October 26, 2008
Once upon a time long, long ago and far, far away there was a little log cabin on a street in a small, small town. And inside the cabin was a girl whose heart beat heavily within her. It beat for peoples unknown and places unseen and stories untold and the sound of the beating grew ever louder.
So at last the young girl shed tears and said goodbyes and left the comfort of the cabin and her home. She carried her dreams and her insecurities in two suitcases as she braved the wide, wide world alone. The young one saw explosions of color in foreign sunsets and heard symphonies in the night and she was glad that she was gone.
But every once and again, she longed for the smell of those log walls in the small town that she had left behind. And she thought of the way that the sky opened up and shone its light on a green tin roof in the first days of fall.
And the young girl promised that if she ever made it home again she would live there happily ever after.
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October 21, 2008
“Did you have a good sleep?” he’d ask me every morning and my answer was always the same. “Yes, sir.”
My last day working at Port Hacking, Atto told me he’d miss being called Sir and to this day if I answer my mom with a “yes” there’s a “yes, what?” that comes quickly on its heels. But that’s fair, she still says “yes, ma’am” to her mother as well.
I guess with that upbringing it’s no surprise that I use sirs and ma’ams so often. It’s a habit that I’m pretty fond of and that I seem to pass on without realizing it.
Today I was teaching like a mad woman. We were talking about cheeseburgers and picking fights and treasure maps and pirates and long division and how they all go together. (If you’re a teacher and want to hear this little math story, let me know. It’s a gem. Har-dee-har-har.)
There was shoutin’ and screamin’ and we were all getting excited. It was a why I teach sort of moment.
In a last burst of energy I asked with heartfelt fervor, “SOOOO, should you ever ever ever EVER go looking for that quotient treasure without your treasure map, MY FRIENDCITOS???!!!”
And with that same contagious enthusiam all twenty-six of my precious Colombian children shouted out, “No ma’am!”
And my Southern heart nearly burst wide open.
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Posted in colombia, home, teaching 12 Comments »
October 20, 2008
Snoozing on the first leg of the trip.
Catching some shut eye on the final leg, too.
And here are a few from along the way.
About ten minutes into our three hour hike through the Amazon jungle.
This was the easy part. The 40 meter climb up the tree — not so much.
Sunset on the Amazon River.
Is this really my life?
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Posted in colombia, travel 7 Comments »
October 20, 2008
I need to take a deep, cleansing breath.
Because if I don’t some folks might die today and that’s just not becoming of a lady, now is it?
A list should suffice as the aforementioned deep, cleansing breath.
- I cannot expect people to value my time as much as I do.
- Manizales weather does NOTHING for my hair.
- It’s fall in Mississippi and I’m not there.
- I should learn to say no more often.
- There is no Sonic Diet Coke in Colombia.
- The Virus o’ Death stole my Spanish.
- I could eat my weight in biscuits today and y’all, that’s a lot of biscuits.
Thank you, bloggy friends, for the diarreah of the mouth that you just allowed me. Which, I assure you, is so very much better than the diarreah o’ death of last week’s glory. Although, I did lose eight pounds.
It’s not the diet of choice, but hey, whatever works.
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Posted in colombia, friendcitos, home, rambling 5 Comments »
October 17, 2008
I am fascinated by people.
There’s a young man sitting on the porch of a house next to the river. His boots are standing neatly on the floor beside him, mud on their soles. His skin is dark and rich and his hair is askew. There are books scattered on the table around him each one open with pages that are tattered from constant turning. His notebook is small, but full and he writes in furious spurtrs and then rests. In the pauses his eyes turn to the water, the bosque, the jars in front of him.
I wonder what he’s writing.
She sits with one foot tucked beneath her, the other dangles in the murky water. There’s a bright blue bucket beside her heaping with laundry. Her hands move swiftly- lathering, rinsing, scrubbing - but she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. She works as though today were like every other and I am mesmerized by her leisure. Lathering, scrubbing, rinsing in the river.
I wonder what’s she’s thinking.
“I share a house with the monkeys,” she told me. Her greying hair wrapped her face in silvery light and her eyes shone with curiosity and compassion. She talked easily and lovingly about her primate companions and the twenty years she’s been among them. And then she turned and hurried toward the water. “Ya vienen!” It’s coming now, they yelled. She threw a wave and a smile in our direction and then climbed onto the boat.
I wonder if she’s lonely.
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Posted in colombia 1 Comment »
October 16, 2008
The taxi picked us up at 3:00 a.m. this morning and there was more waiting than I’d expected, but we are here at last.
I’m lying beneath a mosquito net on a bed in a room with no true walls. The edges of the sheer material are tucked snugly beneath my thin mattress and I feel like this space is my own so I settle in a bit. My thoughts are scattered and many, and my travel induced weariness makes it hard to organize them all.
But I must, lest I forget it all.
The docks in Leticia were a whirlwind of shuffling and running and squeezing into tight spaces. Somehow I found a seat on the boat bound for Amacayacu. There were two loaves of bread at my feet, a sand covered bag at my side, and a young Colombian girl in my lap and it occurred to me that this might all be a dream.
I stared at longboats heavy with plantains coming to dock from the river as we waited to shove off and I watched as people ambled about on the banks with their broad, bare feet walking nimbly over boards and puddles and boats along the way. I saw fishing nets cast and drawn time and time again and I listened as shouts of hellos or helps rang out in the afternoon heat.
And it was not a dream.
The ride to the national park took an hour and a half and I sat on the hard bottomed boat with the sleeping child in my lap as the wind blew through my dirty, tangled hair. The Amazon River rolled and ran beneath us and her banks were heavy with stories and mysteries that I longed to hear.
Houses with thatched roofs built high on stilts and steps carved into the mud. Children swimming in the coffee colored water. A family of eight piled into a canoe, their wide smiles gapped their hands waving enthusiastically. Fishing lines running parallel to the shores and thoughts of the jungle hiding behind it all.
What will tomorrow hold?
You can read another point of view about our trip on Celeste’s site. Tell her I said hello.
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Posted in colombia 5 Comments »
October 15, 2008
I know. I know. I promised Saturday, but by the end of this post you’ll feel sorry for me. And if you don’t, just don’t tell me. I like to believe that the world is sympathetic. Thanks.
Yes, I had a fantastic trip to the Amazon. It was all that I expected and more. It was breathtaking and heartbreaking and awe inspiring and I have a journal full of things to share with you soon.
Yes, I said soon.
Because today, friends, is day four of the Virus o’ Death.
Or near death for those of you that might think I’m being dramatic.
I felt it coming on as our plane landed late on Friday night and by Saturday morning at 2:00 a.m. I was curled on the bathroom floor praying to the good Lord, whimpering for Momma, and cursing parasites, foreign countries, and salty tastes that bring on wretching.
Sunday and Monday were more of the same and today I finally went to the doctor. (talk about challenging my Spanish vocabulary!) I was poked and prodded and told I had invisible veins, but beautiful milky white arms.
Sisser would call me Casper or Pasty, but I rolled with it. So did my stomach now that I think about it.
After three hours of an IV, a blood test, and another test you don’t want to know anything about, I am home. Home with my inflamed colon, constricted gastrointestinal tract, a bag full of medicine, an order to stay home for another day and a Virus o’ Death that shall soon be defeated.
So, there. Now you know why I haven’t written and hopefully your heart is just bleeding with sympathy. I mean, it is, right?
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Posted in rambling, travel 12 Comments »
October 8, 2008
That could be because she isn’t with me….
Nonetheless, I’m off to the Amazon!
It’s October break here and three friends and I are headed out in the morning at a not-so-bright 3:00. IN THE A.M.!
I have no clue where we’re staying or what we’re doing or what to pack or how my Spanish works in the wee hours of the morning, but I’m going.
And, I promise, I’ll blog it all when I get back. (That’d be Saturday for those of you that check up on me.)
I’ll blog the Amazon, and how McDonald’s get props from me, and how blue paper thongs aren’t meant to be shared, and how I’m a sucker for the bad kids, and I’ll introduce you to a new bloggy friend.
Doesn’t that just make you guys all giddy with excitement inside?
I knew it would.
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Posted in friendcitos, travel 8 Comments »
October 7, 2008
I love it when that old man calls me. He makes me laugh and feel like I’m still his little girl.
Most of the time a song we love is playing on the radio and he turns up the volume so we can both hear it.
And sometimes he’s thinking of a song we love and wants to ask, “Baby, who sings that song?” And sometimes he says, “Baby, can you sing it like she does?” Or sometimes it’s “Oh, baby, she can do it, can’t she?”
These days Daddy’s fallen for Sugarland.
He figured out how to work the remote control so he could watch their music videos and he asked me to sing one of their songs at his New Year’s Eve party last year, but only if I could cry like she does. Only if I could make it sound like it hurt me.
Talk about pressure, but I did it for my Daddy.
He pulled a chair up close while I sang and he watched and listened like he’s done one thousand times. Except this time there was a crowd and a microphone instead of a hearth and a hairbrush. And when the song was over, he hugged me tightly, grinned, and said, “Baby, you did pretty good. Now, tell me, did I see a tear?”
Sugarland is coming to a town not far from ours and I asked Daddy if he’d like to go. He put up a fight at first and said he was too old for all those sorts of things and he reminded me that the last concert he went to was The Carpenters, but I heard the faintest hint of excitement in his voice.
So, I worked it out (sort of) and two tickets are headed his way.
I’m to repay my friend in cash or kisses. That’s the sort of part and y’all KNOW I’m not about to kiss a boy. I mean, ew, but I’ll deal with that later. For now, my Daddy’s going to see Sugarland.
And just maybe while he’s there he’ll dance with my Momma and miss his big girl a little.
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October 6, 2008
I teach at a private school where the tuition rivals what I paid for my college education.
Our campus is tucked neatly into the back corner of a hidden away street outside the city. In the past 20 years it has changed from an old farmhouse into a picture of growing perfection. Red trim on white buildings, bright yellow doors, a Colombian flag that whips in the wind, starched uniforms on children that have plenty, imported teachers with native English tongues.
And just around the corner, less than a mile from our manicured lawns and gated campus, is our sister school.
Her playground is a concrete slab and her classrooms are cramped and tiny and divided by the bamboo poles that hold up their roofs. Her children wear hand me down uniforms and eat the food that our school donates to them- the leftovers, the gifts we put into baskets one week out of every month.
And they are happy.
The fifth graders at my school made them gifts for Love and Friendship Day and we delivered them. They were tiny paper hearts with words of affection on them. One side in Spanish the other in English and tied to them with string were small pieces of candy.
I’m not sure if my kids got it. If they understood. If it affected them at all.
But I understood and I was touched and torn by their smiles, their looks of wonder, their whispered thank yous, their waves goodbye.
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Posted in colombia, teaching 3 Comments »
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