I LIKE WORDS...

Make Money in Your Sleep

2011-11-24T15:22:00.000-08:00

So lately I have been trying to not form preconceived notions about something or in other words, "a judgement" until I have the absolute story. One example pertained to my experience at work picking up a customer with shabby hair, wrinkly face, carrying a large greasy bag of refuse. AS I apologized for being late an wiped my mind clean of the judgement I was starting to form, I soon learned that this tall surfer with a large upper belly (usually a Callous from laying down on the hard fiberglass board) is and was a millionaire.

"What is your secret?" The first question that bombarded out of my mouth without even knowing what he does for a living.

"Well, its not 1 thing." He kindly told me. I soon learned that the true success as an internet businessman comes from a shady vision sparked from a Craitgslist ad, directing traffic to your free homemade videos on Youtube, email lists, Google Search Terms, Job Boards (to find App makers in Romania), and excellent cemented Website infrastructure so you can make money in your sleep.

Follow Trail of Money...off the island

2011-08-03T23:29:00.000-07:00

Speaking with a Hawaiian national born and raised on Island, who had worked for the Department of Transportation for over 20 years, I found to my surprise that the State of Hawaii has hardely any federal labor jobs anymore. Unlike in the mainland Great Depression era when people were handed government jobs, Hawaii now outside firms contracted to do insfrastructure projects. Say for example the Department of Transportation, a branch of the State that used to build roads with obstructing bike lines. Odd? Yes! Incompetant? No. The ways that Hawaiian civilians used to construct projects for the Department of Transportation was inadequate, but nonetheless gave jobs to hard working honest people - keeping capital in the community. Now, we have international firms or Asian conglomerates transported to Hawaii for a project which they accomplish in half the time, with half the resources, possibly half better, but take more than half of the money and run.

Since I work with tourists and business travelers, I can tell you that most people that come here to do projects are not interested in supporting the local economy - they're working to much to enjoy it.

Whereas the government worker working for DOT does live here, does give back, does cotnribute to the boosting of local products and that is what we need more and more of. The DOT worker would enjoy our public beach parks, our local fruits and fish, and our school system.

Rantings and Ravings of an Idealist

2011-08-03T23:18:00.000-07:00

So I changed my blog names over the years from
"Laurel's Adventures" to
"Laurel Finds Herself and Loses Herself" to
to "I like Words"

And now I am changing my new name for my blog to "Rantings and Ravings of an Idealist"

So many times, this is the case when I tell people about my vision for the world. They look at me dumbfoundedly and sneer, "You're just unrealistic."

Well, what I say which I heard from somewhere in International Relations Studies is "Realism is seeing the way the world is. Idealism is seeing the way the world should be."

I wonder if I can help the suffering or poverty that I see around me and even in me. I sometimes stop and think that I am an ant who has knowledge of a higher dimension but is forced to be in my little ant world. I can't tell you .

Big Island Dreams

2010-11-22T10:34:00.001-08:00

Words Photographer: Taking the Big Picture of the Big Island, Hawaii
By Laurel Lemontt
Independent Freelance Writer

As a scholar in Geography with a Local/Global emphasis, I study relationships between people and places and the presumption that the global community is profoundly interconnected. I am not solely referring to buying strawberries from Mexico. Studying Political Science theories of multilateral world governance and Geography theories of economic dependency, I reckon that we are ignoring an uncomfortable fact: our actions affect others and ourselves. In the midst of the Green Movement and growing global social movements, I would like to highlight key areas of the Big Island’s economy, social values, and natural environment as a case study for innovative, creative, and problem solving purposes.

I see the economic recession as an opportunity to regain domestic strength by adjusting understandings. I agree with Daniel Pink that innovation and creative right-brainers are going to be the success of the future. These “talents of vision” as I call them are prevalent in Big Island society regardless of the small population size and struggling economic factors. As Americans usually concerned with short term profits, I suggest taking some time to create, implement, and maintain long term forms of prosperity. What kind of a future do we want? I concur with Joseph Stigletz in the fact that reigns on the free market will steer it in the desired direction.

Overall, there are certain premises that we Americans assume precedent and take for granted while the economic, social, and environmental reality is really quite different. I give an analysis and ideas not to criticize but to reveal the complexities involved and the outlets for improvement.

ECONOMIC LIMITING FACTORS

Although in the center of the Pacific Ocean, the Big Island of Hawaii is in fact interconnected to and at times at the mercy of the rest of the world in complex ways. Not only is the Big Island’s economy based heavily on tourism and government funding, it involves imported materials. There is a growing movement to develop self-sufficiency as much as possible in order to spark and grow the domestic economy to its full potential. However, the foundations in place limit this growth in capital, unemployment, and outside competition.

First of all, I notice the general lack of capital. Big Islanders use bartering and I-Owe-Yous to supplement this lack of capital. Also, capital is not recycled thoroughly in the domestic economy because it gets funneled through channels of tourism or international corporations into pockets off island. The only way to replace that money it to buy locally made products – which only buys time. Last, most wealthy are only visitors to Hawaii once a year for a week and have not played a part in sponsoring art, innovation, economic programs, and domestic growth on a regular basis. This lack in capital results in low wages, with domestic companies unable to cultivate the profits needed to support costs.

Unemployment is high, which also drives wages down. Unemployment is high simply because there are not enough projects, programs, and development on the Big Island that creates conditions for employment. There is availability of short term employment that sustains tourism and other unstable industries.

Outside competition has lessened over the years due to many government statues and policies put in place by island activists to promote local products. However, the Walmarts and Coscos are present and flourishing on the Big Island. Some would argue that the Walmarts and Coscos are necessary for jobs creation and thus domestic economy growth. How does the money compare lost to sales at these ventures than made from employees annually? Yet, at the same time Walmart gives out grants to specific community organizations.

So what we see is a lack of money, lack of jobs, and outside influences at times draining the island of capital. However, something is driving abundant life on the Big Island: aloha. It’s the fact that everyone goes out of there way to help someone and give back. This is the kind of model seen in Europe where capitalism thrives alongside a gentle socialism safeguard. What we need is to look at all the factors and reassess what systems can be set in place to sustain a current and future growth in island capital, employment opportunities, and consumer choices.

CONSUMER CHOICES

This leads me to my idea: social consumer choices of youth from the Big Island. In addition to the “talents of vision” and other local/global thinkers like myself who reside on the Big Island, there is a growing influence of youth consumerism. In one sense, this is driving the c“brain drain” because youth sometimes leave the island to acquire life experiences, schooling, and capital elsewhere. Sometimes, they create lives elsewhere too, and as a result Big Island support is ignored. Another facet of consumer choice speaks to the youth on island who are concerned with capital and materialist interests. Revolving around surf gear, electronics, and cars, many youth are spending away their hard-earned capital, becoming more entangled in the interconnected consumer markets with little structure in place to support the Big Island community.

Materialism has been a prevalent issue with wastefulness since the 1950s, and recently we are seeing a rise of the spirituality to replace materialism. However, viewed the importance of conserving and preventing waste is important as seen on an island’s contained resource pool.
Also, the local shopping routine of older generations is dissipating with younger more technical generations. E waste is a big business and highly toxic form of environmental degradation, and hasn't been fully integrated into the consumer moral conscience yet.

ENVIRONMENTAL PROCESSES

Land is becoming less and less available for the common man to own – happening all over the world. Land that families have owned that has been passed down from generations is increasingly sold or bought by federal lands for protection. The result is more rental units and higher numbers living together to share the high cost of living. Land is central to this debate of alternative betterment. Costs of living are high and exceed htat of Bay Area.

This central land question plagues the family’s well being. There is a need for land ownership, assistance in rental price drops, and/or more Hawaiian Homes projects constructed. Many families grow food or cultivate food from the land or ocean resources today. There is also a prevalence of WWOOFing farms and cooperatives/communes that provide shelter and basic needs. More importantly, the relief at home provides the ability to recycle capital back into the domestic economy. With the oil spills and the vacationers looking to buy winter properties in the tropics, there might be a surgence of low cost housing developments.

SUMMARY

These hidden externalitiessuch as the environmental impact and human impact are indeed hidden but nevertheless still reside and continue to grow in urgency. Everything we do, see, eat,
create or destroy is inextricably linked to somewhere else. The web of relationships undetectable to the eye but intuitive to the heart is constantly around us.

Hawaii has always been ahead of its time and now there are various forms of alternative paradigm shifting business, lifestyle, and future growth. Education and outreach is important for marketing these creative and innovative ideas. Hawaii is a microcosm, let's learn from this case study.

What we need to do is:
1. Educate youth about materialism and impact of consumer choices on the environment and ourselves
2. Generate more opportunities for big island consumer choices, not outside products
3. Lessen costs of living by alternative forms of living not based on imported materials and shared costs
4. Create more avenues for walking, bicycling, buses, to get around the island rather than person cars

Halloween is always TODAY

2010-11-07T16:10:00.001-08:00

So you probably wondering why I am dressed up like a gold digger Leprachaun? And I will tell you over and over and over again that its Halloween. You're probably ask, "But its not Laurel." And I will over and over again, say "its close to Halloween."
"Um no Laurel its like months away."
"I disagree. OK? I disagree. Any time that somewhat close to Halloween is Halloween. Ok, listen I learned this from marketing. (open hands) I mean, in 365 one of those Days is Halloween and it is one of those days. (slap my hands together) Do you see my logic here? No nobody understands this kind of logic. It too complex for you people."
Breakdown crying! Its fine. Im wayyy to excited for me own good. I know I know. Im working it in therapy. I just (blubbering) LOVE Halloween ok?! Don't look at me like that!
I just love Halloween. LOVE LOVE IT! Youuuu got me! You guys are smarter than I thought! Sneaking around out there.
I can't believe people who have parties in the same week as Halloween. And its not a Halloween party! Have you ever gone to one of those? I went to my friends party, dressed up like a gold digger leprechaun. I show up, like so excited I can't even contain it, and I ring the door bell (diiiiing) and the door opens and I just let it all out. "Eeeeeeeeh, I here to party. Wooohooo. Brign on the boose. I want some weeed. Sphhhhh." And Im spraying people with the champagne I brought and then I realize…
Ohhhh oh sorry. Um, yeah um um um. I didn't know this was a dinner party. Oh yeah. Ok well I thought cuz its like the day before halloween. I mean, we can make a Halloween party. And like um we can make it a Halloween party now if you want, if that up to you I understand where you're coming from, it IS Halloween in like less than 24 hours. I can show you how to make those napkins into cat ears. I mean, if you want, I be more than happy. And he can be the clown oput come red pudding on his nose. CLOWN. done. See its easy. And quite frankly between me and you….this party is lame and unHalloween themed, I mean it’s a lame excuse for a Unhalloweened party…so if that’s what you want to do. If you twist my arm, then ok we can CAN make this a Halloween party.
"Um Laurel its my engagement party."
"Yeah, well that is lame. Just tell me why everyone is not dressed up in Goblin and Sea Witch attire. It lame. It’s a waste of life. And the doors right over there. You can see yourself out the door and I will have a Halloween party by myself. "
AND hence I don't have any friends.

Expand Your Horizons

2010-10-26T13:33:00.001-07:00

Some people come to Hawaii and they leave…I came to Hawaii to STAY AND HELP and serve the people of Hawaiian Islands because I am proud of work. I lived and OBSERVED through various community avenues for 2 years. I found that my consistent passion to live and work in Hawaii has only grown. I could live anywhere, I could do a variety of positions. However, I choose to give to Hawaii. I don't want to make money. I want to fulfill my purpose. I couldn't explain why I spent so much time leading Research Projects through 2 Native American Reservations in California...or why I felt the urge to lead a Research Project to the Polynesian Cultural Center. Well, now, it is all starting to come together and make sense.

I gained professional training, overcame fears, made life long friends, and gained the self-confidence I needed to continue my journey. I honestly have pride and a passion for Hawaii. This does not leave me. The state, just like everywhere is in dire need of support right now and people are suffering. Im offering all of my skills and experience for it. I have always been interested in understanding alternatives, alternative communities, alternative lifestyles for Mainstream America. This is my purpose. I hope Hawaii to be the most successful, healthy, supportive environment for all people that live there. This is a chance to create that alternative system for life that I visualize and have studied in depth.

MY VISION:
My goal is to establish on the Big Island of Hawaii the growth of the domestic
economy 50% (certain industries of business) with 50% referral clientele based on
consistent quality customer service relations. This way no one will be without a job, and no one will be at a job they despise. I see government programs in place to actually take care of families, children, and adults with medium tax levels in place. I see cooperation and peace between the mainland and Hawaii that flourish into a partnership as California models after Hawaii. All Hawaiians will receive respect from the international community in various ways. This isn't just a vision. I believe it already and love learning about myself through the ancient teachings.

First, I can start with networking to see how money and people are involved in projects in Hawaii.

Nature is Nuture or Ignorance is blissful

2010-07-24T23:28:00.000-07:00

So as I sit here in Portland, I wonder why I have such a bad attitude. I am trying to get into whatever I am dragged into in the moment by my incredibly fun loving family, but my body is telling me something unpleasant is occuring.

Is it because I am overtired walking on one hour of sleep, as I drunkenly march off the plane in a haze of exhausted confusion to my energetic, overexcited parents...or maybe its due to the unbearable amount of beer that flows in my veins throughout my body, fragile from this social poison but strengthened from wild ocean waters. All these contradictions, and I am mad at myself for being inconsistant.

Why do I compare everything to Hawaii?! That is the source of my bad attitude. Where to next after such a paradise? I have been doing a lot of thinking and reflecting about where to move to next and I just can't pull myself away from a place with such awesome nature, inspiring people, and "feel-good" lifestyle. Why would anyone live in such a way that doesn't feel good?! Maybe they are trying to work towards a goal...well, call me Ms. Unreasonable but I hope to do it and have it all BRAH! Regardless of my mother's criticism of the country bumpkins and their "ignorant lifestyles," I have always enjoyed some level of human interaction in the rural setting called "country." HOwever, the city such as Portland is a place of concrete and movements, with shifting eyes and interests. Portland is one of the better nicer cities in the US of A, grungy, liberal and a place of attempts at a creative mark in some kind of quirky, odd way: Indie. Indie is everywhere I look. Indie is not my ting and I crave a sloppy man in sweatpants or a rapper dressed to perform a rap battle.

My favorite kind of "odd" is the new and fresh quirky - the kind that has not been done before, over and over, in a variety of patterns and forms - the kind that I witness and grow in Candyland in the Big Island of Hawaii.

I am sitting in the hot sun, baking into my skin while jack hammers go off and cars drive by, and obnoxious music is blasting from some odd band's performance. Is a city overwhelming for someone sensitive like me? I love cities but I find all this constant energy to be taxing unless I shut off into my own silent world, just watching the show unfold in front of me...like a circus of clowns running around aimlessly with their baloons, ding boppers, and other material possessions.

I ask my aunt what the deal is with all these cities inhabitants, and I ask her why I don't fit in.

In a place where everyone is crowding, and going places, I miss the days of sweet closeness and stillness - in Hawaii - my heart hurts for the true warmth of the sun like a blanket over your body and the gentle hold of the sand as a bed to your tired body - with the goal of the moment to stay put and savor the gentile aspects.
No one is trying to talk your ear off. Nothing is trying to distract you from the here and the now. Sometimes, if you are lucky, you are swallowed by soft flower vines that smell of sweet scent and earth, locked in position, unable to move from the defiant flora. I recall the touch of a hand, rough from the struggle of the day but sensual like the caress of silk. The beautiful lava rock, constrasting in its darkness, sharp and spikey, like black jaws eating up your cheap rubber slippers that you bought at the corner store but heating to my salted skin after a cold dip. Oh how I long to be home. It feels so good to my body, mind, and soul. Maybe the "next" is not for a while.

More Pictures of Hawaii

2010-07-13T00:31:00.000-07:00

Most Incoherent 30 minutes of my life

2010-07-11T01:55:00.000-07:00

So today I felt like I was driving into another universe. As I have became more "tuned" into the electromagnetic flow all around us aka "the kind of unseen dimension that effects the body," I have been noticing more to the chaos that I also refer to as "life."

One friday afternoon, I get off of work and the sun is peeking through these dark thick monsoon clouds (which have been pouring on us for days and months on end)...It creates a warm jungle rainforest all over. So I notice this ray of light and jump in the Ghetto Mobile and decide to drive all the way North to the sunniest part of the Island.

I notice the first thing right off that my car's shaking problem is getting worse. Worried that I will miss the precious sunlight, I race off into thejungle roads to the North. I decide to stop along the way at a pullover spot to put oil in it. "It probably just needs oil!" I tell myself, visualizing the valvecover leak that slowly oozing oil out of the sides like a blackened jelly sandwich.

I jump back into the rotten mildewed seats and start my adventure to the desert Lava Field Land with Kua Bay. As I am driving, I realize feel that kind of energy creeping up in my belly, telling me "something is wrong...horribly wrong with my car."

As I speed along confidently, a sudden BOOM my car turns off while driving. The weirdest thing is that I pull over to the side of the road slow down. I can't brake! Its horrible difficult. I finally come to a compelte stop and then while I turn the car back on to see if it will even restart...I start to panic. All of a sudden, I feel like time is running out - like I imagine something leaking - and ALL That consumes my mind is "OH SHIT, I have to make it all the way home or else I will have to pay out of pocket for a tow because I was too cheap to get AAA!" I am also thinking how ironic this situation is since I was planning on selling the car right in less than 2 weeks.

As I frantically turn into a turnout, I find straight ahead of me a view of 15 or more speed bumps! Holy shit! I think I can't believe this!

past the vog to Kua Bay (in the north Kohala District). I want to go back to the sun - but I guess it wasn't met to be because I get all the way up there and my car wont stop

Magazine is a Good Thing

2010-07-11T01:32:00.000-07:00

Nearin my end in Hawaii

Wish I could solve all the problems of Hawaii - do what you can and don't judge others that can't
Its the people that make the place
Truly tried to take on the probkems here adn the best idea I came up with was to "inspire" revolution

reckless
living and loving for the moment

One thing that I finally allowed myself to do was to have a rough plan for the week (work week consists of 9-5pm) with a weekend. The weekend is the time that I live for!

Number 1 Goal for the next stage of my life: I have to and I mean HAVE TO find a job that makes me as happy as I am on the weekend - no matter what it is!

Anyways so this is my Sunday which ended up being one of the most mind altering days of my life.

I guess I ended up with I should try my best to help Hawaii because she has given me so much and I believe in her. I believe in each soul here!

Why to What?

2010-07-06T12:35:00.000-07:00

So I am starting to feel back like when I first got here and what that was like? However, I started working a lot to try to get more money. What I should have done is given up on that whole money

I went from asking "why?" all the time to asking "who" and "what does it look like?" Yaay congradulations Self you have officially embarked on a new spiritual and artistic journey into the unknown. Its not scary, there will always be money, there will always be jobs, cheap places to live. Have faith in yourself that you can do your dreams. Wow, this feels pained to write so that shows I have a lot more work to do.

Hawaii Time

2010-07-04T21:06:00.000-07:00

The only problem that I can foresee in this upcoming transition from Hawaii to the mainland city like Portland is...Hawaii time!
I mean in Hawaii, I am getting majorly used to waltzing around figuring out what to do next - which involves a job at some point to much more structured and busy schedule. I don't ever want a job to take up most of my time again, with the one exception being where I love my job. If I love my job, then it won't feel like work. I vowed to never have a job that takes my "self" away. If I am giving too much time to a job, then it better be extremely interesting. Otherwise, Im not feeling it.

Graphic Design in marketing, creating logos for companies
Acting as theatrical professor

Or otherwise, exploring this inquisitive, jester, playful side to me. I think the third is the best and will be better in the long run. God, I got to plan out an ideal month because my job ends in August so I actually got to ask for what I wanted and it showed a couple of days getting recorded, some improv nights, and then making a short film with a girlfriend from Candyland!

I think I will try to trick myself by giving myself a list of things to do but giving me the freedom to pick which one I want to do first.

Yes, I am moving to Portland and I am going to be all over the open mic scenes there. Its so hard to go do your dream after a long work week. I need to find a fun day job that energizes me.

My Own Mantras

2010-06-16T08:39:00.000-07:00

After years and years of reading Self Help Books, I finally came up with my own mantras. These are currently the ones that I follow recently:

DO IT ALL
Make your dreams come true

DONT TAKE THINGS SO SERIOUSLY
If you feel shitty, just chill out

KEEP TRYING
Follow Systems to help you when it gets tough

Older ones include:
LOVE FOR THE SAKE OF LOVING
Love those you normally wouldn't

WORK HARD
Accept Help but don't manipulate for it

BE PATIENT
Not quick to form conclusions

TELL PEOPLE IM BUSY
DOn't commit because it makes you a flake

LEARN PEOPLES NAMES
Just try

Ko Hawaii Pae Aina - Pateted Domain

2010-06-03T01:31:00.000-07:00

After I went swimming one day when my friends were in town, I "stumbled" upon a meeting - although I think it was meant to be.

Most of the meeting consisted of older white women. What this group was complaining about was how Department of Land and Natural Resources was not (DLNR)Complying with Section 106 which permited allies, friends, and cultural practitioners of the land to be included in development decision making. However, this group Ko Hawaii Pae Aina is a non violent group and extremely inclusive. I was so impressed at the courtesy, gentleness, and love from Aka and Symona. This group and meeting was Run by 2 beautiful Hawaiian women (goddesses) AKa and Symona - held this meeting down at Kealakekua Bay on May 27.

I could spend hours on this site, reading all about the secrets of Hawaii:

http://kohawaiipaeaina.net/index.html

When I left the meeting, I wasn't sure if I wanted to get involved in the struggle. The struggle is a long and hard one, battling development, destructive forces, and time. How can we ensure the preservation of the Big Island for future generations? I think Ko Hawaii Pae Aina is the answer.

Idealist Slacker

2010-06-02T17:51:00.000-07:00

So, as I sit here in this gorgeous Hawaiian afternoon, the birds singing around the lush greenery, the area of nothingness, I think about my future. As what, as who? Why am I doing this?

I went to college. In college, when I had the freedom, I never seemed to get involved with the trades, the practical majors. Instead, I found myself learning about ancient cultures that roamed he Siberian Deser

I sit. I think about how I am living and working in Hawaii. It rare that I get to go to the beach anymore. I tried living in a party house for a while so at least when I came home from work, my personal life would be fulfilling.

However, that went overboard so now I live alone and I really enjoy it. I get to be an adult while also having fun at the same time.

Someone told me recently that I have a good grasp of the large complex, but its the mundanity that needs work. Interesting paradox.

Intentional Versis Unintentional

2010-05-13T23:22:00.000-07:00

Lately, in the mountains of Hawaii, I spend my time toiling away at helping someone who doesn't want to help himselves...due to his brain function in a different mental capacity...he doesn't seem cognizant of cause and effect, causal relationships or connecting consequences to actions. Is it impairing or aiding? I am not sure at times...see my last post about that (My Disability).

Every day, more than 40 hours a week I attempt to play with, learn from, and teach these "eccentric people" random tidbits of information...I wonder if my efforts are in vain.

According to online free legal dictionary:

"Intent is a mental attitude with which an individual acts, and therefore it cannot ordinarily be directly proved but must be inferred from surrounding facts and circumstances. Intent refers only to the state of mind with which the act is done or omitted. It differs from motive, which is what prompts a person to act or to fail to act....
(http://legal-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/intent)

First of all, I can't tell what these eccentric people are intending half of the time. One person screams at the top of her lungs - almost all the time. Another person speaks in her own language. Another loves to act non nonsensical and mimic everything. The most interesting person could also be the one with a much more keen interior than discerned to have.

I guess I do possess an inadequate intuition while on the job. I find myself not sure what to do when dealing with a problem. Is the problem a lie? How can you push someone to change when you don't know if the problem is a lie? I will tell ya, the most important lesson I have learned is that its really hard to make someone change if he doesn't want to change himself - it really does take the whole village. The only other strategy is to keep focusing on the positive and ignore the negative. The more patient and understanding you are about life's rolling nature, the better.

I could even go further to ask: Exactly what is being intentional? Your ego or your gut? I can't tell the difference in myself.. Someone once told me a safe way to deal with that is do the opposite of what you would usually do-oppose a pattern. If its taking me a long time to mature then I can't imagine someone who has a disability.

The other point is that it is extremely sad and putting the whole disability in perspective helps calm my restless ambitious soul. Nothing in life is perfect: not the human race - that's for sure.

What is truly successful?

2010-04-30T01:33:00.000-07:00

As I sit here in another new place in life, munching on pumpkin pie oatmeal (YUM) - the Hippies sure do know how to cook some good wholesome food - I ponder. Ok, what's new?!

What does success mean?

Ever since I got this job at Kona Krafts, I have noticed a paradigm shift in the way I view teamwork, life, and humans.

First of all, part of being a team is to give some of yourself to the purpose of the team because a team is so much better than the effort (or glory for some people) of one person. Just like its easier to carry a heavy table with more people, its also more beautiful to hear a band over one person. Maybe success is not whether you produce, but rather did you effectively work together towards producing at some point...

Second, life is driven by money. I just fucking hate that! Maybe success is not about making money but rather about helping and giving back. Or maybe life is about pushing yourself to confrotn every fear you have at every moment, no matter how crazy. Or to push yourself to achieve more and handle more stress at once. I mean, greed and money have no limit which is why we created labor laws because people do.

This brings me to my last point. I have found working in Human Services (or aka "trying to run on a river...with brick shoes...on a time schedule") that trying to influence/help/control humans seems impossible. With humans with disabilities (and I have found lately even humans without disabilities), success is very very small and inconsistent.

I used to be such an idealist, which I am thinking more and more to mean "perfectionist." And even though this universe is perfect to me...nature is perfect to me...love is perfect to me...but teamwork, life, and humans are not. I don't know why...Im going to go ponder this. Oh, how I love to ponder.

Homeless Sleeping Bag

2010-01-14T23:26:00.000-08:00

I have been through so much on this island. There is a way to tell this: the moldy sleeping bag.

I got it at a church garage sale. its grungy and old and seemed to have been through many generations before it reached my desperate hands. Its sole purpose is for the times when I am homeless and have no where to stay. I know I can sleep on the sleeping bag on the beach somewhere and set up camp. In Hawaii, there are options and even though I haven't had to use them...yet, I always know its there, staring at me with its red, worn, broken zipper of a smile.

Island is a Dream

2010-01-14T23:22:00.000-08:00

(Dream House)
My time is Hawaii one long dream. I feel like Im dreaming from the mainland perspective. This vacation destination is so obscured from the mainland ways that I feel like I am in a rampant dream that's running past my alarm.

My job feels like a camp counselor at times and I wonder if I am strapped in an eternal summer. Time as a result does seem to slow way down.

The island especially seems like a dream when I go to my favorite beach, Kua Bay. The water is always so clear and colorful over a huge bed of sand, safe from sharks and "sharps" (lava reef).

Today, I sit here writing about my dream state and state of a dream as two very completely separate things.

My Disability

2010-01-07T22:11:00.000-08:00

What am I going to wear to work tomorrow. I don't want to dress casual because that would be inappropriate while professional would imply some kind of warden institutionalization.

Berkeley or Hawaii...Polkadots!

So I wondered about the casual dress code at work. I tried on almost every single article of clothing is various combinations, struggling to figure out my life as represented by my identity. Am I a spectrum or a little of everything? I can't tell sometimes. Am I a little of a spectrum and a little of a collection? Its the perfect combination between casual (Hawaiian style) and professional (working world). I am a total misfit.

I seem to have this problem of being able to wear too many faces I can wear any outfit and decide to be a different person every day. Do I have multiple personality disorder?

I was wondering today about what was really different between me and another participant at Arc of Kona.

I was thinking today about how every human has varying levels of "disability" and what is the threshold at which we characterize its level. I am interested in my perception of the idea disability.

Art Mantra: Hawaii as Captured Through a Camera Lens

2010-01-05T01:49:00.000-08:00

Unbelievable Restlessness

2009-12-06T18:48:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here wondering what I am doing in a place far away from the artsy city I formed most of my spirit.

For a year, Hawaii was a great experience. I lived day by day and forced myself to stay alive in the horrific heat. However, now I am in the cold mountain of the Big Island waiting for something. Trying to make it work in the country.

I mean really...What am I here for? To see more of the dolphins, turtles, and other kinds of island treasures? Most of the people are physical and most of the situations repeat themselves quite often. I don't know what to do about my life.

What kind of job do I see myself doing? Does my happiness depend on where I live?

I think the point of my stay here is to give me clarification on how to live my life. I have so much more growth ahead of me. I already learned that people are who they are. I wonder what Hawaii has in store for me in 2010. Lets just say that 2009 was a rough one - with neverending drama. Now, I instinctually believe that I am destined for unbelievable restlessness in 2010. I have and I mean HAVE to find something to devote this energy to or else I will go crazy

All Things Creative

2009-10-09T13:33:00.001-07:00

My absolute favorite day in the entire year...no not vacation from work...no not Christmas (or any other Jesus worshiping for that matter)...no not After-Thanksgiving-Sales...and no not the Giant Tomato Festival in Spain (although it comes close)...
ITS HALLOWEEN!

One of the reasons why I love Halloween is that it signifies the one day that society reflects on what it has become...ok maybe subconsciously...a display surveying lewd life of America.

As I contemplate and stroll through the isles of dark decorations, run my fingers through the eclectic columns of wigs, bedazzled by the glitter and fake blood, I find myself fully entertained by this whole enterprise of consumption of the excessive fantasy, illusion, and wrapping of shitty chocolate candies.

Everywhere my eyes wander, I see exotic, erotic, grotesque, cheesy, off and aweful. The only costume I haven't seen yet is Rapist - yet, the Creepy OBGYN might count. Yes, there is Murderer of various sorts and even Child Molester. After viewing these costumes, I conceived of our modern society as just plain raunchy. Not alarming, only hilarious and very telling.

I have always been a huge fan of living in Never-Ever-No-Fucking-Way Land and other lifestyles that perpetuate that childlike imagination and excitement that we adults seem to lack.

That's why I started working with Misty Manasas with All Things Creative (the promotional organization for Pacific Radio Group). With her team, I will be assisting in various ways, comfortable in different roles, networking, acquiring permits and permissions, and just adding my ideas to the event.

This is a theme that I have noticed in my life: my wildest dreams can come true. Examples include my leadership within the Geography Department (UC Berkeley) as the Thoughts-Into-Action person. The second big one was moving to goddam Hawaii! Holy shit! And now this? Right when I feel completely lost - I turn to my hobbies and find that they motivate me just fine. well, I just can't seem to get into surfing even though I swim, wear surf gear, and have that surfer lifestyle. Yeah, "poser" sounds waaay more safe than those waves smashing rocky shores.

Lesson of the day: Visualize. Dress up. Play the part. And you can be anyone you want.

Life Leitmotif - All Things Creative

2009-10-09T02:09:00.000-07:00

My absolute favorite day in the entire year...no not vacation from work...no not Christmas (or any other Jesus worshiping for that matter)...no not After-Thanksgiving-Sales...and no not the Giant Tomato Festival in Spain (although it comes close)...
ITS HALLOWEEN!

One of the reasons why I love Halloween is that it signifies the one day that society reflects on itself...ok maybe subconsciously...displaying what it has become, a kind of survey of lewd life of America.

As I contemplate and stroll through the isles of dark decorations, run my fingers through the eclectic columns of wigs, bedazzled by the glitter and fake blood, I find myself fully entertained by this whole enterprise of consumption of the excessive fantasy, illusion, and wrapping of shitty chocolate candies.

Everywhere my eyes wander, I see exotic, erotic, grotesque, cheesy, off and aweful. The only costume I haven't seen yet is Rapist - yet, the Creepy OBGYN might count. Yes, there is Murderer of various sorts and even Child Molester. After viewing these costumes I conceived our modern society as just plain raunchy. Not alarming, only hilarious.

I have always been a huge fan of living in Never-Ever-No-Fucking-Way Land and lifestyles that perpetuate that childlike imagination and excitement.

That's why I started working with Misty Manasas with All Things Creative (the promotional organization for Pacific Radio Group). With her team, I will be assisting in various ways, comfortable in different roles, networking, acquiring permits and permissions, and just adding my ideas to the event.

This is a theme that I have noticed in my life: my wildest dreams can come true. Examples include my leadership within the Geography Department (UC Berkeley) as the Thoughts-Into-Action person. The second big one was moving to goddam Hawaii! Holy shit! And now this? Right when I feel completely lost - I turn to my hobbies and find that they motivate me just fine.

Visualize. Dress up. Play the part. And you can be anyone you want.

Big Island of Capitalism?

2009-10-06T23:19:00.000-07:00

So I constantly analyze "Um...What the hell am I doing here again?!"

After going to see, "Michael Moore's," movie Capitalism: a Love Story - I started thinking I should do my documentary on something political.

I could do it on the present state of the Big Island's economy:

1. No jobs, no money
-People barter instead of buying
-Unemployment rates are high
2. The few jobs that are available are of hotels, construction, and food service
3. There are a lot of products from the Big Island but not a large market on the island
4. There are a few places of high creativity, not highly funded nor attended
-Paint Pottery
-Theater spots
-Concerts
-All Things Creative
5. Based on large scale events for mass income like Ironman
6. Unskilled workers and blue collar workers due to the poor education system

As I took a drive up Mauka through the winding roads of greenery, I started to think about what Hawaii means. I started thinking about my recent interest in promotions and marketing skills: Hawaii seems to be marketing itself all the time naturally.

In my post on SENSES, Hawaii is promoting itself in every sunset, dewey flower, smell, experience...marketing of a place aka "tourism" is so fascinating and interesting. There are companies that attempt to persuade, attract, and compel people to buy/become attached to a product - well, Hawaii is doing it of itself naturally.

Living in the Moment

2009-09-14T16:30:00.000-07:00

"Hey, live in the moment man." The surfers wave a shaka.

What does it actually mean to live in the moment? I don't want to live in the moment if doing something suckie like boring data entry, or waiting for someone to order at Lava Java...

Other times, I find myself crying tears of joy, as if I'm listening to a really emotional song, taken by the enchantment of the moment.

As an intellectual, its hard for me to not overanalyze the situation. Living in moment is difficult for me because I constantly think about when its gonna end:

LOVE

FRIENDSHIP

DEATH

Ok, I guess death doesn't end - you know what I mean.

At the times where I feel an overwhelming amount of emotion and connection, I also feel a pang of urgency. I am so worried about losing the moment, that I overappreciate the moment. It is flashing at me like a bunch of snapshots and emotional rollercoaster. I can't explain these things - they explain themselves as they occur and then...in a flash, they are gone.

The moment is essentially impermanent, fleeting...Trying to possess the moment is impossible - like trying to capture a ray of light with your hand. Everyday is moving so fast and my goals seem to be harder and harder to achieve.

Don't Run from Your Fears

2009-09-14T15:03:00.000-07:00

When I first moved to Hawaii, I vowed to never swim in the ocean because of all the scary images of crashing waves, tumbling experienced surfers dangerously close to the black lava daggers.

One time, I almost drowned in a wave. I was at my favorite beach when one of those dinosaur waves came out of nowhere, standing like a tower over my quivering body, opening its wide liquid jaws of doom, misting me with its marine saliva...ok ok enough with the metaphor.

Anyways, after almost drowning, too far to swim to shore, I flailed and thrashed for the nearest body boarder. As they calmly stared at me, befuddled by my hysteria - I flailed and grabbed at some 11 year old and hoarsed, "Can I hold onto your board?!" It was more of a statement than a question.

She pulled me to one side of the break and told me some useful hints. I've started using these as mantras for life and fears in general.

1. Never Stall: Confront Them
This seemed to be tragic downfall because I was unable to decide what to do before the wave approached me. The faster you do this the sooner its over. The same goes for life: if you confront your fears right away, you will overcome them faster. Don't wait. Don't procrastinate. Start now. Trust me, you wont be able to deal with them all 10 minutes before you give that quarterly presentation to your boss.

2. Never Turn Your Back on the Wave
Yeah, that flat ocean you remember seeing right before you turned away just became a huge, insurmountable tumult of roaring swells...and you're floating like a log ready to get rolled! The same goes for life: always keep your fears in plain view, stay aware of them because they might sneak up on you.

3. Confront the wave.
Here it comes. HOLY SHIT. Muster up that courage because...well, you have no choice. Its going to either slap you, throw you, force-feed you sand, or submerge you to your watery death. I know this is one of those many life lessons that is more easily said than done, I know! Do whatever you have to do to force yourself to confront it. Trick your fear: dunk under it, swim towards it and over it, karate chop the hell out of it...anything goes!

When I practices overcoming stage fright, I used to imagine that I was practicing by myself in front of empty auditorium. There might be monstrously large waves or small ones. Regardless, you can rise above it. It might hurt or not go smoothly. Just remember that practice makes perfect: the more you practice confronting your fears, the better you'll get at faking overcoming them!

Creative Is as Creative Does

2009-08-11T22:51:00.000-07:00

Night Before Christmas?
So I was unsure of how to start this post but I thought these pictures would speak for themselves. You're probably asking, "Laurel, it is not Halloween? Why are you dressed up as the Ice Witch from the Chronicles of Narnia - and who are those dark circus creature friends of yours?" I only have one response for you: I find that the more creative I am on the island - the less bored I am!

The article in The Big Island Weekly, "Isle Nightlife Not the Same," (5/6/09) written by the editor Jed Stockton comes to mind. He discusses how there is less nightlife on the big island than in the old times. He prefers the Brew Pub after dinner and before the clock strikes too late. I mean, where do you go as a young person? I am 23! ...The prime age to be partying and playing the little game of insominia in my youthful vigor. The only places open are Lulu's, Oceans, and well Denny's.

However, there are people like myself who see various opportunities in this town to "start things." My friend, DJ Candy took some of her own initiative and wrote a radio advertisement for her DJ shows on Saturday night at Kenichi's in Keohou. I went there for the first time, truly enjoying the small crowd and hip beats.

However, what is there for people to do at night that are not 21 or just too damn tired of bar hopping? I think the answer is creativity. Why not dress up everyday, even though it is not anywhere near Halloween?! I mean, costumes or themed outfits is one way that I create a party whereever I go. Other times, I write in my blog...like right now actually...or I write poetry or stories or songs. K, off topic Laurel! The truth is that doing creative projects alone is fine, but doing it with other people is better, right?

There is a center in Captain Cook area involving art. Also, Volcano has an art center. Even up the hill in the most adorable little town of Holualoa is an art center. There are artsy spots out there. People need to explore more than Lulu's, Oceans and the Cava Bar. My friend Quinton is building his own nightbar with a stage in Old Industrial with all kinds of theatrical dancers and plays. Sean Simon and Sharon Olson have an art studio named CandyLand in old industrial where they hold poetry nights, filming, and art shows.

So, maybe I could expand the boundaries of these various artistic entrepreneurs or maybe start something new. Hows Improv Everywhere for a change? Could you imagine it on the Big Island? http://improveverywhere.com/
This island feeds and needs even more networks and outlets for creative inspiration and collective art! In this place, there is so much possibility! Lets make it happen people!

Landscape of Lawlessnes

2009-07-08T20:27:00.000-07:00

Hawaii is continuing to amaze me in its search for identity. So far, I have noticed the large amount of dangerous or illegal activity:

1. Almost everyone smokes weed...a lot of weed and sometimes blatantly
2. Almost everyone drinks a lot of beer...and gets really drunk
3. A lot of people drink and drive
4. A lot of people fight, or "scrap" as they call it here

So what is the result? Well, there is a huge disparity between the lawless and the lawful. Also, there are a shit ton of cops everywhere all the time. (I've been meaning to get my safety check updated on my moped which causes me to worry that they will pull me over for no reason sometimes...like my hair isn't tied back when I drive or something ridiculous.

Well, being paranoid about the cops is not really the issue. The real issue is how lawless the culture is here on the Big Island and how acceptable lawlessness is. I mean, it seems like it is accepted. I mean, for July 4th my entire block was lit up! There was no point to trying to sleep. Also, people don't react to drunk driving here as they do on the mainland.

I mean, I have written about how this lawlessness creates a safe space for alternative people like myself. However, its dangerous - like when I almost got slammed by a drunk driver while on my bike - in the middle of the day! Jesus.

My boss and I were talking about it and she mentions the warrior mentality that is pervasive in a historical and contemporary way. The endemic problem of lawlessness seems to stem from this conception of identity. Hm, is there anything we can really do about that?! To govern the ungovernable is going to take a major shift of perspective and attitude.

Sick, Sunburned Security

2009-05-23T14:06:00.000-07:00

So this is the first time that I have officially been sick and sunburned at the same time? Have you ever had a cold when you're sunburned? It is the trippiest thing ever. I am not used to the sensation: I sneeze and my skin hurts.

K, so...now, I am a rent-a-cop! I went from Taco Bell to a contracted security guard or wanna-be cop, mall cop, bike patrol - and like always I find humor in it.

I have been thinking about what it means to be a public figure in surveillance. I am kinda torn on the issue, but one thing that I have realized about the law is that we need it. Why? Well, yesterday I had a knife waved in front of my boss's face and a direct threat to her, "Do you want me to use the knife?!"
As I stared with fright at the knife this man uses to shred palm fronds, one and only one thought crossed my mind: anarchy can't work. I would love to get into a discussion with an persistent anarchist about this. I mean, the purpose of anarchy is to allow people to police themselves and police each other without any structure. However, this won't work because people are either a) lazy or b)crazy.

This smiling hippie who makes random artifacts out of palm fronds turned out to be a psycho killer - k, maybe an exaggeration, but he was getting angrier and angrier and all we asked him to do was move his dog.

So overall the Alii Drama is the highest and funniest shit for a rent-a-cop like myself. Today, I had some seriously awesome predicaments go down. The funny thing is that I read in my horoscope that the relationships that you encounter this month will bring you choke allies...what locals say for "many". Its true, I have every homeless person on Alii rooting for me and waving and flashing their friendly toothless smiles as I wheel by.

But at the same time, I realized something higher about structure of human life: these are the bad apples that makes anarchy pie not tasty.

Adventure Tourism

2009-05-02T01:17:00.000-07:00

After watching The Lost World Jurassic Park for the second time today (hey, it was on TV) I realized that Michael Chriton had Hawaii down perfectly. I mean, everything is rotten and "bust-through-able" and majorly falling apart. That movie looks a little too much like Hawaii's settings! Don't you just imagine Veloceraptors exploding out of this?

Today, I went swimming with 2 different kinds of Dolphins. I was invited on this boat ride for free (gotta love the hook up) and I absolutely fell in love. I mean, where else in the world can you swim with 2 kinds of wild dolphins in the morning and then watch giant manta rays from Sheraton balcony at night?! And its all natural! None of this Dolphin Quest bullshit...where the dolphin is dozed on antibiotics and numbed by the small confinement. When I swim at Kua, I get awe-struck by the unusually large Unicorn fish - yes, that's what they are called - weaving through the legs of locals. How fantastical!
I need to get involved in eco-tourism. I mean, nature is exploding and growing out of everywhere as I've discussed in my previous blogs. Instead of people going to a park bench to stare at a few trees, people have to climb their way through the brush to walk to our favorite bar.
I just wonder if it could get destroyed over a period of time. I mean, the Manta Rays looked a little cramped with 6 boats surrounding them or how about the various tourists splashing over the dolphin pods, pool noodles flailing.
As I sit and watch The Lost World and ponder lost dreams, I worry about Hawaii as growing more ephemeral, eventually expiring in the moist decay of time here. The fantastical visions lost in the illusion of tourism.
I reach to grab some popcorn during a tense t-rex scene and a gecko pops out of the kitchen staring at me with its menacing eye.

Ode to Mongoose

2009-04-01T01:26:00.000-07:00

Another great ode to mongoose could be found on this blog

(where I got this adorable baby mongoose picture from...is there really anything cuter???)

In my Ode to Mongoose, yes I am going to capitalize Mongoose because they deserve their own title. I'm surprised I didn't find more photos of these charismatic creatures online.

So my first obsession with mongoose started back in the old Dolphin House. I was sitting on my tiny balcony, eating something, watching the jungle outside - I must have told this story already - and in that quiet moment, a Mongoose runs out into the open in its traditional pose of tail and neck straight out. I watch it look both ways multiple times and then start gnawing on something, totally unaware of my presence. Then, my silly self decides to make an obnoxious noise (which I get from my dad) and the thing looks straight at me, gazing fiercely, as fierce as its little beady eyes can gaze. In a matter of seconds, sheer panic sets in and it darts back and forth, overloaded on decisions of which way to run, and finally scurries into a hole in the rock wall.

Damn, I lost some pictures that I took of a mongoose mingling with some stray cats. Well, just imagine, the mongoose patiently waits for the snooty cats to move along so it can grab a few munchies for the road.

Indeed, Mongoose are the overachievers of the animal world...always worrying about the future, death, and taking life just a little too seriously. I mean, they just always look stressed out. But, I also feel a mean streak coming upon me, like picking on those goody goody, "teacher's pet" kids in grade school. Lets just say that Mongoose would make a great teachers pet ;) Haha. Alright enough already.

Mongoose Lesson #1
They always scurry, and they always scurry in this pose:

http://image36.webshots.com/37/9/10/80/2087910800076181951YxvOJd_ph.jpg

I'm not really sure what is going on in their little brains...maybe aerodynamics so they can get to places faster...or maybe they are disguising themselves as a hovering stick...

Mongoose Lesson #2
They are notorious for their quick expressionless flashes. No matter what angle, they will set eyes.

http://www.alaivani.com/Portals/0/Blog/mongoose.jpg

Mongoose #3
To give them an every quirkier character, mongoose tend to have a set of eyes that are kinda off center, resembling some kind of mad scientist.

http://www.purpleroofs.com/newsletters2006/061108/mongoose-01tn.jpg

Honestly, I find them hilarious. Yes, secretly deep down I am laughing at them, feeling soooOOOooo important in their little jungle schedules. I mean, the geckos are such an interesting contrast: the chill stoners of the animal world. I woke up and saw this one chilling in the sun, inches from my bed - I imagine its saying something like, "wazzup?" I mean, geckos even close their eyes when humans are around, just living in the moment, feelin the warm, calming sun on their backs. You would never catch a Mongoose relaxing like that.

I mean, the mongoose bring it upon themselves: they have no predators, they have all the food they want in Hawaii, and no job. Orginally, people brought Mongoose into Hawaii to kill the rats, but what those ignorant world traveling Sirs and Counts didn't know was that rats are nocturnal and Mongoose are not. How could they be?! They have to get up early to start their busy work day!!!

No, I think of Mongoose as kind of like tropical squirrels, but unlike the fat hopping and plopping verments that harass city dwelling inhabitants for leftovers, Mongoose are very respectful, humble, and shy individuals. They just need to loosen up!

Hippie or Preppie in Lil' City Town

2009-03-12T03:02:00.000-07:00

So I seem to have no problem fitting in with whatever circumstance I put myself through whether it is a different culture, place, comfort zone or just plain ol' disaster-roll-with-bullshit. If this is true about me, I am wondering why I hate on the East Coast so much. I was called out as a hater the other day and shamefully realized after defending myself in a rant-like fashion for a half an hour that it was true.

From the Hippies I have encountered - and I can safely presume for the rest of the Hippies found in Hawaii - I have learned many valuable lessons many of which involve crystals and vegan baking...nevermind. What I am trying to say, for all their squatting and astrological worshipping, Hippies never cease to impress me with their true unconditional love. I sometimes wonder if they secretly break out into severe malice sometimes or explode into another Leonardo Di Caprio film on the coast of Thailand.

Loving is what life is all about. "If you give love, you will receive it." That's one I have heard often, or how about "keep that negative energy out of here." Indeed, the "energy" they talk about is actually a celebrated term in physics: the hippie is right, this votex of waters slushing in and out of Waipio Valley does have a lot of potential and kinetic energy.

Staying positive is what it is all about. Loving the small stuff in life like people and nature, well which is actually not small at all, but rather immense and boundless - that, my friends, is what life is all about.

I am a perfect combination between a Hippie and a Preppie East Coast Brat. Why brat? Here I go again hating on the East Coast. I don't understand why I started to do this, all my mother ever said, maybe something like everyday, while I was growing up was that she wanted was to move to California. I wonder if that had an impression on me...

Anyways, too complex to try to understand now. All I know is that the reason why I hate on the East Coast so much lately is because I figured out that life is not only easier in warm weather, but not based on that East Coast bullshit! Operas, Universities, artists who smoke cigarettes and brag how they live in New York City...Shut the fuck up! I am tired of so much East Coast Puritan snobs with their Cape Cod beach houses and their reserved attitudes. I feel like I can say that because I was born in Boston. You wannabe England, you know it! I sensed the bullshit at an early age and got over it really fast. Now, I wanna drink Bud light with locals and go deep sea fishing or I wanna yell during movies! I want to be loud and obnoxious and completely unconventional, there is no better place to do it than Kona, where you can wear crazy wigs around town, climb on a raised Jeep like it was an adult jungle gym, or even ride a donkey to the club - you name it and I'll do it! I use a how-uncomfortable-can-you-make-other-people-feel scale. The more of a misfit the better. I just find conventional, traditional life so boring and regimented. I could never go back to the joys of my day as some Ikea furniture and a Soy Latte. Why would anyone spend their life trying to get confirmation from a society like that? Ew.

Alternative is always better. Creative of the new is always better growth and seems to be improving the direction of humanity. I read somewhere that tradition limits us, and that idea has bizarrely stuck with me.

I am absolutely fed up with the East Coast and all of its snotty inhabitants - true not everyone there is snotty, Im just hating on those that are. In fact, I have found people in San Francisco to even be the same judgemental, finicky bastards. I can't handle seeing another Starbucks or an organic Yoga Mat selling for $65. Im jaded. All that materialist and possessive crap starts to have no meaning after a while.

Here, in Hawaii I am learning how to live in a non snotty way. I mean, most of the people in Kona actually want to get to know you; warm up to you after they sense that your trustworthy. I have found that when I act easy going and excited about their culture, they are very inclusive. All you have to do is smile and act warm and friendly and you're in...and don't turn your nose up at Kareoke and oily fish or pretty much anything for that matter. Most locals, or Hawaiians or natives or whatever you call them, actually are pretty accepting to the various characters that roam the streets of this Lil' City Town.

Will I ever think to live on the East Coast again? Where I was born and raised? Indeed, I only know a certain kind of sector of society so maybe I will branch out and live in the Brooklyn ghetto. Nevertheless, I can't escape it: I am a little of both, I am neat as well as disorganized, driven although scattered, dammit I think I wrote this before.

Well anyways, these contradictions and tensions are what makes creation so beautiful. When I fully interact with my creativity as a human being, I find it to be very chaotic, juxtaposing, and intuitive.

Surfing Gansta Paradise

2009-02-19T02:52:00.000-08:00

I am definitely living it ghetto-style here: I live on Ice Row on Hamburger Hill, my bedroom is a lanai (pretty much outdoors), I don't own a car, I party with Hawaiian neighbors, and last yes, I eat Spam like the rest of them.
Why? You might ask? Why the hell is a white suburban girl putting herself through this unwanted inconvenience? The answer is "because it is fun." It is fun to be accepting and unbiased. Fuck sitting around boring, standardized suburbia Ikea Land where the most excitement you get is a sale on Milanos at a supermarket chain and the daily viewing of Oprah. I would much rather live in the surfing ganstas paradise where cute boys always have nice bodies and rap blasting from their truck's self-installed subwoofers. I mean, c'mon live a little.

This kind of a life is waaaaaaay more fulfilling: It is fun when you start appreciating a ride to the grocery store so you can buy more than 5 items at a time; it is fun to try new foods and new mysterious meats (don't ask, just shove it in); it is fun when you get to party with some Micronesian people who barely speak English and are fascinated by your perplexing skin tone; it is fun to dress to impress even if it is shallow;

it is fun to always live on the edge and wonder if and only if you are gonna get Staph from going in the ocean with that cut on your thigh...I could go on and on. I just love handeling myself outside of my element. Why you might ask? Because it is beautiful if you open your heart. Seriously, this is not an inferior way of life, its just different. Even at Berkeley, I marveled how rich college kids would live harmoniously alongside homeless people - here I am just taking it a step further and actually hanging out with them. I always chat with them on the pier, know most of their names, and even go as far as giving food to Freddy, and ancient guy with finger nails the length of rulers.

I mean it is hard too and I'm starting to realize now (by living the experience that I have studied so rigorously and wrote papers on in college) that I am getting a slight taste of what people actually have to go through. The more I talk to people, the more I learn about their struggles, heavy shit like parents, drugs, domestic violence, money, love and death, poverty, lack of opportunities - all on a Tuesday sometimes.
All those feelings of respect and concern that I constantly emphasized to my parents over the dinner table are not wasted. In other words, I am not looking at this experience from the outside - like some anthropologist on a brief scholarly mission or some girl on a PG 13 trek of self-discovery and curiosity, making you wanna barf in the movie theater...Rather, I am genuinely interested in hanging out, enjoying the local scene, and learning as much as I can, someone humbled by my experiences and constantly pushing the limits of social boundaries.

My friend said once, the best thing in life is to learn from others and teach others." I disagree; I don't think you need to focus on teaching at all - that should come naturally and effortlessly. Instead, people need to do a lot more listening and less talking.

But that's a whole nother philosophical tangential idea. Here, in Hawaii I am realizing that my 4 college years could be slightly bunked. I mean, my perspective on the Third World, or whatever the hell you could say it is, has changed drastically since I have been here. For one thing, I think of people as people period, no matter the race, background, income, occupation, personality, or personal experience. We laugh together...that's enough to unite us. Second, I am losing some of my white guilt but not all of it. I have perpetual kindness and compassion to balance what so many white Americans call, "the American Spirit:" discriminant, exclusive, hateful, fearful, and close-mindedness. C'mon white people, stop trying to either fuck things up or save them! Just start focusing on being cool for once pleeeease.

I mean, Americans are the kind of culture to go prancing around the world demanding that everyone work around them and that they know everything about everybody; we are the only nation to have embassies in almost every country in the world. Even some of these hippies here get going about how they understand the black experience. Um, Chakra or Vishnu or whatever the hell your name is, I would love to see you chop it up with some surfer gansta thugs and keep your cool. Haha - what would you talk about?! What I'm trying to say is that it is about respect, first and foremost, before any posing is involved.
Also, the Third World or whatever we call it, sometimes works better than the modern world: their systems are more efficient and compatible, they have more room for creativity, and they have more fun. Sometimes, we can think of non-American ways of life as just different, not worse or better. Why would anyone want to live their life with a familiar, repetitive, dull schedule? How is that fun at all?!

Transition #2 - White Guilt?

2009-01-29T00:30:00.000-08:00

So, I haven't written in this blog for over to weeks., Yea, I just went through transition #2 - which means that you have to make 2 transitions when you move to a place: the first being the actual move, and the second being the chaotic spillup that one has to correct to fully settle in.
So the first one I have to deal with was the move to Hawaii and most recently, I got laid off of my job, had a landlord threaten my life, a move to a new unfurnished apartment, tons of bills and chores, a guy I liked dumped me, and the start of not one but 2 new jobs...lets just say I am about to lose my mind. I almost did in my state of hallucinating and psychotic nightmares.

Well, now here I am safe in my new apartment. My roommate is gone, she is always gone and I am here just relaxing. I feel pretty safe in my new room because I live on a porch that is connected to the house on the second floor, and the only way to enter and exit is through some creaky old glass sliding doors. I would definitely hear that and wake up if a rapist tried to get in here to me. I mean, I do live in the ghetto so I have to think ahead like that. I mean, I was gonna leave my laptop in the living room and I decided not to, someone could just technically just walk in by fixing the door. I mean, there are houses/apartments in Hawaii that have huge chain link dences, like some kind of state prison, and others have giant black pit bulls perpetually snarling as any and every passerby that walks by.

I notice things like this.

I guess I have to.

Regardless of this being the ghetto, I am starting to feel comfortable in another culture. I mean, part of this culture is learning how to deal with these neighborhoods. I unlike a lot of girls my age, don't mind toughin it. I am patient enough to take the bus instead of mommy and daddy buying me a new Mercedes this year, and I enjoy eating local foods that Hawaiian kids grew up on - even if its not low calorie branded food. I like to put myself out of my comfort zone as much as possible in a single day. That's why I have been thinking a lot when I sat in amongst a group of Micronesian women or boys. Hanging out in other cultures and trying to immerse yourself is not a poser white thing to do, its fun! Learning about what other individuals live in is the most interesting thing for me.

I love it when I look into the Micronesian eyes, Korean eyes, Filipino eyes, Cuban, Hawaiian eyes, I feel even more connected in a genuine way to the world and humanity itself. Also, its fascinating to think about how people from other cultures see me.

I know I am privileged because I have the opportunity to even do this - while others try to make it by and have me inspecting them. That's why I always help as much as I can, which also brings me friends.

Should I be doing this? Well, ummm I would say, "White guilt." I am tired of saying that and thinking that. This is my active way to get out and see the world. And, I guess this of my whitey culture, traveling and writing, so I hope to share it with other people.

Hawaii: Microcosm

2008-12-17T13:19:00.000-08:00

Again, I just have to comment on everyone's complaints about Hawaii being sooooo isolated. Its not!

Hawaii is a microcosm for the world. It is like its own little continent: the flows of economy (trade, capital, markets), the social composition, the political struggles and profiles all are representative of a larger theme.

not finished

Hawaii: What the Hell am I Doing Here

2008-12-08T02:55:00.000-08:00

So tomorrow morning - in 7 hours I am going to look for jobs! This stress is leaking into a stage of "What the hell am I doing here?!" I don't know what am I doing, all I know is that I am on an island in the middle of the fucking Pacific Ocean and everytime I look up at the moon, I know there are only a few handful of people, namely fisherman, witnessing this scene right now.

I have been feeling existentially abandoned and kind of invincible to the rest of the world. I feel insular - I can't pin point it, but there is a sense of fulfillment that I can never reach. Is it my personality? I honestly don't know. Here I am on a desert island, swimming in the most amazing ocean sea water, with turtles and Spotted Eagle Rays eating fresh Spicy Poke, living in a flat out of an Asian architecture magazine, and basking in the sun with Hawaiians - and I still feel unsatiable urges of exploration.

Why do I feel that? Wow, that is messed up.

Living tourism

2008-12-01T03:28:00.000-08:00

IDEA 1
Is tourism good or bad?

Living by the ocean is so moving for me, as opposed to people that have spent their whole life there. But even more moving is living in a Tourist Site NOT as a tourist. Up the various alleys, one can find a hidden side of Kona Smiles and giant, flashy logos. Especially at night - riding a bike down the dark streets of Kona is surreal. The cat on the stone wall glares at me, the ocean is a black abyss at the end of the road, the laughter coming from the upstairs rickety old bar. My favorite is the backs of buildings - what the tourists do not see. Broken. Smelly. Patched up with nails. I find it more beautiful and real than the fabricated landscaping jobs at fancy places. Also, parking lots have a lot of interesting secrets, like this neglected bird that we found in a random parking lot.

What does it mean to be living in a place of transience? This is a tourist spot, but yet I am making all these different superficial spots my home. I find comfort in the giant Blow Up Donkey on Alii Drive or the various places to eat with happy hours - in fact, too many happy hours for such a small town!

In Kona, I don't find any resentment towards transience, just rampant mistrust. To get a job, one has to prove him/herself by showing up every day to pester; this is due to the various surfers who would miss work for the perfect wave. Also, there is a large pressure on resumes to reveal commitment, and my employer raised an eyebrow when she saw only the few months I worked at La Pasta. I tried to tell her that they cut me out of hours - but that didn't matter to her and her stink eye at me - all she could think was that I was going to quit after a few months myself to possibly run off on some interisland adventure or traveling expedition.

So obviously a committed workforce is hard to find.

What I am curious about is how does tourism change a community, economically and representationally? Obviously, it becomes part of that culture- as I found in Kona - and people start to integrate tourism into their everyday lives. I mean, I have tried studying how tourism is not a sustainable industry - solely for the reason that it is based on an precarious balance of international market flows and evil consumer marketing:

“Asia's allure is timeless: its draw so powerful that, in bygone days, dreamers set out with astrolabels, hand-drawn maps, and just hearsay to guide them to the East's legendary beauty, spices, and silks. Fortunately for you, seeing the best of Asia is no longer a fantasy, but an amazing reality that's more accessible than ever. This spring, let talented tour providers and informative travel websites guide you through Asia: meander through Tamil Nadu's enchanting temples in India, sample a multѩcultural melting pot in Malaysia, or live it up in cosmopolitan Hong Kong. Like the adventures of the old, you can plan your most inspiring odyssey yet.”

2007. Experience Legendary Asia. Arthur Fromm's Budget Travel: Vacations for Real People (May).

I find these kinds of descriptions in travel magazines so fascinating because it reveals how distanced tourism is from reality. Why? Why do we feel a need to adventure around in an adventurous Asia? Well, this is probably my ALL TIME favorite quote on tourism:

“It's not that our relationships lack integrity or our careers don't truly jive with our deepest soul purpose. It's deeper than that – some sense that reality is like a layer of cellophane separating us from a truly magical existence. We feel some loss of meaning like a sickness we can't shake. We would love to burst out, as though we've been crounching in a small box for a long time. We ache to spread out arms and legs and backs, to throw our heads back, to laugh with glee of sunshine on our faces. We can't remember when we last did that. Or when we did, it was taking a vacation, visiting a tourist attraction. The marvelous things don't seem to make up the fabric of our existence anymore.” (7)

Williamson, Marianne. 2004. The Gift of Change. San Francisco: Harper & Row

That is it! That is why I love studying tourism! I can't stop thinking about why I notice a lack of luster in "normal" life - why life has become so banal and routine. Whos fault is that? Are people lazy and/or scared of the unknown? Is the international economy and capitalism in general arranged our lives and confined our happiness to a certain set of codes? In my personal experience, I have found that something somewhere has made our lives meaningless - whether it be housing developments, standardized Starbucking, or the configured distance that estranges us in human and spatial relationships...What is it and where does it come from? I cant pinpoint it directly but there is something going on that is making people move towards post-materialist desires. I plan to study how that mysterious quality has taken over peoples minds, tourism industry, as well as marketing schemes.

IDEA 2
Is tourism necesary?

Waikoloa is just all about impulsive indulgence and unconscious overkill.
I first went to the Hilton Waikoloa Resort Village Thing a few days ago with some friends. I couldn't believe the world inside. We pulled up the Valet parking and after that moment, it just continued to get even more excessive.

Waikoloa differs from any other kinds of tourist destinations because it is not trying to represent or capture a sense of place (like the Polynesian Cultural Center does). Its overdone. Its boundless, limitless. I actually think it resembles Dubai in a small way.

Waikoloa actually tries to connect to the history and culture of the place - with sections of the resort that is built like a museum with old artifacts. Cool!

In addition, there are a ton of art pieces lying around everywhere you turn, huge statues the size of fat men or giant vases probably worth thousands of dollars.

At the same time, Waikoloa has a very fascinating theme park character to it.
You can get a massage while watching this giant lagoon that feeds into the ocean with paddle boating, snorkeling, kayaking, a ginormous waterfall -

The combine a ton of natural and planted wildlife, such as the birds they house on their mini islands, or the dumbed down Dolphins at Dolphin Quest - right alongside the ocean and natural reef that feeds into the lagoon's waters. There's a walkway that is high up from sea level that runs along the coast line for a couple miles and is used for whale watching (I saw Humpback whales breaching far away for 20 minutes).

So Waikoloa Hilton is an art museum, history museum, wildlife refuge, shopping and theme park all in one, all merged together like a slurring dream of excessive extravaganzas. One thing that I absolutly love about Waikoloa is that you don't have to be rich - or hell even pay for that matter - to enter inside and be treated like a celebrity. I loved seeing the locals and their tiny kids dangerously jumping off railings into shallow pool water while little white kids watched longingly from a distance, unable to escape their frowning mothers' jurisdiction.

So I guess, no it is not necessary but it has an interesting effect on everyday people and how they view their significance in the world.

IDEA 3
Vocationing and Vacationing!

My one last point about living tourism is that it is the ultimate pasttime. I know that it takes a lot to live a lot, so I admit that most of all of our time is spent working to enjoy this place, but still...it is worth it. I mean, there are most definitely people in Hawaii who came here to escape something (and its quite obvious who they are) but most people here are "normal" - or at least try to be, like I have discussed before. People get their morning coffee, go to work, take breaks, get exhausted from work, cook dinner, and do hobbies on the weekend. However, there are many differences. One, their morning coffee is high quality Kona coffee, not some chain or Folgers crap. Also, instead of parks to look at while reading the Sunday paper or playing ball, we have incredible views of jagged lush mountains or volcanoes or smashing waves. Last, my favorite part about living tourism is that the hobbies on the weekends don't consist of that occasional pleasure or outing while most of the time you sit at home washing your car or watching TV. No - in Hawaii, when you are not at work, you can go surfing in turquoise water, snorkeling with sea turtles, paddle boarding with Dolphins, walking under blooming coconut trees, and oh how could I forget DO ALL THE THINGS NORMAL PEOPLE DO BUT IN A MUCH MORE INCREDIBLY BEAUTIFUL ENVIRONMENT! Sorry, I am getting a little I am defensive there...As unpopular as it may be, I moved to Hawaii and I did it to really enjoy life because instead of looking forward to that one costly week of vacation, I am living it every single day.

Keeping it Rural...Or Are We?!

2008-11-21T01:59:00.000-08:00

As my brother said out of his wise words, "you'll either love Hawaii or hate it," I would agree. However, I would add, "you'll either WANT to love it or WANT to hate it" to give it another dimension.

So many people leave Hawaii as well as hate on Hawaii. I always say, "Hawaii is what you make it" - well I don't always say it, but for the purposes of sounding catchy in this blog...

In fact, there is a lot to do on this rock, as locals call it. Hawaii is especially good for sporty people: hiking, fishing, skiing, surfing, swimming, biking, horse back riding, sailing - you get the point, aaaaand, Hawaii is also good for the city-type (as I explained in one of my blogs on the Mini City-Town of Kona).

As I sit on my bed staring at the glass case I got from a garage sale and the mini Christmas lights that I set on it, I realize how much glam one can have even in a small town. In this weird place of overgrown jungle everywhere you turn, people still sport the Surfer Gansta style (as I mention in another blog). I am able to find myself enjoying some materialism in moderation. People try to keep a sense of dignity in this jungle, dirty at times, kicking off the overgrown vines from their Mercedes. I mean, just because you live in the jungle doesn't mean you have to be sloppy or rural...I guess...in Hawaii it doesn't.

One thing, as I have discussed is how people enjoy fashion here. Yes, it is almost forbid to attempt to wear stilettos, but people enjoy dressing up and going out. It may be shallow, but it is hella fun! People even sew their own clothes here and fashion shows are often, with all the hot surfer models available.

<----This one on the left was mine and is now hers. It just looks too good on her! Tony with his creative hairstyles ->

This reminds me of a documentary I saw once called, "The Real Dirt on Farmer John." In the film, a farmer who loves the soil is also found in costume riding his tractor. How creative and unexpected?!

Thats another thing, shock value. Not only is it shallow to dress up an go out, it is fun to wear ridiculous things. I mean, Tony and Rachel hoard a bunch of wigs of all shapes and sizes:

Sometimes, it is fun to get a rise out of people in a small town. I mean, how often do you expect outrageous clothing or people in disguise....

<----who do you think that is?

Here we all bought matching sunglasses from a sketchy gas station and wore them at my favorite bar, Splashers. Its fun to get glammed up... and hammered up too!No for reals, getting glamorous is fun in rural Kona not only for the shock value and shallow carefree feeling...and happy hours...but also to for creative projects. Everything has its own creative opportunity:

-Getting your eyes dialated from the Optometrist = great opportunity to dress up like a vampire and scare checkers at Walmart

-Tired of straightening your hair = only do one side and go out with it half n half (its been done)

-Bored of watching tv = glue plastic gems to your face, order some Mai Tais at Lulus, and go yell at tourists on Alii

Its great! The possibilities are endless!

Hawaii: Island of the Senses

2008-11-19T03:21:00.000-08:00

Sense #1: TASTE I came to this island with everyone telling me, "oh, the food is going to be soooooooo expensive and they are gonna have to import everything."

Yes, it is true. It is an island so yes, they do have to import stuff. Yet, most of the foodstuff here is made in Hawaii and DAMN is it good! I mean, when was the last time you looked at the label of those Rasberries from Trader Joe's - they're shipped from Mexico! I bet they don't taste as good as fresh berries that are grown organically. That's another thing: a lot of food in Hawaii is organic and homemade.

I thought the hormone fear was solely a Berkeley thing, but I guess not!

I have to be honest, I am still trying all the sweet delectables, not so much on the traditional meals yet. The Cava bar in town has amazing homemade Poi, Sweet Potatoes lathered with butter, Poke, salads, pulled pork, and an interesting Taro stew. Learning the traditional Hawaiian dishes is a whole 'nother thing tho.

Manju is a type of salty pie crust, and this one is filled with the purple sweet potato paste. Even their cakes from the store are made with real Guava jelly and real whipped cream, not that fake margarine crap that we so often find in Safeway.

This is my favorite "fake" brownie. It is chocolate mochi and tastes like a brownie that is undercooked and has pudding in it. It is amazing and chewy.

This is a rice stick that I bought from the market actually and it is sweet rice with coconut milk wrapped in taro leaves. It smells very aromatic. I obviously am still learning all the names for these things. Sometimes, they have Hawaiian names, or Asian names, or a hybrid/sloppy haole term that kind of fuses whatever names come to mind.

Another baffling thing I have learned is that almost everyone on this island seems to be into cooking. You'll meet this hardcore Hawaiian guys, all tough and muscular, but then they will melt for a good reduced demiglaze gloss. I mean, most of friends are chefs or trying-to-be. One friend informed me that he had "Science and Nutrition" in high school where they have a cooking unit! WHAT? That is fucking awesome. Also, I was hanging out at a Hawaiian party and a lady told me "All we do is sit and eat. Instead of gaining weight when I am on vacation, I lose weight." The food here is just that good!

Sense #2: SIGHT

The colors in Hawaii are so vibrant. Whether its the flowers, sunsets, clothes, soil, geckos, etc. Even the food is crazy colors - sweet potato taro ice cream.

Just walking down the street, I found a tree that looked like fire!

Even on a cloudy day with VOG, there is still an amazing sunset and the clouds look so vibrant!

However, unlike the kind of visual aethetics that one might find in Southern California or South Beach Miami, the optical consumption in Hawaii usually pertains to nature or articles of the natural environment. Hardely do people care about what you drive or the style of clothing as they do how deep your tan is and how highlighted and windblown your hair is. My friend Caesar is the perfect example. Everyone and anyone who glances at him is aboslutely floored: he looks like a model, but a natural model who gets his muscles from Polynesian Paddling and his shorts from the neighborhood dive shop.

Sense #3: SMELL

When you are walking down the street, there are trees of Plumeria and Pikake that are filling your nostrils! I even bought perfume of those scents so I can constantly have it around all the time.

This is fo' sho' my favoritst thing in the entire KTA grocery story. I smelled it from outside. It is Taro Sweet Bread. I think I like smelling it more than eating it! The bread is a squishy Challah/Angelfood texture but the smell is like a buttery sweet yellow cake baking in the distance. One of these days, I am driving to Punaluu to give a big hugs to these bakers.

Sense #4: Hearing

Ok, hands down the radio is the best in the world right here. They play NON stop peppy reggae and catchy RnB by local bands. I mean, some of my favorite artists are from the Hawaiian radio. My favorites are KCCN and NativeFM but the locals also love stealing a hip hop station from Maui. I have spent many a day just locked in my room just listening to the radio.
I also love waking up to the sound of the birds in the morning. I don't think I can live without it.

NELHA (O-Tech to the Locals) Alternative E Lab

2008-11-16T16:15:00.000-08:00

So on my first night, I was expecting to see the little Kona Town that I so sweetly remember, but on the way into town from the airport, I saw HUGE solar panels and a bunch of boring industrial buildings. My friend informed me that what I saw is the Alternative Energy Laboratory!

All the locals call it O-Tech (which I like the sound of better) because it originally was a energy plant that was going to supply the power for Hawaii by utilizing the temperature differential of the deep ocean sea water. Because is so fascinatingly formed from hot spots in the middle of the freaking Pacific Ocean, there is a HUGE slope and its very deep very close to shore! This is also why I don't swim in the ocean here.

See the picture (taken from Hawaiian Mesopelagic Boundary Community)

They use these HUGE plastic tubes to bring the water up from the deep sea.
Anyways, now NELHA (or O-Tech) does a wide range of activites, anything from testing solar panels, or hydrogen mopeds, or water purification, fish farming, abalone farming, lobster farming, algae health supplements...and the list goes on. The way it works, I think, is government and corporations and contracting companies share and use the campus.

How fucking cool! So the first thing I did here, before getting a job (which is probably bad) is to become a volunteer at NELHA (or O-Tech).
Not only is this a wonderful blend of the public and private sectors, it is also my very first encounter with responsible business. I asked a lot of poignant questions on the tours that I volunteered for and I found out that O-Tech emits absolutely no pollution and is committed to the public good. I mean, a business that wants to provide water and services at free cost (all sustainable power sources) is amaaaazing! But the politics of the GE energy corporations and what-have-you got meddled up in it all and now don't allow O-Tech to supply the island's energy source.

Honestly, after spending most of the day at O-Tech trying not to fall asleep from the various tours through the facilities (hey, it's hard to be lectured at), I am amazed at how responsible the corporations all seem. Maybe that's it - maybe after I research more about them, I will find some dirty little secrets. Or maybe not.

It gives me hope and provides a model for all responsible businesses in the future. This reminds me of a class I took at Berkeley called Colloquium on Responsible Business UBGA 192 and I learned all about various creative endeavors in the business world. It was an inspiring class and brought up so many great ethical issues like Phillip Morris and selling what people want: Death.

Anyways, long story short, I have been thinking I am not ready to ditch capitalism quite yet because places like O-Tech give me a lot of hope and inspiration for alternative ways of making a place function without harming the natural environment.

**This is a video of the abalone on their way to the boxes to be shipped off to sushi houses around the world.

Hawaii: The Land of Broken People

2008-11-13T19:59:00.000-08:00

So, at this point I am starting to get over the rush of the various spontaneous adventures and "love at first sight." I do have love for Hawaii but more of a deeper, slower love rather than the lustful excitement when I first arrived. However, this doesn't come naturally and I have to actively force myself to slow down (pretty indicative of my neurosis).

Every person I talked to (that did not grow up or was born here) has a story. The famous question that everyone asks eachother all the time is "What brought you here?" Unlike any other state in the US, Hawaii has a special significance to be a place of refuge and healing. I mean, the history clearly shows certain areas designated for rehabilitation of convicts, one called "City of Refuge" and other various alternative prisons. Not to mention, a lot of people come to Hawaii to escape large fines or owed tax - or even a sentence and/or warrent. So much of Hawaii can be done in cash or bartering, even the banks don't require any background check! This is heaven for the heathen.

I have discovered under the various veneers of occupation, surfing, or "err just living" something deeper that is uniting us all: pain. Unlike the expectation I had of the white Haoles as a reckless and impartial force, stereotypical of the Colonial white man - except in board shorts - bulldozing through rainforest and terrorizing natives - rather a lot of white people are quiet and keep to themselves. There are actually quite a lot of recluses here...makes sense, it's an island!

When I found out that one of my closest, most-normal-of-them-all friends here used to be a meth addict and had serious traumas, I was shocked. It affected me so much that later when I went home to stare off my balcony and watch the sunset, I started fully realizing how broken I am too!

A lot of people can't explain it: "I just decided to come here." Or when they do it seems to make sense, "Well my uncle lives here so I stayed with him," but that's all lies. People are either ignoring or unaware of why they really came here. To be alone and relax, some people go into their room and lock the door - I, on the other hand, had to fly myself to a desert island, and lock myself in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I get this weird feeling that I have some kind of solidarity with everyone here, like we are all going through "tough times" together, or we are stuck in some kind of purgatory where we are forced to be in limbo, in a kind of communal personal growth space, or mental transformation period. The "shaka" has special meaning to me as a way to represent the struggle to stay stable and balanced in a shaky ground. When you wave the "shaka" hand sign to people, you aren't just being a stupid Haole trying to be cool like a Hawaiian. Rather, you are signing with those around you to signify your broken soul, untempered heart, and incomplete perspective.

Hawaii: Planet Earth Episode

2008-10-31T17:41:00.000-07:00

If you live in Hawaii, you just get used to creatures crawling around all the time and all around you! When I say, "nature" I don't mean the cute, distanced "nature" in films or movies or even out a train window. I am talking about jungle - fucking hardcore raunchy and rampant nature! It is resilient and resistant, and seems to follow you around. I mean, there's always that lone ant crawling in your bed, or the familiar sound of the rats scratching in the walls (especially in the bathroom) - random large bugs with wings are always buzzing around you, crawling into my computer keys, infesting open bags of anything, and last but not least falling out of the palm trees on you. Oh and swimming in Hawaii is a lot like driving in Manhattan except you often get cut off by a beautiful green sea turtle.

My favorite story was the very first night I was here. I get to my apartment, eager as a new parent or something. While I was signing my rental agreement, I noticed a black and white dog in the yard over - which I soon learned was actually a huge wild pig! WOW, I thought. But that euphoria was soon terminated by supreme panic in a single moment: I felt something fall on my arm and I casually look to find - while my body starts to convulse - a milipede! And looking down was a bad idea because it made me aware of all the creepy crawling things everywhere on the cement...those weren't twigs I was crunching on. I felt an overwhelming sense of nausea, distress, and hysteria all at one moment. Then, the landlord sweetly wishes me a good night and informs me of the cockroaches - which then in my manic state I wrote my first Hawaii Post (see the previous post entitled "Bug Killer is my Best Friend").

They say with every jungle dwelling experience, that you "just get used to it dammit!" In fact, you have no choice! Or maybe just I say that, I don't remember.

Let me just say that here in Hawaii, snorkeling is like way better than watching TV! Every time I go, I see 10 more species of fish of all polkadots, polkasquares polkatriangles, or a palette of highlighter. Its fun to count the Mongoose and cats always scurrying across your path when hiking. Then, there are the geckos which still kind of freak me out because they pop out of everywhere at any moment. I mean, you'll reach for the cereal box and then they will pop out of the drawer...So unpredictable. For a while, I worried about rolling over onto them at night!

Again, like with Bolivia I have seen a horrendous amount of one animal, but here it is cats - everywhere, all different colors and levels of paranoia. My favorite one though is my apartment cat named Trusty; he used to be feral, but over the years mellowed out and now he is the largest lover I have ever met. Seriously, petting him is like petting a muscular arm. He got his name from the time he rescued a baby kitten and lead it home. Awwwww Trusty!

One thing that I am having trouble with is finding people who I can share this enthusiasm for the natural environment with. This is one big prob with Hawaii so far; I deeply miss the intellectual curiosity and enthusiasm that...well...I have! So many people see the Spotted Eagle Rays swimming in the harbour as "mundane" or the plethora of vibrant fish simply as "dinner." Fanatical, I'll ask, "So you can swim with them?!" But "I guess you could" is always the reply.

This is a serious dilemma that I have encountered, but I am working on it! I mean, it seems like a lot of people are drowners on my splashing good time. Believe it or not. Even with all the island music, sunny weather, boar roasts, you name it - people just aren't that enthused. I dunno but if you ask me, I think burning an entire hefty pig in a fire pit the size of a trench by a whole bunch of muscular, barely clothed men is pretty impressive - that will never get old.

People simply don't have the same kind of energy that I do about things. Either they are uninvolved or strikingly callous. The reactions I usually get when I point out random features around me are either a) talked over or b) grossly disgusted with its familiarity. I'll point out the collection and frequency of butterflies flapping in and around the strands of palm leaf and I'll get flashed with the disdainful look and, "You sure like Hawaii don't you?! Don't worry, it'll be gone in another month." Crushed. I am this thrilled little fairy who wants to sprinkle everything with magic dust, but everyone blows it off or yells at me for making it dirty.

I enjoy the Cava bar for its people because the owner who is half Hawaiian and half Texan and never loses his passion for the natural spectacle. He takes me all the time to feed the eels:

Some of them are are large, 10 feet long. It was amazing to see them slithering along the rocks and swallow a whole fish.

No honestly, I am getting used to and feeling at home with all this "nature" around me. I mean, my bedroom is mostly screen so I occasionally get startled from the mid morning cat shriekings. No honestly, there is absolutely nothing better than being immersed in a place like this. I'm sorry urban setting, concrete just doesn't do it for me!

Hawaii: land of mixture and competing identities

2008-10-26T14:14:00.000-07:00

I was worried about coming to Hawaii because I realized it might not be that angelic place readily fantasizable about in my memory. However, locals are warmer and friendlier than I expected and everything is really easy and accessible, not to mention amaaaaazing food from all kinds of cultures.

At some moments, I feel like I am deep in Southern USA with a lady attempting to speak Spanish at the bank shouting "dos sentae" to a Mexican guy who keeps nodding and saying, "ye, ye." Also, many Hawaiian people have actually lived most of their life away from the island in places like Oregon and switch between "Brah how did you like dat?!" and "Sir, how would you like your filet minion served to you tonight?"

When I say competing identities, I don't mean set in opposition to one another, I mean confusing because people have to juggle like 4 identities at once in a very large way, but it comes naturally to them. For example, yesterday I went to an grand opening of a Harley Davidson in Waimea. I was sure I felt like I was in Texas, "Yep this is sooo Christian middle America,"- yet, the taste of the candy handed to me contained an Asiany dried plum in it and the faces beneath the bandanas were of non-white descent. Ironically, the white people were frying spiky fish in a giant wok! The band playing honky tonk country music were half white and half Asian people. I looked down at the stake plate and noticed an option of ketchup, A1, or Shoyu. The list goes on. Instead of potatoes, the stake plate came with white rice. Beer bellied, plaid, snakeskin boots, and unshaven faced men came up to our stall and eagerly awaited their good ol' home cooking.

The kind of racism around immigration that is so prevalent in this country is completely oblivious to the people of Hawaii. They don't think twice about mixing culture - it is embraced and loved by many. I mean, people are aware of racism but when they go about their daily activities it is obvious many forget. An excited white police officer approaches some fisherman on the dock to help them pull up their line - baffled I ask what the problem is and he turns to me to say, "Everyone fishes in Hawaii" not registering my misunderstanding. When they opened the Waimea Harley shop, there was an interesting "blessing" mixing ancient Hawaiian tradition and Christianity. I mean one day, I was drinking Cava at the Cava bar (spelled "Cawa") and the next day I was in "middle America" blessing a Harley Davidson store. Where the hell am I? Space and time are all blurred by the ocean water.

The same goes for some Hawaiians and other locals of various descents who do take their cultural pride and heritage seriously, but just can't help but laugh and shake it to some good ol' country music. They forget themselves that a lot of American country music is made by white men with "particular" values and contextual lyrics. I mean, Hawaiians hunt, fish, probably even drink beer but there is something deeply intoxicating about this place: the energized multiculturalism. The Cava bar people think that traditional knowledge makes for good recipes at the restaurant. Blending cultures only makes for even better fusion food here. When I ponder about why I moved here, I find myself drawn to the answer that Hawaii is one of the only states in the USA that I can imagine living in.

Of course, there is an advantage that people remind me of all the time: I am a white woman. Again, there are indeed a few rotten papayas out there. But is it that my supposedly "good time" and "friendly, well-natured" experience is solely a front because I am a woman? I am pretty sure that isn't true. I think people like me not because I am a woman but rather because I smile and talk to them: a little good ol' kindness won't hurt anyone - that usually seems to be what's lacking in a situation.

Hawaii: thoughts on surfing, cava, and hippies

2008-10-26T13:35:00.000-07:00

Hey people, so I am sorry I didn't write the other day but I was way too tired. It might be that I am trying to take too much in and it is exhausting me. I mean, I am good at getting myself into fun trouble like last night somehow getting myself on a boose cruise for free with an OPEN bar! I had been hanging around, talking to the crew and for some reason they let me on. I mean it was kinda awkward going on a boat with a whole bunch of married couples, but once the music started and we were drunk, it was a bomb time.

After my first day, I somehow met people and then bummed in their car with them all day long. That I went surfing, which I finally realize I hate. I mean, what the hell are people attracted to??? Not only is the board is kinda bulky to maneuver in large waves, but you get really bruised from laying on your stomach all morning, not to mention the strain in your neck to try to look ahead while you paddle and water splashes you in the face - real fun huh?! I was watching the paddle boarders which is like a stand-up surfboard with a paddle, well that looks more promising. One thing I did notice out there in my watery misery was that the beaches are like public parks in Hawaii. They don't conceptualize the grassy carpet space that we have on the mainland. In fact, everyone uses the ocean, whatever shape or size or personality. Everyone has a healthy glow of the sun and muscles of some kind from their marine activities. As my friend said, "There are laws fortunately that prevent the privitization of beaches so the Hawaiians can use it all." I am not sure if that is true or actually followed by some big corporate resorts.

Another reason why I passed out so early is the Cava Bar. So here's the story: I am wandering around and somehow I come upon the Cava Bar which is this little bar and benches where they serve you the traditional stimulant root juice. It kinda tastes like really bitter strong green tea like times 1000. But the way you drink cava - I learn as soon as the group pulls me in, sits me down, and poors me some in a open coconut shell is to clap to clear the air, sprinkle some for yourself, and then over your shoulder for your ancestors, then CHUG the damn thing. Holy shit, I couldn't even drink that much water. Anyways, after I chugged it as best I could, I immediately noticed a buzz, much like if you chug a single beer. Someone told me to stir it with your pinky finger which then I noticed it numbed me, I find out its a natural anesthetic. Anyway, the owner of the Cava Bar owns a Wwoofing farm and I hope to get a ride there soon. I am still not sure how I feel about Wwoofing, if it is all about being a smelly hippie - which reminds me:
My next and last point is about hippies and is hopefully not offensive to those non-showerers. So, first things first, I would call myself a hippie in the sense that I want to make myself and the world better, being socially conscious and very environmentally-minded. I even believe in some spiritual thoughts and Buddhist philosophies, but here's the difference: I don't answer every question with "We are all one with the universe" with a glazed-over grin. However, I have noticed in Hawaii that hippies are out of control! They believe anything and everything that seems "hippie" and they are all about showing it all off. I mean, I'm not against speaking one's mind, but I have noticed that a lot of hippies are pretty presumptuous. I think of it just like any other fashion culture like Punk, Preppy, or Hipster. The rest of the people here that aren't this breed of hippie are...hippies. The most normal, moderate people are secretly hippies. One boy dresses like he is trying to impress (in New York City) but yes, of all people in New York City, he actually loves incense.

I guess I'll have to get used to all three if I am going to live here to the fullest. I'll just have to get me a surf board, drink cava every day until I barf it out, and buy myself a "how to Shaman" book.

Hawaii: the Land of Adventure Intro (best friends with bug spray killer)

2008-10-23T03:15:00.000-07:00

Before I go into the details of what just happened to me, I think it necessary to fill you all in on the details of the past that lead me to this traumatic point:

So I would have written to ya guys about my Italy experience studying through EAP, but I lost all of the blog. I learned my lesson never to live without internet ever again.
Then after Italy, I had one more semester to complete at Berkeley to finish my major, Geography. After I graduated from Berkeley, I decided to go somewhere. I mean, I hate to say it, but Berkeley is great but getting old. I have lived all over the Bay Area for 10 years. I needed something new. so visiting my previous Haas Business School Professor, I learned from this distinguished man that my wildest dreams are not only possible but also are never silly.
So after graduating I started planning for a trip to Hawaii. I checked craigslist everyday and researched the economy of the big island. I found a lot of condominiums but was intrigued by a kind of half-way house, post-meth addict, apartment with a twist of hostel. It sounded perfect for me. Then, one day after a lot of agony and internal turmoil, I just bought a ticket. Well, I had to deal with the stupid frequent flyer miles first however but they did guarantee me an ultra-cheap flight.

So here I finally made it to that transition point. Many days in Berkeley I sat pondering the slowness of time in the breezy San Franciscan weather. Just to make the long story short, today was the wildest and longest day of my life....and I am still not even out of it yet.

I am sitting in a room, scared shitless at 3:24 am! Ok, Ok, here's what happened. I get on the plane and sit for hours, my legs cramped, and my head spinning from no sleep. All I can do is imagine the place that I set up for myself, and what it is going to be like. What is the owner like? The landlord? I imagine sun-bleached hair and tan muscular men with a snazzy beach comber personality. I knew not to much about this place (for various reasons) except a solitary blurry digital photo; I didn't even have the address, just the intersection.

I get off the plane in black night and think as I stare at the runway and blackness,
"Well here I am woop-de-doo." It seems like I step into my new stage of paradise. I have a friend drive me from the airport to the mystery apartment and here I sit writing this right now. It was a lot quieter and less social than I expected. Warren was even nicer than I thought. While talking to him, I saw a Hawaiian pig for the first time in the neighbors yard (I mistook it for a white and black dog). Everyone was asleep by 9pm. Bummer, I was looking forward to chatting it up with cool young people. Also, I had a choice of rooms between a plain, boxy, windowless room on the ground level or a beautiful apartment on the second level with many windows and my own balcony for 40 dollars more per month. Of course I toook the larger space. It has great character, just like a beach bungalo. Then, Warren the sweet landlord, had me sign a few papers and then told me about all the bugs and social norms and farmers markets and then was out of my life.

I skirted over the bug issue thinking, "Oh I can handle it, I rode horses, I dealt with thousands of insects on a daily basis" but I cringed with the sound of crunching bugs beneath my giant rubber boots. However, I spoke too soon: the moment Warren closed the door and I was alone in my giant apartment and right when I was about to finally exhale...I heard a frantic scattering.

Yep, it was a giant cockroach beetle thing. I was trying not to scream as it darted around the room heading straight for me. It sounded like its little legs were made of large toothpicks, which - now that I look back on it - is a good thing. I mean, you can tell these things a mile a way: they don't stop moving. It seems like they are on meth.

Anyways, I was sitting by myself alone in my bedroom, transfixed with every miniscule sound and staring at the crack in the shoddy screen door. I tried taping it over and over but the tape continued to stretch off.

I waited until my mystery roomate came home and I felt a lot better, but for those 3 hours alone, I have never felt so alone and never been so desperately best-friends with Ortho Home Defense Max.

Bolivia: DOGS!

2006-07-27T12:18:00.000-07:00

I have wanted to tell you all about this for a long time: the gangs here in Bolivia...dog gangs! I'll never forget, I was with a Marine and all of a sudden he stops walking and says, "Hey - watch out, gangs." And these 5 street dogs trot right in front of us in a V formation, scoping out the territory. It was hilarious! I just need to see one smoke a cigarette and that'd be cash money.

When I read about the "overpopulation of dogs in Bolivia and the requirement for a Rabies shot," I imagined blood thirsty hounds, foaming at the mouths, springing out from dark alleyways and gnawing at your ankles. It turns out that most of these street dogs are shy, sweet, and leave humans alone, caring more about procreating with other dogs on the side of the highway and sniffing through trash heeps.

At the animal shelter that I work at, SOS ANIMALES, the barking dogs are only trying to get your attention to rub their little skulls with your fingers through the fence. Once you do, they almost grin. Oh god, they are all soooo precious. I looooove volunteering there.

I have only a few enemies: the 2 German Shephard brothers at the end of the hall (cuz they're just plain crazy, like mentally ill psychos), the one I call Giant Lucifer dog (this thing is pure evil and is kept in this dark cell with couches and boxes) and lastly the Bum dog (that confronted me at my old mansion in Achumani). The story was I was going on a walk to the market one morning and this little furry lap dog confronts me on the sidwalk, yelping its annoying little bark at me. It approached me so I had to find a stick to point into its face. It followed me a whole block, right next to the stick. Even though I didn't really enjoy this confrontation, I understood this dog, looking into its beady little eyes. It reminded me of what my upperclassman friend once told me in her wise old state when I was a lolely freshman: "Homeless people...they're going to yell at you, call you rich bitch, and hey, even spit on you...but that is because they are angry at the world. That is sometimes the only way they can deal with it. I sympathize." The same goes for this bum dog. I remember he was still barking when I was out of sight. I felt like he was barking at the birds. If he saw his face in a puddle, he would bark at that too. Now, the Giant Lucifer dog, on the other hand, won't stop for anything or anybody. I feel like that thing would burst through metal to thrust its teeth into one's neck. And the German Shephards...well they're a little looney. But I guess not that looney because another volunteer lets her 2 year old child go in there and scoop up dog doo with her pink trowel (which is another story in itself).

Another intriguing aspect to this is the idea of a street dog: street dogs are street smart! My friend was telling me, "Yeah, the dogs seem smarter than the people. I've actually seen a dog try to cross the street, see a car come, and so he went back and waited on the edge for another opening whereas people here...oh man." He's right, the dogs are incredibly street smart. I was coming home from a bar one night really late, and a saw a dog stop at a cross walk look both ways and then trot across! A dog!

I feel like Bolivia would be the Mecca for zoologistg doing research on dog behavior and psychology, but I haven't seen any yet...but I'll keep looking.

2006-07-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

The Messy Weekend at Rurre – True Story, nothing is embellished!

WOW. I am sitting here thinking how did I survive that weekend? Right now, I am incredibly sleep deprived, cranky, and depressed.

I had a discussion with my parents about studying abroad. I have been thinking that I am not ready to study abroad for an entire semester. I feel like I have overestimated my ability to be flexible. Traveling is not for everyone. It is not that easy to just pick up and completely live in a different country by yourself!

I like traveling, vacationing for a month or so, but this time in Bolivia feels incredibly long! Too long for me. I am starting to go crazy. Especially after that weekend in the jungle. Here it goes:

My discussion with my parents was unpleasant, so I didn’t sleep that much on Thursday night. Then, on Friday I woke up at the crack of dawn to go to the airport. That plane was scary, it was so small, but I tried my best to stay calm. Then, I arrived in Rurre and the tour agency picked me up in an air conditioned jeep and took me to the tour agency. There, they talked me into staying a night in the jungle rather than doing a day trip.
“You’ll meet the others that are going on the trip and there are really nice cabanas (cabins) there. You’ll get so much more out of it.” The lady told me while pointing to a map.

Me, being incredibly weak, gives into peer pressure in a snap. I am the kind of person who deems “missing out” one of the most terrible things that could happen. So of course I conceded even though I stressed to her that I was planning to stay in a hotel and “no me gustan los insectos.”

Then, I met some of the workers for the tour agency who helped me find a hotel. We drove around for a while looking for a hotel that wasn’t full and finally found one.

That night I was incredibly tired from not sleeping, but once again, I gave into peer pressure. So I went out to dinner with all of them and then we played pool. That was really fun I admit, especially when they teased me about my bad Spanish and my big feet. They’re really good at comedy. But, then they dragged me to a Kareoke bar at midnight and I kept telling them I was tired. So FINALLY at 1 they took me home to the hotel. For another 20 minutes I futsed with my cell phone that I rented from the Embassy to see if I could call Tristan, but I couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t working. There are so many confusing networks and codes…I went to bed frustrated.

Then, at 6 am, there was knocking, chuffling, giggling, yelling from these stupid girls about to take their tour. They were all so obnoxious and rude, not caring for the other people in the hotel. That didn’t make me too happy hearing their conversations especially since the hotels in Rurre don’t have windows, only netting with curtins. After a couple of hours being awake, I decided to get up and get breakfast.
Bam it started pouring rain!

There I was dragging around my luggage, soaking wet, muddy, and then the breakfast place wasn’t open. “Of course,” I thought. “He said he told me he opens at 8 am but that actually means 10:30 Bolivian time!”

So I went to the tour agency and waited for them to get their act together.
We boarded the skinny wooden boat a few hours later and started up the rainy river.
The entire time, I kept thinking, “Stay positive Laurel.” I noticed that I was the odd one out since everyone else came in pairs (fiancé or boyfriend/girlfriend). There were 2 French couples who kept to themselves and then an Irish couple John and Harry which was really Carry (but they don’t pronounce the C). I love the Irish. They were really nice to me.

We chatted and then watched scenery. We finally got to one bathroom stop where they had some interesting creatures that used to be pets. I thought of the place I volunteer at, a sign says “The animals for the jungle are not animals for pets.” I loved volunteering at SOS Animales.

So after a few pictures we head back up the boat for 3 more hours! Then, all of a sudden the motor died. We drift over to shore after the guy tries to mess with the motor. He has no idea what he’s doing. I’m trying to think of all the past experiences when I took a road trip with my family and my dad would be cursing at the car for the various inconveniences: head gasket, spark plug, fan belt…I had no idea either. We were all stumped.

The French people looked ticked, the Irish looked anxious, and I was feeling panicky.
“I need to be back to Rurre for my flight. It is very important!” I yell in Spanish as the driver floates away from shore leaving us in this inlet area. I kept thinking of the US Embassy sending out helicopters for me when I didn’t return to work like I was supposed to. I imagined them all yelling at me, the interns smirking at me, and then feeling humiliated.

So we all sat at this camp and waited. “What are we going to do?” I asked the cook and the guide that were with us.
“We are going to wait for another boat to come to take us to the Cabins. If it doesn’t come then we’ll sleep here.”
“HERE?!!!” Everyone shouted in unison.
Then, the conspiracy theories started coming: “They planned this all along. There’s no cabin. This is where they are going to dump us. That’s why they only brought beds for themselves. Look that bench was made a long time ago. This is the site!”
The French people were furious, the Irish were swearing, and I was looking up at the Palms trying to imagine myself sleeping here the best I could.
Then, out of nowhere 2 guys came up to us. They had red paint on their faces, greasy hair, and dirty clothes. “We’ve been here for 4 days. It sure is rugged, but we are so ready to leave.” Then, he lifted up his pants leg and his leg was covered in bloody welts that seemed to be the result of scratching mosquito bites.
“Oh…our boats here. Gotta go!” And they ran off with their cook and guide. We were all stunned, we didn’t even get to ask them any questions like “Why do you have paint on your face?” Or “Why were you here for 4 days?” Then, we watched the boat go off in silence and I thought that those boys were the worst omen.

Silence. The afternoon was long. We ate lunch and the Irish and I walked along the rocky river beach and I imagined sleeping there since it seemed to have less bugs. I guess I spoke too soon because then we saw a giant spider creep out from the rocks and then scurry back in.

The Irish were pissed because as they said in their sing song accent, “We didn’t come prepared for this. This is unfair to us.”

The French were construing a plan: “So if another boat comes along here, we are getting on it and going back. We are NOT sleeping here.”

We all concurred, but I kept thinking that this was not a matter of choice. We waited and watched. No more boats came.

The French continued to argue with the guide and cook while I felt like dying. The Irish even mentioned the absurd idea of trying to hike back.

Then, out of nowhere a boat came for us! We hauled our stuff and the guide said we could go back or go to the cabins. We all felt embarrassed and decided to go to the cabins. I still felt an urge to turn back, but I kept quiet.

We arrived at a little beach and hauled our stuff on a path…for an hour. “Where the bloody hell is this cabin they speak of?” John, the Irishman said.

Finally, we get to the end of the never-ending path. The cabin…has been burnt down…it is only a couple of beams. Now the French were becoming outraged and I feel jaded.
I wasn’t as angry as the others, I just felt betrayed. My friends, the lady, they all lied to me – they pressured me into something without telling me the truth…it was dishonest and hurtful. I know I am a gringo, but I thought the Bolivians were better than that. They have been very honest and the biggest scam has been the taxi drivers trying to demand more Boliviano and I sat “trying,” because they don’t succeed.

But this. This was bad. Then, the guy sets up a tent with holes, saying that I wanted one. I told him I never ordered one. That made everything worse because then the others turned against me as a traitor in my holey tent. I never felt so alone that night. I dunno, maybe it was because I was friends with the owners sons.

That night was pretty bad too. I woke up every hour thinking things were crawling on me. Also, it is hard to sleep without a pillow.

The next morning we were supposed to see these communities that lived on the Reserve. We started out hike and after 3 hours finally reached the community which was a couple of shacks. There were no people, no artisan works, no teaching you how to make palm baskets like the pictures and brochures showed. All that occurred was a fat chief who demanded money from us. The French decided it better to not go into the community since it did not look worth the money. However, then the fat chief demanded money regardless.

The French were pissed, the Irish were exhausted, and I felt again scammed. I forked over the 50 Bolivianos and started in with my bad attitude.
“Why are those dogs so unbelievable skinny?” I asked one of the tour guides after watching these horrific things scurry around smelling the ground for any remnants of food.
“Well they don’t have any food.”
Looking at the fat chief I thought other wise. “They do now!” I commented belligerently.
They looked at me and rolled their eyes.
Then, I asked “What exactly is that money going to be for?”
“Protecting the forest.”
“Hmmmm. So they go out every day and walk around, making sure the forest is not being reaped by loggers or hunters, like police officers of the jungle?”
“I don’t know exactly, but they protect the forest.”
“If I am correct, it seems that they are actually cutting down the forest themselves for their village.”
“Yea, but this is only for them.”
“Sure it is.” I was so mad inside. I could bet a million bucks that they were making deals with loggers and hunters to make money. I doubt this is a self-sustaining area.
“Well, they want the money to buy a motor so when someone gets sick they can take them into town.”
“Oh, so now, the money is for a motor.”

I had enough, and so did the French. The Irish were sick of everyone arguing.
We left that place with a negative feeling in our stomachs, me especially. How innocent to use a motor to help the sick. I am sure they’re telling me the truth. Just like when homeless people say they need money for food.
I had shed my naivety and become cynical. I could imagine the chief buying Oreos for his fat self while the dogs looked longingly at every crunch he took.

We finally got back to the non-existent cabin after tromping around in the jungle for I think roughly 4 hours - I was done with jungle hiking. I mean, the guides are chomping as he goes with his giant machete and you’re getting smashed in the face by giant leafs with bugs on them or tripping over logs or getting tangled in hanging vines or getting attacked by mosquitos…By the end of the hike you look like you’ve rolled in a combination of cobwebs, mud, and sweat. I couldn’t believe how dirty I was. Also, I was sooooooo thankful to have a long sleeve shirt, even though it was very hot, because those without long sleeves get eaten alive, no joke.

At the end, the tour guides served us a glass of wine and chocolate, which was pretty nice. I mean, going back to town in the river boat was fun especially because it was sunset, the tour guides were pretty hilarious, and the food they cooked was delicious (maybe it was because I was starving). Not to mention, the jungle was awesome, the stars at night were the most amazing I’ve seen. I actually saw the Southern Cross, not the fake Southern Cross and the milky way! It was soooo beautiful. When I finally found a store that sold Amazonian artisans it was really cool stuff…pricey but cool.

However, the reason why I feel incredibly sleep deprived, cranky, and depressed was mainly due to my last night in Rurre. I got off the boat and ran to the nearest hotel. It was really nice and had TV! So I ordered a pizza and bought some chocolate at a nearby store and headed to the room to chill out after showering. I watched this really good movie, I don’t know the name, but it had really good effects. I lit some candles and fell asleep. An hour or so later I woke up to music blaring, which I thought was from a nearby dance club. “It’ll end at 1, 2, or maybe 3,” I thought. “And I don’t have to get up until 12:30 so that’s not too bad.”

I laid there listening to the bad Kareoke-sounding stuff. I laid there and laid there trying to sleep. Time passed. I looked over at my clock and realized it was 8am! The music had played all night long! And continued. I didn’t sleep hardily at all! I was so sick of that annoying music that I left the hotel, finding that there were giant speakers in the street next to my hotel! “Jesus Christ, why all the f*** night?!!!” I was angry. I had like 6 hours to kill just ambling around with my dirty suitcase. That day I never hated Bolivia more.

Now, I feel a little better writing this all down. My friends from Berkeley are in town so we’re going to go get a drink after work and then catch dinner together. But reading this, I’m finding myself chuckling because it was really a hilarious weekend, just not for me.
The tour lady was right. I did get so much more out of it by staying overnight. However, this had nothing to do with the tour or the jungle itself: it had to do with me. It showed me that I overestimate my comfort level and positive attitude.

2006-07-13T06:08:00.000-07:00

The New DCM

Just so you know, the DCM is the guy under the Ambassador. The second man in place.

Anyways, so the old DCM was really a balding, Conservative asshole. No other way to put it. When he obligingly went to lunch with us interns, he was so cynical about Bolivia and offensive when he ranted to us about “how paTHetic” it was. Watching the “th” sharply come off of his wrinkly lips like a dagger made me lose my appetite. I found him and the Ambassador to be perfect partners because they were so similar. It scared me to think that men such as themselves were running the world.

However, the new DCM who arrived last week is like heaven on earth. I put him up there with Susan Doman, a woman I greatly respect also in the Embassy.

I kinda bumped into him at a coffee party in the Ambassador’s office. This tall, gangly Indian guy with round glasses was standing unopposingly in the corner. I would have never guessed he was the new DCM. He held his coffee securely near his chest and didn’t say a word. It wasn’t that he was shy, because when I confronted him he warmed up. I loved the eye contact he had with me. It made me feel like he really cared about me and plus complemented me, “Berkeley is an amazing school,” as opposed to the common, “so you wear red and lean to the left?!”

He asked what I was studying and how I liked it here. He told me about his life growing up in India and going to school somewhere…I don’t remember. I was too intent on watching his sweet, genuine, gentility. He was such a gentleman.
I tried to imagine him, a young boy, curled over the books that were larger than him, while his loving father and mother gazed proudly at him. I also imagined him as a father, coming home to his wife and children, and reading them stories about how to be kind humble.
I don’t know anything about him, but I feel like he wants to help. He, unlike the old DCM has seen the poverty in India and sympathizes, wanting to create change.

What really impressed me was when he actually came down to the Dungeon, aka Consular Section where I work, and took a tour of the area. That is really classy. I always loved hearing about CEOs of airline companies that pretended to be stewardesses to understand the changes that need to be done at a lower level.

Sometimes people get so caught up in their powerful positions that they forget what it is like to be the little guy. Everyone complains about Consular Section, because the Foreign Service requires Consular section as the first year assignment, but I think it is the core for the entire embassy in many ways. I mean, it is the ONLY section that actually works directly with the Bolivians at the ventanillas with microphones.

Anyways, I am excited to go to lunch with him someday. I hope my expectations are fulfilled.

Rurre is in my thought, daydreams, and nighmares

2006-07-11T06:49:00.000-07:00

Rurrenabaque – or as the locals call it “Rurre”

I remember the words of my favorite writer, Francis Mayes, when I went to see her speak at the World Affairs Council. All of her books have a journalistic style and a common theme: the wonders of traveling. She said in her slow Georgian accent, “The anticipation and expectation is more exciting than actually traveling - thinking about pictures you’ve seen, stories you’ve heard, and how you’re going to react to it all. Turns out, when you get there is completely different than what you anticipated.”

I feel this with the Bolivian Amazonia. I am soooo excited to go. I have been reading the same sections over and over in travel guides, trying to imagine what the authors are talking about. I have always been interested in going places that seem really different than what I am used to. The interns and others are going to a cold, but charming mountain village, but I would rather melt and toughen it out in the jungle. I have gone through lists of people who would claim they would come with me and then ALWAYS flake out. I have to admit, I agree the jungle can be a scary place, it really takes a kind of person to appreciate it. So, I’ve decided that I going. Nothing can stop me.

There are however, multiple emotions that are dominating my psyche while I wait through this week:

FANTASY- Thinking about the primitiveness of the jungle and uncivilized nature in Heart of Darkness and fantasizing about eating star fruit off of a tree – I think they grow on trees…

HAPPINESS – I feel a sense of euphoria when I encounter a beautiful tropical tree, striped with sunlight through the canopy.

ANXIETY – Imagining myself in my so called “five star hotel” which is really a dump, sitting on my bed, sweating, hugging my fly swatter, and peering anxiously around the room for monstrous bugs.

FEAR – Gripping the metal walls of the tiny, shaking plane, while the drunken pilot swerves violently through the clouds, for an hour…the longest hour of my life.

AWKWARDNESS - I can see myself sitting alone at a candlelit table, overlooking the river, while the waiter gazes at me for hours on end (yes, that has happened before).

DISGUST – When I slosh through the damp, rotting, squishy, jungle floor, my foot getting stuck in nasty smelling mess, combined with the feces of some rare endangered animal.

HUMOR – Internally chuckling at myself while I studder my broken, Gringa Spanish to the hotel manager, who blankly stares me.

FRUSTRATION – On Monday trying to comb my ratty, wirery hair, akin to that of a raggedy mermaid.

Hmmmmm…Francis, I think I have explored every option, so there is nothing left for reality. Well, we’ll see when I get there. Rurre might just be outside the realm of my imagination.

Pictures from Coroico Trip

2006-07-11T06:23:00.000-07:00

These are pictures from my second trip to Coroico, a little quaint town 60 miles from La Paz. This was such a nice place to escape to when sick of the business of La Paz. I went with the interns, but I WAS SOOOOO HAPPY that I got my own room, not only so I could have alone time from them, but also because they had two nights of no sleep: Saturday night there was a huge noisy party next door to them and on Sun night, one of the interns couldn't stop throwing up.

This is a view from the car that we rented to pick us up and drive us. It looks so minature, huh?!

I loved the many different types of plants that I saw along the way. Some looked straight out of Dr Seuss or something.

This is the hotel pool. It was freezing, but I still loved it. I loved how the diving board was a giant stone (sorry no picture).

Well Sorry, I had more pictures, but the computer is not loading them. I'll have to try another time.

PICTURES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-07-06T12:52:00.000-07:00

This is a picture blog with the appropriate captions. Finally, you can actually see what I am talking about rather than imagining it. Also, I am not putting all my pictures up because it takes a freakin century with the slow computers so you'll have to wait for the comprehensive stuff. Also, if you don't remember what I'm talking about, look at the first epic I wrote.

Copacobana, a great little town on the lake. I'm chillin in a hammock looking over the cove.

Unfortunatley, I did not take a picture when people were acting like monkeys, but this is the place!

Yes, I hiked all this way and I was sooo goddamn tired! The altitude makes you feel like you have asthma. Also, this overlooks where I live. It is called Atchumani. This is the high class neighborhood you're looking down on. Don't you love how there are no blocks or street signs in Bolivia? People get tickets all the time for doing left turns when they are not supposed to (even though there are no signs).

The prison (dda da daaaaah...scary music attempt.) But unfortunately, I couldn't get any pictures of the prisoner guy. Ironically, his name is Tristan.

Bolivian friends!!!! I love their simple house: on floors or on wooden chairs! It reminds me of me! But the pictures I took of Isabel and her boy were either too dark or drunk pictures (blurry). I'll try to touch them up when I get back. Also, Luis, the Bolivian 40 Yr old Virgin, is not in this either. He is soooo hilarious. You should see him dance to techno.

One shot of my mansion. I mean, a marble floor with a giant star?! If you were to look more to the right, see where that rug and big chair is? There is a dome window which is 2 stories high all glass and some couches. I'll have to remember to take some pictures of that. I feel like this might be fit for a king.

My second protest. The first one looked a lot like this cuz they wouldn't let me leave. Both were about Octubre Negro. I like the fact that they're right out of the US Embassy. What balls! We could nuke them from our offices!

This area is on the way to Coroico and is called the Cumbre. Some of the Americans wanted to go camping out there. They say it is sooo amazing to see the stars, but hella FREEZING! No polartech will keep your ass warm there. But there's llamas, which I was too slow to take pictures of.

Here's some of my American friends at a Bar B Q. The Louisiana Family is on the left: the black haired grinning lady and the guy in the blue long sleeve not facing us. I don't feel like uploading all the pictures. Can you tell which one is aMarine? Here's a trick: look for the one without a neck.

Ok. That's all for now cuz I've spent like an hour uploading these pictures and my boss is probably wondering where I am. Well, probably not. But still, I feel bad.
Seriously, how about a slide show when I get back -- waaaaay faster!!!!!!!!!!

PS. I'll put the recent pictures of Coroico up on Friday.

2006-07-06T12:50:00.000-07:00

Another Day Stressing

I’m sure the sugar rush and black tea is not helping my anxiety, but I’m stressed on many things:

1. What to get people. I feel like a lot of the stuff is overpriced junk. I know that is not true for a lot of the artwork, but the artisan stuff is expensive. I LOOOOVED this painter who painted these beautiful mask and Cholita paintings, but they run for $100 dollars for a small one. The big ones are even more! I really love them, but I am not sure what to do. Is it worth it? I mean, that’s a round trip airfare to the Amazon! I don’t know. I could just get people small stuff, but I don’t care for a lot of it so it is hard to shop for people. It is hard to buy someone something that you don’t think is really that great, ya know? I was thinking about bringing back food, but I heard the customs will be pretty strict so I am nervous.
2. Money. This ties into the first one. I mean, Italy is going to be expensive. Especially since I am going to be traveling by train almost every weekend all over the country. I want to see as much of the North and South as possible. I can see it now: get out of class on Friday and hop on an overnighter to Tuscany. Hmmmm…Plus, I am going to buy stuff there too! Wow I can’t believe I am traveling so much as a poor college student! This is another reason why I want to change studying abroad to the summer: so I can work and save it up during the entire year (Plus, over the summer I can just take a couple fun classes, without having to worry about homework too much).
3. Housing in Berkeley. I went onto Craig’s list to try to post an ad about finding housing. I really want to live with some chill, friendly people next year and not be alone. Some options seemed awesome, but are for only now! This is one of the problems with traveling! I saw an ad for this group of young people that seem so fun…Oh well, I’ll join clubs and hopefully meet people that way too.
4. Crystal and her friends coming. I don’t know what they are planning on doing. She said, “Oh yea, meet us at the Lake.” Well, it is hard for me: I still don’t have a grip on the transportation system here and I don’t truly know my way around. Most of my guidebooks are outdated. Lake Titicaca is not like 10 minutes away, it’s a freakin day away from me. I am kinda nervous about them coming because I have to work every day and I need to sleep. The altitude takes it out of me. One thing: I hope they’ll go to Tiwanaku with me. I still haven’t seen it and time is running out.
5. Time. I don’t have much time here and it is very difficult to get around. Italy has an amazing train that goes even to the most remote Medieval villages. Here, well…I wouldn’t mind at all riding the overcrowded minibus - weird noises - rickety wheels – drunk drivers – except that it takes a frickin day to do a one hour trip! There is one train, in all of Bolivia, and I think it only runs like 100 miles or something and then turns around and goes back. So it is kinda frustrating - but hilarious when the taxi drivers turn their cars off when they’re going downhill. But I wouldn’t trade anything for this internship. Truly. I think I would still have this frustration even if I wasn’t working.
6. My Bolivian friends. I didn’t see them last weekend because I was in Coroico and the weekend before that I didn’t see them because I was recovering from that weird fainting experience. Now, I hope that they will include me in their plans. I really look forward to hanging out with them. When I am with them, I feel so happy and welcomed. I love Isabel and also the two quirky guys Luis and Alvaro. They are such great people. It is such a great escape. I think I’ll call them tonight and see what they’re up to.

2006-07-06T12:47:00.000-07:00

Freedom vs Equality

“Adriana Gil braved death threats, public insults and social ostracism to campaign for Evo Morales in Bolivia's conservative eastern region during the presidential election last year. She now feels "betrayed" by the ruling Movement Toward Socialism (MAS), which expelled her and invaded her land.”

Reading this in the news, I couldn’t help but think that she didn’t really know what Evo was all about. I guess she felt, truly, deep in her heart, that populism is a good thing – as long as she can stay rich. Don’t get me wrong, I sympathize. There was a man who commented, “I have a family, I have debts, I have people who work for me, I’ve dedicated my life to the farm. I’ll fight to the death to protect it.” But, I also have personally talked to Bolivians who seemed more accepting, “Yep. I lost a lot of my salary, working in the hydrocarbon industry when Evo nationalized the gas. These are hard times. I hope that this change in the system will work.” The dualism of freedom and equality is a very interesting issue.

This leads me to think that, unlike Chavez who is daringly radical, Evo tries to satisfy both sides. For example, Evo and the Cuban Ambassador to Bolivia visited La Higuera, where Argentinean-Cuban guerrilla Che Guevara managed to get himself murdered by Bolivian troops in 1967. There, Morales and Dausa gave respect in a ceremony, inaugurated a general and an medicine hospital. The plan is that the Cuban government will build 19 other hospitals in Bolivia. In a speech there, Morales said, “Now it’s not the peoples who take up arms against the empire ... What we’re seeing is the empire taking up arms against the peoples. If they were to do it in Cuba, Venezuela, or in Bolivia, we’re ready to confront and defend with weapons our fatherland, our natural resources, and social transformations…If in the past almost all countries were subjugated under an empire, under an economic model, now we are living in other times, times of change, times of liberation.”

I am sure this does not do justice to the real statement in Spanish, but it is still pretty powerful.

However, on the other hand, it is possible to see his dilemmas in pleasing multiple arenas of people. For example, another article states:
Decisive hours for Bolivia
“A sub-editorial note says that besides losing an FTA with the U.S., Bolivia now sees all hopes for an ATPDEA extension fading away. This means that from 80,000 to 100,000 workers would lose their jobs. It must be acknowledged that Bolivia made little effort to preserve its trade relationship with the U.S. The note says this trend started in previous administrations, which did not engage in FTA discussions and only participated as observers in the talks among other Andean countries and the U.S. Then, president Morales officially announced his reluctance to sign an FTA. If the negotiations to obtain an extension of the ATPDEA fail, Bolivia will face very difficult times.”

Therefore this leads me to conclude that Evo was reluctant, not totally opposed to signing the FTA, because he is torn. I get the feeling that he does not have a clear approach, but rather tries to diplomatically stand for his ideals when necessary. Just like my International Development professor, just like some economists, just like myself: Evo does not know what to do. All he knows is that free trade and capitalization is not working for the majority of people, it is working for foreign investors and high class Bolivians.
This is a very appealing “game of exclusion” regarding international trade agree agreements. Power works in interesting ways.
Yes, Evo has made some low blows at the US lately in the news when he gets caught up with Chavez’s Anti-Americanism, but I think Evo’s better than that. Chavez seems to be riled up probably because he had a CIA-backed coup against him (as seen in the documentary “The Revolution Will Not be Televised,” which YOU should see if you haven’t already). But he still shouldn’t blow his top, because both Bush and Chavez are losing legitimacy in the international community. And that makes both seem bad.

Laurel’s Tripping in Bolivia -- True Story

2006-06-27T08:19:00.000-07:00

First Impressions – June 1, The Longest Day of My Life

After 2 six hour flights of tingling hands and feet and futsing around with the Entry Visa forms, I realize that I am in Bolivia when I exit the plane in my half drunken state of mind in weird green flourestcent lighting. I see a crazy-haired lady with a big grin standing next to a Bolivian man. She is my sponsor who will be my new mom for the next 2 and ½ months. She chats up a storm with me while I worry about my non existent luggage filled with overpriced dressy shirts. Finally, I find them and the customs officers make a gesture as to “go ahead” without even looking at my scrubby handwriting on the rumpled card. Next, I find myself swept into a van while Georgeanna looks sweetly into my eyes, “Are you OK?” She’s awefully perky for 5 am.
“What treatment!” I think as she babbles to me about her experiences. Then, there I see the view that makes all the difference: sunrise in La Paz. The city is nestled into a crater looking more artificial than I had imagined. The mountain walls look wrinkled and austere in the dissipating moonlight. Then, she takes me to a mansion with gates, walls, and spikes. No joke. This place is ridiculous: 6 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, chandeliers, marble countertop, antique furniture, high ceilings, skylights, big windows, Jacuzzi, built in storage, and not to mention the bathroom and 3 bedrooms for a guard, maid, and gardener in the basement. Oh, also an outside bar-B-Q and perfect flower garden arrangements as if a bug never touched them. “Soooo much space.” I think to myself. All kinds of luxuries like hot water, a built in automatic water distiller, 2 refrigeradors, and newly done hardwood floors.

Why are you rambeling? Well, I noticed right away that this house would never fit a family or a circus. Walking around, even when I tried to imagine a family with an excessive amount of stuff, it still seemed to be infinitely packable. It was excessive. The look that the constuctors were going for was quantity, not quality. It looks like a supersized Hotel 6; it has no character. That’s the American way.
Some economists might say that the former owners were successful. Others might say having this kind of a house will make life easier than living in a shack. This house does not make life easier. It makes life lonely as fuck.

While the other interns shuffled off to work. I found myself alone all day. I tried to play with the butt wash ( I forget the word in French), but I noticed the water looked brown. “I’ll unpack.” I thought positively. So, I turned on my crank radio and sloooowly unpacked. I found myself putting my clothes on the dressers rather than in them and also evenly spacing the bandaids in a flower formation. Was this due to all the altitude and sleeping medication? I dunno. But I am desparate to make this cold place feel like home. “Maybe I should have been happier with my cramped, tiny, clostrophobic apartment,” I thought. After feeling ansy, I decided to take a walk…OUTSIDE (scary foreboding music).
Nothing happened really, it is just that I felt so isolated and exclusive. The sun was so bright that even in the shade I had to wear my sunglasses. And strangely I noticed my fingers peeling! “Oh shit I did not bring enough moisturizer,” I thought. Worried about walking the Bolivian streets alone, I put on an outfit: Bum pants, clunky hiking boots, a giant oversized fattening jacket, and a wool hat, not to mention my Matrix sunglasses. “No body will mess with me.” However, I found myself just as scared as if I were wearing a miniskirt when a stranger murmers nasty Spanish at me. I try to act confident and be watchful.
As I am strolling around and huffing and puffing from the incredible low air pressure, I notice something peculiar: Bolivian Zona Sur Residential District is a major paradox. Everything has an ironic opposite. Well, maybe it is not ironic, but I just think of things that way here. For example, almost every corner has a stray dog (friendly but numerous) sniffing around exactly outside the premises of a lonely mansion dog inside its walls. The friend that Snuffy wants is so close but so far away. Next, there are the guard houses right outside the mansion walls. These houses are only for standing in if rained on, but still juxtapose the monsters looming over them. Finally, there are the rich versus poor. In Bolivia, I understand what no middle class looks like now. These Diplomats, businessmen, or just plain aristocracy leave their mansions by driving by the native street dwellers, selling fruit and old toys. This is unlike the poverty in the States. This is actually quite different. The poor here care about their image: they wear traditional colonial outfits of skirts, blouses, shalls, and vests. (However, the fabric type tells the class). There is something entrancing about these dignified, beautiful faces of men and women sweeping the street against the mountain backdrop. Their skin is like leather, their lungs are like mustangs, and their souls are like deep rivers. I felt the same feeling when I was in a crowded urban market. The solemn faces peering at my giant goldenness, behind their enormous stacks of fruit, nuts, vegetables, meat slabs, cheese squares (all unrefrigerated I might add).
Wow, I find myself alone again. The interns have fallen asleep peacefully while I stay up wired writing this.

Why do I still feel an emptiness? Am I going to cry because I miss Tristan? Gosh darnit…I cry even when I am in the States and he is working long hours in the lab. I wish I had my good friends here with my in Bolivia. Not a minute goes by that I don’t think of Kate or Ellen. Get a hold of yourself! Be your own person! Make friends to tide you over! It seems like I am lonely now, but that is pretty good for the time I was able to keep myself company so far in this dark, cold house. I realize that I need a companion to go with me around places because even though I am very high strung, this lonely house is killing me. Tommorrow I am going to the grocery store to buy food so that I can eat and cook at home. Also, I am going to go to a British Women’s society function with the Ambassador and then later a party with the Marines. I hope I meet some nice Marines. Maybe they will trapse around with me. I mean, they seem like do-ers. Bad Joke. Well, I will have to find someone, because I don’t feel comfortable alone. I don’t know if I could fake a Canadian accent.
So far, my first impression of the embajada is that it will not be exactly what I am looking for. So far, I think that studying abroad is better than working because professional life is so god-damn serious. I would much rather have a crappy apartment with students than a giant mansion all to myself.
Whether this day really has been the longest day of my life, is unsure. But I have definitely reached every emotion possible.

Reflection after First Week

Wow, this has only been one week? I can’t believe it. I already spent all of my Bolivianos, American money, and now am eating into my traveler’s checks.

My experience working at the Embassy this first week has been really informative. I realize that the people who work in the embassy are complex. They are not the typical do-gooders, but they are also not ignorant hill billies. I found each person to have their own agenda and values. However, I remember feeling under the impression that all were Conservative, until they said something that struck me as out of character. For example, the Financial Manager who lectured us a long time on the magnitude of the embassy in La Paz seemed like a Conservative, Thinks-Socialism-is-the-Worship-of-the-Devil, Economist, but then said,
“Think of it as a business.” I got chills and he couldn’t have explained it any better.
Another person I found interesting is my boss who acted rightist, anti-immigrant, and obsessed with fraud and criminal activity of Immigrants.
“It takes people in the Consular section to prevent these drug dealers and criminals from illegally coming into our country.” Who cares who’s country is it…We are all human. I mean, if I were in trouble, I would want help regardless on what piece of land I am on. Then, my eyes caught a book on his shelf, entitled something to the extent of “Country Overrun by Criminals.” I don’t remember the exact title but I remember being very offended by it.
However, when interviewing people in the booth, he was very respectful, easy-going, and trusting. He made cheery conversation with the tired Bolivian men and women and seemed like a softie. His harsh criticism seemed to dissipate.
The last person I noticed as complex is the Press Manager. She started out her lecture by criticizing Chavez and Morales. But, then all of a sudden, she pointed to this beautiful painting on the wall…almost like a Picasso with the words “Justice” and “America” on it. It was mainly black and red. Then, she started criticizing Dubya.
“My job is rewarding because I know I have made a difference. I am able to explain the opinions and actions of our government, but not defend them. I am a true American who believes in a higher moral ground, which our government right now is not doing.”
Then, she told me stories of being in the navy, her abusive husband, her lost child, and her concern for discourse. Then, we talked about if women ran the country and she started to really show her compassion. She said, “There are two types of people who work in Visas. Those who keep the bad guys out in border control and those who facilitate bonified travel to the United States. I wouldn’t try to interrogate people, I would just ask them: where are you going, where are you going to stay…and why are you coming back.”
I had so much overwhelming respect for her. Being in her kind, sensitive aura and listening to her compassionate words gave me inspiration that selfless heroes and non violence was a possible, powerful tool. She showed me that there is no need to be combative, violent, and hateful. Rather, it is all about getting to the truth through different ways…a simple question. Whenever I feel crummy and lonely here, I think about her…and Coroico.

Coroico is another place that I felt overwhelming love and peace. The story started with the interns being invited to the Ambassador’s and USAID’s giveaway to this small jungle town to counteract Anti-American feeling. We rode for 3 hours on a bumpy road, through dense green jungle, absent of human life, blanketed over steep cartoon-ish sharp mountains. I swear, if these mountains were any steeper, they would be straight lines. I knew I was in love just from the adventurous car trip. Then, we round a mountain and there is a village nestled in the hillside – Coroico.

It is hard to explain the fantasy I felt in Coroico. A charming, quaint, cobblestone, village, colorful with fruits, things, plants, and painted buildings. It has a couple of touristy coffee shops, but mainly was full of townspeople sitting in the plaza, people watching. From a few minutes, I felt like time was sooo slow and wonderful here. The driver told me about waterfalls, pools, and hiking. I wanted to see myself sitting at a coffee shop and staring at the immense mountains in the backdrop or waking up in a Residenciale to the tropical courtyard in the center. It felt like Hawaii times 10! However, I loved how it was a tiny bit touristy, but not too much, which is very unique these days.
However, I found myself quickly disappointed when I went around to hear the Ambassador talk at different areas. I felt clumsy as we bumbled in to the town in our white Suburban as the kids greeted our path on each side of us. Of course, the students had to stand in the blazing sun to hear the Ambassador ramble on offensively about the importance of tourism and agroeconomics, insulting the very essence of what Coroico is. It seemed like he was advocating that a mask be plastered over this amazing little place…a mask of gluttonous, ostentatious, insensitive, consumer Americanism! He was acting like a little kid who sticks his fingers into delicate moist cake and smears it on the chef. I couldn’t understand why would he want to cover up Coroico’s true character?! He was giving money to a school and the best thing he could come up to talk about is tourism? This must be an intro to what he’s really going to talk about, right? If that wasn’t bad enough, I noticed the older students staring blankly, abstaining from clapping, and quietly making their own private judgments. Sweat dripped off their brows, but they didn’t even wipe it. They did not have a look of coldness or contempt, but rather a pensive patience…listening, just listening. Deciding to ditch the Ambassador’s slow slurring painful preaching, I slipped away to talk to some University Students who approached me with sweet smiles. They knew exactly what was going on, even in this jungle village.

So in sum, USAID gave money to this village…to destroy it. Tourism is not a good thing. When has tourism ever been a good thing: loud fat people yelling in English, bratty children poking the turtles, or drunk Spring Break kids throwing beer cans onto the side of the road. I can’t wait to go back to Coroico, I’ll find someone to go with me.

The Lousiana Family

There are only two kinds of Southern accents that I like, Georgian and Lousianan.
I met some families at a bar B Q, one of them being a family from the good ol’ Cajun Shellfish- eating town. These guys are the most culturally insensitive and blunt people I have ever met. I thought my family from New York was intense. “Well they can bite my ass!” I knew I loved these people when I met them, especially when the husband described the Embassy as: “People like to think like there’s important stuff going on. There’s nothing godamn important going on there.”
They took me under their wing – Cajun style Chicken wing that is. These sweet Southerners are generous loving people – unless you are gay. They value education, but don’t care to learn another language. “Get out and see the world – Burger King is over there.” The husband Scott has a quirky sarcastic way about him and the wofe Stephanie is the ugliest thing I have ever seen, but she is sooo sweet! She is this biiiiiig woman who has braces, buggy eyes, and talks with the slowest twang I have ever heard.

"He...uuuummm....was all...ummm....yeahhhh."

Hilarious. Just hilarious.
Move over the American Dream, welcome Overseas American Embassy. This couple decided that housing, bills, food, schooling, and travel “was too godamn expensive” in the United States, so they have it all paid for by the Embassy. Coming from a mostly Black ghetto in Louisiana, they now relic in their royal living state and want more. These people work the system until it needs a vacation. But, they are sooo fun to be with and love to laugh, hear/tell stories, eat, and spend money.
I find them absolutely intriguing. They barely graduated from high school, but are interested in so many worldly topics and care so much about traveling, especially the travel channel. They kind of remind me of Tristan’s stepdad, a construction worker who I recall explaining to me some mathematical theorem he came up with as he’s sipping his beer.
These Southerners are homebodies, but also love adventure. They care about status, but also love Walmart. They are judgemental, but are understanding. They bravely broke away from a society where you were born, raised, married, and died all on the same block and people would rather hear about day time television than world travels.

No matter what happens they live by their Gran Daddy’s favorite saying, “Do it with what you got.”
I was so ecstatic from their funny quotes that I put them up on my facebook profile the minute I heard them so I wouldn't forget. Its funy how crude saying can have so much deepth in them.

Third Week Stressing
I went to the Atchumani Market today and realized how much I loved it. They have the freshest sweetest fruits and vegetables. In addition to little stores and pastelerias. My favorite is the Bolivian Churro which is nothing like a Mexican one: imagine a donut with dulce de leche creme inside. It is definitely my comfort food here.

It also dawned on me when Georgeanne said, “you’re doing a lot.” I realize that this is too long to live in another country. I realize that it is overwhelming how long I will be here. I really need ro reconsider living in Italy.
I realize that Italy will be a lot of:

Drinking
Partying till 6 am
Socializing
Tourism

That's why I picked it!
I need to NOT live in denial by shoving people into my schedule to take my mind off of sadness.

I realize I need to take ambitions slower!
I can not fill my life up like this.

I am going to have to turn down study abroad.
I DON’T CARE WHAT MY BROTHER THINKS, MOTHER, FATHER. I need to take it slower.
I want to be able to enjoy Berkeley, work on projects and travel for a month at a time like Arianna is doing. Even 6 weeks is better in Uganda instead of than 2.5 months!

A Day Reflecting at American Embassy, La Paz

Where else could you get up in the morning, get a driver, or pay a taxi a couple bucks, and go to an extravagant office job? Well, the office job itself is not as exciting as some jobs, and the pay itself is not high, but the benefits of working in an Embassy are amazing!
People who used to be bus drivers have Bolivians (Foreign Service Nationals) working for them while they enjoy their large office, supplied with flat screen monitors, gabbing on their personal phones while an office maid comes in and wipes down their Ikea workstations.
If you want to take a stroll during your lunch break, you can enjoy the many Sushi houses and Tex Mex for incredibly low prices at excellent quality. I notice the cafeteria on the fourth floor that everyone talks about as “average” is actually very good. They have fresh soups, roasted meats, a salad bar, smoothies, coffee drinks, sweets, extensive fruit salad, pancakes, other breakfasts, and vegetarian options all for only a couple US
dollars each. I notice on my way to the bathroom that this restaurant also delivers to anyone’s office anytime.
Not to mention the housing of the Embassy workers. Middle to low class people from all over the country get the benefit of free utilities and free rent in their extravagant, furnished, spacious, walled mansions with gardens, outdoor patios and fireplaces. Many people at the embassy rent extremely inexpensive gardeners, cooks, and maids to tend to their children while they are at work. These mansions are in the high class, White neighborhood, which have the luxuries of the sole garbage collector, public parks, and paved roads. Also, all mansions come with security system, deadbolt locks for every door and window, and a “panic” button in the master bedroom. However, I don’t think that they feel safe enough.
Then people who work at Embassy’s strike me as the un-humble type that do not care about simplifying their lives, but rather want to fill it with excessive consumerism. I read a quote in the weekly embassy pamphlet that quoted one lady saying, “Anything that is expensive and ugly, that’s for me.” The entire social system is based around class. When people heard I did not have a maid and that I would never want one, their eyes enlargened and something similar to a gasp rang out. Embassy women drive their Suburbhans around town, get manicures every week, and get inexpensive personal trainers at nearby Bolivian gyms. I think a lot really believe that they are socially, intellectually, and metaphorically higher than their workers around them.
I have only met a couple people who like to interact with the public and Natives. Most people here like to have Bar B Qs with other Americans, eating meat and bashing gays, watch American movies on their big screen TVs, and refuse to learn other languages unless they are required to for their jobs. The most interaction that they will have with Natives is the occasional, “Cuahntoe Coo-esteh?” and “SenYor” with wildly flamboyant hand motions and finger snapping. When they see a Cholita carrying her baby on her back, hiking up the hills to the insipid waterhole, they do not seem the beauty and suffering that I do. I understand that one needs to have tough skin to work around desolate areas, but I think they are excluding themselves from the world they live in.
Furthermore, they have incredible racism against the Bolivian protective agencies. Many people agree that the Bolivian guards, Bolivian policeman, and Bolivian security would owe its allegiance to Bolvians rather than to Americans. If it was a situation of life and death, being Bolivian or not would not matter. How can they say that about the hard working people around them?! Do they really believe that Bolivians are brutal, insensitive, and dishonest? I disagree, but furthermore, I believe that it would not be in a guard’s interest to kill the person who he works for, whether he has a family or not.
The world is not trying to plot against us in the US. I think the fact that so many think this reveals their typical American egos.
I saw my first protest today. The people had colorful signs, with pictures and held speakerphones. In the US, this would have been seen as radical, whereas in Bolivia, this is typical. I have heard of many protests in the past around Evo’s election, but it seemed to be calming down. This small army of people were protesting “Octubre Negro Victims,” a past right wing President’s murder of protesters, declaring their desire to nationalize the gas industry. The president supposedly sought refuge in the United States.
These people want their justice. I felt safe inside this white monstrous building. No one cared. The work day went on and people prepared for their “mediocre” lunch at their personal restaurant.
I just got finished at the British Embassy’s Event, “God Save the Queen” which was sooo British and soooo awesome. That’s why I am writing nerviously about my thoughts before I forget them. And I can’t figure people out here. This guy from Panama who works in MilGroup (Military) says that we have our troops around the world to defend our national sovereignty, prevent narcotics trade, promote US trade, and prevent military dictators. I realized that all are pretty much lies and the only answer is to promote US trade. Sometimes I wonder if narcotics control is an honest motivation, but I am not sure. Why would the government contribute so many resources to controlling/preventing narcotics? It seems like it has a market and could have a lot of money made. I mean, look at the Tobacco industry. Why not others? I feel like it is linked to other things. I am going to ask if there is NAS in Saudi Arabia!

Our Trip to the San Pedro Prison to visit the American Prisoner

As we anxiously drove up to El Alto, past the ramshackle cliff houses, I wondered what this prisoner and jail was going to be like. I pictures Silence of the Lambs over and over in my head, but I knew he would probably look like a ordinary guy. That’s the thing with Locos, sometimes it is difficult to tell. A man from my home town was involved in Al Queda, and he looked like a normal guy with a normal name: John.
We had stopped before to pick up the extravagant things he requested: Alpaca blankets, giant rolls of Salchichas, giant blocks of queso, a wool with matching pants, and more.
My boss had notified me that we had just brought him other things last week.
I thought to myself, what kind of a prisoner is this? He has got the United States Embassy American Citizen Service’s Consular Section workers at his beckoning call.
We drove through ponds of water and onto a great field. In the distance, one could see a smoke factory and in the other, was a jumble of barbed wire fences and guard towers. We drove through the large gates opening us up into this world and I felt nervous about my digital camera and wallet.
Once inside, I felt perfectly safe and sound when the army of guards formed a shell around us. We passed through about 3 gated fences and ended up at the end where there seemed to be a row of brick rooms, all next to eachother like a “No-Tell motel.” It had a large dirt yard area and other inmates were playing soccer in the morning sunshine. One door was colorful with swastikas, statements in Spanish such as “Muerte a Evo Morales” and “El Gran Dinamitero” and pictures of the Bolivian flag. I knew that was his.
Then, my boss asked him about why the mattress, blankets, and other stuff he claimed was stolen by the guards had been replaced nicely under his sleeping body.
I mean, she did get him groceries last night after work, buy more things at the Markets, and trek up here during her work day – all for him. And his situation looked perfectly fine (more like extravagant for a maximum security prisoner).
I wasn’t able to hear his response, but I heard long pauses, “uh,” “well,” and “yea.”
A long story emerged about the police beating him up, stealing his stuff, hiding it in another inmates room all in the hatred against him. I couldn’t understand all of it, trying to listen in, but it sounded ungrounded and far fetched.
The police guard seemed burning with frustration and anger against this prisoner, due to the many offenses, insults, and claims against him. All of the other guards watched silently without expression.
The only evidence a spot that he claimed was a bump on his head and a pair of glasses, slightly bent. He wanted his mother to report it to an Australian human rights website. However, this damage could have been done by himself. Then, as craftly as he had set up this whole thing, he sweetly said, “Thank you” as a little boy might say for a cookie. He repeated this many times for bringing stuff that he could later sell behind our backs. It shook me how much a victim he would play. To him, this was all a game.
Overall, his story lacked credibility and my boss and partners looked very frustrated, but I could not stop watching him. His mannerisms, his habits, and his speech gave me a sick feeling, especially when he would rattle off obscurely morbid and offensive things with pure confidence and attitude. Another inmate cringed and his voices dropped, telling he was uncomfortable by these remarks – that guy had some kind of a conscience.
But this American Prisoner?
He struck me as purely psychopath. I think I have known some psychopaths in my past: a friend who liked to drive drunk and do intense drugs – all at once, a boyfriend who liked to jump off high cliffs into unknown water, a stranger at the Casino who would gamble all his money away in one night. But, this prisoner – he was far beyond anything or anybody I had ever encountered. He was intensely disgusting. Not only his creepy beady eyes, greasy long rat tail, and beard hiding the words that flowed out of his mouth, but his train of thought. When he first started talking, it seemed lucid, but then would trail off into a “just not right” sentence. He spoke timidly and his eyes darted around, always calculating what he was going to say next. I could tell that he was starving for attention not only from his compulsive lying, but also how he planned his attacks: dynamite explosions. And I could tell that he had a behavioral disability, but I did not know which kind. Maybe it was sparked during his childhood or maybe it was a chemical imbalance. All I could tell was I would never want to be inside of this prisoner’s head.

Bolivian High Class Women, myself not included!

I realize how lucky I am when I went to that dinner at Isabel’s and they had a couple of wooden chairs around a table. The most they owned in their kitchen was a crate on the floor and a couple of small pots. Compare that to the giant mansion that I have! Also, it got so cold at Isabel’s, that I started turning blue. The same happened when I went to Chachi’s, a stay at home mom, who is severly depressed. She lives the same as Isabel, in such simplicity, which wants more. Hot water is a luxury for them. “Oh we do it for the kids.” She said to me. What is interesting is that she bough a giant TV for $500. Hmm.Anyways, back to my young Bolivian friends, I swear Isabel and her housemates look like movie stars! Well, more like poor movie stars. But they seem so content. All of them have gorgeous boyfriends, fun friends, and OK jobs. Isabel and her friends have chistled Spanish Caucasian faces, (differing from the dark round Aymara faces that are so common in Bolivia), big deep set eyes, and sexy figures. It seems like Isabel and her friends smoke cigarettes, eat tiny amounts, and drink alcohol, never water. Whereas I, the Gringa, am slugging down bottles of water at a time and gulping down their delicious home made tacos. I feel so clumsy and abnoxious compared to their delicate, elegant bodies and demeanor. I feel like even if I were to sit completely still and not talk, I would still seem clumsy. What is also really wonderful about Isabel and her gang is that they are not pretentious at all, even though they were silent when I talked about gays. I found most of the Bolivian high class as ostentatious, class-oriented, and never without a manicure. It is interesting. These people look so young, maybe mid 20s. Yet, most at in their 30s! Isabel’s boyfriend could not drink because he didn’t want him dad to know. He still lives with his parents! Anyways, I felt completely intrigued by them and I am nervous to hang out with them again because I passed out on their kitchen floor from the altitude. And now I feel soooo embarrassed. But it was really scary. I thought I was going to die. I could only see black and could barely hear Isabel’s sweet voice in the background of my disoriented state. My head hurt so incredibly bad I thought I was having a stoke. I felt like I spinning not only left to right but over under around…all directions. My life flashed in front of my eyes. I thought to myself: “What the fucking hell am I doing! I am going to die right now and I can’t stop it.” I pictured my heart stopping, the Bolivians calling the Ambulencia, and then the angry faces of the State Department yelling at me for going out alone and hanging out with “untrustworthy” Bolivians! My parents crying. Tristan! It was so aweful and afterward when I finally got home and futsed around with a hone card for while, and was laying in bed, I felt like there was an angel over me that night. I am definitely not Christian, but I also have heard a lot of stories about kids dying from alcohol poisoning, or random coma incidents, or even a brain anurism while sleeping. I started wondering, is it OK to sleep? I didn’t know what happened to me. I felt scared to sleep, so I laid with the light on carefully not falling asleep.

My Weekend at Home

Since I passed out at my Bolivian Friends dinner, I felt like I needed to relax this weekend. How frustrating is sitting on your bed, reading about all the wonderful things Bolivia has to offer and I can’t go to any of them.
It was kinda nice though. I went home on Friday, made brownies and slept! Then, on Saturday I went to the huge market bought a hammock and went to the Coca Museum, which turned out to be a single room! HA! But it was awesome. Then, on Saturday I met an old Bolivian man who works in Hydrocarbons right up the street from the embassy, I can’t wait to get a tour of his facility. We talked forever about economics while I boiled in the hot tub. Then, Saturday night, I went to the house of the Louisiana family and watch 2 really good thriller movies by the fire.
Well, I decided that in Bolivia, there is no such thing as customer service. The reason why I was sitting on my fat ass eating Dulce de Leche donuts and reading was because the place I planned on going to, Coroico, fell through. First, Georgeanne didn’t feel like going (I can tell she is not as enthused as I am), then my Bolivian friends didn’t feel like going. Last, the car that was supposed to pick me up fell through for a bigger party. Well, today I tried again for this weekend to go back to this tropical paradise. Whenever I feel sad, I think about Coroico: that’s how wonderful it is. I dream not of going to heaven after I die, but to Coroico! I have to go this weekend. I want to make it happen. I am hopeful for this weekend, but it might be another boring blog if nothing works out.

Too Good to be True?

One afternoon I decided to leave my section of ventanillas of crying immigrants and screaming Americans to take a tour of USAID. I could never understand what USAID’s purpose….or let’s say….real purpose was. I mean the branches of an embassy are themed to military, narcotics, trade, international diplomacy, and my section, immigration/American services. I didn’t think altruistic humanitarian aid was part of that. It just seemed to good to be true. So one day I bummed a taxi cab down to Obrajes, another area of town where the Narcotics section and the USAID section was. I ate lunch at their cafeteria and Margeret walked in, a tall thin lady with black hair and skin so white that you could see her veins through it. It looked like dumpling wrap. I was also transfixed with her giant teeth and mouth; it seemed like she was talking with a constant smile. Also, the veins in her eyes were really bad so she overall looked like a mess. That is her normal state. Anyways, enough about Margaret. The building looked unimpressive and small and I was curious how many areas were really involved with USAID. Turns out, that there is quite a lot going on there. The soroche had hit me when I changed altitudes, even if only a couple hundred feet and I started feeling it on our tour.
So I had this chance to see a unit, which claimed to solve world problems (or more specifically Bolivia’s problems) but my brain starting becoming mush. Everything she rattled off was so complicated and multifaceted and I kept referring back to Professor Hart’s soft British words “It is impohtahnt to be skeptical of everything.” So there I was, bumbling around in my heels, my headache pounding, the fluorescent lights glaring, trying to solve the world’s problems in my head, and Margeret’s soft voice in the distance, with the jolting, sporatic “GOOOOOAL” nearby TVs. It was too much to take for one day.
At the end of the day I just remember faint images of charts and posters of various projects. These colorful posters had smiling Bolivian children on them with promotion of Quinoa farming (in the Altiplano) and coffee farming (in Coroico) as projects to replace Coca growing. Only one small office was designated to cultural coca production. Honestly, my brain got so tired of thinking about the world that I started agreeing with her and believing that USAID was nothing but heavenly goodness! Her words started blurring and morphing like in a dream, and replaced with “And here is good, the director of good and over there is more good…”
At the end I thanked her in a zombie way and wandered out of the building into the afternoon sunshine.

A little girl in shorts and pigtails held out her hand, smiling at me “Tienes mitas?” I sighed, “No. No tengo nada.”

American Poser?

Is there such thing as being American? I dunno. I was thinking about this all while working one day while entering name checks for Bolivian immigrants to the US. Some of them seemed desperate to have American names, even it if meant manipulating the Spanish accent to create American sounding names like:
Jhony, Jehanet, Yesica, Yhenny, Jheimy
Then it also hit me when I tagged along with some sweet Embassy people to get movies from the black market. Out of the thousands and billions in that almost all of the movies were American. It was interesting to me that in the billions of movies packed into this tiny little shack, only a couple were non American. I’ll also never forget Chachi and her husband’s eager faces when they told me, “We loooove Friends and Mad About You.” And I cringed, being one of the only people in the world who hates those stupid shows. Another thing that I find hilarious is that some of the best music: Reggaeton, Cumbia, rock, jazz, and folk is from Latin America. But what do taxi drivers always play on the radio? Mariah Carey, Jimmy Buffet, and the most random elevator music ever. I mean, these are songs that they play while you are waiting on the phone to cancel your PG&E bill. I also love the remixes they have here; one most notably being the remix of Paul Macartny’s “Here Comes the Sun,” except with obnoxious synthesizers, hideous incorrect chords, and a singer that sounds like a wailing forth grade teacher.
However, I think the all time best memory ever of “America” was when I went to this awesome little music club called Mama Diablos. I was with my young Bolivian friends (before my passing out experience) and all of a sudden three chords came on over and over with the lyrics as follows:

I AM A MONKEY
I AM A MONKEY
I AM A MONKEY
I AM A MONKEY
I AM A MONK…you get the idea. No Joke. I was standing there watching all these Bolivians in the smoky club, women with shirts too low and men with jeans too tight, drunk, smiling, singing this song and making formations with their hands as if they were gorillas. Yea – and the lyrics did not change. Did they know how bad this song was? Uh, I don’t think so. But I did and I couldn’t contain my laughter.
When I came across some lower class Bolivians and told them I am from America, they looked at me like I should have some kind of special power - like I know the secret to economic development – like I know how to climb the social ladder to success - like I know personally all the movie stars they watch and think about. And every high class Bolivian I have met has been to America once, at least.
What is so great about America (excluding Berkeley…no San Francisco…no California…and Hawaii) that people are so intrigued by? I mean America is nothing but expensive imported goods. I mean, there are a couple of awesome natural phenomenons like Niagara Falls, the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone Park, the Badlands, and…some random mountain chains and deserts, and…Hmmm. Well there’s tons of man made buildings that are cool I guess. But I mean, just in Bolivia for example there are way more awesome natural sites: the Salt Plain, the Sajama Volcano, the rainforest, the Marshlands (Pampas), the Valley of the Moon, the Rock Tree, and…the…and not to mention the different cultures: the colonial city of Sucre, the primitive peoples of the Beni, the hoardes of nomads on the Altiplano…well…I guess both countries are about tied in numbers of cool things. But I still don’t see what is so exciting about the US. Is it the reputation? Freedom, individuality, opportunity, riches, glamour, fame – to be somebody and have an amount of power oneself.
I was tempted to go to Subway across the street from the Embassy because it is fast and close, but then I realized how nasty Subway sandwiches are! I’d rather go to the restaurants in La Paz, even if Chinese, Japanese, and Mexican just because it seems a little more interesting. One thing I haven’t seen yet is Bolivians with dyed blonde hair. This leads me to think that it is as if many people are torn between loving us and hating us. As Joseph Nye says in his book, The Paradox of American Power, there are two types of power: soft power and hard power and as Professor Hart talks about “Power works in multiple arenas in complex, interesting ways.”
I am a strong believer in nonviolence. Enticement is the ultimate power I think. If you can persuade, rather than force someone to do what you want, you will ultimately have a stronger, deeper power. The common problem with this type of power is the option for manipulation and exploitation. When one has control over the conscience and consent of a human being through the power of persuasion, it seems likely that the controller will explore the option of adjusting realities and morphing truths to his/her liking. I mean, this is what we are seeing with market-economics. People all around the world, any ethnicity, any class are under the persuasion of the US government that prevalence of markets and the subversion of states are the key to success. With that pretense, the US government can take it any direction it wants. At one point in the 1980s, certain Conservative individuals actually preached that social programs should be abolished! That scares me to think people will sacrifice their human rights and give in to suffering at the mercy of some white male in a suit because he knows the answer. That sickens me that certain officials take advantage of the desperation of 80% of the world. Do these individuals who makes policies really believe they are helping the world? Or it is a front? I mean, the Conquistadores truly believed they were civilizing the native peoples of South America when they butchered thousands who did not conform to Christianity.
Then I get really depressed and ask myself: is there a limit for anything and are human being capable of self discipline and conscientious, constructive, philanthropic behavior? I mean, (here comes my Buddhist ranting) are human beings really drawn toward malicious self-serving interests? This is where lately I have been exploring the idea of gender in values. This is “a man’s world” so therefore the characteristics of Alpha males are present.
Well, I don’t know the answer to anything. I find that the more and more educated I am on the subject, the more confused I am. But one thing I have learned in my geography class is to think skeptically and also to really look at the details. Macroeconomist charts tell me nothing about the quality of life in a remote village. When I come home after work and collapse on my bed, I look at all the lights lit up on the mountain sides and wonder if those lights are actually coming from televisions, people bundled away in their cold empty houses, watching Friends, and laughing away their sorrows. I realize that people aren’t posers, they are believers.

The INTERNS: Marriage of Convenience

I live with these snotty, stereotypical Ivy League, manipulative, shallow, and snappy (and I mean bitchy snappy) girls. They're not bad, and they are minimally nice, but I realized from the first day that I couldn't stand them. One day I was humming in the car, and the bitchiest one said, "please stop." I also can tell at times that they don't care for me too much, and might be jealous because I notice them making fun of me (even though I act confident and nonchalant, it is hurtful). Anyways, I brought up the idea of going to a jazz bar last night together, but it was painful! Cuz I couldn't really take in and appreciate this experience because they were criticizing it (everything from the saxophone to the waiter) and then talking about themselves the whole time. I didn't want to be rude so I was listening, but I was not able to hear any of the music and pay attention. I guess I could've said something. I dunno. At the end of the night, I felt like I wasted the money. I only got their self-absorbed stories of how they break mens’ hearts.

Here's the thing: I feel like I would rather be alone than with them. I realize that as much as I try to zone them out and enjoy my time, I can't. It is just too distracting. I feel a rebellious internal voice telling me to follow your heart, and not stay with these shallow Americanas. I know deep in my heart that I will get so much more out of this experience alone than with those snooty bitches! Sorry, frustration came out there.

When I called my mom, she said "Don't shun them!!! How bad can they really be?! It is immature to shun people!!!" (This advice made me mad because I have a feeling she wants me to tag along with them because she is worried about me going off by myself!) She started in about her sister and exboss who were awful to her, but she “was able to put up with it.” Her advice is totally unfair because this is a totally different situation. I admire her for putting up, but I remember all those years she never saw her sister and how unhappy she was at that job. She would’ve quit in a second if she had the chance. I don't just visit these girls once a year (like with family), and also I don't JUST work with them during the day: I work, go out, sleep, cook, wake up to them, hang out on the weekends, bla bla with them! I can't ever get away!

So I am having moral dilemma: I want to do stuff on my own, like I have been doing, and stay away from them as much as possible (say shun or whatever). Yes, I feel a moral compulsion to want to be nice and not be a "bad person" for shunning them. I do. I hold morals, values, and virtues in high regard for myself. I have to admit, when my mother harped those things at me, I started crying. I am so sensitive and am sensitive for other people. I put a lot of pressure on myself to be compassionate, so when instances come up like this for me: I don't know what I should be doing. I wonder if I am acting completely irrational and ridiculous…if I am a danger to society…worse, if I am a hypocritical Buddhist!
Man I wish I had the carefree attitude of the Louisianans or Isabel.

Tristan won’t be happy that I asked my mom for advice. I complain to him all the time about how my mother controls me with guilt (she knows it is my weakness). But this is an addiction: the comfort of motherly talk. It is soooo easy to turn to another person to make decisions and define your ambitions for you than doing it yourself…someone who you think holds all the answers to everything. It is sooo comforting.

I agree with my mom that one part of maturity is being able to “out up with people you don’t like” and acting courteous to people around you. But I also think that a big part of maturity comes from being able to make decisions that are right for your personal goals and path, in addition to being courteous, but not compromising yourself for other people. What is good advice for one person might not be good for me. I know my limits. I know my goals for being here: to volunteer at organizations, to go to the jungle, to experience La Paz, and also to really appreciate and immerse myself in the beauty and culture of Bolivia -- not to be a groupie with snotty Americans. Trust me I get enough of that at work.

My mom is very wise and experienced and has helped me get to where I am today, but there is a point at which I have to follow my own heart and do what I think is right for me right now in this time.

I feel empowered writing this now. My tears are drying and I feel a new sense of confidence I am learning to tell myself (without feeling guilty) that is it OK to be selfish sometimes. There are varying degrees of selfishness and I can’t always diagnose with the worst.

It is OK to go out shopping and only buy for yourself.
It is OK to turn down some event to instead cuddle up and watch a movie alone.
It is OK to not answer the phone, but rather let the answering machine get it.
It is OK to make a pan of brownies and not want to share.

I will no doubt invite the interns to do things – ONCE IN A WHILE. And I will see them everyday for dinner whether I like it or not. So I will be pleasant. It is being independent! Independence worked with my crazy roomie Sophmore year. We each had our own lives and did stuff separately and it actually worked out for the better!

I think alone time is really important. The great thing about having best friends and a boyfriend is you feel like they are you so you feel completely comfortable being yourself and saying/acting natural (or how you would act alone).

I’ll never forget Scott’s quote that resonates in my mind whenever I feel guilty about not being a certain way, “You shouldn’t have to put up a front for someone to like you.” I have to remind myself that I have plenty of people who adore me here at the embassy and in other places and maybe more that I don’t know about. I must not be that bad after all.

Dream Weekend -- for only $15 a night!

Coroico. We drove along the winding dirt road that snuggles the jungle cliffs. Everywhere you look, you can see jutting jagged mountains, something out of Jurassic Park or Lord of the Rings. There are two roads to Coroico: the old road and the new road. All the locals like the old road better because “tiene mas character,” one driver said.

The new road, that we took with the Ambassador has random areas of raised pavement and made me feel like my grandpa was driving with all the braking and gassing. It is also way longer and flatter.

The old road feels like you’re on some Disneyworld adventure ride. It is known world-wide as “The World’s Most Dangerous Road” but I think that is merely an advertising, money making trick. (If it is the most dangerous road known to man, why are there bike trips you can take down it). Besides, the locals drive it every day so I feel comfortable. My mother, on the other hand, might be a nervous wreck. You drive along really narrow parts, over ponds and under waterfalls, through lush green jungle, passing by trees that look straight out of Doctor Seuss. I felt like I was driving through a giant natural carwash: the gentle sprinkling from the casacadas and then the gentle wiping from the dangling vines (like what Tarzan swings on).

So what if there are a few…several crosses once in a while. I noticed with the trucks in front of us, that no matter how close to the edge one gets - the rocks around the back wheels are starting to loosen – pebbles are sliding off into the valley below - they somehow manage to survive and keep driving.

When we finally made it to the hotel, I knew it was going to be a great weekend, especially when I heard the reggae music.

Hotel Esmeralda is very nice place. It has a sauna, a great all-you-can-eat buffet for only 25 Bolivianos, a Foosball table, a pool table, a pool, movie rentals, and little hammock areas with serene vistas. I loved wandering among the bulging banana trees. We went into the town to get coffee one night, but one could be perfectly happy staying in your room.

The stars appear amazingly clear at night and we were able to see the milky way.

I loved playing with the sweet dogs of the owners who loved their bellies scratched and responded only to Spanish commands.

We swam in the freezing pool, hiked around the mountains, and played cards staring off into the vistas. (No matter how many times I learn how to play hearts, I always forget!)

Then, my favorite memory was when I was laying in the most comfortable bed, the most comfortable weather, my doors and windows wide open, and watched the sun set over the mountains, and then the fog creept over the edges…dusk in Coroico is amazing.

Looking back, I am so glad that I stuck with my gut and got my own room. I made up some lie about a sleeping problem. If I would have been in the same room I would have had to deal with the bitchiness and bossiness of one of them, a crazy drunk party next door Saturday night, and then finally the throwing up at 3 in the morning by one of them on Sunday night – her arrogance about “I can drink the water” finally caught up with her I guess. Instead I bought a suite and was happily cuddling up in the MOST comfortable bed with a view worth a million dollars. How comforting it was to escape to my room when I needed to be alone.

I tried not to think about missing people, but rather focused on indulging myself in the serene surroundings of the present moment. I didn’t bring a watch and I noticed that there are not many clocks in Coroico. Time seems to stop. People love to sit in the plaza all day, (sit anywhere all day for that matter) watch the German backpackers or us blonde American interns trapse around, and listen to the birds fly overhead. When you order food or coffee, expect at least one to two hours to get it. No one is rushed, everyone is patient. There is nothing to do in Coroico except eat, sleep, relax and…nap.

The quaint town of Coroico glittered on Saturday and Sunday. All around the town (which only had a diameter of 4 blocks) are little “hole in the wall” restaurants. All restaurants seemed to put effort into interior design: lamp shades made out of sticks, paintings on the walls, candles for the tables. These restaurants have very simple menus, but tried their best with what limited goods they have. I thought it was precious - even though the interns found it unacceptable that we were given single sheets of toilet paper to use as napkins. Saturday people were watching the World Cup and rooting for fellow Latin Americans. It’s funny how an activity like soccer can unite countries that have had strong histories of animosity and contempt. Sunday, people were celebrating the Constitutional Assembly elections with MAS as the majority. I loved the joyous people locking arms and skipping after the band, while others shot off fireworks. Why does America have no interest in politics? It is so goddamn depressing! But so refreshing to be in a place like Bolivia. One of the interns who loves guns was trying to explain the difference between a gunshot and the bang of a firecracker. I wasn’t paying attention but was rather watching the kids running around this little, cobblestone plaza throwing water at eachother, while the elderly sat on the benches. People looked so happy – like they believed life was going to get better. I was trying to parallel it to the Dust Bowl farmers at the end of the Great Depression. I felt like that the entire town of Coroico was mine – (and maybe some German backpackers as well) - like I staring into a snowglobe onto this little world.

As we were driving away, I realized I had over 50 mosquito bites (and they are naaasty) and a sunburned back. I looked back on the town nestled in the hill, thinking that once that new road is finished, it is only a matter of time before this gem is tragically going to get built up and destroyed by American consumerism. The simple Coroico that I once knew, will be scattered with shouting Americans and checkered with colossal five-star resorts…with Starbucks.