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Saturday, September 13th, 2008
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2:34 am - Don't Dump
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| Monday, December 31st, 2001
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5:13 pm - Despina's Infamous Green Journal, 6/1/01 (WC 19)
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| Sunday, December 30th, 2001
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5:19 pm - 6/2/2001 -- Day One of the Grand Adventure (9/2/05; WC 280)
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http://travelsfar.livejournal.com/503.html
http://travelsfar.livejournal.com/3154.html
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day One of the Grand Adventure
Day One -- Morning:
First Saturday FREE! Left for Arizona on the Grand Adventure as soon as I finished packing! Spent night in Kansas rest area, what little bit of it I could sleep. Sure beats attending summer school!
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day One of the Grand Adventure (11/26/04)
Day One -- Noon:
Whatever was I thinking promising my students so adamantly that I'd write every day? I just ate lunch somewhere in a desert not as famous as the Mojave, but just as HOT, waiting for a kind stranger to return with a water can because Baby Blue Ram blew his top. It's AWESOME when a 10' long hunk of metal starts to smoke and threatens to explode if you don't let him STOP. He always HAS had an unusual personality*. He spent his youth jealous of the dog, the stallion, the cats, chasing them downhill whenever he could.
Of course, my appointment with John Quantico, he of the beautiful, meaningful, intelligent letters in two different languages, was for noon, and I'm HUNDREDS of MILES away yet... I think I should've gone through the mountains instead of taking the flats... But this is the route the on-line trip planners suggested. So much for best-laid plans, and all.
Ah! That's all for now. I see the van returning with the water can. I should be on my way again shortly.
*I've stuck an early personal essay about him at six months old in the Appendix.
Last updated 9/2/05.
Word Count: 280
Reading Level:
current mood:  peaceful
current music: "Mojave Sunrise" Colors on the Wind by Montage
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| Saturday, December 29th, 2001
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5:36 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Two (3/19/02; WC 643)
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Sunday, June 3rd, 2001 8:00 pm (travelsfar) 530; decT: 3508
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Two
Day Two -- Morning:
Sunday. Arrived Broken Lance late Saturday afternoon. Met my boss. Tried to quit, but sheriff talked me out of it. Hope I don't live to regret letting him influence me.
Arrived Stone Circles Reservation late Saturday night/early Sunday morning. Bumped into Paul Peter and took him home, drunk again, as usual. Disgusting. Visited Medicine Woman's cave and talked to her en route. PP came in, too, but hung back when she started talking. Being that quiet is totally unlike him. He always has some (generally nasty) quip ready for every situation.
Day Two -- Afternoon:
Sunday. Saw school site. Saw hospital, only flusher in the area located there. Met dr. (cute, polite, nice, bright, helpful... a possibility?) Saw river, and Genio's place (only green except along the river.). (He was one of the nicer things that happened Sat. night...)
I can't believe how primitive everything is! I could believe this place existed 100 years in the past like Brigadoon, if it weren't for the influx of tourists and their eternal video cameras. And you have to be nice to them, no matter HOW STUPID their questions are, as that is one of the tribe's main sources of capital. I feel another LIST coming on: Stupidest Tourist Question of the Day
I'm to get my water from the river in a five gallon milk can, dropping in five halizon tablets per load. I'm to wash clothes on a stone in that same river, laying them out on various bushes to dry. I considered getting a chamber pot, but in this heat, it would surely reek and not be very sanitary.
And the BUGS! "Check your shoes for tarantulas, scorpions, and fire ants before putting them on your feet. Don't climb into your bed without shaking out the bedding first. Be careful to only pick up rattle snakes by the tail. Don't let them coil," Jacques warned me. Can you envision ME picking up a live rattle snake by anything??? I'm getting a mosquito net from the government surplus store as soon as I get paid! My clothing is staying in the cab of the truck until I come up with bug-proof storage.
My internal thermostat is highly confused by an 80 degree diurnal range. It doesn't know if it should adjust to summer or winter.
Everything seems so desolate after the green of Iowa's spring.
Day Two -- Motel room in town, evening:
Attended evening Sunday school with Nancy, who arranged for me to borrow a blackboard and desks. I may not have walls or a roof, but at least we can sit down without worrying about being bitten by fire ants! I was worried about the desks getting wet before the roof gets built, but everyone assures me this is NOT the rainy season.
I think Nancy and I will become really good friends. Nancy sat beside me as a sign that I was socially acceptable, probably out of guilt over Tex's part in my rough introduction and mistaken impression. His "comeuppance" was the gleeful talk of the ladies' Sunday school class. I wonder how she ever came to be hooked up with someone as low class as Tex. She is really high tone, and NICE.
Someone in town doesn't like the doctor much. Can't figure out why. They evidently poured water in his gas. I wonder if they are anti-Catholic? Most of the Catholics are of Hispanic descent, not White, so that could be it... So, I have a one night reprieve. I can write after dark.
The reservation has no electricity. I can't decide if I will miss it or hot and cold running water the most. I'm getting broken in slowly. The motel has no water available in the rooms, either.
Last updated 3/19/02.
Word Count: 643
current mood: peaceful
current music: "Mojave Sunrise" Colors on the Wind by Montage
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| Friday, December 28th, 2001
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5:39 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Three
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Monday, June 4th, 2001 8:02 pm (travelsfar: 984) decT: 3657
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Three
Day Three -- Afternoon:
Cu came to town and got me so I wouldn't be late for school. He did NOT seem pleased. I wonder if he heard that I tried to quit? He doesn't talk to me at all. I didn't even make it to noon. I'm so sunburned that I can hardly move.
I've added a floppy brimmed straw garden hat to my Wish-I'd-known-to-bring list.
When I mentioned yearning for a mosquito net to PP, he truly amazed me. He said, "Good idea" and offered to pick me up one while he was in town getting smokes. That sure beats waiting a month in fear of being bit by some highly unpleasant bug! I can almost forgive him for the past just on the basis of that one sweet gesture.
Last updated 3/20/02.
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Current Mood: Deadlines and confusions,/What to leave in,/What to leave out...
current mood: What to leave in/What to leave
current music: Both Sides Now -- Carly Simon
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| Thursday, December 27th, 2001
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5:53 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Four
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Tuesday, June 5th, 2001 11:04 am (travelsfar: 1424) decT: 4239
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Four
Day Four -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am. The early morning desert is a wondrous place. I can forgive it for not being green. The temperature suits me fine until 10-11 am, then the serious heat begins. My open-air classroom continues to bother me. Today we will do the alphabet. I've resurrected an old army marching song that has a call-response pattern, and transposed the letters of the Spanish alphabet over it. Marching in step in a wall-less classroom is more likely to happen than anything else I've been able to come up with.
Day Four -- Siesta:
Some workers showed up and began to dig the post holes for the door frame, which was more distracting than one would believe, so I took them on a nature walk to locate letters of the alphabet. They got as enthusiastic as I've been able to get them, so we are drawing or photographing a series of the natural alphabet.
That little Alberto is really something. He just bubbles. I know in Iowa, he'd be in pre-school, not kindergarten, but he's really READY to learn.
Cu caught me on my way back here after class and told me to put in an appearance at some sort of social gathering that's held after dark. Hope I can stay awake for it; it sounds important.
Last updated 3/20/02.
current mood: Surprised I knew the tune
current music: "Concerto for Piano and Orchestra" Edward Grieg
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| Wednesday, December 26th, 2001
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5:48 pm - "Day's Stupidest Tourist Question" List (8/3/04)
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Tuesday, June 5th, 2001 4:30 pm (travelsfar)
http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/1129.html
http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/3942.html
"Day's Stupidest Tourist Question" List
Sunday morning, as I stood watching Cu head my way from a hovel I later learned belonged to Cheryl Happy Dog, the caretaker of his two children, a tourist drove up, stopping in front of me, rolling down the window and sticking a video camera in my face. "Are you an Indian? May I take your picture? I've never talked to a squaw in person before."
Cu arrived before I could answer, looked me over critically, then said, "Es una de nuestras maestras." (She's one of our teachers.)
I'd LOVE to see that video! There I stood in a stained t-shirt and sweated through jeans that hug my slender form, as I'd been cleaning the adobe hovel. My short auburn hair had kinked into tight curls around my oval face. My hazel eyes and fair skin had to stand out in sharp contrast from Cu's light eyes surrounded by his golden cast reddish skin, framed by his long, black, totally straight hair in braids fastened in thongs. Coming up slightly behind me, he towered over me at least a head.
"Sonríe," he commanded, draping an arm casually across my shoulders, mugging it up for the camera. Juan came up, standing in front of us, looking up, smiling as though he were our son, then held out his hand, saying, "Cinco dólares."
Instead of the requested $5.00, he was handed a ten dollar bill. The thrilled tourist drove off, probably to tell his friends about this Indian family he talked to.
I feel totally insulted by the whole incident. I have to admit to a bit of the same reaction that Francisco, the Hildalgo of Spanish descent, showed when I mistook him for an Indian. Like him, I felt it was OBVIOUS that I could not have been an Indian.
This unpleasant parallel makes me feel like a hypocrite in retrospect, as in MY mind, I judged him quite harshly for his reaction Saturday night. How can I then excuse my similar response, even suppressed? This is just the FIRST time I've encountered it, not a lifelong battle I've had to fight.
Paul Peter, who was watching from the shade of his doorway, laughing, said, "Tourists are a pain, but they provide such a high proportion of the ready cash the reservation receives that everyone panders to them. You CAN avoid that unpleasantness and the need to be nice, however. Just keep off the road in prime hours. If you have to be there, be "busy" with your back to the road."
"I'll remember that, " I huffed.
Last updated 8/3/04(Francisco -- Pedro). (8/23/03 This is... I've)
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| Tuesday, December 25th, 2001
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5:56 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Five
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Wednesday, June 6th, 2001 11:41 am (travelsfar 1665)
http://www.livejournal.com/talkpost.bml?journal=travelsfar&itemid=4485
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Five
Day Five -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am. Alberto accompanied me to the campfire, which was really cool. I had no trouble staying awake. I've never met so many people at once in my entire life!
Everyone loves Alberto, and a four-year-old's view on people's personalities is certainly INTERESTING, to say the least! The other Whites I hadn't met yet are a pair of German engineers who teach with Paul Peter over at Mound. Bruno something unpronounceable is the science teacher, and very nice, but his English is atrocious. Of course, he's supposed to be using Spanish, so I guess that doesn't matter. He's lending me a digital camera to use for the alfabeto project, which he thought was marvelous. He says the local library has a colored printer we can hook up to and make copies for 25¢ each. He'll show me how to store up to 100 pictures on the disk before we have to dump off any we don't want. The other German is younger, and very handsome, but I really don't like him much. He speaks impeccable British English, but he's definitely on the make. Horst something even longer than Bruno's last name. When I shook his hand, I felt slimy.
Paul Peter was his usual ornery self, but he does have good insights, if I can just get past the negative attitude he shows toward everything. He brought up the safe storage issue. I have my clothes in the cooler to keep the bugs out of them, and have scheduled an outing to get used refrigerators to clean up and paint and make shelves for. If I can, I'll try to get one for the hovel, too.
I've gone camping a lot, but I wonder if I can stand nearly three months of dirt floor, no doors, no water, and no electricity. When people are camping, they don't have to clean up. Their nose is the sole arbitrator of cleanliness. I can't imagine how grim this place must be in the grip of winter. Glad I won't be here for THAT.
Well, I'll write more at siesta time. I have to go into town before school starts to see about the fridges.
Day Five -- Sunset
Somehow the heat saps me so badly, I can't even pick up my pen to write at siesta time. I stick to the paper in a most irritating manner.
I introduced how to give/get directions to the students, and took my dog and pony show on the road, stealing the thunder from the workers, who were, after all, doing the same repetitive, boring, hot, thankless task over and over. I stood; the students sat cross-legged in the dirt, and as the sun moved, I changed my alignment to keep it behind my back. Nobody objected.
I bummed some stronger sun screen from Jacques this morning. He took pity on me and applied it with a feather light touch. Incredible cool relief followed the path of his fingers across my face and neck. He's just so beside himself to have a live, breathing PATIENT. No White doctor I know of would condescend to do that job. That's a nurse's duty anywhere else in the USA.
I felt so sorry for those workers trying to dig out that super hard clay in the heat. They would get nowhere if it weren't for all the buckets of water they keep dumping down the holes. They're so patient. An American would have blown it off and demanded that a big piece of heavy duty equipment come in to punch them in all in one morning. The holes are nearly deep enough. On Friday, while my students and I are at the library, they plan to set the posts in cement. By Monday, when we again need to use the area, it should be dry enough to be accident proof.
Horst just announced that the workers will be busy elsewhere tomorrow, so I won't have to compete quite so hard for the student's attention.
On a more serious note, I had an installment of THE DREAM again last night:
Dismayed, she gasped, "That's not a school! That's a bare plot!" Eyes twinkling, Cu responded in Náhuatl, with Bruno translating, "Yeah, well, we're running a bit behind schedule." She retorted, "That seems to be epidemic in this part of the country." Bruno's impeccably clipped British English sounded strange in these surroundings. "Actually, celebrating nature, being out in the great out-of-doors, is very appropriate for Indian students. Keeping/getting in touch with their heritage, and all that sort of thing." Incessed, she responded, "That's fine for you to say! You're teaching biology inside a building!" "¿Qué, qué? ¿Hay un problema?" said Cu. "No, no hay problema. Voy a enseñar sin libros, sin escuela, sin materiales, y sin sueldo. No, no hay ningún problema," she said tartly.
I thought now that I was here, actually living through such similar things, that it would change... but it didn't seem to dent it other than to add the names of the various people I've met. They did NOT get more in keeping with their real life personas, however. This is just soooo weird.
Updated 1/3/03.
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| Monday, December 24th, 2001
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6:02 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Six
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Thursday, June 7th, 2001 8:57 pm (travelsfar: 2726)
decT: 4861
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Six
Day Six -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am.
Alberto and Sarita both joined my trip to the hospital facilities. She is now an official member of the 'rinse and flush' part of Jacques' club. She told me that Alberto is afraid of the toilet when it flushes. I wonder if Jacques knows he has a customer, and that his facilities may not be "pristine" any more... I will give him a heads up.
They ran here and there, photographing first one plant, then another, with Bruno's digital camera. They both have a good eye for composition. When we look at the shots in the pop out window, I make comments about what will improve them, and the next batch inevitably incorporates at least one shot with that technique tried. If it looks good, we keep it. If not, we dump it off.
I get such a bang out of Sarita. She will tell me the name of every plant, not in Latin, but in Náhuatl, then follow that at once with the stages in which it is harvested for what purposes. She adds details of how to store it to retain its potency, any special cautions to observe when it is administered, and what the duration of its safe use is. She sounds JUST like Dances Dreams when she does it. It is uncanny. A modern day drug company looking for new uses for herbal medicine could make a bundle on what is locked in her head! I wonder how much of this is general knowledge. The fact that it is all news to me is nothing to judge by.
Day Six -- Late evening:
Jacques has me "in for observation". He takes this patient business VERY seriously. I tease him, but he knows the care is appreciated. Alberto, my co-adventurer, is sound asleep on Cu's lap. They are sitting on the couch. I have the privacy curtain pulled back so I am not so cut off.
The fire circle is fulfilling Jacques' secret fantasy: It is meeting in his living room, sitting in chairs and on couches, sipping warmed tea and coffee from his kitchen -- in general, acting civilized. Outdoors would be a pretty soggy experience, all things considered.
The desks were supposed to be delivered today, but I am sure glad they weren't. It RAINED, as in huge, plump drops, falling hard and fast. Had we books and papers in my classroom, they'd all be pulp by now. The post holes are WELL-SOAKED, I am sure, and effortlessly.
Jacques caught me yawning, so he is going to turn out the light on me.
Last updated 3/20/02.
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| Sunday, December 23rd, 2001
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6:06 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Seven
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Friday, June 8th, 2001 8:26 pm (travelsfar: 2051)
decT: http://www.livejournal.com/editjournal_do.bml?journal=travelsfar&itemid=4873
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Seven
Day Seven -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am.
Am I ever sore! The balls of my feet ache, and I have huge blisters ready to pop on each heel. Cheryl lent me some open-backed sandals until they heal, and I am under doctor's orders NOT to be in the sun today! Thank heavens this is the day I scheduled the trip to the library. I can be inside, mostly seated, legitimately, without being though of as a shirker.
I am trying my hardest to get the hospital's image repaired for Jacques. He's already had two patients, thanks to me.
Alberto and Sarita both joined me this morning on the trip to the hospital. Sarita took to rinsing and flushing right off, but she told me Alberto is afraid of the noise the water makes when he flushes. Of course, he flatly refused to be accompanied by a woman, or to use the women's restroom. Drat those effective graphics that allow even an illiterate four-year-old to be able to tell the difference!
I'd better give Jacques a heads up so he can continue to claim "pristine" facilities. I don't know if he frequents the mens' room out here, or if there is another one inside. Surely there must be for patients... One could hardly be rolling a gurney out here in all weather!
He's probably going to be mad at me this morning. I checked myself out while everyone was asleep and drove Baby Blue Ram home. I'm not sure how he got down to the hospital, but I appreciated not having to walk home.
I almost drove down this morning, as well, but I'm glad I didn't. The very air smells so different, so clean. It RAINED here yesterday afternoon. I mean, hard-pelting drops that would've pulped any books and papers we'd had in the classroom.
Alberto and I went for a little hike yesterday, and sort of over-did it. As I watch him race around with the digital camera, photographing everything in sight, I feel like an OLD woman. He walked even farther than I did.
For every ten or so shots that he and Sarita take, I keep one good one.
I've decided that dangerous adventures are much more romantic to read about than to live through. I can get a good mental picture without having to live with the minute by minute agony of, say, a severe sunburn, or blisters so raw one limps when trying to walk.
I've already written a lot of what's in here this morning on a piece of paper at the hospital last night, but I couldn't find it when I left this morning, so the "addendum" to my journal may or may not get added in that big blank space I left at the top of this page. It was far from sparkling prose, anyway.
Day Seven -- Sunset
I love Alice, the librarian. She is sweet, witty, helpful, knowledgeable, and not a bit prejudiced.
Paul Peter and I got really silly telling fairy tales to the kids. Town kids and Indian kids both enjoyed it, and several parents showed up, too, including Cu, who sat in on some of the fairy tales cross-legged on the floor beside Alberto.
Alberto told Alice that this was "un verano vivace", a lively summer. Cute. (All too true, too.) He got left behind in the library, but Mickey found him and caught us before we got on the gravel. He let Alberto turn on his lights and siren. I about had a heart attack, though, as I couldn't see behind me with the driver's side mirror broken off and all those huge refrigerators in the back end. I sure wasn't speeding with that load on! I was afraid one of the bigger Indian kids had fallen overboard, or something. The kids loved the hoopla, however, especially Alberto.
The refrigerators have arrived, and some are even cleaned up. Saturday is "paint" day. They want to paint badly enough that getting them to clean the rest of them up shouldn't be a problem...
Mickey gave me a cell phone so I can call in case of further adventures. It was a sweet gesture. (My second one from a man in the same week! Be still, my heart!) I promised him I'd stay within sight of the village or the road unless I had an Indian guide OLDER than four. The arroyo I climbed into to "rescue" Alberto is nicknamed "Man Eater" because a rock hound died in it during a flash flood. I'm sure glad I did NOT know that yesterday when we were trapped down there, and I could hear the sound of the water coming.
I have a confession to make. When I tried to read what I had written, I do have to admit that Paul Peter's comments about how no paragraphing made the journal hard to read are accurate. At the time, I reacted indignantly, as though his criticism was unjust. Looking back, I see paragraphs on occasion, but rather than being the result of conscious forethought, they more frequently occurred because I had reached a spot requiring some more thought, and in repositioning my sweaty fingers on the paper, created an oily spot where the ink would not stick. That's not a very good reason for making a new paragraph. I've been trying to remember to use them when I KNOW ahead of time that I'm going to change topics, places, people doing the action, or have a time gap, but, of course, only true editing will result in a good job.
I can't see the lines any more, and Paul Peter is eying this Green Journal hungrily, so I guess that's all for now. I can't remember if I've started a new one since we were an "item", or not.
I'm ready to just drop off to sleep, right here, on the sand, with a half rotten log for a pillow.
Last updated 4/25/02.
current music: Prokofiev "Lieutenant Kije Suite"
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| Saturday, December 22nd, 2001
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10:55 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Eight
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Saturday, June 9th, 2001 10:50 pm
http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/5337.html
http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/5602.html
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Eight
Day Eight -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am.
It has been so long since I did any drawing or painting that I didn't remember how satisfying to the soul it is! No wonder it absorbed me so readily when I was younger.
I was afraid when I started in on the mural on my refrigerator that I had lost my touch. It seems fine, but I DO seem to be missing some muscles that allowed me to stand with a palate and brush in weird positions while I painted for hours!
Or maybe I am still sore from my little walk. I think I will decide to believe that. It is less damaging to one's ego.
I won't write very long this morning. I want to get to painting!
Day Eight -- Siesta:
The paint is wet and the sky is cloudy, so I am hoping the rain will hold off until we get a clear coat on and dried to protect them. I told Sarita that it WOULDN'T dare rain on my horses until they were dry and protected. Her eyes got dutifully wide at that! These kids are so easy to love. They've quite stolen my heart.
Last updated 3/10/02.
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| Monday, August 27th, 2001
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8:35 pm - "I've Got a Little List" -- from Despina's Infamous Green Journal
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| Wednesday, August 22nd, 2001
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5:41 pm - Home Free
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http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/6414.html
I am SOOOO relieved! I just got back from the "bank", and not having those purported 68 children hanging over my head is incredible.
But, everything almost went up in flames! A REPORTER who just happened to be doing a piece on the clinic wanted to interview Cu on TV! Boy, did I ever lay into him!
When I pointed out that publishing what he overheard would cause even more tribal discord, it really gave Brandon pause. He'd never thought of his job as disruptive to people's lives. He turned out to be a pretty good guy, and I think he's going to come give the open air art exhibit and the refrigerator art some play... I have his private, 24-7 phone number to report anything interesting going down.
Well, it is even more embarrassing than that! When I didn't know how to say sperm in Spanish, he took over for me. I mean, really, a Spanish speaking nurse might know that term, but an English teacher? Whatever on earth FOR?
That's enough for now. I'll have to tell you about the incredibly embarrassing thing the doctor said to me at the clinic later.
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5:00 pm - Reflections On Building la Bañera
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http://www.livejournal.com/~travelsfar/6300.html
Shame causes my face to flush every time I remember my glaring failure to invite anyone else to help me dig la bañera. I can feel the heat creep up my neck, invade my cheeks. They patiently stood, waiting for the silly new teacher to take the obvious step. It never occurred to me that they were there to help. I was so SMUG that I thought they were only there to enjoy the sight of their new teacher actually doing some physical work, which in their world, White women are afraid to do. How could I be so wrong?
Every time I walk on the rounded stones fished from the river, making a pathway from the river to the tub, I get a warm glow, a good one this time. When all the water had leaked out the next day, many hands deepened the layers of stones, "erosion stone, then 2" oversize, then pea gravel, road grade" as I heard one Native American tell his friends. I found out later from Bruno that he had worked in a quarry, and varied the sizes until the tub held the water pretty well. Even tough, gruff old María has been seen soaking in it on hot afternoons. She is too old to risk the river current, but the tub is a safe respite, shaded from the afternoon sun by Alberto's choice of location under a tree.
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| Tuesday, June 19th, 2001
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8:36 am - Journal Entry About Liking the Sheriff
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http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/5871.html
Dear Diary,
True confessions time. Although Cu is quite a looker, he is NOT a talker. For good talk, I lean toward the Sheriff, who is not a BAD LOOKING guy. Mom always said in effect, "Keep to your own kind", in the sense of religion in her mind, as crossing racial lines were definitely out of the picture for her and most of her generation.
I don't put that much emphasis on looks, anyway. I've known too many shallow people who expected to have things done for them, or to have things go their way simply because they were good-looking. Sort of a trade off we lesser good looking mortals owed them for gracing our lives with their beauty. It is OBNOXIOUS in the max.
At least Cu, for all the looks he commands, is apparently ignorant of it, or deliberately chooses to ignore it, which is certainly laudable. But he DOES want his way. He's quiet about it, but it is, nevertheless, there. Considering the moving the campfire issue. Putting it in "neutral" bug territory is evidently NOT an option. The traditional site is THE site, period. I do also have to admit that when he graces the area, he does sit on the smoky, buggy side, so endures the same hardship, which does not seem to bother him. He's as oblivious to that as to his looks. He's certainly a COMPLICATED fellow!
Daydream time: I wonder if my body would like the Sheriff as well if it were given a chance to touch him... I'm so tactile.
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| Saturday, June 9th, 2001
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10:50 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Eight
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http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/5337.html
Day Eight -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am.
It has been so long since I did any drawing or painting that I didn't remember how satisfying to the soul it is! No wonder it absorbed me so readily when I was younger.
I was afraid when I started in on the mural on my refrigerator that I had lost my touch. It seems fine, but I DO seem to be missing some muscles that allowed me to stand with a palate and brush in weird positions while I painted for hours!
Or maybe I am still sore from my little walk. I think I will decide to believe that. It is less damaging to one's ego.
I won't write very long this morning. I want to get to painting!
Day Eight -- Siesta:
The paint is wet and the sky is cloudy, so I am hoping the rain will hold off until we get a clear coat on and dried to protect them. I told Sarita that it WOULDN'T dare rain on my horses until they were dry and protected. Her eyes got dutifully wide at that! These kids are so easy to love. They've quite stolen my heart.
Last updated 3/10/02.
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| Friday, June 8th, 2001
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8:26 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Seven
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http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/2051.html
Day Seven -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am.
Am I ever sore! The balls of my feet ache, and I have huge blisters ready to pop on each heel. Cheryl lent me some open-backed sandals until they heal, and I am under doctor's orders NOT to be in the sun today! Thank heavens this is the day I scheduled the trip to the library. I can be inside, mostly seated, legitimately, without being though of as a shirker.
I am trying my hardest to get the hospital's image repaired for Jacques. He's already had two patients, thanks to me.
Alberto and Sarita both joined me this morning on the trip to the hospital. Sarita took to rinsing and flushing right off, but she told me Alberto is afraid of the noise the water makes when he flushes. Of course, he flatly refused to be accompanied by a woman, or to use the women's restroom. Drat those effective graphics that allow even an illiterate four-year-old to be able to tell the difference!
I'd better give Jacques a heads up so he can continue to claim "pristine" facilities. I don't know if he frequents the mens' room out here, or if there is another one inside. Surely there must be for patients... One could hardly be rolling a gurney out here in all weather!
He's probably going to be mad at me this morning. I checked myself out while everyone was asleep and drove Baby Blue Ram home. I'm not sure how he got down to the hospital, but I appreciated not having to walk home.
I almost drove down this morning, as well, but I'm glad I didn't. The very air smells so different, so clean. It RAINED here yesterday afternoon. I mean, hard-pelting drops that would've pulped any books and papers we'd had in the classroom.
Alberto and I went for a little hike yesterday, and sort of over-did it. As I watch him race around with the digital camera, photographing everything in sight, I feel like an OLD woman. He walked even farther than I did.
For every ten or so shots that he and Sarita take, I keep one good one.
I've decided that dangerous adventures are much more romantic to read about than to live through. I can get a good mental picture without having to live with the minute by minute agony of, say, a severe sunburn, or blisters so raw one limps when trying to walk.
I've already written a lot of what's in here this morning on a piece of paper at the hospital last night, but I couldn't find it when I left this morning, so the "addendum" to my journal may or may not get added in that big blank space I left at the top of this page. It was far from sparkling prose, anyway.
Day Seven -- Sunset
I love Alice, the librarian. She is sweet, witty, helpful, knowledgeable, and not a bit prejudiced.
Paul Peter and I got really silly telling fairy tales to the kids. Town kids and Indian kids both enjoyed it, and several parents showed up, too, including Cu, who sat in on some of the fairy tales cross-legged on the floor beside Alberto.
Alberto told Alice that this was "un verano vivace", a lively summer. Cute. (All too true, too.) He got left behind in the library, but Mickey found him and caught us before we got on the gravel. He let Alberto turn on his lights and siren. I about had a heart attack, though, as I couldn't see behind me with the driver's side mirror broken off and all those huge refrigerators in the back end. I sure wasn't speeding with that load on! I was afraid one of the bigger Indian kids had fallen overboard, or something. The kids loved the hoopla, however, especially Alberto.
The refrigerators have arrived, and some are even cleaned up. Saturday is "paint" day. They want to paint badly enough that getting them to clean the rest of them up shouldn't be a problem...
Mickey gave me a cell phone so I can call in case of further adventures. It was a sweet gesture. (My second one from a man in the same week! Be still, my heart!) I promised him I'd stay within sight of the village or the road unless I had an Indian guide OLDER than four. The arroyo I climbed into to "rescue" Alberto is nicknamed "Man Eater" because a rock hound died in it during a flash flood. I'm sure glad I did NOT know that yesterday when we were trapped down there, and I could hear the sound of the water coming.
I have a confession to make. When I tried to read what I had written, I do have to admit that Paul Peter's comments about how no paragraphing made the journal hard to read are accurate. At the time, I reacted indignantly, as though his criticism was unjust. Looking back, I see paragraphs on occasion, but rather than being the result of conscious forethought, they more frequently occurred because I had reached a spot requiring some more thought, and in repositioning my sweaty fingers on the paper, created an oily spot where the ink would not stick. That's not a very good reason for making a new paragraph. I've been trying to remember to use them when I KNOW ahead of time that I'm going to change topics, places, people doing the action, or have a time gap, but, of course, only true editing will result in a good job.
I can't see the lines any more, and Paul Peter is eying this Green Journal hungrily, so I guess that's all for now. I can't remember if I've started a new one since we were an "item", or not.
I'm ready to just drop off to sleep, right here, on the sand, with a half rotten log for a pillow.
Last updated 4/25/02.
current music: Prokofiev "Lieutenant Kije Suite"
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| Thursday, June 7th, 2001
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8:57 pm - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Six
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Thursday, June 7th, 2001 8:57 pm
http://www.livejournal.com/users/travelsfar/2726.html
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Six
Day Six -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am.
Alberto and Sarita both joined my trip to the hospital facilities. She is now an official member of the 'rinse and flush' part of Jacques' club. She told me that Alberto is afraid of the toilet when it flushes. I wonder if Jacques knows he has a customer, and that his facilities may not be "pristine" any more... I will give him a heads up.
They ran here and there, photographing first one plant, then another, with Bruno's digital camera. They both have a good eye for composition. When we look at the shots in the pop out window, I make comments about what will improve them, and the next batch inevitably incorporates at least one shot with that technique tried. If it looks good, we keep it. If not, we dump it off.
I get such a bang out of Sarita. She will tell me the name of every plant, not in Latin, but in Náhuatl, then follow that at once with the stages in which it is harvested for what purposes. She adds details of how to store it to retain its potency, any special cautions to observe when it is administered, and what the duration of its safe use is. She sounds JUST like Dances Dreams when she does it. It is uncanny. A modern day drug company looking for new uses for herbal medicine could make a bundle on what is locked in her head! I wonder how much of this is general knowledge. The fact that it is all news to me is nothing to judge by.
Day Six -- Late evening:
Jacques has me "in for observation". He takes this patient business VERY seriously. I tease him, but he knows the care is appreciated. Alberto, my co-adventurer, is sound asleep on Cu's lap. They are sitting on the couch. I have the privacy curtain pulled back so I am not so cut off.
The fire circle is fulfilling Jacques' secret fantasy: It is meeting in his living room, sitting in chairs and on couches, sipping warmed tea and coffee from his kitchen -- in general, acting civilized. Outdoors would be a pretty soggy experience, all things considered.
The desks were supposed to be delivered today, but I am sure glad they weren't. It RAINED, as in huge, plump drops, falling hard and fast. Had we books and papers in my classroom, they'd all be pulp by now. The post holes are WELL-SOAKED, I am sure, and effortlessly.
Jacques caught me yawning, so he is going to turn out the light on me.
Last updated 3/20/02.
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| Wednesday, June 6th, 2001
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11:41 am - from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Five
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Wednesday, June 6th, 2001 11:41 am
http://www.livejournal.com/talkpost.bml?journal=travelsfar&itemid=1665
from Despina's Infamous Green Journal -- Day Five
Day Five -- Morning:
Up @ 5 am. Alberto accompanied me to the campfire, which was really cool. I had no trouble staying awake. I've never met so many people at once in my entire life!
Everyone loves Alberto, and a four-year-old's view on people's personalities is certainly INTERESTING, to say the least! The other Whites I hadn't met yet are a pair of German engineers who teach with Paul Peter over at Mound. Bruno something unpronounceable is the science teacher, and very nice, but his English is atrocious. Of course, he's supposed to be using Spanish, so I guess that doesn't matter. He's lending me a digital camera to use for the alfabeto project, which he thought was marvelous. He says the local library has a colored printer we can hook up to and make copies for 25¢ each. He'll show me how to store up to 100 pictures on the disk before we have to dump off any we don't want. The other German is younger, and very handsome, but I really don't like him much. He speaks impeccable British English, but he's definitely on the make. Horst something even longer than Bruno's last name. When I shook his hand, I felt slimy.
Paul Peter was his usual ornery self, but he does have good insights, if I can just get past the negative attitude he shows toward everything. He brought up the safe storage issue. I have my clothes in the cooler to keep the bugs out of them, and have scheduled an outing to get used refrigerators to clean up and paint and make shelves for. If I can, I'll try to get one for the hovel, too.
I've gone camping a lot, but I wonder if I can stand nearly three months of dirt floor, no doors, no water, and no electricity. When people are camping, they don't have to clean up. Their nose is the sole arbitrator of cleanliness. I can't imagine how grim this place must be in the grip of winter. Glad I won't be here for THAT.
Well, I'll write more at siesta time. I have to go into town before school starts to see about the fridges.
Day Five -- Sunset
Somehow the heat saps me so badly, I can't even pick up my pen to write at siesta time. I stick to the paper in a most irritating manner.
I introduced how to give/get directions to the students, and took my dog and pony show on the road, stealing the thunder from the workers, who were, after all, doing the same repetitive, boring, hot, thankless task over and over. I stood; the students sat cross-legged in the dirt, and as the sun moved, I changed my alignment to keep it behind my back. Nobody objected.
I bummed some stronger sun screen from Jacques this morning. He took pity on me and applied it with a feather light touch. Incredible cool relief followed the path of his fingers across my face and neck. He's just so beside himself to have a live, breathing PATIENT. No White doctor I know of would condescend to do that job. That's a nurse's duty anywhere else in the USA.
I felt so sorry for those workers trying to dig out that super hard clay in the heat. They would get nowhere if it weren't for all the buckets of water they keep dumping down the holes. They're so patient. An American would have blown it off and demanded that a big piece of heavy duty equipment come in to punch them in all in one morning. The holes are nearly deep enough. On Friday, while my students and I are at the library, they plan to set the posts in cement. By Monday, when we again need to use the area, it should be dry enough to be accident proof.
Horst just announced that the workers will be busy elsewhere tomorrow, so I won't have to compete quite so hard for the student's attention.
On a more serious note, I had an installment of THE DREAM again last night:
Dismayed, she gasped, "That's not a school! That's a bare plot!" Eyes twinkling, Cu responded in Náhuatl, with Bruno translating, "Yeah, well, we're running a bit behind schedule." She retorted, "That seems to be epidemic in this part of the country." Bruno's impeccably clipped British English sounded strange in these surroundings. "Actually, celebrating nature, being out in the great out-of-doors, is very appropriate for Indian students. Keeping/getting in touch with their heritage, and all that sort of thing." Incessed, she responded, "That's fine for you to say! You're teaching biology inside a building!" "¿Qué, qué? ¿Hay un problema?" said Cu. "No, no hay problema. Voy a enseñar sin libros, sin escuela, sin materiales, y sin sueldo. No, no hay ningún problema," she said tartly.
I thought now that I was here, actually living through such similar things, that it would change... but it didn't seem to dent it other than to add the names of the various people I've met. They did NOT get more in keeping with their real life personas, however. This is just soooo weird.
Updated 1/3/03.
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| Tuesday, June 5th, 2001
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4:30 pm - "Day's Stupidest Tourist Question" List (8/3/04; WC 428)
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http://travelsfar.livejournal.com/1129.html
Day’s Stupidest Tourist Question
Sunday morning, as I stood watching Cu head my way from a hovel I later learned belonged to Cheryl Happy Dog, the caretaker of his two children, a tourist drove up, stopping in front of me, rolling down the window and sticking a video camera in my face. "Are you an Indian? May I take your picture? I've never talked to a squaw in person before."
Cu arrived before I could answer, looked me over critically, then said, "Es una de nuestras maestras." (She's one of our teachers.)
I'd LOVE to see that video! There I stood in a stained t-shirt and sweated through jeans that hug my slender form, as I'd been cleaning the adobe hovel. My short auburn hair had kinked into tight curls around my oval face. My hazel eyes and fair skin had to stand out in sharp contrast from Cu's light eyes surrounded by his golden cast reddish skin, framed by his long, black, totally straight hair in braids fastened in thongs. Coming up slightly behind me, he towered over me at least a head.
"Sonríe," he commanded, draping an arm casually across my shoulders, mugging it up for the camera. Juan came up, standing in front of us, looking up, smiling as though he were our son, then held out his hand, saying, "Cinco dólares."
Instead of the requested $5.00, he was handed a ten dollar bill. The thrilled tourist drove off, probably to tell his friends about this Indian family he talked to.
I feel totally insulted by the whole incident. I have to admit to a bit of the same reaction that Francisco, the Hildalgo of Spanish descent, showed when I mistook him for an Indian. Like him, I felt it was OBVIOUS that I could not have been an Indian.
This unpleasant parallel makes me feel like a hypocrite in retrospect, as in MY mind, I judged him quite harshly for his reaction Saturday night. How can I then excuse my similar response, even suppressed? This is just the FIRST time I have encountered it, not a lifelong battle I've had to fight.
Paul Peter, who was watching from the shade of his doorway, laughing, said, "Tourists are a pain, but they provide such a high proportion of the ready cash the reservation receives that everyone panders to them. You CAN avoid that unpleasantness and the need to be nice, however. Just keep off the road in prime hours. If you have to be there, be "busy" with your back to the road."
"I'll remember that, " I huffed.
Last updated 8/3/04.
Word Count: 428
current mood: awake
current music: Simon & Garfunkel "For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her"
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