A nice long dose of Nicaragua

It has been difficult posting info on this blog, there is so much happening around me that evades description. At the same time, I have been writing quite a bit about my experience for my academic journal. Thus, I have decided to pull bits and pieces of reflection from that journal and place them here. There is no organization to my thoughts, but hopefully the entries will weave together and create a comfortable Nicaraguan hammock and project some of my thoughts and feelings here in a way that makes sense.
From August 4:
The folks from Witness(es?) for peace were an interesting bunch. I know nothing really about the organization, and was struck by the diversity of constituents representing the organization. During the presentación de cultura I sat next to an old fellow from Indianapolis who's name I fail to remember. We chatted about my work here and he told me that he and his wife have taken multiple trips on behalf of the organization. After their short visit to La Pita, they were headed to the American Embassy. He noted that the embassy always manages to explain situations in a manner the exact opposite to what they are seeing in reality. When I expressed my exasperation towards the media and their assistance in promoting these generally false realities, he recounted one of the trips he and his wife took to Mexico to see the effects of NAFTA on the Mexican communities. He couldn't believe how different things were in reality when compared to what the Embassy was telling them about it. “I'm in the states just trying to make my living, wondering where the jobs are going, then blaming the Mexicans for taking my work. Then I come down here and see that the Mexican people are losing their means of living and trying to move to the states for a better opportunity, blaming us for their problems.”
The group was composed of Americans from various states living very different lives. The best part of the night though, was it's end. Pedro's son, who was controlling the boombox during the presentation, put on “Beat it” by Michael Jackson, and everybody began dancing. The groups oldest member, Bob, a sprightly 86 years of age, was one of the first people on the dance floor shaking his money-maker. Americans, Nicaraguans, everyone was dancing. I couldn't help but appreciate one of the less harmful effects of globalization, smiling as I danced with a Nicaraguense.
From August 6:
I had a great conversation with Vicente last night about his past and the formation of La Pita. He arrived in '85 with his father and brothers and cousin, when the coop was only six years old. His father left with a brother and his cousin to fight the contras. None survived the war. He told me that the land was originally used for growing oranges, on top of it's success as a mining region. When the owners left the country following the revolution, the cooperative struggled for many years to subsist, fighting both land rights and inconsistent membership (many men left to fight in the contra war). Vicente is an adament supportor of the Sandinistas, explaining that the only gains made in relation to social progress here in San Ramón only occurred with the Saninistas in power. When Alemán held office from 2000-2006 (a non-Sandinista), the Sandinista government-sponsered radio program was discontinued. Tomasa, my mother, begin volunteering time for a radio station in Matagalpa, working with other volunteers to maintain the literacy program despite the lack of government support. I also learned that Tomasa was one of the core members in creating the recycled paper plant here in San Ramón. Furthermore, she assisted the group of women from Estelí in the creation of their own recycled paper plant, the very plant I visited one of my first days here in Nicaragua. It's inspiring to see such a network at work within this country, and how cool that I have the pleasure of living with such an influential member of Nicaraguan society. The other night, Selvin was showing me old family photos, and one photo was of Selvin, no older than four years, sitting on the lap of El Presidente Daniel Ortega, Tomasa at his side giving her best expressionless facial-pose. It's a classic photo; I couldn't help but wish I had a photo with our president, and wondered if getting a photo-op with a “President of the people” was easier than one with our commander-in-chief. The more time I spend here, the more I am touched and impressed by the ubiquitous political enthusiasm, respect for and protection of local communities, and general perseverence of society despite their tragic and still very recent past. Vicente, only a hair over thirty, has already lost his father, brother, and cousin to war. His story is one of many that I've heard already in this country, a country with a much more intimate conscience of war and it's ability to tear lives apart and bring people, communities together. It is a reality that few in the states can relate to (including myself, fortunately). If only the respect and care for others that I've witnessed here came at a less violent cost. Many communities in the states would benefit from a little charity, and I'm not talking about Red Cross I-made-a-donation-can-I-return-to-my-life-now charity (note: this form is better than no charity at all), but treating your neighbors, all of them, with respect and helping those around you when they need it, knowing they would do the same for you in an instant if in their shoes.
I'll step off my soapbox now...my thanks to this beautiful country for solidifying my views on true community behavior. I never doubted this trip would be life-changing, but affirmations of this truth still feel great.
From August 12:
This morning on my walk into town, I saw cows grazing in the fields of La Pita and thought about the agriculture here as a system of processes. Aside from the import of fertilizer and export of cash crops, there exists a closed agricultural system. Almost nothing is wasted here. In the case of the cows, they clear fields that have lain fallow, which saves the farmers hours of labor and provides the cows with food. In return the ganador shares a portion of his meat or milk produced with the various families or cooperatives that have lent him grazing land. Such beautiful cooperation within a community is the stuff of dreams in the United States right now, and the more time I spend down here, the more I realize that the US is destroying itself by embracing and supporting all the worst aspects of capitalism. The people here depend on a capitalist system, but lack it's viciously competative nature and socially depricating individualist notions. If I don't end up working down here in Central or South America after college, I will have to figure out how to bring about a new-capitalist system that favors community support and friendlier (more pragmatic?) competition, one that doesn't dismiss social welfare so carelessly.
From August 13:
I've spent a lot of time over the past weeks thinking about religion. Reading about it's past here in Nicaragua, seeing it's effect and how it's viewed here by people, and thinking about how I see religion in the US, I don't know what to make of religion, especially christianity, being the dominant religion of the states. I see religion as an especially touchy subject in the US, so I want to first clearly state that I have no religious affiliation, nor have I ever held an affiliation. At the same time, these last few years of my life, especially my time spent here in Nicaragua, have awakened a religious side of me I never knew existed. I want to read the bible (maybe in Spanish), as well as other religious texts. I don't know if I will ever end up a dedicated religious person, but I believe (hooray for puns!) religious texts have a lot of enlightenment to offer me.
That said, religion here in Nicaragua feels very authentic. I've seen this kind of authenticity in the states as well, but I shudder everytime I find a channel spewing bastardized Christian rhetoric in search of profits from well-intentioned followers. In particular, what impresses me about the Catholic church down here is that it takes pride in it's separation from the State, both historically and now. There have existed religious figures using their religious position to spew political rhetoric, but the most powerful and well respected cardinals have rigidly stood up for their principles, even when such actions brought about censorship and attempted stigmatization from the State. In contrast, it makes me sick to see politicians use their religious stance as a means of pushing their own political agenda. They stand on their religious high-ground and patronize those that don't agree with their morally, religiously sound political stances. It ridicules and delegitimizes the credibility of our political system and makes a mockery of religion. Such a beautiful and spiritually enhancing thing like religion has no place in any political arena, especially the current US government, which is filled with spineless grubs who only care about scratching enough corporate backs to ensure campaign funds for their re-election. Clearly, my faith in US politics is low right now, but I can't stand the manner in which many liberal atheists so hastily place conservative, religiously-driven idiots in congress in the same group as sane, loving, patriotic (don't get me started on the politicization of this word...) conservatives that also happen to be religious. It's no way to go about mending the deep rift that has divided our “red” and “blue” states; making religion any sort of scapegoat in our accusations about conservative beliefs is just ridiculous and disrespectful. My friend Xiomara really drove this point home for me in our discussion about religion, “Here in Nicaragua there's always a place for science and religion to coexist. The Bible talks about science. Belief in God does has nothing to do with your beliefs in science...”. I can't even picture a politician saying something that outrageous in the states right now. Clearly there is a lot about religion I can't discuss since I lack knowledge on the subject, but when it comes to politics, Nicaragua has shown me how easy it is for the two to coexist in a country as separate and powerful entities. It's a shame we're too proud in Washington to learn from our “lesser”, third-world neighbors.
From August 21:
I want to again reflect on my experience here with religion. Clearly my views on religion in the US are strong, and likely misguided in some cases, given that I was born in a very liberal town in Northern California and raised without religion of any kind. Since entering UCSC, these prejudices and misconceptions have been blurred by my education and experience outside of my hometown, and I now have a significant amount of curiousity towards religion. I don't simply wish to understand on a basic level the idea of popular religion, I want to read religious text and try to form an opinion of my own about the whole concept. Ignorance always makes it easier to judge something, but I want to go deeper than judgement.
During my time here in Nicaragua, two events in particular have both separated my concept religion here from religion in the US and fascinated me immensely by their almost contradicting nature given the US worldview of religion. The first occurred a few weeks ago while I was in Matagalpa with Ramón helping him rebuild and paint centrifuges. We had just finished lunch at this mechanics house and were watching the midday noticias on TV. At that moment, I was breaking out in hives from the chicharrones (and learning that I have an allergy to fried pig skin...) but unable to leave the room and figure out what the hell was happening to me because the high priest of the Catholic church was sitting down to make a live statement.
Just the weekend before, there had been a political rally in Managua. Held by a few conservative student groups, the rally had every intention of being peaceful, but an overzealous group of young Sandinistas threw rocks at the buses and started street fires. The police did nothing to prevent much of this from happening, and the Church had some choice words for the government in response to the police inaction. Quoting the bible with more force and relevance than I've ever seen before, this priest ripped into the government, blaming the President directly for this violence and emphasizing the importance of freedom of speech in Nicaragua. Seeing such a clear separation of Church and State is quite shocking, despite Nicaragua having a history of strained Church/State relations. It's almost a joke in the US the way Church and State are supposedly separate, with religion constantly being used in response to political topics and churches telling their congregations who they should vote for.
The second event was todays religious service here at La Pita. Of the few (we're talking less than 5 in my life) services I've ever attended, none were anything like this. The priest was funny, but very loud and passionate with his words. When songs were sang, the mood was celebratory; people would clap and hoot and shout “amen” amongst other phrases. When head were bowed for prayer, instead of one uniform prayer, or a silent prayer, every single person made their own prayer or counted their own personal blessings, the room became a cacauphony of religious individualism. During the entire service, people would get up and leave, others came in to sit down, people talked to eachother quietly. The behavior wasn't intrusive, and furthermore, never seemed to bother anyone there. The whole experience was radically different from any religious service I have attended back home. It was more relaxed and laid-back, it was more raw and passionate, it was more entertaining and personal.
From August 26:
His tiny pair of feet pitter patter across a floor of dirt and stone, stopping only to pick up a dead insect or piece of filthy styrofoam and thoroughly investigate the find. His curious eyes seem to search for something intangible and unknown to everyone else.
Our kitchen door frames her eyes and long brown hair. No older than four, my neighbor only ever reveals this much of herself in my presence, as if my foreignness grants me the power to dissapate the rest of her body in a puff of smoke should she reveal herself.
The whirlwind of noise and confusion that is the Matagalpa bus station. My senses are blurred by the skirts of Nigaraguan women selling cookies and nacatamales, the wheelbarrows of janitors attempting to maintain a manageable level of litter, the putrid smell of diesel exhaust mixing with that of delicious but dangerous meat cooked just outside the station on scraps of metal (I distinctly remember the rim of a car tire under one tent), the constant shouting and whistling of just about everyone: bus-boys announcing destinations, vendors selling food or drinks or fake American imports, drunks asking for change. Wide eyed toddlers can't stop staring at me, half expecting me to transform into a dinosaur or alien and not wanting to blink and miss such a spectacle. Never knowing for sure if the Nigaraguense directing me to the proper bus has the best of intentions and takes pleasure in getting travellers lost. Listening to the most eclectic, often terrible music on my journeys to and from Matagalpa on a bus decorated by the driver himself, adorned with Nicaraguan flags, Sandinista posters, religious trinkets, and whatever else suits their fancy.
My cousin laughs uncontrollably after I tell her that I smoke donkeys while attempting to tell her that I smoke cigars occasionally.
The rain beats down on the tin roof with such force, I can't even hear my music through my headphones. Thunder rips across the sky; I feel it's sound and force in my very bones. The individual cracks and rumbles move from one side of the sky to the other, it's 30 second trip envelops our valley. Never have I felt inside a storm until La Pita.
I step of the bus from Matagalpa and purchase a half-stale loaf of pan from my favorite corner store. San Ramón is unusually alive with activity. Ranchero music invades the air, as does the stench of Toña, Nicaragua's favorite beer. I encounter two men sleeping on the side of the road, a consequence of too much beer too early in the day. Packs of chavalos make their way to the covered basketball court in their finest clothing, hoping for a night of romance at the dance about to conspire.
One very happy CANista still can't find a way to put his experiences into proper words, a casualty of sensory overload and self-criticism. This will have to suffice for now.

new day, new way

i had a nice, nostalgic final day in morelos post all written up complete with rainy day outside and deep reflections on the inside. then the power went out. promptly after the computer lab closed.
so i try to imagine that lightning and thunder of a playful dios chaak here in blistering yucatan. but its hard to piece together those tender musings. like the rain, they have gone leaving only SOL. i miss the friends i have made, so many friends, so many good times. i hope to return as often as i can, with the excuse of holding english language learning groups, keeping up with projects, but really i just want to see all those nice people again... a ver, schedules permitting.

as i move from quintana roo and uimqroo onto merida, yucatan and the universidad autonoma de yucatan i feel excitement for new projects, and fear for making presentations and writing papers in spanish. dr juan gave me a stack of books to read, and a deadline of thursday to present my project to a gang of university professionals. quite different vibe, to use the parlance of our times.... it looks like the good dr has a bucketload of work planned for me. i alone will be responsible for the presentation of the project before the PROTROPICO team, its excecution in the school and the community and the write up of the final report.

i will not be working with david or with any team. simply i will be in the community working everyday, mornings in the school gardens and afternoons on the kaanche project. LIFELAB in spanish. in any remaining time i hope to interview any other students working in the communty as well as community members. supposedly there are numerous students working on different projects... one with a group of women hammock producers, another with campesinos. i would be interested in interviewing them for my film as well as David when he arrives and we are able to meet. for the meanwhile i will do my best doing my homework and trust that karie knew what she was doing when she suggested that i come up to merida. monday i will go to tzucacab. now i am with alfonso eating watermellon and i am very grateful to be here.

Para que llorar?¡?¡?

The end of my stay has come, the adventure is almost over. Reflecting upon my expereince I can truly say that ten weeks in this beautiful regoin of "Mexico" has altered my vision of the world. A gigangtic plate of different people, emotions, and ideas filling up my metaphorical belly. These elements that I have consumed have nurtured my mind and body in ways that humble and energize action. I am ready for the next step what ever it may be. The illusions are melting evoporating into air. The illusion of self and the powers the torment our brothers and sisters accross our blue green planet. Generation upon generation of people from pueblos, counties, cities, and nations whos view has been coerced into seeing only the rat race chasing mirages only to hug a cactus (and get taxed for it). I have read the most powerful thing is good intention the desire to want help create better world can move mountains and alter futrues. A person cannot do these things alone, there needs to be community there needs to be relationships that are not determined upon how much mula can be milked out of the endless pastures of people. People who work together because they feel compassion and enjoy each others company.

The family that I was with in Tihosuco, taught me alot about unity and solidarity. I came into their home as a stranger, and in many ways I still am. No need to sugar coat the situation, I did not grow up in the same enviroment. I have never gone into the jungle on bicycle, spent 14 hours chopping wood, and carried it back home. The hardship of this type existance creates a ferocious bond within their family; which was enormous mother father, ten children, and recently adopted another boy. The father is a catholic missionary, though I am not a big fan of the faith, Catholocism has helped them. Many think of Mexicans and have two images a drunk man wearing a sombrero under a cactus the other a Narco traficante (drug trafficker). The family does not drink, they are as pure as mountain spring water; as was the case with the majority of the people who were at the prime age for rowdy binge drinking. Beside this fact they are not sheltered or oblivious to reality. The constant reminder of drugs are presented everyday in Mexican News papers. They are loyal, there were no arguments just discussions, talking in a way tht I have only seen between close friends. It is a strange thing that in Western Univeristies there is a constant drilling of developing an "argument", forced to fight with like minded people. An individualistic ideology the can be dangerous. The family worked together the mother made sure everyone was fed and in good health. The father being a missionary was constantly out of town, but it didn´t matter. Rather then wine about, take meds, and go to a therapist. The oldest brother played the role, guided the family. It was team work at its finest. Their family structure was not strict of rigid, no dont do this or that. They love by example and guide the best they know how. Right now the brothers who can, are working in Cancun, sucked into the world of debauchaury and mayhem of globalized society. They are difinetly affected by this experience, but they don´t go for the booze, drugs and rock n´or roll. They go so they can help their family. One day the oldest brother and I were talking about the the Mayan prohpecy of 2012, and I asked him what he thought was going to happen. He responded "things are gonna change because thats the year I graduate and am able to get a better job to help my family". Until we learn to love with this type of devotion Ill qoute one of my favorite hip hop MC´s "People are people, but I still love em"-Atmosphere

Moises Plascencia

Moises Plascencia

You want a blog here it is...

Aug 1st, Philipe Carillo Puerot. Got up today after a long night of good times and deep existential conversation. What is existance? How does the mind function? Past, future, and present ralities; all that rubbish (Not rubbish but in a way, Yes, Universally nothing). 9AM, Cathryn (an english in Philipe Carillo Puerto) told us that she was going to teach english class. An nasty check out too early for the lathargic and comfortable. She never showed, a fib that worked as an alarm clock for the scoundral that we were that day. Carillo Puerto is an interesting place. Beer is sold 24 hours a day, bars don´t close til´4Am. The social bussinesses work at the schedule of what the humd hot climate allows. Happy hour is non existant, noone wants to go out when your sticky and smelly. Showers for me have been far and in between events, but the people here shower 2-3 times a day. Drinking here is all or nothing for the local ladies and gentlman, social drinking is a concept not well understood.
Went to the local market, walked around the dozens of fruit vendors which is towards the entrance area. In the center the butchers, cleavers at the ready, set up theri choice cuts of meat. In a fashoin that in a way resembled a horror movie. Ribs, legs, and heads are on display dangling, like a scene out of Texax Chainsaw Massacre. The smell almost made me puke. A reality that as an American, spoiled and used used to my meats prepared and ready for consumption, I never really knew. What was seen as delicious and prestigous to the population, was grotesque for me. A strang cultrtural norm, I can not imagine Santa Cruz with a butcher system like that.
The journey continued, Had lunch in the restaraunt section of the Mercado. the system of restaruants service is confusing and intricately beautiful. Tables of different trademarks (Pepsi, Coca Cola, Superior Beer, Corona, Sol etc...) seperates your selection of restaurant. Goddam impossible to eat where you want to. I spotted a fat Narco Trafficante looking mother hefer, whos lardacious appearence at the front of one of the restaurants promised deliciousness. Within the hustle and crowds, I thought "How the sam hill Im I gonna get there?". The sorrounding table were full. Shit, Oh well. Second choice, or so I thought. Sat down with Tom in front of a taqueria, where 3 healthy looking old ladies cooked, that looked like it offered tastiness in a taco form (or torta form) and was bamboozled. The server was a double agent working for two restaurants. Well hey that´s Mexico life is a hustle. Here are some images of this trip so far enjoy....

My Adeventures in San Ramón Begin

It's been some time since my last post. This is the result of three main factors: 1. I've been busy 2. I'm having too much fun to take time and share with others 3. Internet connections have been notoriously inconsistent/non-existent these first two weeks in San Ramón. I'll do the best I can to re-hash the events leading up to this wireless café I managed to find in Matagalpa, which is my savior, as I will explain.
I felt a great weight lifted from my shoulders driving away from Estelí, replaced by an infectious excitement for my true calling in this country: bees! As I drove down the Pan-American towards Matagalpa, Juan Miguel and I discussed agriculture, Nicaraguan life, and most importantly, country living. We made a brief stop in Matagalpa, which gives off a very San Franciscan vibe (the hilly streets are partially to blame for this feeling), ate lunch, and made our way towards my new home and family. The road quickly became almost undrivable, all potholes and cattle. Suddenly, San Ramón unfolded before me, nestled comfortably in a valley surrounded by breathtaking mountains. It was love at first sight, the quaint tranquility of the pueblo inviting me to explore the roads beyond heading East into the mountains. My cooperative, La Pita, lies 3 Km outside San Ramón, a beautiful walk I have the pleasure of taking just about everyday. In these first two weeks I've met some extremely valuable contacts with a wealth of information about Central American beekeeping projects, including a wonderful and boisterous Honduran woman named Rosemary, who emailed me close to 40 pages of beekeeping project info I've slowly been translating. As an added bonus, she's taken the unnoficial role of maestra de Español, teaching me various phrases, some wildly innappropriate, so that I can communicate in a less university trained dialect with my coworkers. Today was my first time journeying into Matagalpa. I would be happy spending every weekend with my amazing family in San Ramón, but due to some torrential storms these last few days, our house has been without electricity since Thursday, and won't have power again until Tuesday. As a result, my computer has been dead since Friday, and many of my documents are on here since I don't want to waste paper, a principle that may need to change if these outages become commonplace.
Lack of power aside, my days have been full of good people and lots of learning. I arrived not knowing much about beekeeping, and I still have a mountain to learn, but my project is coming together wonderfully, and I look forward to meeting the neighboring cooperatives this coming week. Luckily for me, the president of the Beekeeping coop lives next door to me in La Pita, a jolly man named Pedro Torres.
The coffee is out of this world, the pace of life out here couldn't be better. What a way to receive school credit! The other day, I visited the cooperative's fruit orchard with mi hermano and picked fresh mangoes and cacao fruits. It was my first taste of raw cacao, an experience I will never forget. I don't know when, but I do know that I'll be returning to this wonderful community sometime in the future, it has already built an irrisistable place in my heart.

Con amor,
Taylor

P.S. Apologies for the lack of photos, the server I'm using might kill me if I tried to upload anything. Curse the finicky internet down here! We're far too spoiled up in the states.

brief post

greetings from jose maria morelos

moises and i have been holed up in the library working on papers.

as i slave away on field notes for mr mike rotkin, you are all in my thoughts

the program seems to be moving real fast now, with many friends to see, many places to go, papers to write... SO LITTLE TIME

soon we will leave this computerland and we will go out to kancabchen again

where there is no phones, no internet, no running water...

just buckets, jungle, turkeys, nice people,

and 1000 year old maya ruins

sitting on an ancient well, in the
jungle. from left to right: Fabian, Edgar, Alma, El Tom, Don Mambo, Yuli

out on the weekend...

maalob kiim

some grand adventures por David Sussberg

Wow, as I sit and wonder how I could possible put to words the feelings I feel so deeply in my chest a mayan woman dressed in her beatiful atire, bursting with viberance and color walks a pig down the street and I simply know all I must to do is write about a few adventures and experiences I have placed inside my bag of stories and directly into my heart. I am in the Guatamalan Highlands right now, in the little town of Chi Chi and tomarrow morning Scott and I are head to live with a small mayan community in this quilted landscape of awe and brillantly loved farming landscapes. We have befriend an amazing and strong man that is helping different mayan communities around Lake Atilan and he has set up us for a homestay and we are going to help with various community projects and see and live how the mayan do. It is so incredible and quite funny to me because I came to central america for a few reasons, to strengthen some good roots (my good friends, from forever) of the tree I am, experience life from other rooted cultures live life and help the communties I find myself with, all of which will change mylife and further empower myself, por su puesto. So I have been traveling with 5 of my bestest friends in Nicaragua, learning from good folk all along the way. In Nicaragua I reunited with a good friend and fellow CANista Taylor and we all had a wonderful opportunity to learn plant medicine and work on in agroforestry (food forest farm) . Planting coffee, drink coffe, share food and life and celibrating merrily. From Nicaragua we traveled to old mayan ruins a poco gringo but always connecting with the locals, I learned all about different trees and about the old ways of the Maya. Traveling now for a little over two weeks I have experienced some amazing things, even with such a large group. One day my friends and I voyaged to the top of a volcano only to experience the shere magnifigance of lava. Where fire and sun melted rock to act like a river and flow out of a gaint mountain. We toasted bagels over the lava and celibrated life with bagels and creamcheese staring into liquidfire and looking into grand distances of vistas hermosas of forests and bursting clouds and other towering and majestic volcanos in the distance. Yesterday I snuck away from my friends to call the woman I love and came back an hour late, so Scott and I had to run to catch the last bus, and hanging on the back as it drove away only to break down a few miles later, three Guatemalan Ladies joked that I should show some leg and so I did and to toot my horn, a truck pulled over and so we jumped in the back of a truck with fifteen others, (the way people travel here) to make it to a little town. Only to arrive an hour too late for the next bus so we stumbled upon a quaint resteraunt to enjoy good chirizo tacos and talked about the importance of community and how to really go about creating/strengthen them. We walked to a hotel near by a little to price of our pockets so we bartered with them to sleep outside and camp for good price, to only to discovered by a man that felt bad that we were out in the cold, not understanding that we enjoy nights like this he invinted us in and soo over a cerveza or two we talked all about life, different cultures and thier relationship to the earth. We learned that he was mayan and we talked all about our desires in life, what we are studding being students of life and basically score this opportunity of a life time to live with a good community and share life for awhile. I will write more in a little bit and will also fill in more for there is soo much, especially when my belly rumbles for some good handmade toritillas, and my friend scott looks weirry as I type these feelings and thoughts. I am simple being in the constant state of giving my gratitudes to this amazing life, full of soo much love, compassion, beatiful people and this mama of an earth.
Adios con paz y amor,
David