Visit to Guanajuato

A week ago today was my last day of work at Harmon Hall, the language institute I've been working at during the previous months. I will be leaving the city of Guadalajara in a little more than a week, but before leaving, I decided to take a trip to one of Mexico's most prized possessions; a colonial town nestled in the mountains in central Mexico. The city, founded in 1554, played an important role in the independence of Mexico as it was the birthplace of the movement. At one time, it was home to Miguel Hidalgo as well as the famous artist Diego Rivera. If one desires to visit Mexico for the purpose of its culture, Guanajuato is unmistakably a center point.

"Un boleto a Guanajuato por favor." I had arrived to the Central Camionera fifteen minutes before the next departure to Guanajuato and full of excitement, I boarded the Primera Plus bus headed for the state of Guanajuato. Three short hours later we arrived in, what I thought was my destination. We were in Guanajuato alright, but not in the city of Guanajuato. Unknowingly, I marched myself downtown and began looking for a hostel. Unbeknownst to me, I spent two hours wondering the city of León, asking everyone where one could find a hostel or "Mercado Hidaldo." I couldn't figure out why everyone had raved about the beauty of this city, it was actually quite ugly. It wasn't until several blank stares later that I decided I had better buy a map. Luckily, before I purchased the map, I read the cover..."Mapa de León, Guanajuato." SHIT! Frustrated and sweaty, I marched myself back to the bus station, and boarded the next bus to the city of Guanajuato.

Finally, I arrived in Guanajuato. The city bus I had taken from the bus station winded and curved, hugging the rocky sides of the bronze hills that compliments Guanajuato's beauty. The bus passed through several tunnels, in fact, most of Guanajuato's main streets run underneath the city in tunnels with rock walls and arched entry and exit ways. I got down near the center of the city and began to explore. Quickly, I had tracked down the hostel, dropped my bag off and headed out toward the city. Walking through Guanajuato's streets feels almost like a maze, narrow streets and high walls decide your direction. The colors of the city wee incredible. Most of the homes edge the hillside that surrounds the city center. Bright colors reflect the sunlit homes that scale up the mountain side, seemingly defying physics or just ignorant to the power of mother nature herself. Walking around Guanajuato feels like walking around a a doll house or a little xmas village. Everything is small. Wander away from the main streets and you will find yourself in small alleyways between the thousands of homes that paint the hillside.

The next day I decided to head up to Pipila, a statue that sits atop one of the highest hills commemorating the legend of Pipila. Supposedly, the Alhodiga, a castle like structure in the center, was the last stronghold of the Spanish the turn of the 20th century. Unable to penetrate the castle due to Spanish gunfire from atop, Mexican soldiers below were in a bind. Pipila, with the help of others, placed a large slab of stone on his back. Deflecting bullets with the stone, he carried a torch to the door of the castle, lighting it on fire and allowing hundreds of Mexican soldiers to enter the castle and dismantle one of the last Spanish strongholds in the country. His heroism is honored with a giant statue overlooking the city with the same determination that carried his country to victory. I visited several other historic sights during that day and spent some time in one of the many plazas reading. I returned later in the evening with a six pack of cerveza Indio to watch the sunset from the roof of my hostel, coincidentally where a scene from the movie "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" was filmed. I invited another hostel resident I had befriended. Gary the frenchman complied and we had a nice discussion watching the sunset. He was spending one year traveling the world, and his stories inspired me to continue south to Colombia, his favorite country thus far. I also met two Japanese guys in the hostel who were spending through years bicycling the globe. They had started in Alaska, and had made it to Guanajuato. They were to continue south through Central America, South America, then on to Africa and Europe before crossing Asia and finishing back in Japan. Pretty brave for two guys who speak neither English nor Spanish.

Gary and I went out on the town for a drink. After a few disappointing stops we followed the Reggae music we had heard hours before. At the entrance of the bar was its only inhabitant, the owner "Ariel." Ariel turned out to be the baddest mo fo I had met. An immigrant from Cuba, we sat with Ariel and a few of his friends listening to reggae and salsa hits for the next few hours. Sharing stories, laughing, watching Ariel teach Cuban salsa steps, the night turned out to me a memorable one. He gave me many suggestions of places to visit in Cuba and rekindled my enthusiasm for the country.

I awoke chapped and cotton mouthed the next day, and hurriedly packed my belongings to catch my bus back to Guadalajara. In summary, my trip to Guanajuato was just what I needed. It reminded me of how much I love being on the road, meeting new people and creating memories with complete strangers. I returned to Guadalajara refreshed and optimistic. My next stop is Morelia to visit some old friends, then on to Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca. Good times.

Housing Project San Luis Talpa, El Salvador

In July of 2009, I arrived in the San Salvador airport as a volunteer for the Fuller Center for Housing. A city that boasts one of the highest murder rates in the world, around twelve murders a day, San Salvador's violence and socioeconomic issues are the result of a bloody civil war spanning twelve years (1980-1992) and taking the lives of over 75,000 of its citizens. Most recently, the image of El Salvador is characterized by the tattooed faces of the MS-13 and the 18th street gang whose beginnings are traced back to inner city Los Angeles when Salvadoran immigrants were bullied by preexisting Mexican gangs. Today these two gangs are largely responsible for the violence that torments this beautiful landscape and its wonderful people.

After becoming acquainted with the rest of the group, whose members consisted primarily of great folks from Mason, Georgia, we were directed to our rented guest house. We had dinner that night, prayed for the safety of the group and for the work we had ahead of us. Since we had arrived on Saturday, we had Sunday to mosey about and decided to take an elective trip to Zoyapango, a neighborhood just outside of the city, to see a recently completed project. Two vans bumped up a poorly paved road to one of the most gang infested neighborhoods of the capitol city where murders are a daily occurrence, blank stares were abundant. Through a retracting fence, the vans entered an area of about five acres surrounded by fifteen foot concrete walls topped with barbwire. What had previously been an oversized garbage dump two years ago, had been reproduced into a housing complex providing a home to over 200 families. Mike, Fuller Center's Salvadoran representative, is an American expat who headed the project and is truly a saint to the people of Zoyapango having not only constructed homes, but a school, playground area, and a soccer field. A true humanitarian.

We began our build early Monday morning around eight a.m. and I must say, an El Salvadoran day in July is beyond hot and humid, especially for a person raised in Seattle, Wa. We worked hard, and I did my best to act as foreman, translating and directing where we needed help. We took water breaks often to account for the gallons of sweat produced from pick axing water trenches, mixing concrete, constructing gardens, wheel-barreling dirt and grass among other tedious tasks. Every day around noon, we were provided a lunch cooked by some of the local community. Appreciative of our work, the Fuller Center has established over fifteen homes in an area so poverty stricken, many of the families were living in shacks made from cardboard, garbage bags, and sticks. Villa Kawanis, as the area is called, now provides the basic necessities for these families. During our time in Villa Kawanis, we made that possibility a reality for two more of these families. Prior to our arrival, another group had constructed a small building with sewing machines which the women use to make hand bags and clothes, which are then in turn sold to volunteers and other visitors! Because of Fuller Center, these people not only had newly constructed homes, but a chance at life. A chance to provide for their children, and a chance to live comfortably.

Finishing the second home in Villa Kawanis accounts for the fourth home I have helped to construct in Latin America, and one day I hope that number supersedes the hundreds. To volunteer with such an organization like Fuller Center is a truly unforgettable and rewarding experience. The next time you think of taking a vacation to get away from the stresses of life, where a beach a corona and a palapa await, take into consideration a volunteer project. The change in perspective you will experience will take care of that stress you feel, and the work you do will drastically improve the lives of countless underprivileged human beings. (If you think physically you are burdened, I had a seventy something year old woman working by my side, how's that for motivation? ha!).

In summary, my time spent in El Salvador was informative, inspiring, and worth while. Not only did we do something great for the people, I met some incredible Americans I will never forget. They're prayers, optimism, and encouragement echoes in my memory. I hope to turn this kind of assistance into my life's work one day, and this kind of experience continues to inspire me to do so.

Morelia, Mexico

I finally let gravity prevail as I dropped my backpack to the floor of the airport terminal and relieved my body to a chair. I was in the airport again, alone. I hadn't stopped one time nor seen much of anything familiar for the last 5 months, and I was getting ready to do it again, for another three. But i loved it, I loved everything about it. The ironic thing was that I hadn't really been home in a very long time, and at this particular moment, I felt more at home while traveling, than I ever had before. I arrived at the small Morelian airport just after sunset, we walked down the stairs of the plane and entered the building. That night I met my new family. Vicki, greeted me at the door and following close behind was Rana (a nickname meaning ''frog'')a family friend. Rana was my first introduction to the group of friends that I would be spending many of my nights with. Rana truly resembled a frog, espeically since the alcohol he had been consuming permitted his eyes to wander aimlessly throughout his head. I sat my bags in my room, and was drawn towards the noise. The backyard was an energetic gathering of my host father, a few of his friends, as well as my host brother and his closest compadres. Johnny Walker seemed to be present at almost every social event with this particular group as well. Little did I know my presence sparked a movement they had been waiting all night for, and we made our way out the door as I changed my shirt on the way out. We went up to a club that was situated on one of the city's highest hills, with a spectacular view of my new home. I arrived on Saturday, so the next day was a great day to get over my ''crudo'' and get to know my family a little better. I started meeting other students during our orientation the first day of school, as well as my teachers. English had become nonexistent and I was having some minor difficulty with the language as my Spanish and Portuguese were blending together, since I had been in Brasil the three weeks prior. I was a few weeks in and school was really starting to pick up. My Spanish class was difficult, as I had been placed in the 499 level, with some of the native speakers, and it was a struggle everyday. The others weren't as bad, but still required attention almost every night. The basis of study in my Cultura Mexicana class focused primarily on current or recent social issues within the country. Everything from Nueva Jeruselem to the Zapatista struggle in the heart of southern Mexico in the state of Chiapas. As a tourist, or taking even an extended vacation to another country, one learns some cultural customs, traditions, daily schedules, and even some of the language. However, there are things that exist that are invisible to the foreigner's eye, things that are visible only once you have truly lived in another country. At one point, you jump from the shores of comfort and reservation and begin swimming with the fish. During this time, you see the bottom, the top and everything inbetween, not just the surface. There exists an immense amount of poverty in Mexico, with little support or help from those with the ability to do so, but there also exists a number a wealthy Mexicans. Most commonly refered to as 'fresas' by the majority, the rich exists in large numbers in many of the major cities. In the capitol of the state of Michoacan, Morelia's nearly one million inhabitants are not familiar with a city's skyline, as the church remains the tallest edifice in the city, and there is actually a law protecting this. Point being that this city has very little industry, yet a plump handful of wealthy people driving around the latest luxury cars. Hmm where does the money come from then? Well, Michoacan is also the largest exporter of drugs to the United States, perhaps there is a correlation? Since I was attending a private university, many of the student with whom I studied were the sons and daughters of this elite class. In fact their exists in Mexico more millionaires per capita than anywhere in the world, aside from the U.S. I really enjoyed our excursions to some of the smaller towns around Morelia; Patzcuaro, Tzintzuntzan, Guanajuato, etc. We often visited lake Patzcuaro, a very large lake and center of sustainability for the dozens of indigenous communities thathave existed on the shores of the lake for centuries. From a moutaintop, one can view the lake in its entirety, and can actually witness the influences of modernization creeping into many of the villages of the Purepatchan people. Villages that have roads that connect to the larger towns have felt this more than the villages who still survive untouched, utterly inaccessable to motor vehicles. Many of the inhabitants only speak a little Spanish, as they continue to practice Purepatcha. Over the course of three months I developed relationships with people stronger than I ever imagined could be developed in such a short span of time. I spent much time with a couple, Sarah and Jersa. Sarah was an American who had moved to Morelia years ago, and married Jersa, who became one of my best friends. The relationship that existed between these two was truly inspiring, it was like watching ''Fools Rush In'' in real life. They battle things every marriage is confronted with, but also deal with their differences in culture, background, expectations, etc. However, within this home, a love exists that continues to squash even the most intense repugnances. Through this, they have created two beautiful children and a warm home. My friends that I met while there will always be near to my heart, and my experience will never be forgotten. I feel as if I learned more in that short span of 9 months while travelling, then I have since the beginning of secondary education. I have to say, I was not looking forward to returning home, and now that I have had a taste, I can't stop eating. I'm going to South America next month.

Surviving the Technology Era

Over the last 50 years, the world has undergone a change so rapid most generations are still trying desperately to catch up. We have entered a new communication technology era. Today we are affected by one another inevitably, economically, politically, socially, and culturally. We have established interactive networks so complex we have ability to get the latest and greatest immediately, connect with someone around the world in seconds, and have luxury (or annoyance) of being available for contact every minute of every day and day. The introduction of these new systems, the Internet, cell phones, chat groups, video games, etc. have influenced our cultural identities and relationships immensely. Yes, in a sense, they have made many tasks easier and more efficient, but it seems as if something is missing, something that reminds us we are human beings, not machines. Is this new technological era of fast- paced news flow and the deterioration of human-to-human contact truly a blessing or a curse? Why is it social gathering sites are the most popular pages on the net? Why is it that that eBirthday card just doesn’t feel as good as the real thing? Why is it sometimes we just need someone to hug and talk to? Because we are human beings, not some piece of equipment devoted to nine waking hours of productivity in an office, where our personal relationships slowly become an annual conversation usually falling on the other party’s birthday. Various components of this new technological communication era are allowing for a dismissal of the one innate component most desired by everyone on the planet, physical interaction. This simple concept is what keeps us unstable creatures sane, to know we are loved, to know we are appreciated. Close out the eCard, take the time to send the real one, it makes a difference.

Spain

It was crazy coming into our last port, knowing this was the last country we got to explore. However, it was really nice to finally be in a country where I could communicate. Because I speak Spanish with a Mexican accent, I found the Spaniards a bit hard to understand because they have such a different accent and different words for things, but aside from the little things, I had no problem. The first day we caught a train from Cadiz to the town of Sevilla, the birthplace of Christopher Columbus. We spent the day exploring the city center and the many cathedrals. In Spain, as in many other Latin American countries, the people take a very long lunch (the biggest meal of the day) at around two and then take a siesta (nap) before returning to work later in the evening. It was very nice to sit at lunch for hours without any waiter trying to turn your table. We sat and drank sangria (a Spanish fruit wine) after lunch for about three hours. That night, we stayed at a nice little hostel that night for about twenty dollars a person. The next day, we went back to the city center, and to Sevilla’s most famous cathedral. The place was massive. The ceilings were about 75 feet tall and decorated with scenes from the bible and the life of Christ. We saw the monument dedicated to Christopher Columbus, and at the bottom of it, the tomb where he rests. I remember having an eerie feeling in this place, the heart of Spanish Catholicism, standing next to Christopher Columbus. This is where so much of what we know today, much of what relates to us, religion, our landscape, our languages, the entire civilization of the Americas dates back to. This all dates back to the man lying in front of me. However, this was also the man who led boats full of conquistadors to these lands to eventually slaughter millions of native peoples, destroying lives, families, and culture. All in the name of the Holy. That evening, we caught our flight to Barcelona. I was in Barcelona when I was about ten years old, but I didn’t remember too much about it. The only thing I really remembered was visiting the Pablo Picasso Museum. We visited many of the works of Gaudi, one of Europe’s most respected architects and a legend in the field. My favorite was the Sangrada Famila (Family Blood), a Cathedral with the appearance that it is melting. Melting towers peak from the top of the building reaching about one hundred and twenty fifty feet. Barcelona is a very international city, and it reminded me a lot of home. I think my most blatant example of globablization occurred in Barcelona. Here we were, in Barcelona Spain, and we were eating at a Chinese restaurant. While eating, the restaurant was playing an American rap song, and at the end of the meal, I paid with some Chinese Yuan (Mainland China Currency) that I had left over in my wallet. They laughed, asked where I got it, and were happy to except it as a form of payment. My favorite part of Barcelona was the hostel we stayed in. The place was called ‘‘Kabul’’ and was located just off the main street. There were four floors of rooms, and the bottom floor, where the reception was, had four computers for free use, a pool table, a foosball table, tables and chairs, and a bar that sold one liter beers for three Euros, which was cheaper than anywhere else around. It was cool because everyone staying at the hostel would hang out in this area at night before going out on the town at around midnight or one. I met a lot of really cool people from all over the world, including a very interesting European man who I had a long chat with about my insights. He is in the process of writing a book, and asked me if he could quote me in his texts, so we exchanged information and gave him the okay for it. The second night we were there, I overheard a table of Portuguese speakers. Without hesitation, I went over and introduced myself in Portuguese and was invited to sit down. I spent the next four hours practicing my Portuguese with a group of seven Brazilians. They were so much fun and got me really excited for my trip there in a few weeks. We spent the majority of our time in Spain in Barcelona, but returned again to Seville the last day before taking our final train to Cadiz. I enjoyed Spain but I have to say I am glad I didn’t decide to spend a year there studying, I am more of a Latin America fan as opposed to a European. It was really sad getting back on the boat, as I knew it would be the last time I would ever get ON this boat again, and I know it will be overwhelming when the idea that the trip is over really hits me. I see my life, and the world in a different way than I did before I left. Seeing everything from the Pyramids of Egypt to the poverty of India has really changed my perspective on things. I have incredible friends on this boat that I will sorely miss with all of my heart, and can’t imagine a day without them right now. Most of all, I have learned a lot about myself, and even though I am still trying to figure out the complications of my inner being, I feel that this trip has helped my stars to a line.
I give my deepest thanks to my parents for providing me with this opportunity, my feeling is beyond appreciation, and to my entire family for giving me their unconditional love and support.
The incredible camera I got to capture so many of my lifelong memories is credited to my grandparents. Thanks so much. Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt LaVona, Uncle Jon, Mom, Dad, Marci, Grandpa Billy, Kelly, Linda Hoffman my habitat volunteer coordinator, Laura, Daniel, Mike, Bub, Alex, T, and Juan, thank you guys so much for making me feel at home when I felt more than a world away. I love you all very much. I will be posting a final assessment of the countries visited in time, so look for that. See you all very soon!

Croatia

We arrived in Croatia on a cloudy, drizzling morning. I remember waking up, and looking out the window at one of the many islands that speckled the coastline. The many islands contained sailboats and white stucco homes with Spanish style roofs. The first day, Mike and I decided to start walking to the old town, with no plans. We came across a bus station, and at that very moment, we decided to hop on a bus and drive five hours to a city north of Dubrovnik. The drive was beautiful, the highway paralleled the coast the hole way, and the combination of the landscape, Spanish style homes, and the beautiful ocean reminded me a lot of southern California. About two hours into the ride, to our surprise, we entered Bosnia, as it lied directly in our path to Split. We stopped for a bathroom break at a mini store in Bosnia, and I bought a coffee mug, just to say I got something from Bosnia. We arrived in Split that night around eight or so with no plans and with no where to sleep. In the bus station, a little old lady who was renting out a room in her home for the night approached us. The room was about 100 Kuna, equivalent to twenty dollars U.S. so Mike and I agreed. We had our own room, with two beds and a bathroom. The king size bed I slept in was very comfortable. There was a down mattress cover, down pillows, and a down comforter. We spent the next day exploring the beautiful beach town of Split. It was very cold, so the city wasn’t as lively as in the summer, but we still had a good time. That evening, we crossed back through Bosnia and continued to Dubrovnik. The next day, a few friends and I walked around the old town. Old Dubrovnik is a several hundred-year-old walled city that is still the heart of Dubrovnik life today. The weather was cold, but it only rained a few times. When it did rain though, it rained very hard. While in Dubrovnik, we noticed a large cross situated atop the steepest incline in the city. We got the idea to climb up to this cross, but we wanted to ask a local first if it was safe, because we had been warned to not venture to far off the beaten path as there were still live landmines buried from the Serbs a decade or so ago. After getting the okay from a few locals and a tour guide, we began climbing up to this cross. We first walked through little neighborhoods to get up to the highway that lined the side of the mountain. After crossing the highway, was jumped into the woods, to begin our climb. We fought through sticker bushes and pine trees for the first half hour or so, and then had to scale some large rocks. After about forty-five minutes we exited the woods and were about halfway to the cross. The last half of the exhausting hike was trekking up loose rock. We reached the top, turned around, and saw one of the most beautiful views I had ever seen. The water was turquoise blue, the palm treed islands scattered the coastline, and the brick buildings of the old city complimented the Spanish style homes outside the walls. The cross was about twenty-five feet tall, and behind it was ruins of some buildings. These buildings were once a Croatian military fort before this hill, along with the rest of the city, was bombed by Serbians in the early nineties. We explored these buildings, and even though the raid is fifteen years passed, it appeared as if had happened only yesterday. The soldiers beds were still tipped over, clothes were scattered on the ground, and many of the walls were littered with bullet holes and blood. The feeling in this place was really uneasy. The last day we just hung out in the old city and drank wine at one of the many outside restaurants. That night we saw a movie. We saw the new American movie ‘‘Rendition.’’ It was weird to be in a movie theatre again, especially watching an American film with Croatian subtitles. The movie was set in Egypt, and it was cool to see after recently visiting that country. However, some of the movie was in Arabic, and the English subtitles of the movie would overlap with the Croatian subtitles, making it hard to read. I would love to return to Croatia in the summer time, as I can only imagine how beautiful it would be. Manning a sailboat through the isles of Croatia is a new dream of mine.

Istanbul, Turkey

Our trip across the Mediterranean and Agean Seas lasted only two days, but the weather changed immensely. It was quite a change from Egypt, where it was dry and about eighty or ninety. The first day we arrived, it was raining, and I stepped off the ship to see my breath for the first time in about eight months. It was rainy and cold, and I have to say, it reminded me a whole lot of home. I was starting to get use to not having to wear a jacket every time I stepped outside. Though I though I never would, being in Istanbul made me realize I missed the cold, but my yearning for the chill dissipated after about two days. In no way can someone explore all Istanbul has to offer in just five days. The city is astonishingly beautiful though. There is something about the landscape, that when the light hits it, it takes your breath away. The city continues to be littered with a lot of cats, and this has held true for a few hundred years. The cats are strays, but they seemed to be clean, well kept, and well fed. The first day, we hopped on the tram for the ten-minute ride across the bridge to Europe, and explored the famous district of Sultanhamet. Here, we visited the famous Blue Mosque, a Muslim house of prayer, and the Aga Sofia, a Christian house of prayer located a few blocks from it. Turkey was a very interested place, as Istanbul, formerly Constantinople, has been the meeting point for East and West culture throughout history. Mosques and temples sprouted above the horizon of the city for as far as one could see, and new buildings compete for space with the ones that have been there for over half a millennium. The city is so incredibly old, but very well kept and it’s civil engineering top notch. Though Turkey is 98% Muslim, its society seems to be more favorable to the Western way of life. I saw very few married women covering themselves completely with traditional Islamic basques, and women seem to be more liberal in general compared to Egypt. After we visited the historical edifices of Sultanhamet, we sat at one of the coolest little hooka bars I had ever been. We sat, smoked hooka, talked, caressed the little cats to sleep, and drank tea for a few hours. It was a relaxing Wednesday. That night, we saw a Whirling Turkish Durvish Ceremony, an ancient ceremony that consists of Durvish men in white cloaks spinning in circles as a form of becoming closer to God. The next day we explored an area of the city by the name of Taxim Square, a district situated on top of a hill with great shopping and nightlife. The style of the Turks is very cool, and I had to buy a warmer jacket, because it was freezing. There are hooka bars everywhere in Istanbul. Hooka is one ancient practice from the Muslim tradition the Turks have held onto very tightly, and a water pipe (hooka) and a cup of tea are standard after a day at work. That night I was using the Internet at a hooka bar close to the ship, and I met a group of Turkish University students. We sat and talked for a few hours, and commenced to meeting up the following day. They showed me all the cool spots to hang out in the city, and we had a few drinks with them that night. Like most Turks, they were all very nice. Just to give you an idea of how big the city is, their University is in Istanbul, but is over two hours a way by car. The coolest thing about Istanbul, I thought, was five times during a day, the numerous Muslim Mosques around the city would blast out the prayer call. The powerful prayer verse from the Qur’an could be heard loud and clear from all over the city. The last day, my roommate and I just walked around and explored some more. We found a very tall tower on top of a hill that had been built in 1432, and at the end of the day, we climbed up the Golatta Tower to watch the sun set over Europe and Asia at the same time.