i have had the most wonderful days. south america is coming alive! i have been more than content, in these recent weeks, to fill my belly in the market, shovelling down mouthfulls of bland boiled white rice..all the while entranced by the liveliness about me.. no longer do i crave the flavors of north america, no longer do i crave. the sights and smells, all precious small things percieved in greatness. cracked pavement. the flight of a pidgeon. my solitude no longer stands on its own to be percieved..as it merges with the movement of bustling streets.
it is as though my ´self´ has suddenly lost its brooding interest in its own existence, in capturing the dancing shapeshifting shadow figures it sees cast upon the mirror of consciousness by the burning light which without would not exist at all. the weight of all this internal activity has dissipated, and i am..floating, on a wave so pure. the current of life, the silent hand that moves in the leaves of those beautiful creatures we have so defined as ´trees´..to make them dance when i need most be reminded that the same hand moves within me..look up, up into the rustling green breathe, gold shivers of light.
out. in. this distance..i do believe has shortened, that veil becoming thinner, and thinner as days pass and i lose my ambitions
..where as once the undefined world was a cold and untouched being, that i must name, i thought, i must make it one with me. and in the only way this seemed possible- to create forms in which the intimidating vastness of all that lay before might reside, within my being and experience, certain and reliable as a basis to step further on to new truths...
and how painful it is! i thought, this division i must cross back and forth from, between two such different atmospheres, where must i be?
my recent state seems to have been preceded by a sensationless apathy, implacable even on a scale that would run from it´s extremities of positive to negative..i might almost describe this as a detachment from my ordinary orientation of being. no longer focusing my energies in putting into motion those changes in my state of mind i believed so vital, of such importance.
there is one day that shines most brightly to me now, it´s brilliancy penetrating through so many others in my memory. and in my acknowledging it´s insistent glimmer, as those half realized bits of dreams persist in the dawning light that they be completed, i wonder if perhaps something had been surrendered in that moment that i had not quite been aware of,considering it not much more than a rather trivial inconvenience.
it was still early enough in san borja that not a bead of sweat glistened on the brown faces moving about me, the sun´s golden morning rays adorning the grasses and arousing to light the spirit within, spared yet of it´s fierce heat.. and i was leaning against the door frame of the transport company´s office after being called in with the other 2 traveler´s whose origin i am not sure, who were also lingering about the terminal in anticipation of the day long journey ahead, to trinidad. there had been some miscommunication, of some sort, which was not clearly explained to us, but this much was clear to me
no transportation today. it will not be possible. there are no vehicules. tomorrow. tomorrow.
now how should i explain myself? there was something particularly dreadful, or should i say, there was a potentiality in that information to be particularly dreadful, on that day, under those precise circumstances, and in that town-frequented by any foreigners only for the purpose of breaking up the impossibly long distance between rurrenabaque and trinidad in bolivia´s tropical beni province...something particularly upsetting that i cannot quite in words give reason to..
i sensed a dark, heavy thing hung suspended above me, waiting for my reaction, which in turn would be its command, and i lingered briefly, between those two worlds..of time and timelessness, then slipped away, with near not a thought in my head, nor a twitch in my body that might signal reproach. and i saw the dark, heavy thing fall upon the other 2 and enclose them in misery....
and..that bed, that sad little bed with not a pillow nor set of sheets to disguise its meager offering as a place of rest, crammed in a room with 4 others, identical save for the bodies of each misshaped by human weight in slightly different forms.
i layed in that bed and dreamt. i lay still, and thought once or twice, i could sense the heaviness of time, spying on me, testing me, and my muscles jerked, once or twice, in its presence, but i would not let go, i would not be invaded or possessed by this illusory entity...i dont believe in you, i said, you have caused me great unhappiness... my concentration fixed on that of the gentle quivering motions speaking in syllables of light in midday heat, punctuating glory of my being.
i am in san borja today...i am in san borja forever, forever, forever
and that is it, do you see? this is what i´m trying to say.
san borja forever. and embedded in the palm of that day as i watched it unfold its infinite fingers, stretching across the planes of the universe in great tumbling waves, was, paradoxically, an awareness of the very impermanence of it.
i felt then i was at mercy to the wind, for my mind alone cannot, for its calculated desires, sprout limbs to move across this space, to put under its command the forces of nature..maybe this is what sorcerers do, but i do not wish to be a sorcerer..i am in this moment forever bound to the rising and settling dust, of the breathe of grazing cattle. desire for anything more than this has escaped me...
but that is not to say i do not want, because without this i am not sure what i might make out of this existence, but that is a different kind of want, a want not of the mind. it is here, at the centre of my chest, in my heart whose rhythm is timeless, and does not speak the logistical language of the mind..
this want is one with that of the hand..and for this i need not worry myself...because i know, in my silent prayer, i am connected.
goodnight.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
for the winds that sound within
i realize it´s been a little while..and i´ve been places, far beyond one´s words and further more what´s inside, this place having been born out of my own creative desire
hey, hey, wind. dreams, dreams, smoke and fire.
transformation.
i will make this simple.
i am in arequipa.
and i do not
feel
like writing
i have met a lovely being
hey, hey, wind. dreams, dreams, smoke and fire.
transformation.
i will make this simple.
i am in arequipa.
and i do not
feel
like writing
i have met a lovely being
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
now i feel i have yet another thousand words to tell and still have to retrace myself to that day in huacachina with julio. not that these tales are mighty significant but i like to feel i´ve done a sufficient job of the recounting of experiences.
i spent the next day similarily to that evening, in julio´s workshop, fingers working away knotting trails of string. i was buzzing on marijuana and felt intimate with the work my hands were doing, with my internal material, and with the space i was sharing with julio. by now i kind of had him figured out a bit better and felt amused, rather than threatened, by his method of pursuit for physical intimacy. it was that voice., i couldnt take him seriously in his ´character´ of the ´wise spiritual lover´. i drummed, we spoke. he drummed, we spoke. it felt like regardless of the idea i was attempting to get accross to him, what he was giving back was only ever a slightly different angle of one thing. it was clear that sex was on his mind and little else. no matter our position at the birth of an exchange, he managed to redirect the flow to a point where i had to say ´NO´. i dont think he was even conscious of this totally mindless repetition at all. at one point i was even in a fit of laughter at our communication, which exasperated him further because i could not explain why.
often during moments of emotional intimacy between myself and another, which might simply mean sharing ones self on a completely honest and open level, i feel i am experiencing the other person from behind a pane of glass, that there is still something dividing me from the other. i thought of this that afternoon, and wondered if i had ever had an experience with another human being where both of us were experiencing the exact same thing at the exact same time, completely in sync, completely one. i imagine this would be like merging into one light, one beautiful, divine light. sometimes i feel strange when i look in eyes knowing that i dont know how this person is experiencing this moment, that they dont know how i am experiencing this moment. i may feel like i am a spindel, all within me flying, spinning, in reaction to someone else,who is solid, who is not reacting with me. but also i have moments where my ego feels tiny, miniscule, and plays almost no part in an exchange, or my reaction. then i dont wonder about the eyes, i dont feel that strange lurch of suddenly becoming aware that i am not who i am looking at. then i am flexible, then dancing with all things my partner. then i am not aware of any divisions... this was brought to my mind because i think the idiomatic barriers amplify this sensation of being completely somewhere else when someone´s right in front of me.
i was prodding the web of words and expression as energy was exchanged between us as we spoke, with curiosity. there was some unspoken, and spoken, resistance, but i was approaching the situation with a sense of humor and didnt feel drained by it, at least.
the sun had already began it´s descent before i even realized the entire day had passed in that little room and i hadnt even eaten lunch.
i often wonder how it seems i have managed to manifest this pattern. its not like its uncommon to get pursued by local men here being a single white female, no matter what you look like, but i still feel like this must be due to something in my energetic makeup.
what confuses me is, i think, ok, in all these situations, i feel like i am being given something i wish for, an enriching experience. why does it seem to always come with a cost in the end? and what am i giving back? is this a balanced exchange? i think about how in each case what is wanted of me is to give my physical body,which makes me wonder of course...well, is that right? and is there something i might learn if i open my legs to this guy?! is it possible this is a positive opportunity the universe is giving me to join with another and explore love on the physical plane? i struggle to reconcile my physical and spiritual aspects of existence, and often i feel the two divide me, that they are not one in the same. is there something wrong with me? as i write this it looks so ridiculous. i think i only ask this, and question my own truth, because i instinctively want to adapt and be, fill the shape which is being presented to me.
that evening he had to work at one of the restaurants on the lake front. i felt he was very generous in letting me stay as long as i´d like in his workshop, allowing me complete access to all his things, encouraging me to continue drumming and creating. he was to be off around 10. all day he´d been trying to convince me to sleep in the desert with him, that we could create our own celebration (it was the week of harvest festival in ica) in honor of mother earth, so i had the visual of him and i in the windy, expansive dunes, chanting and drumming, dancing, drinking a bottle of wine. i told him there was no way i was going to sleep in the desert with him, but i was attracted to the other idea.
i´ve discovered my ´tribal´voice. when i am in an isolated spot, i like to sing, spontaneously forming shapes of sounds with no literal meaning. this is my true language. this is a universal language. sometimes they sound like chants, sometimes softer. i feel the rythym and my body yearns to be one with the music, swaying or in more abrupt form, like physical stocato. sometimes it makes me want to weep. i want my own drum so i can combine the two expressions. i want a grand celebration of being!
so julio and i loosely agreed to meet each other at his restaurant later on in the evening.
i gave his didgeridoo another try but could only manage a few pathetic squirts of sound, gave that up, and started feeling a little cooped up having been in that tiny room all day, so i left and layed on a dune for a while, in front of a cluster of trees, electric trees, i could see their colored sparks flying in streaks of light, faint, but something definitely seen. up into the sky.
around 1030 i was waving hello to julio as he swiped away crumbs with a rag on one of the patio tables at the restaurant. he wouldnt be off until everyone had left, and there were still several tables chatting, eating, and drinking. he invited me in though, and i ordered a beer. moments later he introduced me to two friends who had just walked up, one of them i had met the previous night, and the two men joined me at my table. so as the evening rolled on, i ended up having a fantastic time drinking beer with these two pretty eccentric, gay (i think) men who were celebrating jimmy´s birthday, while julio was swooning some other white chick at the table next to mine! what a dink! then i knew he probably just about had his whole spheel scripted, as i overheard snippets of their conversation-oh, i could show you a few pointers if you´d like (yoga) oh really? only 15 minutes to learn how to make that? (bracelet) and him quoting osho and whatnot, blahblah. i was thoroughly enjoying myself, and i got the feeling that the unexpected company (of i) made jimmys birthday evening feel a little bit more special to him. he was a little different, and i dont think he often recieves very warm attention from many people. so julio and i never spoke another word to each other, he left with that woman, and the three of us were the last to leave the restaurant, at that point drunk and dancing with oneanother to the live samba drifting our way across the lagoon. we danced all the way down to the source of music, which was catering to some kind of family social event of old people and one woman on the dance floor waved us over. she was clearly drunk also and having a pretty good time. we have an invitation! i yelled. so i grabbed whatwashisname and we were both shaking our stuff there, me in bare feet, laughing and ecstatic, until one real sour old lady comes up to me and goes, who invited you, and i pointed to the lady who waved us over and i said she did! and she just shook her sour old face at me and was trying to get the other lady to stop dancing with my friend, i´m guessing it had something to do with our appearances? i felt really affected by it and wanted to leave right away, i pretended not to feel hurt by it, i laughed some more and motioned that we leave. so they walked me back to my hostal where they caught a taxi back to ica.
the next day i was in paracas.
i feel a little bit silly, the last i´d written i´d had the date wrong, and on the morning of the 15th, i was thinking it was my birthday. it wasn´t until i looked at my bus ticket to the nasca that afternoon that in fact i would still be 20 for another day.
i spent the next day similarily to that evening, in julio´s workshop, fingers working away knotting trails of string. i was buzzing on marijuana and felt intimate with the work my hands were doing, with my internal material, and with the space i was sharing with julio. by now i kind of had him figured out a bit better and felt amused, rather than threatened, by his method of pursuit for physical intimacy. it was that voice., i couldnt take him seriously in his ´character´ of the ´wise spiritual lover´. i drummed, we spoke. he drummed, we spoke. it felt like regardless of the idea i was attempting to get accross to him, what he was giving back was only ever a slightly different angle of one thing. it was clear that sex was on his mind and little else. no matter our position at the birth of an exchange, he managed to redirect the flow to a point where i had to say ´NO´. i dont think he was even conscious of this totally mindless repetition at all. at one point i was even in a fit of laughter at our communication, which exasperated him further because i could not explain why.
often during moments of emotional intimacy between myself and another, which might simply mean sharing ones self on a completely honest and open level, i feel i am experiencing the other person from behind a pane of glass, that there is still something dividing me from the other. i thought of this that afternoon, and wondered if i had ever had an experience with another human being where both of us were experiencing the exact same thing at the exact same time, completely in sync, completely one. i imagine this would be like merging into one light, one beautiful, divine light. sometimes i feel strange when i look in eyes knowing that i dont know how this person is experiencing this moment, that they dont know how i am experiencing this moment. i may feel like i am a spindel, all within me flying, spinning, in reaction to someone else,who is solid, who is not reacting with me. but also i have moments where my ego feels tiny, miniscule, and plays almost no part in an exchange, or my reaction. then i dont wonder about the eyes, i dont feel that strange lurch of suddenly becoming aware that i am not who i am looking at. then i am flexible, then dancing with all things my partner. then i am not aware of any divisions... this was brought to my mind because i think the idiomatic barriers amplify this sensation of being completely somewhere else when someone´s right in front of me.
i was prodding the web of words and expression as energy was exchanged between us as we spoke, with curiosity. there was some unspoken, and spoken, resistance, but i was approaching the situation with a sense of humor and didnt feel drained by it, at least.
the sun had already began it´s descent before i even realized the entire day had passed in that little room and i hadnt even eaten lunch.
i often wonder how it seems i have managed to manifest this pattern. its not like its uncommon to get pursued by local men here being a single white female, no matter what you look like, but i still feel like this must be due to something in my energetic makeup.
what confuses me is, i think, ok, in all these situations, i feel like i am being given something i wish for, an enriching experience. why does it seem to always come with a cost in the end? and what am i giving back? is this a balanced exchange? i think about how in each case what is wanted of me is to give my physical body,which makes me wonder of course...well, is that right? and is there something i might learn if i open my legs to this guy?! is it possible this is a positive opportunity the universe is giving me to join with another and explore love on the physical plane? i struggle to reconcile my physical and spiritual aspects of existence, and often i feel the two divide me, that they are not one in the same. is there something wrong with me? as i write this it looks so ridiculous. i think i only ask this, and question my own truth, because i instinctively want to adapt and be, fill the shape which is being presented to me.
that evening he had to work at one of the restaurants on the lake front. i felt he was very generous in letting me stay as long as i´d like in his workshop, allowing me complete access to all his things, encouraging me to continue drumming and creating. he was to be off around 10. all day he´d been trying to convince me to sleep in the desert with him, that we could create our own celebration (it was the week of harvest festival in ica) in honor of mother earth, so i had the visual of him and i in the windy, expansive dunes, chanting and drumming, dancing, drinking a bottle of wine. i told him there was no way i was going to sleep in the desert with him, but i was attracted to the other idea.
i´ve discovered my ´tribal´voice. when i am in an isolated spot, i like to sing, spontaneously forming shapes of sounds with no literal meaning. this is my true language. this is a universal language. sometimes they sound like chants, sometimes softer. i feel the rythym and my body yearns to be one with the music, swaying or in more abrupt form, like physical stocato. sometimes it makes me want to weep. i want my own drum so i can combine the two expressions. i want a grand celebration of being!
so julio and i loosely agreed to meet each other at his restaurant later on in the evening.
i gave his didgeridoo another try but could only manage a few pathetic squirts of sound, gave that up, and started feeling a little cooped up having been in that tiny room all day, so i left and layed on a dune for a while, in front of a cluster of trees, electric trees, i could see their colored sparks flying in streaks of light, faint, but something definitely seen. up into the sky.
around 1030 i was waving hello to julio as he swiped away crumbs with a rag on one of the patio tables at the restaurant. he wouldnt be off until everyone had left, and there were still several tables chatting, eating, and drinking. he invited me in though, and i ordered a beer. moments later he introduced me to two friends who had just walked up, one of them i had met the previous night, and the two men joined me at my table. so as the evening rolled on, i ended up having a fantastic time drinking beer with these two pretty eccentric, gay (i think) men who were celebrating jimmy´s birthday, while julio was swooning some other white chick at the table next to mine! what a dink! then i knew he probably just about had his whole spheel scripted, as i overheard snippets of their conversation-oh, i could show you a few pointers if you´d like (yoga) oh really? only 15 minutes to learn how to make that? (bracelet) and him quoting osho and whatnot, blahblah. i was thoroughly enjoying myself, and i got the feeling that the unexpected company (of i) made jimmys birthday evening feel a little bit more special to him. he was a little different, and i dont think he often recieves very warm attention from many people. so julio and i never spoke another word to each other, he left with that woman, and the three of us were the last to leave the restaurant, at that point drunk and dancing with oneanother to the live samba drifting our way across the lagoon. we danced all the way down to the source of music, which was catering to some kind of family social event of old people and one woman on the dance floor waved us over. she was clearly drunk also and having a pretty good time. we have an invitation! i yelled. so i grabbed whatwashisname and we were both shaking our stuff there, me in bare feet, laughing and ecstatic, until one real sour old lady comes up to me and goes, who invited you, and i pointed to the lady who waved us over and i said she did! and she just shook her sour old face at me and was trying to get the other lady to stop dancing with my friend, i´m guessing it had something to do with our appearances? i felt really affected by it and wanted to leave right away, i pretended not to feel hurt by it, i laughed some more and motioned that we leave. so they walked me back to my hostal where they caught a taxi back to ica.
the next day i was in paracas.
i feel a little bit silly, the last i´d written i´d had the date wrong, and on the morning of the 15th, i was thinking it was my birthday. it wasn´t until i looked at my bus ticket to the nasca that afternoon that in fact i would still be 20 for another day.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Paracas, Peru
this is my second day here in paracas, a very very tiny town which basically only exists as a kind of tourist trap for those of us travellers seeking a boat tour of the islas ballestas, the socalled poor mans galapagos (it costs 10 dollars. a galapagos tour averages in price at 1000!) so theres a strip of overpriced seafood restaurants and hotels, a strip of artesanial shops, and a small, smelly grey beach. oh, and the dock.
the morning i left huacachina (ill go into more detail later. oh, also, this keyboard sucks and seems to be missing some punctuation, so forgive me), i was feeling a little, ok, pretty hungover, but was slowly forcing my three white breakfast buns down at the poolside restaurant/bar. a nice guy (from edmonton!) who had just arrived asked me about breakfast prices, ordered one, and then sat with me at my table. we only spoke for a little bit, but i had yet another one of those moments where i am silently uttering, thankyou. and it was so simple. i knew i was heading to pisco that day, but had only a very vague idea of what the whole islas thing was about, i wasnt even aware that paracas was a separate town, that its best to stay here, etc, so in 15 minutes i learned everything i needed to know, recieving information at the exact moment i needed it. and he told me how to find the cheapest bed. (4.50!) i am appreciative of these moments because i feel that they are more than coincidences, although it would be easy to regard them as so. its harmony!
so, my bed is part of a dorm room which is not officially part of a hostal, and there are no bathroom facilities. the owner of the hotel across the street is the brotherin law, and so i was told i could use the shower and toilet there. its a little bit of a pain, and the room itself is like a brick oven. i have not been feeling very well, (at first i thought it was just my hangover, but i was experiencing some pretty uncomfortable stomach pains later on in the day, and i think its more likely something i had eaten.) i tried laying down for a bit, but it was impossible to rest, what with the paper thin walls separating me from a group of arguing constrution workers, and my bed was on the top bunk. i was absolutely physically inactive and yet there was still sweat pouring down my face. so, ive been overall, physically quite uncomfortable for the past 2 days, and why does it seem like my scampering talkative mind is so closely correlated with nausea? there probably was something bad in my stomach, but i notice the way my body reacts to a racing mind. i think i feel a little bit overstimulated perhaps. it is easy for me to get a little over excited when my social activity reaches a high level, and i forget what is most important, and become trapped in a whirlpool of wordthoughts instead of taking even a few moments to breathe and find my peace. and i think this definitely relates to my physical state of being.
this morning i took the tour to the islands even though i wasnt feeling 100 percent, since id already paid for it the day before. i could barely enjoy it though, as i was concentrating on not throwing up.i had to breathe through my mouth because the scent mixture of gasoline and rotten fish in combination with a rocking boat doesnt do much for the nausea. never have i, and probably not you either, seen so many birds in one place. the boat cruised through the islands, which were really nothing more than big rock formations, and idled its engine at certain spots to allow us time to appreciate the animals, which were mostly different types of seabirds, colonies of them, penguins (really! penguins!) and sea lions. i have to say, sea lions are probably the absolute wierdest creatures ive ever seen. in one spot there were probably a hundred of them, like fat slugs with flippers, singing. it sounded like i was in a monestary, listening in on a symphony of monks. very cool. on the way back we also saw some dolphins, though mostly just their fins, gliding through the sea.
i havent so quickly gotten so bored like this in a beach town before, usually theyre places that i end up spending more time in than id thought. and where did all these gringos and hippies come from? it feels a little wierd seeing so many other travellers in such a small, confined spot with such a halfhearted atmosphere. because of my physical state, i havent been feeling all that friendly, so ive taken a stance of avoidance. looks like ill be all by my lonesome tomorrow, turning 21, in nazca.
alright, huacachina.
since parting with the girls in huancayo, i was feeling pretty vibrant and social, and thought id give one of these so called party hostals a try, which ive avoided in the past becuase ive figured theyre probably utilized by a lot of characters that im just not interested in meeting. huacachina is a wierd place. its similar to the way i was describing paracas, only instead of an islands tour attracting visitors, its main attraction is a small, (and artificial, i found out) dirty looking lagoon, amidst sand dunes, about 10 minutes from the city of ica. why does this place exist?? i was thinking, this is so wierd. literally, one street, lined with a bunch of hostals and touristy restaurants surrounding the lake. and a whole lot of white people, who come here to sandboard and party. the hostel was ok, very popular. i used the pool for a little one morning, and saw that not only people of my stereotyped idea existed there , but i really spent very little time there, and didnt even meet a single person.
i was sitting on a sand dune that i had scampered up my first day there, anticipating the setting of the sun, and watching some groups of friends playing and taking photos in the dunes over a little from mine. i had noticed this guy trudging through the dunes in my direction. he looked slightly ridiculous, as if he had just emmerged into civilization after being lost in the desert. with dark brown muscles shiny in the heat, he was wearing a white ripped up shirt tied over his head and face like a ninja, and was walking with a big carved cane. he was talking to a group of dogs galloping around, and i was thinking, what a nut.
well, of course this nut needed to know the time, which resulted in him asking me permission to sit with me, really stressing that he didnt want anything from me, just to talk, etc. a long relaxed conversation ensued on the peak of the dune, both of us facing the rainbowcolored sky. too go along with his movie set desert gear, he also spoke in a way which sounded a little bit too rehearsed to be real, a little like keanu reeves, and i was amused.
i liked what he was saying. still, a little bit..suspicious, but he was different. he spoke of his deep respect for mother earth, for the woman, his love for the desert, (what? this is really considered desert?) energy, thats all we are, he said, each of us like a grain of sand. alright, i thought, ill give you a chance. he showed me his little workshop, again stressing i was under no obligation, where he had some jewellery for sale. AND 3 drums. which i immediately drew a lot of attention to, and he willingly gave me a little lesson, showing me a few patterns, then leaving me to expore the rhythms for myself. i was so excited. finally, in my hands! for about a month i had been visualizing a drum in my possesion, the texture of the skin beneath my fingertips, the wood held between my thighs, the rythym, the rythym. he also showed me his diy didgerydoo (spelling?) that he was in the process of mastering, and i gave it a try. a difficult instrument, and a little awkward...but maybe later on for me. i remembered the image i had catalouged one night not long before i left. me and jessjess were passing 17th ave one night and on the corner, amongst a throng of friday night bar hoppers, was a girl blowing on a didgeridoo that definitely looked like shed made it herself, seated on a big white pail, which she was banging on like a drum. i want to do that, i thought. i want that to be me someday.
he also showed me how to make a few simple pieces of jewellery. he smoked pot and drummed while i sat at the counter, braiding and knotting long colored string to make a bracelet, occassionally turning to him for direction. im wearing it now.
i was thrilled. here i am! im doing these things! i thought about how id fantasized about becoming an artesania like those id met in montanita, making my own jewellery and travelling with it, but thinking, oh that could never happen. well, its probably not, at least not at the moment, but it felt great to be learning something new, acquiring a new skill. no, two new skills! i was a little clumsy with the drum at first, but by the end of the night i think i sounded pretty damn good for a beginner. i was told its best to buy them in cusco, because they are cheapest there, and im thinking about buying one, though it will take a lot of practice before id be comfortable drumming in earshot of other people, and it could probably be a hassle to travel with, but i know there are many who do. and its my dreeaamm.
EXCHANGE. the theme word of this month, developing stronger views. harmony. looking for those exchanges in which dont involve money. to give, and to recieve. to attract those with something i want to recieve, be attracted by those who i may give to.
ok, i need to urinate, though theres a little more to the story, and im a little sad ive just missed a really beautiful sunset being here in front of a computer screen, so ill write more tomorrow.
the morning i left huacachina (ill go into more detail later. oh, also, this keyboard sucks and seems to be missing some punctuation, so forgive me), i was feeling a little, ok, pretty hungover, but was slowly forcing my three white breakfast buns down at the poolside restaurant/bar. a nice guy (from edmonton!) who had just arrived asked me about breakfast prices, ordered one, and then sat with me at my table. we only spoke for a little bit, but i had yet another one of those moments where i am silently uttering, thankyou. and it was so simple. i knew i was heading to pisco that day, but had only a very vague idea of what the whole islas thing was about, i wasnt even aware that paracas was a separate town, that its best to stay here, etc, so in 15 minutes i learned everything i needed to know, recieving information at the exact moment i needed it. and he told me how to find the cheapest bed. (4.50!) i am appreciative of these moments because i feel that they are more than coincidences, although it would be easy to regard them as so. its harmony!
so, my bed is part of a dorm room which is not officially part of a hostal, and there are no bathroom facilities. the owner of the hotel across the street is the brotherin law, and so i was told i could use the shower and toilet there. its a little bit of a pain, and the room itself is like a brick oven. i have not been feeling very well, (at first i thought it was just my hangover, but i was experiencing some pretty uncomfortable stomach pains later on in the day, and i think its more likely something i had eaten.) i tried laying down for a bit, but it was impossible to rest, what with the paper thin walls separating me from a group of arguing constrution workers, and my bed was on the top bunk. i was absolutely physically inactive and yet there was still sweat pouring down my face. so, ive been overall, physically quite uncomfortable for the past 2 days, and why does it seem like my scampering talkative mind is so closely correlated with nausea? there probably was something bad in my stomach, but i notice the way my body reacts to a racing mind. i think i feel a little bit overstimulated perhaps. it is easy for me to get a little over excited when my social activity reaches a high level, and i forget what is most important, and become trapped in a whirlpool of wordthoughts instead of taking even a few moments to breathe and find my peace. and i think this definitely relates to my physical state of being.
this morning i took the tour to the islands even though i wasnt feeling 100 percent, since id already paid for it the day before. i could barely enjoy it though, as i was concentrating on not throwing up.i had to breathe through my mouth because the scent mixture of gasoline and rotten fish in combination with a rocking boat doesnt do much for the nausea. never have i, and probably not you either, seen so many birds in one place. the boat cruised through the islands, which were really nothing more than big rock formations, and idled its engine at certain spots to allow us time to appreciate the animals, which were mostly different types of seabirds, colonies of them, penguins (really! penguins!) and sea lions. i have to say, sea lions are probably the absolute wierdest creatures ive ever seen. in one spot there were probably a hundred of them, like fat slugs with flippers, singing. it sounded like i was in a monestary, listening in on a symphony of monks. very cool. on the way back we also saw some dolphins, though mostly just their fins, gliding through the sea.
i havent so quickly gotten so bored like this in a beach town before, usually theyre places that i end up spending more time in than id thought. and where did all these gringos and hippies come from? it feels a little wierd seeing so many other travellers in such a small, confined spot with such a halfhearted atmosphere. because of my physical state, i havent been feeling all that friendly, so ive taken a stance of avoidance. looks like ill be all by my lonesome tomorrow, turning 21, in nazca.
alright, huacachina.
since parting with the girls in huancayo, i was feeling pretty vibrant and social, and thought id give one of these so called party hostals a try, which ive avoided in the past becuase ive figured theyre probably utilized by a lot of characters that im just not interested in meeting. huacachina is a wierd place. its similar to the way i was describing paracas, only instead of an islands tour attracting visitors, its main attraction is a small, (and artificial, i found out) dirty looking lagoon, amidst sand dunes, about 10 minutes from the city of ica. why does this place exist?? i was thinking, this is so wierd. literally, one street, lined with a bunch of hostals and touristy restaurants surrounding the lake. and a whole lot of white people, who come here to sandboard and party. the hostel was ok, very popular. i used the pool for a little one morning, and saw that not only people of my stereotyped idea existed there , but i really spent very little time there, and didnt even meet a single person.
i was sitting on a sand dune that i had scampered up my first day there, anticipating the setting of the sun, and watching some groups of friends playing and taking photos in the dunes over a little from mine. i had noticed this guy trudging through the dunes in my direction. he looked slightly ridiculous, as if he had just emmerged into civilization after being lost in the desert. with dark brown muscles shiny in the heat, he was wearing a white ripped up shirt tied over his head and face like a ninja, and was walking with a big carved cane. he was talking to a group of dogs galloping around, and i was thinking, what a nut.
well, of course this nut needed to know the time, which resulted in him asking me permission to sit with me, really stressing that he didnt want anything from me, just to talk, etc. a long relaxed conversation ensued on the peak of the dune, both of us facing the rainbowcolored sky. too go along with his movie set desert gear, he also spoke in a way which sounded a little bit too rehearsed to be real, a little like keanu reeves, and i was amused.
i liked what he was saying. still, a little bit..suspicious, but he was different. he spoke of his deep respect for mother earth, for the woman, his love for the desert, (what? this is really considered desert?) energy, thats all we are, he said, each of us like a grain of sand. alright, i thought, ill give you a chance. he showed me his little workshop, again stressing i was under no obligation, where he had some jewellery for sale. AND 3 drums. which i immediately drew a lot of attention to, and he willingly gave me a little lesson, showing me a few patterns, then leaving me to expore the rhythms for myself. i was so excited. finally, in my hands! for about a month i had been visualizing a drum in my possesion, the texture of the skin beneath my fingertips, the wood held between my thighs, the rythym, the rythym. he also showed me his diy didgerydoo (spelling?) that he was in the process of mastering, and i gave it a try. a difficult instrument, and a little awkward...but maybe later on for me. i remembered the image i had catalouged one night not long before i left. me and jessjess were passing 17th ave one night and on the corner, amongst a throng of friday night bar hoppers, was a girl blowing on a didgeridoo that definitely looked like shed made it herself, seated on a big white pail, which she was banging on like a drum. i want to do that, i thought. i want that to be me someday.
he also showed me how to make a few simple pieces of jewellery. he smoked pot and drummed while i sat at the counter, braiding and knotting long colored string to make a bracelet, occassionally turning to him for direction. im wearing it now.
i was thrilled. here i am! im doing these things! i thought about how id fantasized about becoming an artesania like those id met in montanita, making my own jewellery and travelling with it, but thinking, oh that could never happen. well, its probably not, at least not at the moment, but it felt great to be learning something new, acquiring a new skill. no, two new skills! i was a little clumsy with the drum at first, but by the end of the night i think i sounded pretty damn good for a beginner. i was told its best to buy them in cusco, because they are cheapest there, and im thinking about buying one, though it will take a lot of practice before id be comfortable drumming in earshot of other people, and it could probably be a hassle to travel with, but i know there are many who do. and its my dreeaamm.
EXCHANGE. the theme word of this month, developing stronger views. harmony. looking for those exchanges in which dont involve money. to give, and to recieve. to attract those with something i want to recieve, be attracted by those who i may give to.
ok, i need to urinate, though theres a little more to the story, and im a little sad ive just missed a really beautiful sunset being here in front of a computer screen, so ill write more tomorrow.
Monday, March 9, 2009
huancavelica, peru
SO, about my experience that night. it was not a very good one. there were several things right away that were telling me that it wasn´t right for me, but i ignored them, forcing myself to remain positive and optimistic. i didn´t like the man. i knew this moments after he greeted me. the atmosphere was dirty. there were lots of peope in the room. i think this ´shaman´might have even been drinking. i couldn´t believe the way this man was talking about ayahuasca in his conversation with ashuco, animated tales, which i only understood very little of, that were all based on crazy hallucinations and such. i felt like i was overhearing some conversation on a bus with some young guy being all like, dude! i was so fucking high! it was like whoaa, the pattern on the wall was moving in all these different directions, ohh man, dahdahdah. and during this time making almost no eye contact with me whatsoever. ashuco even tried to translate, but i was not amused. ¨heh. mmhmm.¨but i refused to allow myself to be disheartened by this person turning out not to be who i had hoped might finally be the wise man/woman that could tell me things about myself that i don´t already know, someone who emanates love, an experienced healer who is able to work with energy and to see beyond material reality. i was given a very different impression of him beforehand, and i thought, wow, he speaks 4 different indigenous languages, he has studied shamanism with a master for something like 7 years, and has been doing this since he was a young man.
well, whatever. i think he was an asshole and i should´ve asked for my money back at that point, but i didn´t, yearning to experience more of what i had that night in san francisco.
i was pissed off at ashuco too, for having said many things that had turned out to be misleading. i thought we were arriving at his house earlier in the evening so that the shaman and i could speak to one another, that i would share my perspective on life, and my reasons for seeking this plant, that he would be able to ´see´me, and know in which areas needing healing might require his focus during the ceremony. well, none of that happened.
here´s what happened that night.
absolutely nothing.
i couldn´t believe it. after he finally shooed away all the people in his living room, which turned out to be the place where i would be talking the ayahuasca, turned off his t.v., i drank it and he made what sounded like a totally robotic and insensitive speech in a native tongue, with his hand on my head. he shook some leaves over me and sang a chant. then it was silent, dark. after about 30 minutes, i felt absolutely nothing. an hour later, it was becoming pretty clear to me that this just wasn´t happening, so i said something. what? you´re not seeing anything? no. nothing. wait another 20 minutes. 45 minutes later and i just wanted to go to sleep. i told them once again that i wasn´t feeling anything. both ashuco and ´shaman´seemed a little baffled by this. they turned on the lights. he came over to me and prodded certain spots on my body where there was a pulse. ¨hmm, i wonder why not, why not..¨ it was the same amount that i had taken with roger. who knows, maybe it just hadn´t been prepared properly. but he seemed genuinely shocked that i was in a completely normal state of being, completely untouched. you are very strong, he said. you have a very strong spirit! i knew it was too late to ask for my money back, so i let that go, at that point feeling almost amused. oh well, nothing happened, too bad. i could have just left it at that, but i can´t help but search for a deeper meaning. ashuco and i left and he walked me to my hotel and he went to spend the night with some family he had in town. man, i do have a strong spirit, i thought, and my spirit is very wise. probably wiser than that douchebag, and this is why nothing happened. it knew the conditions were not right, that it would not have been an experience of healing, because it was not being guided by the right kind of person with the right intentions. perhaps what i would have seen, or experienced, if my spirit had surrendered, would have harmed me.
well, the next day, i took it easy back in iquitos. but as the day progressed, the more and more i thought about what the decision i´d made, and the more infuriated i became. i couldn´t get ashuco´s face out of my mind and each time i saw it i became more and more disgusted by it. i tried a meditation to calm my mind. it only took a few moments of stillness before i felt what i had been ignoring all day, my spirit, my self, my heart center. i broke down, i´m sorry, i said to myself. feeling like i had been protected, knowing i am loved, divine love. i will not do this again, i will not ignore what i know i know in hopes of an experience that will take me further within it.
i flew back to lima the next day. where i picked up my new bank card that my mom sent to the post office, who were holding it for me. i was so relieved it had worked. i forgot my card in a bank machine somewhere in february and had been using my visa to take out money. i forget why, but there were a bunch of reasons why this was not a very good system of taking money out. so it was a really full day. i made friends with my taxi driver that i took from the airport, and by the time he dropped me off at the post office i think he was just about ready to ask me out to dinner, and i felt good. i bought a bus ticket for the same night to huancayo, and caught about 3 quarters of the movie ´che´ that i saw listed in one of the theatre´s i passed by in the big commercial pedestrian walkway mall type thing before i had to catch my bus, and the following morning i was in huancayo.
i met a super awesome girl from the states in the hostal there, and another woman from canada. i was so grateful to have some female company after my week in iquitos, and they were so funny, and wonderful to spend time with. we had dinner at the restaurant across the street which has folklorica music and dance shows thurs-sat, which was pretty much exactly what i wanted to see, and hear. i´m telling you, there is something about those zampona pipes that just makes me spirit sing. by this time, i recognized almost every song from the radios i hear in restaurants or on buses. there isn´t a whole lot of variety when it comes to latin american music, it seems. after a few hours there, we were taken on a kind of nightlife tour by the man who owns a very profitable tour and language center, and i think the restaurant as well, who is somehow related or connected to the owner of the hostal we were at. we were taken to 2 other restaurant bars, where i watched some entertaining, albeit megga cheesy, musical performances of a slightly different genre. we were drinking the town´s famous ´calientito´drink, which is so sweet you already feel hung over the moment you´ve put down your second glass. i was feeling a little bit bored by the time we were at the third place, but i was still glad i had been able to get a little taste of peruvian nightlife, seeing as, travelling alone and all, i´ve never even been to a bar yet. you know what the great thing about this culture is? music and dance is so much more rich and important to their heritage. we weren´t at the youthful, ´discotecas´, as they´re called, which is like the equivalent of a night club, but i was watching crowds of mostly older, well dressed couples, dancing, drinking, partying it up until wee hours of the morning. i kept laughing at this one guy who was clearly in his late 50´s at least, passionately swaying his hips and arms, mouthing the words to the songs, trying to woo some younger lady. as i´ve heard, the band will play on and on for hours until the place starts to empty out. this does. not. happen. in northamerica. here every man can dance. and every man likes to dance! and it seems like everyone can sing too. it´s wonderful. the next day we went to the big sunday market, but i was a little disappointed i didn´t see anything unique that caught my eye. they do make very beautiful silver jewellery here though, that i could buy at a really amazing price compared to what you might pay in canada, but i don´t think i am really all that interested in silver jewellery.
talking has been feeling differently for me. less awkward. i vibrate with expression. words feel like new things in my mouth, like things i´ve just begun to discover. sometimes i´m even like, whoaa, where is all this coming from, am i even making sense? where are the brakes! i´m talking! more openly, and fearless.
today i am in huancavelica. i was disappointed the train rails are currently under construction, which was half the reason i wanted to come here, so i ended up taking a bus instead. i have yet to see a town quite like this one. i think i will spend tomorrow hunting for good photo opportunities.
oh, by the way, don´t feel too jealous, it is cold. i´m probably sitting in about the same temperature as you guys, only no building is heated here.
well, whatever. i think he was an asshole and i should´ve asked for my money back at that point, but i didn´t, yearning to experience more of what i had that night in san francisco.
i was pissed off at ashuco too, for having said many things that had turned out to be misleading. i thought we were arriving at his house earlier in the evening so that the shaman and i could speak to one another, that i would share my perspective on life, and my reasons for seeking this plant, that he would be able to ´see´me, and know in which areas needing healing might require his focus during the ceremony. well, none of that happened.
here´s what happened that night.
absolutely nothing.
i couldn´t believe it. after he finally shooed away all the people in his living room, which turned out to be the place where i would be talking the ayahuasca, turned off his t.v., i drank it and he made what sounded like a totally robotic and insensitive speech in a native tongue, with his hand on my head. he shook some leaves over me and sang a chant. then it was silent, dark. after about 30 minutes, i felt absolutely nothing. an hour later, it was becoming pretty clear to me that this just wasn´t happening, so i said something. what? you´re not seeing anything? no. nothing. wait another 20 minutes. 45 minutes later and i just wanted to go to sleep. i told them once again that i wasn´t feeling anything. both ashuco and ´shaman´seemed a little baffled by this. they turned on the lights. he came over to me and prodded certain spots on my body where there was a pulse. ¨hmm, i wonder why not, why not..¨ it was the same amount that i had taken with roger. who knows, maybe it just hadn´t been prepared properly. but he seemed genuinely shocked that i was in a completely normal state of being, completely untouched. you are very strong, he said. you have a very strong spirit! i knew it was too late to ask for my money back, so i let that go, at that point feeling almost amused. oh well, nothing happened, too bad. i could have just left it at that, but i can´t help but search for a deeper meaning. ashuco and i left and he walked me to my hotel and he went to spend the night with some family he had in town. man, i do have a strong spirit, i thought, and my spirit is very wise. probably wiser than that douchebag, and this is why nothing happened. it knew the conditions were not right, that it would not have been an experience of healing, because it was not being guided by the right kind of person with the right intentions. perhaps what i would have seen, or experienced, if my spirit had surrendered, would have harmed me.
well, the next day, i took it easy back in iquitos. but as the day progressed, the more and more i thought about what the decision i´d made, and the more infuriated i became. i couldn´t get ashuco´s face out of my mind and each time i saw it i became more and more disgusted by it. i tried a meditation to calm my mind. it only took a few moments of stillness before i felt what i had been ignoring all day, my spirit, my self, my heart center. i broke down, i´m sorry, i said to myself. feeling like i had been protected, knowing i am loved, divine love. i will not do this again, i will not ignore what i know i know in hopes of an experience that will take me further within it.
i flew back to lima the next day. where i picked up my new bank card that my mom sent to the post office, who were holding it for me. i was so relieved it had worked. i forgot my card in a bank machine somewhere in february and had been using my visa to take out money. i forget why, but there were a bunch of reasons why this was not a very good system of taking money out. so it was a really full day. i made friends with my taxi driver that i took from the airport, and by the time he dropped me off at the post office i think he was just about ready to ask me out to dinner, and i felt good. i bought a bus ticket for the same night to huancayo, and caught about 3 quarters of the movie ´che´ that i saw listed in one of the theatre´s i passed by in the big commercial pedestrian walkway mall type thing before i had to catch my bus, and the following morning i was in huancayo.
i met a super awesome girl from the states in the hostal there, and another woman from canada. i was so grateful to have some female company after my week in iquitos, and they were so funny, and wonderful to spend time with. we had dinner at the restaurant across the street which has folklorica music and dance shows thurs-sat, which was pretty much exactly what i wanted to see, and hear. i´m telling you, there is something about those zampona pipes that just makes me spirit sing. by this time, i recognized almost every song from the radios i hear in restaurants or on buses. there isn´t a whole lot of variety when it comes to latin american music, it seems. after a few hours there, we were taken on a kind of nightlife tour by the man who owns a very profitable tour and language center, and i think the restaurant as well, who is somehow related or connected to the owner of the hostal we were at. we were taken to 2 other restaurant bars, where i watched some entertaining, albeit megga cheesy, musical performances of a slightly different genre. we were drinking the town´s famous ´calientito´drink, which is so sweet you already feel hung over the moment you´ve put down your second glass. i was feeling a little bit bored by the time we were at the third place, but i was still glad i had been able to get a little taste of peruvian nightlife, seeing as, travelling alone and all, i´ve never even been to a bar yet. you know what the great thing about this culture is? music and dance is so much more rich and important to their heritage. we weren´t at the youthful, ´discotecas´, as they´re called, which is like the equivalent of a night club, but i was watching crowds of mostly older, well dressed couples, dancing, drinking, partying it up until wee hours of the morning. i kept laughing at this one guy who was clearly in his late 50´s at least, passionately swaying his hips and arms, mouthing the words to the songs, trying to woo some younger lady. as i´ve heard, the band will play on and on for hours until the place starts to empty out. this does. not. happen. in northamerica. here every man can dance. and every man likes to dance! and it seems like everyone can sing too. it´s wonderful. the next day we went to the big sunday market, but i was a little disappointed i didn´t see anything unique that caught my eye. they do make very beautiful silver jewellery here though, that i could buy at a really amazing price compared to what you might pay in canada, but i don´t think i am really all that interested in silver jewellery.
talking has been feeling differently for me. less awkward. i vibrate with expression. words feel like new things in my mouth, like things i´ve just begun to discover. sometimes i´m even like, whoaa, where is all this coming from, am i even making sense? where are the brakes! i´m talking! more openly, and fearless.
today i am in huancavelica. i was disappointed the train rails are currently under construction, which was half the reason i wanted to come here, so i ended up taking a bus instead. i have yet to see a town quite like this one. i think i will spend tomorrow hunting for good photo opportunities.
oh, by the way, don´t feel too jealous, it is cold. i´m probably sitting in about the same temperature as you guys, only no building is heated here.
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