second I stepped out of plane and into the airport. Let me just say here, if you've never been in an airport outside of the U.S., there is something very different about an airport in a developing/third world/whatever-you-wanna-call-it country. They're not as shiny and sharp as aiports in the U.S., you feel under less pressure, I think.



So, I'm walking through the hallways, trying to find the exit. I, of course, just follow everyone else, hoping that my destination is the same as the majority of the people who were on that plane with me. And then, at last! I see the exit doors, and holy crap. There are about a zillion people standing right outside the door, waiting for people, I'm guessing. My stomach knots slightly as I start looking for my pick-up. I've made "reservations" at a hostel in the city (Los Volcanes) and someone is supposed to be picking me up at the airport. I'm looking for a sign, my name, anything. I'm a ball of excitement and anxiety rolled into one, my body is litterly zinging with anticipation. And then, through the sea of brown humanity, there! A sign: "Hostal Los Volcanes". YES! Confidence returns and I drag my large, ungainly suitecase over to the guy holding the wonderful sign (this is the first of many times on my trip when I curse myself for not backpacking it). I smile, "Hola! Soy Krysten, are you waiting for me?" Oh crap, even my Spanglish sucks, with less "span" than "glish". The guy grins a shy grin, rattles something off in Spanish. Confidence is slowly leaking away but I keep my cool. This is who I am, I think to myself, a savvy, broad-minded, kick-ass gal who can confidently and compassionately find her way through any situation, even with (especially with) a language barrier. And then.....we just stand there.

I'm assuming we're waiting for someone, as this guy isn't leading me away to a comfy bed in a dorm. So we smile and grin at each other every now and then as we wait. I begin to feel to first edges of an uncomfortable situation creeping up, but I push it back, very determined not to let that Krysten out; you know, the one who let uncomfortable situations take her over, instead of enjoying a moment for what it is. And, wonders of wonders, I succeed! I close my eyes, breathe in Guatemala, and smile. I am here.

After a bit, I strike up a conversation with a girl who's asked for a lighter (see, there actually can be some benefits to smoking!), and find out that we're headed for towns that are like 2 miles from each other. She says she's working with a women's weaving coop, and I tell her that I think that's bad ass! (with exclamation point and all!)

Finally, after standing around about 15 minutes, another guy comes over, Spanish is exchanged with Spanish speakers, he smiles, says hello and leads me to a van. He and I manage to communicate, he (Tomas, by the way) with his bad English and me with my bad Spanish. I find out the first guy is his cousin, and Tomas works at the hostel.

Guatemala City is big and dirty, with bright colors everywhere, and a Kentucky Fried Chicken. (Ich, already??) I love it, every single bit of it. Already, I'm happy. Already, I feel comfortable. My soul feels at home. You know how it is, when you hear a certain song, or smell a certain smell, or see a certain cloudy sky, and you feel as if you've come, finally, to your home of all homes? Guatemala was that for me. And I'd only been there for 20 minutes.

Coming up next: Meeting Fellow Travelers, and "Heeeey, Guapas!"

Slacking and then some

I should have known, here I am already slacking at blogging like nobody's business. Go figure. Me, the girl who spent one year in Girl Scouts, one year in ballet, and on and on with various other hobbies.



Getting Pampered



My SO and I spent the weekend at the Ojo Caliente Spa north of Santa Fe, and let me tell you! There is nothing in this world like a 2 1/2 hour full body massage, that's for sure. This woman had the most amazing hands in the world, and I wanted to take her home like no other. Add to that a bit of lotus oil and I was a goner!



The mineral pools were awesome as well; I sat and boiled in them a while, though it wasn't nearly long enough. There were arsenic and iron cliffside pools that were fantastic at night under the stars with a back-lit cliff face....bliss..... The steam room made me particularly sweaty and happy, as I cannot abide saunas with their oven-like dry heat; gag!



The spa was basically surrouned by state and BLM land, so there were trails to hike, too, even though I was lazy and only went on a very short one before I retreated back to the indulgence of the pools. But really, who can blame a gal?? The trip was completely relaxing, totally indulgent, and glorious. Not to mention the fan-flippin-tastic food at the restaurant. Yes, it was a little bit o' heaven right here in the New Mexico mountains. If you're ever in the area, check it out; lodging on site is a bit pricey, but entry to the pools isn't too bad, especially if you want a bit of pampering. (I would have been just as happy at some of the completely unaltered hot springs back in the Gila Forest, but who am I to say no when someone else is paying?)

Going to Las Cruces

I found out last week that, yes, I will be living in Las Cruces this fall and starting grad school! Whoo! I'm pretty darn excited. I love Las Cruces, I love the professors that I've met so far in the anthropology department, and I love the possiblities that are hovering in front of me now! I'm also a wee bit terrified, but hey, I can deal with that.

My little guy, E, keeps saying he absolutely, positively does NOT want to move to Las Cruces. Which brings up the biggest issue I have: moving the boys away from from the grandparents (and moving myself away!). I'm pretty sure that's going to be the hardest part for all of us, considering that we've lived next door to them for the last 6 years..... We'll just have to tough it out. I know, I know, I KNOW that this will be completely worth it in the long run. It's kind of like the second step in getting us closer to that ambiguous world of wonderfulness; you know the one, where my kids and I are bi- or perhaps even trilingual, where we live, work, play, laugh, cry, and love in a community that values the real things that are important in life, and the one that is quite simply tropical. (The first step of course was my undergrad degree.) So......flippin......worth.....it.....

When the red man can get ahead, man

Though I'm probably not the biggest fan of public prayer, per se, I did enjoy Rev. Lowery's benediction prayer. And, of course, many right-wing *enter your choice of adjectives* have jumped on this and claimed it was racist. Really? I mean, where is the racism?? I thought the ending of the prayer was sweet and timely, adding a bit of humor to a serious issue.

"Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen."

Come on, give me a break. Race isn't the bohemoth it used to be, to be certain, but it is definitely still an issue. And I think you can only truly appreciate that if you're not white. Sorry, am I being racist? Or just honest? "When white will embrace what is right." Not every white person is racist, not every black person has been a victim of overt racism. But there are undercurrents to the words and actions of people in this country. Let's not fool ourselves. How can we continue to make progress if we don't acknowledge the problems?

I was particulary glad that native americans, indians, the red man were mentioned. Native Americans have gotten the short end of the stick, so to speak, continually and without fail. To this day, conditions on many reservations are dismal. I think it a great tragedy that fairly nothing is being done to remedy certain issues that are relevant to native americans.

So, people, let's keep an open mind. Let's acknowledge, and then move on. I've had enough apathy from people to last me a million lifetimes.

Graduation is on the way!

So, my last semester of undergraduate work has officially started and is off with a bang. I'm actually really excited, which probably has to do with the fact that as soon as I finish these classes, I'm outta here! (hopefully!) Still haven't heard a decision from my grad school, but I'm mostly really hopeful about that.
I'll be doing tons of reading and writing this semester, which is a big difference from the past two or three semesters. Intro to Lit: Novels will keep me in a couple of books, and an anthro class, Origins of Human Diversity, has lots of reading, too; I'm really looking forward to both of them.

I've fallen victim to some horrible cold virus (the blasted undead of the mircroorganism world). I toughed it out during my one class yesterday, thankfully. Because that class is very important. Why, you may ask? Because of a certain gorgeous tadpole (hottie younger than me by a few years...) that sits by me. Yes, I've lured him in throughout the semesters, posing as a friend but in truth, all I contribute to the relationship is a bit (ok, a lot) of staring into gorgeous, blue eyes... *sigh* Trust me, everyone needs a bit of eye-candy and harmless flirting in their lives. And what does my significant-for-the-moment other (let's call him SO) think of this? Nothing, because, sometimes, harmless omission, not honesty, is the best policy.

.....

Barack Obama is our president. It's a beautiful day today.

Guatemala Stories - Part 1

Story Time, Pal!

So here begin my stories of Guatemala. I have so many of them crowding my mind, but I know that the memories will fade with time, if not the feeling and utter magic that I found. So every week or so, I'm putting my fingers to the keyboard, committing the journey and all that it entailed to the vast world of cyber-ness. I'm hoping to keep my memories fresh, or at least as fresh as time allows me. I'm also hoping that someone, somewhere, might be moved to....I don't know, get out there, anywhere, expand yourself, test yourself, find your joy! If you think I'm being melodramatic, go here for a little inspiration. I guarantee, you'll have ants in your travel pants before you can say, "What's the next flight outta here?!?!".


Why I Decided to Go to Guatemala and My Perpetual Earliness


I decided to spend a month in Guatemala back in February or March of last year. Once I decided on Guatemala, I was on the moon. Planning, packing, vaccinations - I was on it! I've been drawn to Latin America since, well, forever really. It's been an intangible something; call it a past life, call it what you will, it was there, inside me and I felt it. Guatemala was my choice mainly by chance. Central America, especially, has always appealed to me, not only because it seemed extravagantly exotic, but because the history there called to me like a siren. The suffering, the dictators and civil wars, the oppression, and the U.S' role in all of that drew me. Maybe it was guilt, more likely it was a sense of needing to be there and witness, experience it for myself. Regardless, or rather, because of, all of that, I set my sights on Guatemala. My excitement was unbounded, not in the least because I'd only been out of the country once before that, the summer before when I stayed in Dominica for a month.



After a tad of research, I'd decided on going to the Peten department, the northernmost part of Guatemala. I'd fly into Guat City, then take a bus to Flores, and on to San Andres, home to Volunteer Peten where I'd be volunteering and staying with a house family. Even thinking about it in the abstract was exhilirating and terrifying, and throw on top of that the fact that my Spanish was beyond dismal - was actually non-existant - well, good luck, gal!



I left my home in the beginning of June, 2008, my youngest son stowed safely with my grandparents and my oldest on the way to my mom's. I was flying out of Houston (G. W. Bush International actually, kinda makes you a bit gladder to leave, eh?) for the 2 1/2 hour flight into Guatemala City. Now, let me add here that I am a perpetually early person. It's kind of a sickness, but I live with it, however much it drives me insane. So here I am at the Houston airport, sitting, walking waiting, for around 2 hours. Bleh! Can't I just be there already? I'm reading crappy, overpriced magazines, and looking at the peole who are going to Guatemala City with me. Some Hispanic looking people, some white people, Spanish being thrown around. Crap! Really, why didn't I put more effort into learning this language?? Why didn't the half of my family that can speak Spanish teach me?? At this point, I'm a little disgusted with myself. I will not be one of THOSE Americans. Ugh......

Finally, after years of painful waiting, we all board the plane. The whole flight, all I can think about is Guatemala, that still-fuzzy vision in my head. My hopes and expectations are completely sky-high, and yet, I somehow know that it will be even better than I expect. Just another one of those feelings. And then, finally, our plane is descending...

Coming up next time: Love at First Sight, and Why I Was Still Cursing My Sorry Spanish (hint: a few awkward moments.....)

Nobody likes a quitter...soooo.....why am I doing this, again?

Nicotene, we have a problem.

Quitting smoking, that is.

Actually, I'm kidding. I'm loving my smoke-free life, truly (all 7 days of it!).There are just those moments, here and there, that make me wonder if I've really and truly lost my blasted marbles. Example: yesterday at the evilness that is wal-mart (I refuse to capitalize such a monstrosity!). Grouchy check-out bitch, unhelpful and uncaring in-charge-of-something dude, and 10 minutes of voracious arguments coming together to leave me in angry tears in the parking lot. The encounter left me sobbing for a good 15 minutes, for no real reason that I could see other than sheer frustration. And I've been exceptionally moody this past week. Could it be the lack of ciggy's? Possibly. Although a good friend pointed out that women really only have one good week out of the month, mostly free from tear-inducing hormones. I'd agree of disagree, depending on the day.

I need a new hobby

What is it about bad reality t.v. that sucks me in? When I say bad, I mean really, really bad. Bad as in all that is wrong with this society staring at me from my little black box. Case in point: I've now watched two episodes each (avidly, no less) of The Bachelor and True Beauty. Ech! God help me, I can't tear myself away once I start. Maybe it's because I love to judge to the poor bastards on these shows who just can't seem to act like decent human beings. Wait....does that lessen my decency? Very probably.

I'm thinking that instead of watching this mush, I'll start knitting. Sounds like a good hobby, and who doesn't love scarves??

Israel, Stop The Madness!

For the past week or so, I've been wondering why it is that a group of people who have been persecuted in the past find it necessary to terrorize others. Along those lines, I've been wondering why it is that Israel gets a free rein when it comes to dealing with their Palestinian neighbors. The fact that most politicians in this country (including Barack Obama) condone Israel basically 100% of the time is outrageous to me. Is it true now that just because a group of people has been horribly mistreated in the past (in this case, Israel's Jewish people), it's 'politically incorrect' to admonish their behavior? Give me a break!

Even discounting the history of the state of Israel - because what country has an entirely rosy history? - this current situation is wildly out of control. When such a large percentage of the people being murdered are not only civilians but children, well, you would think people would step back and take a second look. So imagine my amazement when the mayor of New York city publicly announced how wonderful he thought Israel was right in the midst of all this chaos. And imagine my further amazement when mainstream nightly media reports profile "heroes of Israel".

Don't misunderstand me. The Palestinians and, more notably, Hamas, are not free from guilt here. The history in this region is bloody, messy, and wide-ranging. However, there are very few, if any, people profiling their heroics on U.S. television.

Everyone should be accountable for their actions. There are no good guys vs. bad guys here. Just people.