Kindergarden

To my online diary. First, the S key, doe not work well... see!

Hm. Well it is almost 6 on my first full day. I find myself laughing at myself sometimes, when I do not fully know what I get myself into. And then, I{m there, committed.

I like this. Im learning spanish and I will have enough spanish when I return to make choppy speech with people and understand choppily. Thats the goal, thats the plan, thats the course of action.

I woke early, with the question in my head, did I actually sleep? How many people were born on Monday the 7th of December, or is this many firecrackers normal?

Anyways, my day, was, as follows¨

my host mom put out a grey and banana gruel, as i am calling it. it was tasty, but weirdly gruel like. Coffee (which, I am not filled with negativity towards my family or this country) which tasted like lightly coffee flavored socks and two sweet crackers, which were super tasty in the sock coffee.

I got my prepacked backpack, and headed out the door in my pre layed out outfit. In the cool fog on a morning in the highlands, myself and enough car exhaust to knock out a cow (I´m not sure why I made that comparison) headed to school.

The first to arrive... like california, 8am doesn´t really mean 8am... it means 8:15. But, I wanted to be on time (unlike me). Anyways, I entered the school, got better coffee and tried to make friendss with the students who had been there longer than I. The students (an older quaker couple from Oregon) that were also new did not want to speak english that much (I don´t blame them) so they were off my list of friends to have outside school. I did however, proceed to realize that just south of them, in teh great sstate of California, a huge production of Xela bound people dwelled. It was my luck that they were bound for Xela the same time as me.

After the morning meetin and greetin I sat down to my first class. I felt like I was five... only minus those awesome fat crayons and the apple juice that I assocation with Mrs. Zanawick´s pm kindergarden class. My prof, Alberto, was cool. And I think that word describes our class and his chill demanor. I struggled with a desire for structure, for him to TEACH me in a sstructured, yet free and integrated and yes and creative way. No, Christine, you are learning a language, letter by letter and word by word without blocks, pictures and playdough (although I do have some).

Anyways, after class I went to lunch with my family. WOW meals can be akward when you really can´t respond or interact effectivly. Rice and peas and tortillas, and I was back out the door. I wandered the town for the first time, a description needed for a different time when my words, spanish or english have ripened a bit more into perfection for the colors, smells and sights (which, I must say... I have not given justice to those thing in Morocco, which are stronger and stranger than this). After not being able to find the suggested La Luna of Laura Reardon and every other visitor, I hurried back to school to watch the film Men with Guns in spanish.

The noise of the street made reading the subtitles my only option, but, honestly what with english being pretty forefront in my mind, I was coooool with that. It was a sad film, really sad... but interesting, telling and vivid. I left not really knowing how to feel or think about the story of a latin american country experiencing guerilla warfare and genocides and the discovery of a committed citizen doctor that all his students have been killed in the attempt to help. It was a lot, and I decided to leave the emotion in the room, and take the knowledge with me.

I started this entry and then headed home, in the dark... a warning I have been given repeatedly not to do... but, it seems I can´t heed them all. However, it was still early, and I know not to go out past 7 by myself... I´ve heard the stories from the students... enough to scare me into compliance.

A late dinner of a store bought tamales, yum, a bit of some movie I´ve seen in the states, but with terrible spanish dubbing, my forced ritual of my ´tile exercises´and i read myself to... yes... wow, a quiet sleep.

Day one of kindergarden. Success.

Yo no say.

I know that that is wrong. And I know that the ss key sticks. But I also know that I am writing on my blog from my host family´s computer, which is so great.

Wow three days of planes and buses later, and here I am. Xela, Guatemala.

It is due, really, to Laura and her time here. Inspiration and motivation. Something I have always wanted to do, but moved away from the reality of it when it seemed intimidating and impractical. Well, all impracticalities have been removed, and now to deal with the intimidation... can do!

Tomorrow I start the journey, well, I guess it has started, but tomorrow I start the ´tofu´of it all... school.

Things are sunny side up and Im going to do my best to keep it that way, overwhelming or not.

poems

i seem to think in poems lately.


i never addressed the invitation
and all along, have wondered
would i have sent it out
after all that time
or would i have known better
and waited until
my heart found the right space
to slowly scribe the note
that never needed to be sent
and folded it away
satisfied that choices
about invitations
and addresses
had been made.

--

yesterday
i saw
a very neat bug.
I'll tell you all about it.
I wish you were there.
you'd have seen it too.

---

i've crossed over.
he says, pulling his hair away from his forehead
yeah? she asks
yeah, he replies
how do you know? she leans in a bit, adjusting her shirt.
well-- he chews his lip--
nothing needs to be the same anymore, he stops.
smiling, hands behind his head:
yeah, that's right.

Be Aware

I was walking across the field yesterday when I noticed a clothespin. I picked it up and read the fading blue writing: Be Aware.

Reasons

Do all things happen for a reason?

Are we meant to try to figure out the reasons? Or just live in the questioning? Or not question? Or just live?

Be thankful?

Yeah.

Be thankful.

To be alive. Regardless of money, of broken cars, and screwed up schedules, business, unfufillment... whatever ails you. Being alive. With others that are alive. These things are good.

Day Four Give Me More

Well, I missed the day three band wagon, of blogging that is.

Day Four.

Wow. Four days. Or really, three, and a morning.

And yet, while I've decided that today is my last day, I really do believe I could go longer. It's a battle I'm having right now, but one whose outcome is already decided. I know I will eat tomorrow, and maybe it's best, but this cleansing thing is awesome. In some ways. In other ways, like, my energy, it's not as great.

Today though, food does not seem palatable. I don't really want to eat anything. I can't think of anything that I feel would be as good as I imagine it should be. I don't really want any of it anymore. I'm not sure what I really want. Not just food wise, but in life. I feel pretty empty when I wake up, but in a good way. Like a solid person, who is just waking up. Basic. I didn't have any emotions (except my eye really hurts, no styes, please!), I just woke up and felt tired, but thought of nothing.

Maybe too much cleansing will cleanse the personality right out of me. Haha. Probably not, but its probably good for everyone around me, and myself, to be experiencing a slower, mellower version of myself.

Well, I'm off to make my 'tea.' Which, yesterday, I went without for about 3 or 4 hours, and was seriously famished. So, without the maple/lemon/cayenne, I don't think I could do this. However, I also don't think I'm going to try to test that theory. For now, this is great, its helping me set myself on the path. Clearing the path of some brush, and kicking me in the right direction.

Master: Day Two

Again, I have a whole morning to write and I leave it to three minutes before work. Good thing work is about 15 steps away from this computer.

Day Two. I feel fine. I feel good actually. I wouldn't say great, by any means, but good for sure. The salt water expulsion worked well this morning, almost too well. I'm impressed, as they said I would be, by what comes out of me when I haven't been eating. If I can make it to tomorrow, I'll be even more impressed. I really do think I can make it too, hunger hasn't been a real issue... it's more mental. I mean, I'm a big kid, no I'm a large adult... either way, there's a surplus of me, and, while I don't gorge on a daily basis, I do have food rituals, that I miss. I call them meals.

It's been fun to think about how things taste, but not need them really. Want them, sure, but not to the point where it's all I think about. 27 hours it's been. But, sleep has been in there, and, I've not had to do a lot. We'll see how the rest of today goes.

So far, The Master Cleanse gets two big thumbs up. So does Jessica's natural maple syrup. Mmm.

5:50pm: 36 hours in. Well. I'm hungry. I feel it in everything that I do. I mean two days without food is not that bad, and I haven't had to do too much either, so, even easier. In absence of reality of food, I have found that my writer-like-tendencies have kicked in FULL force. This is the narrative in my head (at times, not always...that'd be nuts...mmmm cashews):

Everything Bagel, toasted with cream cheese, fresh garden tomato and fresh bright green basil

Green Green Green salads. Fresh. Bursting with goat cheese, walnuts, raisins, or carrots, ginger, cooked tofu goooooooodness.

Lasagna. I don't even really love lasagna. But it was mentioned at soem point today, and so, it's in my head. Filled with veggies. Ooozes cheese, spinach, eat meeee.

Crisp tortilla chips (saw a bag today), with fresh salsa. Chunks of onion.

Ginger cookies. Soft. Chewy. Ginger cookies. I'd eat the gingerbread man's head off... and feel no guilt.

Squash bisque with hearty, crusty, delightful... watering mouth...... fresh baked bread.

Asparagus and goat cheese on a crusty bread....

Granola. Yogurt. Mmm.

Thai food. Coconut and curries and lovely lovelies.

Pie with ice cream. Warm pie with ice cream. Warm pie with cold ice cream. There we go. Oh, and whipped cream.

For some reason, in all these foods, all I keep coming back to is the basics. Like, while I know a cookie would be tasty, all I really really want is some good bread, good cheese, good veggies. I know bread and cheese are terrible for you, but in the scheme of foods I could want (donuts, chips, chocolate), I don't think its that bad. My body and mind seem to recoil at the idea of eating a donut, but I salavate as I think of grilled mushrooms. Did I mention a bagel, everything, in particular, BURSTING with tomatos? Did I mention that. Actually I don't think BURSTING was on there.

More and more, I feel a different kind of fatigue. I feel things in my body leaching out, but staying....lingering. I feel comatose at times, and filled with energy other times. Sparked and then dim, really dim. Angry and sad, and then fine fine fine. Then happy as I could be. It's a rollercoaster, really, only stable thing is maple syrup, lemon juice, cayenne and water.... and me, i'm an element in the whole picture, unstable, but stable in my stance. And it feels good, just to be doing something difficult for myself. Feels pretty solid.

So, I'm off. To read for an hour, before I work again. It's great to have this work distraction...perfect amounts, not a lot of energy, just enough. Where I can ponder recipe concoctions, and dream... really, I think I can smell the onions cooking!... and then be snapped mostly back into reality.

Yup. This is good. Doing things for yourself is good.