songs of solitude;

a new dawn

2006-05-18T14:52:00.000-04:00

and just when life seems to feign feelings of doubt and intrepidation...

there comes a new dawn.

Esmeralda's files came in the mail yesterday. i go to Sick Kids tomorrow to deliver them. everything is in God's hands. i pray that they accept her. such surgery would literary change the shape of her future. being able to walk in a country/economy/society ill-equipped to provide opportunity to those that can't makes a world of difference.

but no matter the outcome, i feel that Esmy has all the support she will ever need. her family will be her legs. and God will be her steps.

summer reading

2006-05-03T18:04:00.000-04:00

one thing i love about summer is attempting to accomplish all the things i put on my "to-do before fall" list. one such area is the books i hope to read. so far i have:

-Outlaw Culture: Resisting Representations by bell hooks
-Black Looks by bell hooks
-Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis
-The McDonaldization of Society by George Ritzer
-The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan
-100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia
-A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
-A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews
-Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden
-Deafening by Frances Itani
-The Love of A Good Woman by Alice Munro

and re-read

-We are the Poors
-Behind the Invasion of Iraq by the Research Unit of the Political Economy

para ustedes

2006-04-23T17:45:00.000-04:00

it scares me sometimes how quickly time flies by.

but in reflecting upon this year, i can only smile in remembering the fond moments in what has been an eventfull time of my life.

i am older;
i am stronger;
i am wiser.

and i find myself surrounded by people that i not only love and admire, but that have managed to give me more than i could ever have asked for. to all of you that i have had the joy of growing closer to, i thank you.

you have truly enriched my life.

<3 <3 <3

risks

2006-04-08T00:55:00.000-04:00

faced with big change in the near future, i feel like i have been everything but excited for this new adventure. my mind has been screaming logic "you'll be fine! you'll have a great time!" but my heart...oh my heart.

last night i went out with my fellow adventure seeking friends and could feel myself shrinking as conversation was sparking all around me. everyone was excited to leap. but not me. in a room full of people, i had never felt so alone. when i left the feeling still resonated.

i reached my stop on the way home and just as i got off the bus a wave of emotion came over me. i started bawling. i bawled all the way to my apartment building's back door. i stood outside bawling, trying to calm myself down, only to end up starting up again upon getting inside. i didn't know where all this emotion was coming from. i didn't know why i was so upset. but there was a weight on my chest that wasn't lifting.

i went to sleep that night on my tear-soaked pillow. i woke up feeling different. i had cried all that was in me to cry. and i was starting to understand why. as eager as my mental self is to leap off into the next adventure, my heart is not. i could only ignore it for so long until it burst out of me. it took this whole experience to realize that i am unhappy with this change. to realize that what i thought i wanted and what i really need are two different things. and while it might seem more exciting to follow my head, i need to think about my heart.

i have spent a lot of my life being other people's foundations. my brothers, my friends. always the tough one. the strong one. but all the while lacking a support of my own. a niche of people to reflect a healthy image of myself. amd this year at school i found such a niche. and i know now that it may not be my time to leap away from that just yet.

but perhaps the greatest risk for me is holding on. not jumping. not leaping. i must be true to myself, and true to He who knows much more than i. there is reason, even if i cannot yet know it.

out

2006-04-03T17:44:00.000-04:00

i wonder what they would think if i said it.
if i said how i really feel.
not just part of what i am.
but all of it.

my heart on my sleeve instead of tucked in my pocket.
i wonder if they'd scorn.
scowl
shun
spit
swear
label me.

perhaps.

is it worth it?
is it necessary for them to know?

i wonder which is worse, the secrecy or the scorn?

am i lying to them by not telling them who i really am?
am i lying to myself by pretending that i'm not who i dare not say i am?

maybe.

i need to get it out.
i need it out.
out.

but i'm scared.

~np

into each life some rain must fall

2006-03-28T22:03:00.000-05:00

today was a beautiful day. i sometimes find myself cursing the long hold that winter seems to have over us. the frigid cold. the gross slush. the grey skies.

but i think that the harshness of winter allows me to appreciate summer all the more. there is ample reason to spend every last second that you can breathing deep the crisp, fresh air that ultimately feeds into the next winter slumber. the cycle keeps us hopefully looking ahead towards spring. knowing that night never lasts forever and that the pain is always worth it.

i often wonder if the weather is God's poetry. if He uses the hues of grey clouds on His palette to paint eloquent pictures for us that can be directly transcribed into our lives.

how a rainy day often happens during your times of most melancholly, or the way a sunny day can happen when you least expect it but need it most. i find myself spending more and more time just enjoying the weather - no matter the forecast. trying to find the beauty in it.

like fog. i love fog, and the way it makes you feel so solitude on even the busiest street. there could be a person right behind you on the sidewalk but you'd never know it. all you know, see or feel is the fog. there's something comforting about the fog. its easy to feel lost in it...but for some reason i find myself feeling even more secure. God is in the fog.

one of my favourite poems, by the great Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

~np

looking in from the outside

2006-03-13T02:33:00.000-05:00

sometimes the lines of my life seem to blend. i have always felt comfortable enough with who i am to be alone. to do things solo; albeit going to a movie, or travelling to another continent. i value the solace that one finds when all other noise and distraction is blocked out.

but then there are times where aloneness seems not a choice but a reluctant acceptance. where you find yourself trying to enjoy things all too often on your own.

one such instance was my friday night. i went to a salsa event, letting my love for all types of dancing (especially latin) guide me. but foolishly i forgot, in all my excitement, that salsa is a paired dance. and i went alone.

everyone came in pairs, save for the odd few. more people came later, and the environment got looser. but i still felt...out of place. most of the crowd were either couples or a mini group of girls that had gotten gussied up together to be each other's partners. but not me. i had come solo.

it is in situation like that that no matter how much you enjoy something - no matter what the level of excitement or enthusiasm you have beforehand - if you don't have someone with you, you simply can't salsa. you can try to cha cha cha on the spot, playing it all suave. but it looks awkard. and people pity you. or at least it would feel like they did. i tried to get into the event as best i could, with a few temporary partners who must have felt bad that i was without. but it was nonetheless uncomfortable.

you can't help but let it dampen your spirits. you can want to metaphorically salsa in life all you want, but without an equally willing partner, you simply can't. there are the high points and low points of being alone. enjoying the quiet; the serentity. not having to answer to anyone else. being selfish in a guilt free way - when going to see a movie, its always your choice! you can take the last helping of ice cream without the fear of another's wrath. and you have no one to nag you about how long you've left the dishes or how messy you've left the apartment.

but there's no one to laugh at your off-key shower singing. no one to compliment you when you look your best, or pick you up when you feel your worst. no one to make laugh so hard they're on the ground with your rediculous and quick witted humour. and no one to return the favour.

tis a conundrum indeed.

i feel like an outsider at this point in my life. there are many people i would call friends. but none of which at this point that i am convinced consider me to be an asset to their existence. i have had that before. i've experienced it during many periods of my life. one, two, or three special people that you won't go anywhere important or fun without. people that you'd be willing to endure pain for. people that you're so close to that you'd swear you're related to.

i have had that before. but it can slip through your fingers like sand if you're careless. leaving an empty hand.

but everywhere i look, people have it. so maybe its me? maybe i'm just proned to the outsider syndrome. maybe i too often confuse my ability to enjoy life on my own as the lack of any other choice. is this selected singlehood or rejection? is this solitude or loneliness?

~np

lent...an update

2006-03-11T15:32:00.001-05:00

so it is a week later. results thus far:

msn - hard to avoid when you need to leave it logged on for your family to be able to reach you

internet - so far so good. going outside more (photography fun!). wasting time on the net less.

caffeine - tried to go cold turkey the day before i had a paper due. not the wisest idea. still drinking caffeine but in moderation. hoping to cut myself entirely eventually by the end of next week. i'm feeling optimistic about it.

overall...it may not seem like i have improved a lot, in review. but i feel better about things. more time for whats important. more time taking walks and taking photos. more time for homework. more time for friends and family. more time for God.

tis grand.

motion

2006-03-10T00:55:00.000-05:00

i have moved my "motion" photos to a more appropriate place, for all those interested in keeping tabs on my photographic progress.

www.flickr.com/photos/narcissuspoetics

under the folder entitled "motion", oddly enough.

i am allowed to submit three photos. i don't know if i have them yet, but i think i am getting closer...

~np

taking over the world

2006-03-03T22:31:00.000-05:00

sometimes i like to dress up like a super-hero.

one day i will take over the world.

~np

lent

2006-03-03T01:32:00.000-05:00

for lent i have decided to give up the following:

- caffiene
- msn* (used solely to communicate with family at specific times, or with my Peruvian family)
- the internet* (used solely for academic purposes or to read and respond to emails)

i realize that this is a big undertaking. i didn't know whether to include blogging in this journal as internet usage or not. perhaps i will play it by ear. this is perhaps the detox that i have been subconsciously searching for.

poo

2006-02-28T11:54:00.000-05:00

poo on being sad and depressed and mopey.

today is a new day!

so i am at the bottom of the barrel. but i've been here before. Look! Here's the orange rinds i left from the last time.

i need to stand up. again. and start climbing out. there are things to be done, and it is up to me to do them. no more time for being sad. that time has passed.

~np

thank you

2006-02-27T23:21:00.000-05:00

Thank you for saying what I needed to hear--
the truth, sparing nothing for my expense.
I'm trying to stand, although I am weak
and tired, as my battered self clings to this fence;

a fence that i built for myself long ago
to keep everything in, and let little out.
No one can see what I feel on my face;
I will quietly speak though I secretly shout:

YOU FOOLISH GIRL! Are you that naive?
Did honestly, truly, sincerely believe
that you might find anything different than before?
(as you walk around moping, your heart on the floor)
Wake up! This is no fairy tale setting!
You're too different-- so how do you keep forgetting?
You know you were never meant to find
that, after which you hopelessly pine.

SLAP!

Put your armour back on and harden your heart
It is such notions that make you weak.
Be guarded; never vulnerable.
Be sensible; never sensitive.
Be strong; never weak.

Go on! Have a happy heart!
You do not need to feel pain if you deny the existence
of love.

~np

failure.

2006-02-27T21:27:00.000-05:00

heavy heart today.

one blow after another leaving me face down in the dirt. skinned knees and abraisioned palms. i'm not sure i know where to go from here. wipe off the dirt? dry the tears?

my birthday is in two days. i don't care. i feel like a deflating balloon. what happened to me?

failure. i'm drowning in my own failure. i don't want to be an A student. i just want to get by. but i can't even seem to do that for myself. i know this is a test, but truthfully i grow weary of the testing. i just want to be for a while. just living.

i sound depressed. perhaps i am. i hate that school does this to me. i hate that you helped do this to me. i hate that i am doing this to me.

i need to get out of here. i can't breath.

~np

the spawn of a pause

2006-02-24T23:37:00.000-05:00

It's interesting how things are said--
how words can crush you;
how you can be obliterated
by ill-perceived sentiments,
aimed indirectly
at your bleeding heart.

I'm not sure about recovery
(I don't forsee it anytime soon)
but that isn't surprising,
as my life is virtually a pussing wound
of rejection
and disappointment.

Cue the violin music to the tragic story
of the woeful little handicapped girl
who speaks soft truths and melancholly
with words that drip with disdain
and resentment--
but never anger.

Because pain is all i know;
it is the constant variable in my experiment
of a life.
Tease me no more with these faint notions of love--
I'll have none of it.
Be gone.

~np

la semana pasado

2006-02-24T14:37:00.000-05:00

reading week has come and gone and i am left wondering where the time went. try as i might, not nearly enough school work was accomplished. productivity has yet to become a part of my daily routine. i think i spend too much time thinking.

sometimes there's just too much to think about, really. i got accepted into my university's year abroad program in Ecuador. from september to april i will be living somewhere near Quito, hoping that it will provide me with some much needed enlightenment. sure, i am there to study and volunteer. but mainly i hope to learn - if only more about myself.

In all this future planning the summer seems only seconds away. i have joined WWOOF - World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. the membership lasts for a year and allows me to visit any number of farms across Canada (i only signed up for the Canadian membership) and learn about sustainable living. I would love to venture north to the great territories of this country, but in order to save up for my south american travels, i may only venture out east, to Nova Scotia and Cape Breton. the guide book they mailed me has over 30 pages of hosts listed, each with a bio so enticing that it seems impossible to decide. but Nova Scotia seems to have many sustainable housing projects on the go - in addition to organic farming - which fascinates me.

the majority of my reading break has been devoted to thinking about these things, but mainly in sourcing out the possibility of Esmeralda being seen by Sick Kids hospital in Toronto. after repeatedly emailing since my return from Peru, to no avail, I went downtown first thing Monday to see if i could find anyone who could give me answers. the 7th floor of the Elm wing provided just that. the secretary of the international patients department informed me that such a program does exist (known as the Herbie Fund) for children without medical insurance. she has since sent me the application form (which hopefuly won't take Angela's family too long to complete). she estimated that upon submitting the application it will take the committee 2-3 months to review it, and then after being accepted, it will take 2-3 for the surgery to happen.

when i think of the whole Esmeralda situation i can't help but get anxious. i feel like i'm trying to run through water - it doesn't seem to matter how badly i want to move faster, i just can't. it breaks my heart to know that little Esmy is trying desperately to starting crawling and walking. each attempt is met only with frustation as her limitations keep her even more imobile than my futile attempts at helping her.

time...is just racing after us all.

~np

just when

2006-02-14T21:35:00.000-05:00

just when you find yourself stressing over how many assignments you have due; how many midterms to study for; papers to write; appointments to make; meetings to participate in; classes to fall asleep in; seminars to stay mute in, it can dawn on you that in spite of it all, you are so lucky to be busy and at school.

after coming out of my microeconomics midterm - which i feel fairly certain that i gave my best on - i began chatting with a mature student in my class as we waited for the bus. turns out he's a math major and he picked the same 3 (of 4) questions to answer on our test. we talked about perhaps forming a study group for the final, being that its worth a whopping 40% of our mark. i was curious to know what other courses he was taking but surprised to find out that micro was his only course - he's study part time. he eagerly went on to explain to me that this was due to a kidney condition that he has which he needs to receive a treatment for (blood transfusion? dialysis?) almost everyday - making a regular courseload impossible.

wow. i remarked that being fulltime is overrated anyway, and i longed to be able to spend more time on each course to better absorb the material, to which he nodded in agreement. but in my head i was thinking - this dude is incredible! driven by his thirst for knowledge to study one course at a time to finish his degree.

i can empathize to what it is like to be in daily pain, but i still felt a deep sympathy for this man. less sympathy maybe and more... an understanding. an understanding of where he was coming from. such a sweet man. i'm glad somebody in our class enjoys micro.

~np

of conspiracy and poverty

2006-02-11T02:53:00.000-05:00

there was a secret mission tonight.

defacing billboards in the name of poverty. me and my fellow...nameless activists are sick of the pretentious propaganda that is being plastered - particularly on 8ft Trent University promotional billboards; "The world belongs to those who understand it."

What does that even mean?!

It's infuriating. If only we could all be so lucky as to attend Trent. But at almost a wopping 5 K a year for tution alone, education is sadly not something that many can afford. Does that mean that world does not belong to these people? Just because post-secondary education is not economically plausable?

I go to university. I'm learned. And what I've learned is that in this very intricate capitalist system, there are those that work hard - so hard - for very little, all their lives. And then there are those who work off the backs of these people. The elite could not exist without the proletariat. We could not enjoy our comfortable, middle class lifestyles in suburban North America, studying at our quaint little universities, without the cheap imports we receive from China and the like.

We don't even recognize poverty in our own communities, let alone entire nations in our "global community". The world certainly must belong to those who can understand it, because learned as I am, and try as I might, I fail to.

Screw the university. Screw profitable gain off education. What does a degree really say about me anyway? That I am institutionally deemed competitant? Or is this just a widespread conspiracy - a system whereby employers only hire university grads because they are paid off by the schools themselves, who we in turn pay in order to enter the work force? I don't doubt it.

It's a big joke, if you ask me. I really hope this anticipated doomsday of the oil peak comes soon. I want to watch all the diplomats scramble as their source of power is ripped out from under them. Then who will be laughing? The farmers. The poor. The proletariat. The people.

But until that day comes, those billboards still stand. A propositioned, smiling Trent University student, bearing the arrogence of the administration. A minority student, of course - to show that Trent is a diverse atmosphere. It is where everyone should want to be.
If only they could get there;

The world belongs to those...who can afford it

~np

alive

2006-02-08T18:52:00.000-05:00

after realizing that my last two entries might be perceived as somewhat pessimistic (although they were very soothing to get off my chest) i am determined to do the exact opposite with this entry.

i may not have a lot, but i have all that i need. i forget to quickly how much i am blessed with - and not simply possessions, family, and friends, but circumstances too. monumental events in my life that have led to the development of my character into what it is right now.

i am thankful for today. one more day that i am alive.
i am thankful for my health. it ain't perfect, but it could always be worse.
i am thankful for my parents. they may have needed to abandon their marriage but they have never abandoned me. without their love, i would not be the same.
i am thankful for my brothers. they may fart in my face, but they're always there when i need them. and no one makes me laugh more.
i am thankful for my friends. they remind me of all the things worth living for, like dancing, making insane noises, laughing, and just enjoying good company.
i am thankful for my God, who has blessed me with all of the above and more.

i love dancing wherever i want to. in my bedroom with the stereo blasting, or on my way to the bus stop. dancing as if no one was watching. and singing; in my un-shy voice...hindered only by my lack of breath as i run down the street. leaping in bounds as i sing just because i feel alive.

today is another day that i'm alive.

~np

self worth

2006-02-07T21:34:00.000-05:00

i have been hard on myself for too long.

much of the complex that has ruled me has been a maniacal self-creation. the world beats me down - feeding me lies that perpetuate my disdain: i am not worthy; none could ever love the real me; i need surgery; i need to cover up; i need to falsify the reality to become desirable.

i know in my heart that its all just consumerist garbage. but still i have taken to swallowing the idea like a drug, in hopes that it would one day bring me the equitable peace that i so long for.

but still i am waiting.

my friends have told me that i am beautiful - of and mind and of spirit - and that to someone that will be enough. more than enough; their ideal. but i have been shrugging them off. they are just being nice to me, right? feeding me some sort of propoganda of their own. i'm not a fool; i have eyes - i can see my own reflection. and try as i might...i don't see what they do. i see an ogre. dying to be normal. craving to be physically desirable.

i have not been in any successful relationships to date. and my appearance has been an easy scapegoat. who would want to date me? i am beastly! i don't know why i leave the house!

----------sometimes my hyde gets the better of both of me; the one trying desperately to maintain a level of youthful optimism, and the one that lurks beneath the smile and the stride. but i have on too many occasions succumbed to my hyde. it drains the spirit from my veins. everywhere i look, society validates it. media enforces it. people maintain it. but no more.-------

what if my friends are right? what if I AM worth it? why then am i letting even MYSELF get in the way of my own happiness? aren't i smarter than this?

there is a chance that i may spend my entire life single. there is always that possibility. we aren't the ones that decide the course of our love-lives. but that possibility won't change just because i am hard on myself...critical of my every flaw...pining after normacy. in fact...it steals what i do have...my energy..my vivacious nature...my "i can laugh at anything" sense of humour...my intelligence...my free spirit...my passionate self.

i'm worth it. why do i keep selling myself short? WHY CAN'T I JUST ACCEPT THINGS AS THEY ARE AND GET ON WITH THINGS?

i may never fall in love. i may spend my life single...never knowing intimacy...relationships... sex...passion...but that doesn't mean i will be alone. and that is all i need to know to be happy with who i am.

~np

but sometimes...i feel beautiful

2006-02-03T00:48:00.000-05:00

people often comment on my self esteem. some are suprised at how a person with so many (visible) obstacles can be so upbeat and self-assured. admittedly, i am more optimistic at times than most. but my self esteem is not perfect. i am comfortable, at this point in my life, with who i am, who i am becoming, and what things are most important to me.

but in terms of physical self esteem...and confidence in my own appearance...well lets just say i have never been all too comfortable.

i know what i look like. i know that few people (if any) would be able to see past that...in a romantic sense. its a harsh reality, but nonetheless existent. i never really feel beautiful. only on those rare occasions - when you get all gussied up for no reason, or when somebody says or does something that seems so genuine you are left with no choice but to believe it to be truth - do i actually feel...beautiful.

perhaps i am not meant to find love. perhaps there are certain things that others are unable to see past. it does not diminish my self worth, though it can at times make one's heart rather heavy.

but tonight i feel beautiful; for whatever reason. i tied back my hair, i wore my favourite red beads, i put on a skirt and a smile. my roomate told me that i had never looked prettier. and i believed her - not necessarily becuase it was true - but because i feel it. i feel at peace enough with my inner demons to bravely say that i am beautiful tonight.

i'm sure that tonight i will sleep this all away. but i suppose it is important to enjoy the feeling while it lasts; who knows whether it will return again...

~np

a marvelous night for a moodance...

2006-02-02T00:30:00.000-05:00

this song has been haunting me since last thursday. haunting is perhaps too negatively connated a word; following me unexpectedly. its interesting how certain songs can effortlessy encompass our feelings at times. they must be singing this to you.

but Moondance, as fantabulous a song it may be (kudos to good old Vanny Mo), fails its words in me. i am feeling more like Moonlight Sonata than Moondance. i can feel the weight of Beathoven's heart as he lays down each chord; stripping layers and heaving sighs. perhaps there is significance. or even a link between the two. Beethoven's soul must have been as troubled as mine. i wonder if he too wished to "please to the calling, of heartstrings played soft and low".

a song that definitely sings me lyrically is Selah, particularly the first stanza:

Nothing can be done against the truth
No matter how we remain in denial
Wasting time
Replacing time
With each empty excuse
But that'll only work a little while
Coping with despair
Knowing you're not there
Ashamed to just admit
I've been a fool
So I blame it on the Son
Run away from everyone
Hoping to escape this ridicule
Trapped in misery
Wrapped so miserably
And this deception I wear it like a skin

sometimes the skin i wear is so inherently chameleon that i forget i have it on. but no matter how much i remain in denial, there it remains. and i am ashamed to admit to my own wretched foolishness. so i run away...which only ever works for a short while. before i run out of breath.

i'm not even sure where i am going with this. perhaps every writer needs a few entirely unmethodical entries to round them out. or perhaps i'm not really a writer. perhaps i really don't know much at all.

i want to start writing poetry again. not that i was ever much of a poet. but it is a good release; of words; of all the perhaps that plagues me.

~np

between a rock and... another rock

2006-01-31T11:07:00.000-05:00

lately it feels as though my life is unwinding. fewer and fewer things seem in my realm of control. perhaps it is a test. or perhaps it is my own masochism. i have yet to know.

i wish my father didn't doubt me so much. i wish he wasn't so angry with me all the time. i wish there was a way for him to know that i am strong. he worries about my spirituality. i wish he wouldn't. he wants me to be someone i can't. i could never be that person. but he feels that if i am not, and if i don't try to become it, than i am failing, in a way.

i feel as though i am trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place. i never really understood what was meant by "hard place", but then again I still don't really understand my father. i am not sure where to go from here. when you spill milk on the kitchen floor, you appologize for your clumsiness and then proceed to clean it up. but when your life is disected and deemed incomplete or unsatisfactory by outside eyes, what solution are you left with? do you assume the validity of this person, and immediately begin mending one's being? or do you ignore their heedance and by doing such, sever some of the tendons that hold the relationship together.

in either light, you can't help but feel bad about yourself, your life. what things you might have once been proud of you now throw in careful boxes to be hidden under the bed.

alas. i have no answers. so i guess i must wait for insight from the one who does.

~np

photografia

2006-01-23T14:44:00.000-05:00

these are my favourite thirteen shots...for various reasons. i have a lot of photos...and many that i love, but i wanted to keep things concise. so here they are in no particular order:

Plane Light

I took this on the flight from Miami to Lima. At this point, we are over the Carribean and the sun is starting to set itself gently over the beautifully billowing clouds. The picture itself attempts to reflect in my face the tranquil enjoyment i am experiencing out the window.

Window

This was a sneaky shot that i took hanging out of a window across the street. I found the view intriguing. A window into another life.

Fiore

This is Fiorella, Angela's four-year old daughter who is the fireiest little girl i have ever met. She was so photogenic (and loved being photographed) so you will notice her in many of my favourite shots. This one is simply Fiore - the very essence.

Julio ~ Tiger in a Cage

This was a little boy I met at Raul's birthday fiesta. He bounced off the walls like a little cricket, but was shy of getting his photo taken at first. This was taken later on in the afternooon, after we had bonded a bit, and he took pride in posing his "tiger in a cage" face for me. I loved this door and was excited to get a great shot of it.

At Play

This is a great "light and shadow" shot of Fiorella and Julio playing in the front stoop. It is such a simple shot but the light adds so much depth to both the meaning and presentation.

Chiascuro

This was taken of Fiore as she walked ahead of me down a dark hallway the ran under the ground at the athetics club. Chiascuro is the art term for "using light and dark" and i felt this to be the very eptiome of such, in photograph form. I particularly like the offset subject and slight tilt on the shot.

Papa y hija (father and daughter)

I love this shot partly because of the beautiful lighting, but also because of the subjects positions. Fiore the little firefly, is a step and a half in front of her dadl, and almost pulling him excitedly down the stairs. While Raul holds firmly back, strong and steady, preventing his daughter from flinging herself down the steps in her ecstatic rush for the beach.

hills

Now normally I don't call pictures myself in them my favourites, but i happened to really like the positioning of this shot. Behind me is the beautiful, breath-taking hills of Machu Picchu, with blue-grey clouds and breaking light. By placing the subject off-centre in the foreground, it adds a bit of reality to an otherwise unrealisticly beautiful sight...adding a hint of authenticity and allure.

river below

This shot was from the other side of the hills i stood on to take the previous shot. It is less photographed, but in my opion boasts a better view. Your eyes eventually find their way down to the river, at which point you gasp at how steep the hill is and how far down life goes.

peaches

This is a portait shot of the side of some old buldings in Cusco. The colours are what i love most about this shot. Especially the peachy colour. If you didn't know i took the shot you might almost think it was taken a long time ago.

stop; look

This was one of the stops that the train made on the way to Machu Picchu. It was so beautiful that i couldn't help but taking a picture. One of those "stop and smell the flowers" moments.

steep gaze

It was so fascinating i couldn't help but stand under it, looking up in awe. Such an expressive hillside of sand.

In Plain View

I thought this title and the intended play on words was fitting because this is hardly what one sees when typically looking out the window. These are the hills a Cusco, as we saw them flying in from Lima. It was quite amazing to look at. I got a crink in my next from having my face glued to the window so long.

hope you enjoyed.

~np

another day, a world away

2006-01-20T16:11:00.000-05:00

its been a week since i left Peru and all that it was behind me. the cab pulled my heart at every corner as we drove further and further from the place i had called home, in humble Pariachi.

i feel so fortunate to have experienced all that i did, hence my supposed necessity for this blog. i feel it is my duty, nay, obligation, to share my stories with all those who happen to be listening. i miss my Peruvian family so much - the children especially. i wish i could see them everyday, but alas, my north american life awaits me. there is the hope of returning next december if i am accepted into the year abroad program in Ecuador for next year, which the very thought of is exciting.

but in the meantime, my hands are full with the hospital forms and such. hoping that this possibility becomes a reality for wee Esmeralda. i wish i could pause school and give it my full attention, but sadly i am required to multitask. ahhhhhhhhh.

looking at the photos from my trip is like sorting through memories in my mind. each one fills with a different hue of wistful yearning to re-experience it all over again. pathetic, i know. i have so many good shots, especially of the children. i even thought about organizing them to print professional to potentially sell to raise money for Esmeralda and her family's expenses, due to her situation. my roomate (photographer extraordinaire) thinks people would buy them. i'm hoping so.

if anyone would like to see my pictures, they are on my msn space, which is: http://spaces.msn.com/members/narcissuspoeticus/

i will post a few of my favourites (and most likely ones i will sell) on a later blog entry. but for now, i hope you all enjoy them. i know i enjoyed taking them. well, my mom took all the ones with me in them...haha.

it all seems like a world away, being back at school, worrying about grades and papers again. perhaps i have inadvertantly tainted myself...

~np

answers

2006-01-14T23:46:00.000-05:00

this is a much less formal entry, but an answer to some questions no less. many people have asked me how it was that i had internet access and such but was living in the slums. or how angela's family is able afford certain things. and due to the language barrier, i didn't know the exact answer until recently.

internet access:
originally, in order to use the internet, the family would have to go to the local internet cafe, which is 2 blocks from where they live. these cafes are quite common in Lima (and Cusco), being that it is cheaper than having internet in your house. but due to needing to access information for esmeralda, and the reccommendation of a doctor, they decided to try and get their own computer. in order to do so, angela apparently got help from family, and the rest she fundraised by selling chickens. they finally had enough for the computer they have (and donate webcam). the people that own the internet cafe are friends of theirs and wanted to help, so they ran a line from the cafe to their house and charge them only 15 dollars a month (instead of 30). not sure what currency that is, but probably soles...which means 5 CAD. so it DID cost them a lot, but in their eyes it was worth it. and i suppose my presence was proof of that, since they met me online, and we enjoyed many a web chat :)

washing machine:
from what i understood, franco either entered a contest or told someone about esmeralda's situation and it was donated. they don't always use it, due to not having reliable water supply. mostly only for big loads. the rest of the time, its the old basin and wash board. angela was surprised that few people in Canada wash clothes that way. times, they are a changin' :/

crib and other furnature:
gifts and donations from family, friends, and acquaintences who knew about their situation with esmeralda and wanted to help, in anyway they could. i didn't know this at first, but it makes me wonder what furnature they were able to buy themselves. not that that's important.

housework:
Raul has done most of the work on the house himself, including the entire rooving of the lower and top floor...although the top floor remains incoplete. someone asked me if this was to avoid a certain tax that comes with having a complete roof or second story and to be honest i thought it was merely because he hadn't finished yet, but don't really know. some questions are somewhat pointless to ask when the information isn't really that important for me to know

employment:
Raul works at a botique (which is common labour) while Angela stays at home with the children, with the help of her mother. her mother is 60 and very affectionate with the children and helps take care of esmeralda, as well as with cooking. Raul told me that he earns about 7 USD for one 10 hour work day. i'm not sure how often he works, but even still i'm sure he has to work a lot to save anything.

oh the differences in our countries....our worlds. hope that answers some of the questions on people's minds.

~np

hard to breathe

2006-01-14T00:26:00.000-05:00

(date of entry published does not necessarily reflect the date of occurence...seeing as i have not had much internet access in cusco)

sometimes you attempt to prepare yourself so much for a certain event or set thereof that it seems impossible, in foresight, for anything to go wrong. but it seems to me, that it is precisely times such as these for the exact opposite to occur. the course of events in cusco now seem too rediculous to have all happened to one person (or two people...my mom included), but alas, they did.

both my mom and i managed to have eaten something the day before leaving for cusco that gave us both a bacterial infection and a parasite. it didn´t affect us right away, but once landed in cusco, compounded with altitude shock, we found ourselves quite incapacitated. for those unfamiliar, cusco is at an altitude of about 3000m, which, especially if you are tiny like me, hits you like a ton of bricks on your chest.

i spent saturday through tuesday of this week past fading in and out of consciousness as the beautiful scenery seemed to mock me with its glow. i spent three days in the hospital which sadly was necessary, even though it caused us to miss the inca trail hike we had already booked and paid for, as well as ran up a hefty bill of its own (thanks to my stupidity in forgetting health insurance). so some $1400 later, my mom and i found ourselves physically healed but emotionally battered.

we are pretty easy going people who like to believe that everything happens for a reason, and that it is possible to make good of even the seemingly worst situations. and such was ours. admittedly it was hard at the time to see past the week of diarrhea, blinding headache, and constant fight for what never felt like a full breath. but as close to death as i may have felt (and smelt...according to my mom, who thankfully didn´t need to be hospitalized like i did) i was alive. although looking out the window of my hospital room was like watching someone dangle a fistful of candy in front you as you sit, trapped in a glass container, i knew that i would regain my strength and be able to eventually take steps in the lyrically sunlit streets of picturesque Cusco. and when i finally did...when i was finally well enough to leave the hospital that had kept me hostage for days, it was the most wonderful experience i could have imagined.

with only two days left at our disposal, we spent the first enjoying everything that Cusco had to offer; from browsing its many quaint shops, to having our first beer of the trip at one of two irish pubs, i took in all the sights and sounds in several slow, steady meditated breaths. unlike Lima, Cusco is not covered in a haze of smog and disdain but rather skies so clear and blue that you begin to question the truths you thought you knew about the state of things. how can such beauty house any poverty at all? why does so little look so vast and worth much more than wages would have us believe?

but there is poverty in Cusco, just as there was in Lima. it lies hidden - tucked neatly away in the sock drawers of the hills - hills that would beckon the julie andrews in anyone to cast care aside for a day of echoed singing amongst them. like giants, these hills have seen years of humanity; of turmoil changing hue in the valleys that they guard from a mountainous abyss. gazing across Plaza de Armas, i feel as though time were merely a faint notion in architechutre that whispers new tales of old tributes many times over, to each new day of passers by.

if travelling to peru, people will tell you to visit Machu Picchu; a set of historical incan ruins that lies amidst the altitudous highlands, boasting both the skill and savy of the native people. anyone that has visited would tell you to go. and so with just one day left unrobbed by the IV that fed me new life and new breath, we went. words, for me, are never quite suffice to describe the works of he paints the earth, the sky, the natural breadths and hues that leave us gasping out of sheer astonishment. as fascinating as the ruins and the history of the incan people therein was to be found, i found myself all to distracted by the massive green mountainous terrain that encompassed me. after a tour that took us through...up and down...around and around...and up and down on cobbled stones worn with age and knowledge, i found myself with my mother, speechlessly uncovering every inch the area, with the care and wonder reserved only for great palientologists. we stumbled across many hidden paths and staircases, one in particular that led us through a high ledge and onto a nooked small patch of green earth that boasted the best view of skies, the hills, and the rivers ever so far below. i sat on this patch for what felt like an eternity, though still not long enough, feeling every inch of the landscape with my eyes and trying as hard as i could to paste such a canvas, as it were, into the far reaches of my mind. i want to be able to revisit such a place after i am long gone from peru- the land and the mindset. in the chaos of life in the north american fast lane, i take comfort in knowing that i can escape at any moment into the mental canvases that i have tucked away inside my subconscious.

the altitude makes it hard to breathe, but given time, our bodies can adjust. and just like our bodies, our minds learn to adjust as well. we can let the folleies of life leaving us frazzled and panting, seeking validation instead of purpose, or we can give ourselves time to learn to breathe again, though things may look different than we would have imagined them to.

as the sun set on the most breath taking of views of all of Cusco, nessled in a valley of rooves and rulered edges, i leaned over the balcony of our quaint little hostel's railing wondering about life and death, air and breath. sure, i had lost a lot, monetarily. robbed of funds and robbed of time by the most artful of dodgers. but i had also gain an immense amount; a great appreciation for the art of the city, an equal appreciation of the achievements of the Incas, and an understanding of why life must weigh down on us at times in order to reveal so much more than it takes away.

ñp

with these tears comes new beginnings

2006-01-06T23:01:00.000-05:00

today is my last whole day in Pariachi before departing for Cuzco for the next seven. We will be trekking the Inca trail by day and camping by night. Peru boasts the breathtaking ruins of Machu Picchu, which i will soon lay eyes on.

people say it will change you. the trip; the experience. but when they say this i don´t think they are referring to the same change as i am feeling. the last three days have been a blur of sand, sun, picnicing, and family. we were joined each day by Raul´s sister and her family of three daughters - as sincere and compassionate as Angela´s. we spent all day Wednesday at the beach, and Thursday at a public sports facility. both were pretty much the same. good company combined with good food and good fun. Tia Ilda´s family is quite athletic, so each day we played volleyball - the 10 of us. it was so the most fun i´ve had playing volleyball. i even bruised my hand serving for four straight sets. but it was worth it.

i don´t know about my mom, but i feel like i have melted right into the family tree, because of the way they treat me. so welcoming and accepting. they get a kick out of asking me to sing some English songs and then laughing at my goofy performance. their favourites so far have been: I´m a Little Tea Pot, Head and Shoulders, and the Canadian national anthem (complete with my hand-slapping-thigh drums). for me they sing my favourite: Bailer Bamba (plus assorted others, all of which i can´t remember titles for). and together we sing Feliz Navidad.

and at the end of the day when we come home we dance. oh how we dance! the latin music is cranked and we all bust out. they try teaching me some traditional salsan, meringue, and Waican moves, and i make them laugh doing the robot, the running man, and my own arms and butt wiggle dance. we dance until we are so out of breath we can´t possibly dance anymore. then we drink some inca kola and go for another round.

today was special however. the children told me to take a half hour walk with my mom and Angela because they had a surprise for me. when we returned and they finally let us in the house, they flicked on the lights.

SURPRISE!

they had bought streamers and balloons and decorated the entire living room. they had my favourite Peruvian song playing. they had cups on the table and a fresh bottle of Inca Kola (my fav pop here). they had plates out with Chizitos (like Cheetos) and Princesa chocolates (my fav munchies here). and on the wall in the centre of the room was a big piece of paper, which read:

Dear Jessica- Do not forget that you have a Peruvian family and many friends. We may be far away, but we love you with all our hearts. We hope that you can come back soon. Most importantly, remember that you have a sister here in Peru who needs you. (roughly translated...i´m still learning)

they were all standing, smiling at me. i melted. if i were an emotional person, i would have been bawling. but i was crying on the inside and smiling the widest possible grin on the out. we ate the food. we drank the kola. and we danced like there was no tomorrow. it was beautiful. i would attempt to put into words how i felt, but i fear none, in all of both languages, would be suffice.

i will be back in Pariachi on the 13th for the afternoon, and then i fly back to Toronto at 1am. it will be so hard to leave all this behind. but i will take as much of it as i can with me, wherever i go. and hopefully, if i am so-blessed, i will be able to return one day. to my second family. mi familia Peruana.

ñp

the tango

2006-01-04T00:56:00.001-05:00

whoever said that it take two to tango had us all fooled. it only takes one; you.

i spent a greater part of today tripping over myself, in more ways than one. so far things have been quite peachy. few bumps, if any. even mom´s arrival at the airport and presence since has been awesome. watching her with Esmy is one of the strangest but amazing things i have ever experienced. its as if i am watching memories replay from my long ago childhood. except i am sitting in a new seat in this theatre playing the movie of my life. its astounding. the strangest high.

the day started off as spectacular as the rest. in addition, i have been put to the test with my translation skills, seeing as my mom speaks nada español (but i think its hilarious that she still tries to communicate with them in English, even though they have no idea what she is saying 90% of the time). so it was Angela, Franco, mom, and me off to el centro de Lima.

walking through el centro feels as though you are walking through 18th century Europe. the architechure. oh, the architechure! so beautiful, it felt like i was walking through postcards, street after street. every angle poised with elegance. and the people just flecks and sploches; miniscule strokes on such wonderous canvas. i was in art history paradise.

but like i was saying about the tango...it is possible to dance solo. it is in moments where it is almost as if you dancing this dance of passion and fury with two sides of yourself.

unpleasant;
ugly;
tiring.

but a tango needs music, and mine happened to be the sound of my camera falling onto a stone bench after it fell from my grasp, at the hand of a very exciting but oblivious Franco. alas...my poor camera...my 5th limb...my companion on all my adventures, was damaged beyond my own repair. for(yes) the second time.

you´d think i would have learned from abu dhabi that those flimsy hand lanyards don´t quite cut it. but no. and unfortunately, in that moment, my despair consumed me. and thus began my tango.

sometimes we are completely oblivious to this descent into tango madness. and other times, we are quite cognicient, and yet let the tango lead us away. for me, it was the latter. oh how i tried not to look; feel; be upset. but how hard it was to fight my mind´s desire to succumb to the seductive rhythm of the dance.

how foolish it all seems! in the midst of the most glorious sights in Lima, i am sour inside, like a deceptive citrus fruit. it made me realize how much we let such a dance, as it were, put us out of sorts and steal our happiness. i am discussing this situation in all honesty. and honestly, its embarassing, when i look back. but it is the truth, and i figure it needs discussing.

i feel like a hypocrite. wielding my words of apathy for this population, and regailing the solace i have found in a family; a life with so little. i have gotten such a high from it all, and yet i let myself get in the way of that continued happiness, if only for a moment in time.

this happens all to often in my old life. my north american life. between me and my family, out of 5, one person always has to be out of sorts (it would seem). which only ends up hurting us in the end. so why do we tango at all? why massarce our own happiness; our own life? what is left in this world to lay blame to?

some words come to my own mind: selfish, self-centred, self-indulgent...self, self, self...me, me, me...I, I, I. Me and I, we tango too well. as difficult as was at the time, i stopped dancing. i stopped long enough to enjoy the rest of the day. one more day in a list of thousands lived and enjoyed so far. in the hope of one more to follow.

i enjoyed exploring the San Franciscan Monastary and Museum; the sight of countless spanish paintings nearly 500 years old, still stunning after years of appreciation; a skylit library that smelled of the aging leatherbound books that consume it, and sounded of writers scratching pen to ink to paper into the wee hours; the breathtaking catacombs below that allow you to feel your way back through time, as the lives of the dead echoed throughout the winding tunnels, whispering softly into the ears of those who stop to listen.

i enjoyed the slow and scary drive up the San Cristobal mountain; a slow winding road that weaves through a tapestry of stacked slums and sarcasm, towards the top, where a 10ft cross awaits adornment. but the view from atop was one that will stay burned in my retinas forever; leaning over the edge and gazing over all of Lima and its 11 million occupants was like viewing a section of humanity under a microscope. How vast it all looked! How small and insignificant all of our earthly problems seem!

i spent most of the cab ride home enjoying conversing with Angela. the rest of my time was spent analyzing the events of the day in my mind. what a difference there can be when you let yourself enjoy things as they come - the good and the bad.

afterall what is bliss without strife? what is beauty without pain? and more importantly, what can we learn from each passing trial and tribulation?

ñp

and sometimes there is providence

2006-01-02T16:21:00.000-05:00

today has been rather intriguing.

its interesting how we are unable to grasp the complete purpose/role that certain people or aspects play in our lives until much later. after years of cursing my disadvantages, i have come to see that my certain physical limitations have played a far greater role in my life so far than a normal body would have.

this condition has made me who i am. it aided in my receiving of the scholarship that without, i would not be attending university. school has allowed me to discover my love for international development issues, which has become my new focus. this focus is why i chose to take spanish 100. and shortly afterwhich, allowed me converse with Angela.

but it doesn´t stop there. after much talking with Angela and realizing that it may be within my power to help her daughter get proper medical attention, i became consumed by the idea. so consumed in fact, that i felt compelled to write an article about the experience of Angela finding me and us conversing daily, for the bi- annual issue of my scholarship newsletter. after reading my entry, a woman named Patricia (who lives in Canada but used to live in Peru) felt complelled to contact me and ask me about the situation. I told her i had decided to visit, and she insisted on not only giving me a lot of much appreciated advice, but the contact of a friend of hers named Hans, who is currently living in Lima and is fluent in English as well as Spanish.

Today Hans visited us in Pariarchi and with his help, I was able to complete the application fo Esmeralda to receive medical attention in North America. I got this information from an amazing doctor that i had as a child, that my mom located through the internet. He now works in Florida.

Hans spent a couple hours visiting, and told me that he is now, after meeting me and Angela, very interested in continuing to help me and their family; through helping Raul obtain a VISA for Canada, through giving Angela´s family some money and second-hand clothing. and through this physiotherapy project that is in the works right now. currently, Angela is unable to visit the phyiotherapist with Esmeralda often, because it is so far away. but this new facility will be much closer and thus more accessible for their family. this will aid tremendously in the development of her hands, which are very limited, dexterously.

like i said, its interesting how these things happen. i think labelling this situation as fate would be like making a mockery of a Jackson Pollock; its not easy for everyone to understand at first glance, but give it time and you will come to love it for the magnificent work of art that it is.

de dios.

ñp

learning in lists

2006-01-01T21:11:00.000-05:00

my entries so far seem...a tad long winded, so i thought i´d try a different style.

things i have learned:

you can add the suffix "ito/ita" to just about any word (ex: bebita/baby girl, gordito/fat boy, chattita/short girl, guchita/a girl´s poop)
Peruvians are not familiar with the idea of personal space. if we´re not kissing and hugging people we have just met, we´re practically sitting on each other´s laps on the bus. it´s definitely different.
the funniest word is guchy (goo-chee?)...which is possibly slang. it means poo.
Peruvians love to feed you.
Peruvian food is excellent...well most. Some is definitely an acquired taste. The bananas I had the other day were a little too different. The meat of them is peachy coloured. And rather sweet.
No matter where you go, there seems to be music.
Peruvians are very expressive when they speak, which makes it easy for someone like me to comprehend what they´re saying...even though they talk muy rapido.
the sheep lady (we call her "ovejita"...sheep-ita) and i have a lot in common. she seems to always be in her head. although she doesn´t say much, whereas i find it hard to shut up.
life is hard wherever you live, but the measure of your character is what you make of what you have.
though the previous statement sounds cheesy and like an excerpt from a book of quotes, i have found it to be a genuine truth.

ñp

if i could teach the world to sing...

2005-12-31T19:27:00.000-05:00

if i could teach the world to sing in perfect harmony...a nice song, and even nicer idea, but far from possible in a world such as ours; driven by greed. but if i COULD teach the world to sing a song, it would be the one that plays repeatedly here in Peru. Not picturesque, postcard Lima, with its lavish hotels and tourist attractions. But real Peru. In the slums; the ghettos; where most Peruvians live. places like Pariarchi in Huaycan-Vitarte (the borough of Lima where i am dwelling).

Some would call it squallor. But to me it is beautiful. I have leared more from this seemingly simple family than an unlimited amount of years wasted away at any university could ateempt to teach me. Raul works very hard - ten hours a day, at the end of which he receives seven dollars. A lazy Canadian student could earn that much in one hour of pretending to stock shelves. Its rediculous how backwards our societies are.

today was Raul´s birthday. we had a big fiesta for him. his parents came and two families that they are friends with. it was so amazing. so much music and celebration. everyone was captivated by my presence. question after question: how do you say this in english? what is canada like? is it cold? is there lots of snow? your parents, are they tall? your brothers? how much does this cost in canada? after my Q&A period i think i got more practice than a weeks worth of spanish-100 seminars. but the adults all had a lot of questions about my operations. like one big family, they are all concerned with Esmeraldita´s condition and the possibility of proper medical attention in canada. they are amazed at the functionality of my right foot (formarely clubbed).

they were also very amazed at my camera. the children especially. they love getting their photo taken, and even more making little videos.

i wish i could photography everything. they think its funny how much i like photography. but there is simply too much here to capture with a photograph. so much life, teeming from each person. my favourite subject so far is Fiorella. she is so full of life; every photo of her is so captivating. you can feel her youthful enthusiam for even the smallest things start to rub off on you when you are in her presence.

today, before we sat down for birthday lunch, Raul said ¨Jessica no Jessica Sachse pero Jessica Pirca¨. we all laughed but it really sunk in how much this family cared for me. they call me family after 3 days in their house. they have offered up all that they have to ensure my happiness in their home. they always thank me for coming. but i always have to insist that it is i that should be thankful to them. i love it here and i wish i could stay forever.

Raul gave me a present today - a traditional Peruvian necklace. on his birthday, he gave me a present. it is plain but i love it. i can only hope that wearing it back home will allow me to take a piece of this experience with me.

ñp

a la playa

2005-12-31T19:00:00.000-05:00

One day and a bit has past since my last entry and already so much has happened. Yesterday (en español es ´viernes´) we went to the beach. i must take a moment to describe the experience of crossing the highway as one would a crossway. its like being in the video game Frogger on the highest traffic setting. the cars and busses go zooming by, as we hold tightly to our human chain and try to cross. and i try not to wet myself. the process takes, on average, 7 minutes. and i thought jaywalking in toronto took skill. Lima is level 57.

it was on this journey that i saw my first white people. turns out that they all hang out in Lima proper, with their botiques and casinos. I seem to be the only one interested in the real Lima. it figures.

sidetrack. at the beach, one of the possible touristy activities is hang gliding. they all wanted me to try it, and admittedly i was excited to do so. so up i went. it was breath taking. the whole of Lima below my feet. my instructor kept calling me Gringo girl. its as good as calling me whitey.
after that we ventured down to the water. not only was the water freezing, but the waves are crazy strong. i was knocked over on more than one occasion.

when we got home, we watched Shrek 2 in spanish, which was fun because i know the english version so well. all the children and i sat on the bed laughing, esmeraldita on my lap. for a moment i became lost in it all. this is it, i thought. this is what life is. beauty amidst such struggle and poverty; family. staring into esmeralditas beautiful brown eyes is like holding a younger version of myself. she looks so much like i did as a child. i wish i could hold on forever as to let her know that she is never really alone in this world. a part of me is so scared for her...for what is in store for her. a life of struggling with her disability, her identity.

but i have to stop myself, because she has all she will ever need in her wonderful, loving parents, her caring and protective older brother Franco, and her vivacious and animated sister Fiorella. with them, she needs little else.

I hope i can come back someday when she´s older and able to speak. i wonder what she might say to me...

ñp

dia uno....y media

2005-12-29T23:33:00.000-05:00

surreal. pretty much the only word that comes to my mind right now.

flying is exciting. exhilerating even. but i found myself so caught up in the act of going to visit my Peruvian family that it wasn´t until mid-travel that reality hit. what did i think i was doing? i barely know all the spanish vocabulary i need to know for my 100-level class. how was i expecting to be able to communicate with a family that speaks only a few phrases in English?!? call it arrogence or call it stupidity...the closer we got to Lima, the stinkier the pile of poop i had put myself in became.

after escaping the baggage claim mosh pit with both bags as well as my digity, i proceeded, quite nervioso, towards the sea of clamouring Peruvian faces, all waiting for their safely landed friends and family. i was only left dreading the thousands of ¨what if´s for a split second before i heard my name and saw Angela running towards me. Í´ll never really know, i suppose, how long we actually stood there hugging, because it felt as though it could have been infinity. how long had we known eachother? 4 months? and over the internet! but that hug was too beautiful for words. it was like expeiencing a new kind of love surging thoroughout my body, like electricity.

but, as is life, such moments of sheer wonder must be followed by doubt. lots and lots of doubt. in about 5 minutes, Angela and her husband ushered me to a taxi, which her brother was driving. and in five minutes they both realized how poor my spanish actually was. the internet is a cheat. you can take your time and use aids (a dictionary, translation sites) to comprehend. but you can´t bs anything in person.

well...it really hasn´t been as bad as all that. sure...i say ¨no entiendo¨ a lot...but i´m getting better. i think.

language aside, this experience has been more visual than anything. I knew before i came that Lima is really poor. but yet i still didn´t quite grasp the reality. their house is very modest. which means, cement floor, an incomplete roof, few possessions, and little food. the neighbourhood too is quite hard on the eyes. imagine looking at hiroshema the day after it was bombed. desolate. baran. wasteland. yet home to thousands.

but no one is sad. in fact quite opposite; particulaly this family. they have so little and yet i have yet to see them sad or upset about anything. i have only been here one day and they treat me like a member of the family. its beautiful.

today felt like three days in one. i spent the morning being given an extensive tour of the neighbourhood, the marketplace, and the parks. i woke up this morning to a rooste, whom i saw grazing during my tour. wild sheep; wild dogs; wild cats; wild children; the whole area was teaming with life. the kids had fun posing for pictures. they love getting their photo taken!

part two: they take me to the zoo. now that was a good time. i never thought i would end up travelling to Peru to see penguins in a zoo in Lima! our frequetly used method of transportation is ¨lös taxichollos¨. try imagining, if you can, a golf cart, with a hood, on three wheels. yep. un taxichollo.

another thing interesting about Peruvian transportation is that it doesn´t matter how full a bus, van, or taxichollo is, you can always fit more people on it. there must have been 20 of us in a 10 seat van. and later, 7 in a taxichollo...which comforably sits two adults....and sat three adults and 4 children. you greedy north americans and your ¨have to sit two seats away on the bus because i don´t know you¨ attitude! get a grip!

part three: la fiesta. it must be said that in Peru, they know how to party. i went to the craziest party of my life; a 7 year old Peruvian boy´s birthday party. i have never really been in the racial minority position before, but man, it was like i was an alpaca in the company of a beautiful herd of mustangs. i tried to blend in, speaking the best spanish i could, but i could not have possibly looked and felt any whiter.

however, it seemed as though it was purely parnoia. the wamth of the company of these people was luminous. we sang (ok i prenteded to sing) these crazy spanish songs, play silly games that i had to figure out as they went since the instructions no en ingles....which was easy for hot potato, but not so much for this crazy slapping game i still don´t understand :P

the funniest moment was when all the childen started yelling ¨PINYATA!¨ and were all simultaneously throwing punches and high kicks at this enormous balloon hanging from the centre of the room. yes. misguided kicks. punches awry. a battlefield of screams of excitement and ultimate pain. finally, we heard a loud BANG! and the bodies all hit the ground in one wave, as the children forgot their previous pains and were now frantically scooping candy off the ground.

i love the people here. it seems just when i am having my doubts about humanity, i am thrown into perhaps one of few remaining places not yet ruined by capitalism, where people freely and simply love each other. they enjoy expressing it. they enjoy talking about it. and they enjoy feeling it.

as do i.

ñp

left and leaving

2005-12-27T11:24:00.000-05:00

tomorrow.

Tomorrow is just the day for leaving myself behind. I travel without purpose or pretention. Without preconception or pride. Without any pompus p-word vocabulary of any kind. Save, of course, my destination: Peru.

It seems a mystery at times how things in my life have unfolded as they have. Sometimes I ask so many questions that I find myself unable to manage mere statements anymore. For what is really all that conclusive?

And here is where you find me. Asking questions when I should simply be recounting the details of my recent turning of events. In the spirit of questioning, I will start by reference one age-old. Many question the existence of God, claiming that the idea is simply inconceivable. The logical thinkers, or maybe just those of little faith in anything; if I can't see it, it can't exist. But then such events occur, as the one am to tell, that leave no other conclusion in my mind than the work of a master's hands.

It was just four short months ago that I first met Angela. Two weeks into the fall semester, I received a bizarre e-mail from an address I didn’t recognize. A woman by the name of Angela wrote me a concise, three-line e-mail stating that she lives in Peru, has a daughter, and would like to talk to me. I almost dismissed the e-mail as spam, but the title "mama (fss)" caught my attention. FSS stands for Freeman Sheldon Syndrome - the rare condition I was born with. Only about 40-50 people in the world have it and the chances of being born with it are about 1 in 150 million. Suffice it to say I have never met anyone else affected by the condition—at least not face to face...yet.

I recollected registering on a disability network service several years ago and figured that this woman must have gotten my e-mail address from there. So there I sat, staring at the reply screen, wondering what on earth to write back when Angela signed in on my MSN all of the sudden. I didn’t remember adding her, but figured it would be easier to just ask her in MSN what questions she had about FSS.

What I didn’t realize was that she spoke only five words in English. Admittedly, I only knew one sentence in Spanish at that point, being only 2 weeks into my Spanish 100 class, so I greeted her and asked her how she was doing, as I quickly rummaged my bag for my Spanish-English dictionary and textbook. Two hours of somewhat frustratingly slow translation skills on my part, I learned that Angela had a 8 month old baby girl named Esmeraldita who also has FSS. Her and her three children live in Lima, Peru where none of the doctors have seen FSS before and subsequently feel unable to provide Esmeraldita with adequate medical care. Both her feet are clubbed and need surgery—one which I endured on my right foot when under a year old.

Like any mother, Angela was worried about her baby. When the doctors couldn’t provide her with sufficient information, she searched the internet for any help she could find. But seeing as how most information is in English, and all of the registered people on that particular website (less than ten) live in English-speaking countries, her search was quite in the dark. But since that fateful day, we have weekly conversations in MSN with our webcams. I have met her other children, Franco and Fiorella, and of course little Esmeraldita. I have done my best to answer the questions that have been plaguing Angela from day one. And I am helping her pursue treatment for Esmeraldita at a Canadian hospital. Angela recognizes the disadvantage her daughter has living in Peru and only dreams that her daughter will be able to enjoy life as much as possible with the love she provides to make up for lack of substantial financial support. Her dream is to one day see her daughter walk and lead as close to a normal life as possible in South America.

It’s funny how much we take life for granted. I don’t often throw myself pity-parties, but I would be lying if I said that I never wished for a normal body. But before this experience it had never occurred to me how much having access to Canadian health care has affected the person I have become. I can walk, I can skip, I can run—things that I may otherwise not have been able to do without the several difficult operations I received in my early years. But I never expected to learn so much from an 8 month old little girl. For me to wish away my condition is selfish. Without it, I would have never gained five new wonderful people in my life/family.

And so, tomorrow. Tomorrow brings answers to questions of my own.

blogging

2005-12-26T23:33:00.000-05:00

It seems that the wave of modernity has swept away leather-bound journalling only to replace scribing with these infamous web blogs, which I have yet to make a commitment to.

But my dislike for this trend is defeated by my enjoyment of writing - any writing. So this blog shall exist. If only for my own pleasure, than so be it. Hopefully...in due time, I may write something of some significance to others. For now I will keep it simple. This is a communal blog: mine to write, yours to enjoy...hopefully :)

Hopefully. Hoping not to write in vain. And hoping that posting such a 'blog about blogging' has not bored too many. There will be more lively discussions to come, of that I assure you. I am a ruthless wielder of words.

~np