Timothy Dzurilla

Help Out with The Affecting Change Project

2009-07-25T08:59:00.000-07:00

The purpose of this project is to observe and aid collectives of fatally ill sugar cane workers from failed policy adherence at local and international levels. The hypothesis is that grassroots populations have limited access to environmental, social, and economic justice due to a lack of intellectual, social, and material capital crucial to participate in the necessary negotiations.

Project Goals
Currently there are four initiatives we are pursuing for which all donations will go directly towards:

Hosting of an organizational website $20
Trash clean up initiative (garbage bags and bins) $40
Site improvement materials (chairs, organizational sign) $40
Computer classes

All additional funds raised beyond these three costs will go towards setting up a rotating micro-finance fund available for former sugar cane workers as start-up funds for business initiatives. Currently we are running classes in drafting business plans, computer skills, management, and proposal writing as we work with local cooperative members to start a small “cafetin” taco stand.

Future Delegations
For anyone interested in joining us on one of our future trips down here, please contact timothy.dzurilla(at)gmail.com for more information.

A Sign of Progress

2009-07-23T15:15:00.000-07:00

Where: Chichigalpa, Nicaragua
When: July 22, 2009

ASOCHIVIDA (Association of Chichigalpa for Life) is a group of 1,800 terminally-ill ex-sugar cane workers or widows of ex-sugar cane workers. This short video is a pretty good summary of the situation though the director, Jason, works with a different community nearby.

One of our initiatives is to help the association strengthen their negotiation and business capacity. Their "office" is little more than some black plastic held up by branches. One of our projects this week was to plan out the costs and labor for a sign and then follow through with the plan collectively. With my stenciling skills picked up in Colombia and their knowledge of how to get the materials needed at the best price
we were able to produce this sign. While it seemed a bit silly, association members beamed with pride as they saw it from the street.

Working Papers

2009-07-23T15:08:00.001-07:00

Someone asked me the other day to see some of the research projects I'm working on and I figured I'd make it available for everyone who likes to read academic geekspeak every now and then.

You can find a link to a couple of essays here on causes of civil wars and responsible research. I'm also working with a colleague on a paper about revolution tourism you can read more about here.

Photo Gallery in Colombia

2009-07-07T07:41:00.000-07:00

Where: Medellin, Colombia
Photo: 3458

Bello Oriente is a neighborhood in Melledin, Colombia filled with families displaced by the civil war. One of our projects was to work with a local school putting together a street photography project as a way of opening dialogue about local issues. This is one of the final images that portrayed a typical scene in the streets of the area.

Day Dreaming in London

2009-07-05T12:41:00.001-07:00

Where: London, England at University College of London next to the Gordon Square

I was taking a course on the history of London learning about how Henry VIII seized all the church property and redistributed it to all of his buddies. Gordon Square is one of those little pieces of property and I figured it'd be nice to snap a photo instead of listening to the end of the lesson.

Lake at Selva Negra

2009-07-04T08:39:00.000-07:00

Where: Selva Negra Cloud Forest Preserve. Just north of Matagalpa, Nicaragua.

Selva Negra is an impressive examples of sustainable development. The lake next to restaurant is used to raise tilapia, farm seaweed for compost, and provides water to the hydroelectric dam on site.

For more photos and a full description you can check out this article I wrote.

New Format

2009-07-04T08:34:00.000-07:00

It turns out I'm a horrible blogger. So much has happened since I started this that never showed up. I've decided to change the format to make it more fun for me to do.

Using a random number generator, I will pick a photo from my personal collection, post it with a description of where, when, and a short story. Fortunately the first number to come up is 7712, a photo from Selva Negra, Nicaragua which will make this a smooth transition.

Enjoy!

Why Coffee

2009-06-19T07:53:00.000-07:00

Which human rights violations need be stopped first? Oppression of speech? Genocide? Starvation?

Which so many issues on the table choosing one is a tough task. The point of studying coffee is not about the coffee, but about learning how rights are prioritized and by whom. Conveniently, I love drinking coffee, but that's not why I'm here.

After the first month my impressions on Fair Trade haven't changed much: it's a decent movement attempting to provide market-based incentives for the protection of certain "universal" economic rights that are determined primarily by concerned Westerners. Those most affected (the small coffee producers) see some benefits in many cases, but most individuals are unaware of what "fair trade" means let alone have the capacity to influence the policies which most affect them.

Ultimately, he who has the most money can set the rules of the game. Starbucks, a much despised company created with the commodification and destruction of coffeehouse culture, recently became the world's largest buyer of fair trade coffee. Some are concerned about the effect this will have on the balance of power in the construction of the policies. Time will tell. In the Fall I will begin research on the consumer-side of the discussion and see what 'fair trade' means there and what influence consumers and vendors have on setting the agenda of which rights are protected and how.

For now, I am working with (not on) a few coffee cooperatives here. Hopefully I can generate some sound research in the process of helping others.

Community Library Organizations in Nicaragua

2009-06-16T09:44:00.000-07:00

"If you have a library and a garden, you have everything you need," Darrell starts out. I'm reminded of Marlon's comment about campesino life. Marlon's love of reading would be well matched with a community library, but it's not a priority in an area where there is not electricity or running water. I have been wondering about information as a right and who's responsibility it is to provide access.

We're sitting at a conference of organizations that provide access to libraries in Nicaragua where there was not prior access. Close to 20 different organizations present their works along with successes and needs.

To see some of the work check out these sites:
Fundación Acción Comunitaria FUNDACCO
Opportunity International
La Esperanza Granada
Empowerment International
Seeds of Learning – SOL (Semillas de Aprendizaje)
Planting hope INC
Proyecto Mosaico
Puedo Leer
Save the Children en Nicaragua
Manna Project International
Lone Tree Institute
La Escuelita El Centro Educativo El Esfuerzo
CISAS
Casa Xalteva
buildOn
Bibliobús
Asociación Nicaraguense de Bibliotecarios y Profesionales Afines (ANIBIPA)

Freek (pronounced Freck) is letting us use the Hotel Con Corazon as the space for the conference. He's a dynamic Dutchman who speaks passionately about the hotel which was started as a for-profit business to fund educational projects throughout Nica.

"100% of the profits go towards education projects," he explains. "We just started a few months ago and now we're trying to connect with local groups to figure out the most appropriate way to help out."

Participation of local community is a big theme for all these organizations. There's a questioning of what a library is (which I've written more about here) a line of thinking which is making me think hard about my own research and whether or not I'm researching Fair Trade in the "fairest" way possible.

For Love and the Game

2009-06-09T03:40:00.000-07:00

Gato stares at me as he slowly tips off of his horse, saddle and all. "Ayudame!" he yells.

What can I do? How can I help?

I stare helplessly at my trusty steed I've named Carrot.

Carrot is easily the best horse in our brigade. Being the largest of the group, I was offered the largest horse to take us to the baseball game. This hardly healthy animal is still the fastest of the crowd despite the fact my feet could touch the ground if I dare try. It's my first time riding a horse, but certainly not my last.

Our group decided to go to the local baseball game to support the team we've been playing with at night. The game was a spirited event where our tragic heroes unfortunately met their defeat in a hard fought battle that continued despite the cattle walking around the outfield. To celebrate the event we decided a couple bottles of rum would be a great way to pass the time of the hour and a half ride we had to get back to the community.

"Regalame un poco" an old campesino asked me a few kilometers back. "Give me a little". After taking a swig the old man warned me not to drink too much otherwise I will fall off my horse. A fear I definitely had given my level of experience.

We continued down the trail laughing and joking. About ten of us: Darwin, Juan Pablo, Gato, and the rest of the team.

We talked of justice, campesino life, baseball, and love.

"Is Aria your girlfriend?" Darwin asked me. We stared at each other. The question had never come up before. "I don't know. Are we together?" Aria asked me. "Of course,"I replied. Five days later we would be engaged.

The trip was going really well as I debated with a couple of fellows about the differences between our cultures when we came across the rest of the group helping the old campesino back onto his horse. Apparently he had fallen off.

"Ayudame!" Gato yells again. I snap back. I can't believe he is still falling.

Campesino Life

2009-06-09T03:24:00.000-07:00

"Eso es la vida campesino," Marlon says as the countryside of the Miraflor reserve races past us. Taking a sip from a bottle of rum he looks out from our post on top of an old school bus (the words "Baptist United Church of Chapel Hill" are barely painted over on the side) at the pastoral mountains pocked with small herd of cattle surrounding us. "Ese no es un acedente".

Campesino life is tough –long days toiling in the fierce Nicaraguan sun, limited access to modern conveniences such as running water and electricity, all the while trying to provide for one's family– but given the freedom and peace inherent to the lifestyle, Marlon would not give it up for anything. We are returning from Estelí, the nearest city and a Sandinista stronghold in Nicaragua, to check email, pick up supplies, and talk with local and international organizations about collaborations. While walking the streets of Estelí, the theme of dreams came up.

"Tranquilidad y liberdad" was all Marlon said. Tranquility and liberty.

Love

2009-06-08T17:10:00.001-07:00

I'm engaged. We dated for 5 days but our history is longer. Here's a love letter I wrote Aria two years ago to the day of our engagement 6/6/07.

"There exists in some of us the desire to create problems for ourselves
when the ones life dishes us dont seem like enough. Large eyes for the
gluttons of punishment.

As with any problems, the primal choice of flight or fight instantly
presents itself.

While flight is the more cowardly of the two, the true coward never
looks back. Reflects. Even the shadow of the fight is too frightening.

The flight has given me plenty of time to look back. Reflect.

It´s also given me time to catch up on some reports and writing Ive
been putting off. I also started my novel on the corporate wars of the
future.

But I digress.

I have written this in the field before reading any messages you may
or may not have sent. I need not read your words to read your
thoughts. I have the same ones.

That said, I´ll head to the coast to procure a vessel (a 15-footer
aught to be a fine enough start) and you load up on the reading
materials (obviously a good selection of the classics, but dont shy
away from the trashy romance novels as well) and Ill meet up with you
at the to be agreed upon location shortly.

Take care,
Tim"

Summer Research Begins

2009-05-25T10:33:00.000-07:00

"My country is very happy" Luis tells us as we zoom through the streets of Managua. Judging from the kids playing in the street and the families sitting together in front of their homes he seems to be absolutely correct.

The group of us, myself, Aria (a good friend from the University of Michigan), Scott (a law student from Fordham law and a good friend from our trip here together last summer), as well as two other law students Jenny and Katie, is here researching access to justice in a country with a long history of exploitation, war, and extreme poverty.

Despite this past of violence, Nicaraguans are some of the warmest and most open people I have ever met. (Case in point, as I write this the woman we are staying with just brought a plastic pail one of my favorite Latin American soups, mondongo, from a few towns over because she knew how much I enjoy it).

We're done in the capital of Managua for now as we head up into the hills of Miraflor to work with a coffee cooperative.

Street Art: A Portrait of Main South

2007-12-11T08:12:00.000-08:00

This Friday, Main South Speaks is presenting an art exhibit featuring the street photography and graffiti of local youth we've been working with for the past few months.

Food from one of my favorite restaurants, One Love Cafe, music from a handful of local bands, and the chance to talk with the artists themselves!

What:Gallery of Main South Speaks graffiti and street photography. Catered by One Love Cafe.
When:December 14th 6-9 PM
Where:Dana Commons, Clark University
Cost: Absolutely nothing

I Am Wendy

2007-11-27T10:34:00.000-08:00

"Do you want to do a Wendy's commercial?" my buddy Dennis asked me not so long ago.

He's the guy who directed that genius set of Buckley's ads where people are taste testing Buckley's and foul tasting substances like "Public Bathroom Puddles" and they are unable to tell the difference. (There's a set just online if you can't get enough of them).

I figured it would be a good time. Sleep in a hotel, hang out with an old friend, not compromise my integrity. Really, how bad could it be?

This idea is that I run around like a crazy person at the Michigan v. Ohio State game at The Big House to get people to cheer "Hot, juicy burgers" with me while Dennis hides in the bushes watching it all unfold.

It wasn't too bad, except that there were a hundred thousand drunk Michigan students just looking for a reason to tear apart anyone wearing red or had anything to do with Ohio (the late, great Dave Thomas' home state).

Even with the odds stacked against us, we had fun and had some amazing seats in the front row behind the goal post. Too bad we don't really like football and left around halftime.

One big perk is that we get our meals comped. Detroit is home of American Coney Island, where Dan Dan the Hot Dog Man proudly displays an award for the nation's best chili dogs.

After a quick break at home for Thanksgiving we were off to Cleveland for a Celtics v. Cavaliers game.

Another great time, plus I got to meet the Cavalier girls!

Mountain Clowns Part 2

2007-11-27T10:09:00.000-08:00

Here's a photo gallery of our underground adventures in flash or html for more photos.

Mountain Clowns: Part 1

2007-10-10T16:33:00.000-07:00

We sit crammed into the BMW mini cooper practicing Japanese lessons racing past cow-filled fields and rusted out trucks. It's the only two door without a flat bed on the horizon. The close quarters don't bother us; we've spent 14 hours in them to get here. The closeness is almost comforting in the strange countryscape.

The day before we had tried to meet some of the locals and were met with the mixture of terror and skepticism one conjures up when seeing four oddly dressed urbanites step out of a clown car in the mountains.

"Mountain Clowns" Jurek calls us. Not far from the truth.

The clowns pulled up to the entrance to Scott's Hollow Caves looking for an escape from the office, the city, the banality of urbanity. We decided to seek it underground.

We were greeted by Mike and Jan, the husband and wife operators of the Scott's Hollow Caves, along with Mike and Alex, the guides that would be leading us through part of the 28 mile subterranean labyrinth.

"Have you ever lost anyone?" I joke.

"Naw," Mike said. Then after a moment of thought, "Well, there was that one time Mike lost someone and we had someone go back to find them. But that's not really lost."

This clown was not laughing...

We get our gear on and go through the procedure. Nothing out of the ordinary except we sign away any liability suits we may file in case of injury or death. My mind flashes back to the lost caver wondering through the absolute darkness resigned to eat cave newts until death wraps her thin fingers around the already emaciated throat sucking the last whisp of...

"Down ya go!"

I snap back. Down?

Mike lifts a piece of plywood to reveal a rusty tube pointing into the ground.

Our companion Rob bravely struts over to the tube and halts. Looking down the hole his eyes go wide, his face pales. I start to sweat. I'm not crazy about heights and I'm than a little claustrophobic. Nothing like a 50 ft tube point into darkness to stimulate both these fears. I go next.

I race down the ladder as quickly as possible kicking myself for not having written my will yet. I reach the bottom rung and put my foot down onto nothing. I missed the clown car. Was this really what I am here for? To scare the shit out of myself? After I reach bottom and untuck my coveralls from my boots just in case.

Once every makes it to the bottom, all fears disappear. With the six lights combing the walls everything is well lit and the beauty of the place overcomes me. We walk comfortably into the darkness.

I'm in great spirits and ask about everything from the effects of water on limestone vs. shale, how many years of caving experience these guys have, types of animals we may encounter, etc.

We are moving at a pretty fast clip. On our first water break our guide Mike mentions that he is actually breaking a sweat and we might try some of the tougher parts of the cave.

"Apparently he has not made it to the stage of hallucination that comes with over-exertion," I think staring at bright lights down an endless crevasse. The day has only begun.

Back in the US

2007-09-25T12:00:00.000-07:00

The readjustment to the US wasn't as difficult as a thought it would. The tough part is office culture. I accidentally prevented my boss from scoring a waitresses number at one of our afternoon outings and have feared for the security of my position ever since.

Here's a fast forward of life back in the US.

Back in the US taking my photo in a huge silver baked bean in Chicago.

The huge silver baked bean in Millennium Park. I must note here that Mayor Daley is one of my favorite mayors in the United States right now... Right after my buddy Bing.

Here's a water feature in Millennium Park: a fantastic example of Chicago's continued dedication to the development of open public space.

After a stroll through Millennium Park, it was off to a local neighborhood festival celebrating local fashion and culture.

While these are photos of Chicago, I am in Worcester, MA. This is a piece of graffiti I photographed for a youth organization I started a couple years back called Main South Speaks. The site was down at the time of this posting, but should be up soon.

During my last couple of weeks in Mexico I traveled with a good friend of mine, Juan Rojas, who I helped create the website The Image Octopus which is an online space dedicated to visual research and anthropology.

My time with Juan certainly made me more aware of the use of public space by governments, communities, and dissenters.

Since I am not longer traveling, this "travelog" will be shifted to a place to play with ideas for research and writings I am doing. Fear not though. Future travels are always right around the corner.

Anthropolgy Museum of Mexico

2007-08-06T09:50:00.000-07:00

Mexico City is a massive city. No one is really sure how many people live here, but most estimates are between 25 and 30 million. Anything and everything exists here amongst the colonial Spanish architectural backdrop.

I went to the Anthropology Museum with my friend Juan who is working towards his PhD. in anthropology. Kind of like having my own tour guide to show me around. It was certainly better than the previous evening when the police decided to give me a personal tour of the inside of the station at 3 in the morning, but that's a different story...

Anthropology and cultural heritage is extremely strong here in Mexico. There are constant references to indigenous cultures ranging from the Mexica to the Aztecs to the Maya. It is this combination of new world and old world traditions that makes travel throughout Mexico such an interesting experience.

Mexican Street Food

2007-07-31T12:19:00.000-07:00

"If you are what you eat, then I'd be cheap and easy." Anon

As the Latin American food feature writer for Suite101 I think it my duty to try all the different types of food available to me. Which is convenient, because I love street food.

Not only is it slimming, but it is a true taste of what the majority of Mexicans eat. I have had more conversations around the taco stand with locals than anywhere else. A willingness to eat what they eat makes you much more accessible and real in a lot of ways.

Aside from participating in the local culture, there is always the chance you will become violently ill. Not just a little case of indigestion, but a feverish cold sweaty condition that allows you to do little else than lay flat on cold tile so you're never more than three second from the toilet for days. (from experience)

It is this chance of this gut-wrenching-pain-to-the-point-of-contemplating-suicide side effect that makes eating street food a little dangerous, and that much more exciting. Every adventure needs to have a little danger, and culinary adventures are no different.

Click here for a gallery of food images including some not seen here. (You'll be seeing a lot of galleries from now on.)

Or here for more street food thoughts and recipes.

Photos from Mexico

2007-07-28T14:08:00.000-07:00

Here's a set of my favorite photographs from my Mexican experiences. I've linked caption to relevant articles or blog entries I've written for those curious.

Also, click here for a sweet photo gallery of these images if you'd like.

A Zapatista woman and her child. The reason I came was to study current conflicts and how local indigenous people participate in reshaping their world.

Some Zapatista women presenting themselves for our research team.

Caving with some Zapatistas after interviews.

Your humble narrator checking out some local crafts near Oaxaca.

One of the last of the Lancandon indians surviving.

Subcomandante Insurgentes Marcos

Comandante David speaking at Tierradentro.
Suite101 article
Blog entry

Preparing for ceremonies in Santiago Atitlan.

Psychedelic Jesus on the cross on Easter in Santiago Atitlan.
Blog entry
Suite101 article

In the markets of San Cristobal.

Traditional back strap weaving. The folks in the background are the group I came with last year and were never forgotten this year.

Rice and beans on the boil. One of my favorite meals.

Typical landscape in the Maya communities of Chiapas.

Between serving beers, this guy was lighting fireworks off from his hand.

Mi peligrosita serving me my first cow brain.

Visiting a women's weaving co-op to teach a little English.

A Mac attack in a the community of Zinacantan .

Getting into the ring at a lucha libre match! Come get some!

Flame river snails in pox! A truly inspired recipe if ever there was one... Not all of my recipes have been quite so out there though.

Lago Tziscao is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been!

A young Chol fella cooling off in the Lagos de Montebello.
Suite101 article
Blog entry

Local indigenous gal from San Juan Chamula.

In a Zapatista community researching paramilitary activity.

Here's to the end. As with a bottle of mezcal, this trip too ended with a bit of a nasty surprise, but also a warm tingly feeling.

On Endings

2007-07-25T06:07:00.000-07:00

Many things have ended recently. My six month work stay in Mexico, my three year relationship, and my ten year journey with Harry Potter.

I cannot yet see the beginnings these ends will reap. I expect they will come.

Each of these endings deserve due reflection.

On CAPISE, the organization I've been working for. I've learned a level of compassion and dedication I've never seen before. It has ignited my desire for the fight. Not for the reasons presented to me here, but towards the end of these reasons. The problems of poverty, oppression, destruction, and war are dwarfed by the fight for open communication and collaboration, the only way these problems will find endings.

On relationships. Nature's forces on a lone ship at sea cannot be denied nor buffered. Any attempt to do so smashed both the ship and the dock. The safest place during a tsunami is at sea. So too must this ship sail despite the weathering.

On Harry Potter. His continued resistance against all he sees wrong in the world should be an inspiration for all. Especially the next generation.

I hope my next entry will be on beginnings. I expect they will come.

A Touristical Weekend

2007-07-16T14:41:00.000-07:00

Maya ruins in the jungle, all you can eat steak houses, Chamulan religious ceremonies, Latin American soccer cup, movies, drinks, friends. That was my weekend.

Anything particularly exciting? Not really. That's what made it so nice.

I wore the hat of the tourist which made me think about tourism and what I'm doing here.

A "tourist" is someone who "tours": to go through various places of interest for business, pleasure, or instruction.

A "traveler" is someone who "travels": to go through various places of interest for business, pleasure, or instruction. But it is also to proceed or advance in a way.

The differences are subtle but important. Traveling implies a transformation or evolution. This progress in traveling is the focus, rather than the place one visits in touring. That transformative experience is the elusive destination of all travelers. It cannot be planned fo. Transformative Experience is on no map I've seen.

The quest for the next experience is what drives travellers forever on to the next place. In the same way adrenaline junkies and xtreme sports enthusiasts look for the fastest speeds, the perfect waves, or the most dangerous stunts, so to are travellers compelled.

The travel bug bites hard and once again I've been injected with its intoxicating venom.

Am I a tourist? Obviously.

Rather than an ecotourist, or a sex tourist, or a health tourist, or an adventure tourist, I'd like to think I'm a investigative tourist. Investigative tourism focuses on learning, answering specific questions, and molding experiences to meet these goals.

Long Wait

2007-07-07T15:23:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've written anything. I've received a few concerned emails as to my whereabouts. I'm still here.

June played with my head a bit. After spending a week in some remote communities, where I had to go to the bathroom in a hole smaller than my foot, I left almost immediately to Marin County in California, one of the wealthiest counties in the wide United States.

I dined with bluegrass superstar David Grisman, hung out with my girlfriend after months of not seeing her, went surfing, sunning, and ended my trip by seeing the Giants in San Fransisco.

Back in Mexico, my head spinned.

I enjoy the spinning. I'm going to induce it more.

I've decided to end my trip within the month. My last week is planned: remote jungle, remote desert, largest city in the world, home.

That aughta give me the spins.

Research Brigada: Parte Tres

2007-06-14T10:27:00.000-07:00

The days starts with everyone just as excited as when we went to sleep.

We sit and wait after a quick breakfast to be "presented" to everyone before we begin the interviews.

The main lawn is empty besides our small group and no one is really sure what to expect.

Then, from our right, marches out a masked Zapatista followed by all of the children of the community wearing handkerchiefs and masks. They march around the lawn and stop in a line facing us.

The men come out next. The community leader who was wearing a grin and a "Vacation Club" ball cap yesterday, now looks rather intimidating in a mask and black leather cowboy hat. He directs the group through a few maneuvers and and then lines the group up facing us.

The women follow shortly afterwards, many with small children.

A color guard retrieves the Mexican flag and both the Mexican and Zapatista anthems are sung. After the anthems the groups disperse and food is served.

After interviews, I go caving with a small group of locals. What fun!

We go to three different spots and climb around through caves, check out huge cave spiders, and bang on stalactites which make sounds like a marimba.

Afterwards, more river, more food, more work. We finally go to sleep and are up again at 3:30AM to start trekking to the next spot.

Research Brigada: Parte Dos

2007-06-08T08:48:00.000-07:00

I currently find myself surrounded by about 9 local kids all looking over my shoulder trying to figure out what I am doing. They don't seem to lose any interest in us as they have kept post at our windows since we have arrived.

9 has increased to 15 now and they are discussing what I could possibly be doing in their native language of Chol. But I've gotten ahead of myself here.

Yesterday progressed with a quick breakfast followed by a meeting with the junta, the leaders at the Zapatista capital. Plans were made and after a few failed attempts at catching a truck out of the community we finally made it out on the "school bus" with a couple of fellows who would be our guides.

The bumpy ride in the back of the truck was made even more enjoyable by the giggling and bantering of the young adults watching us unsuccessfully try to keep our footing.

From the city, we took a small collectivo to a local tourist destination. From there is was a half an hour hike through the forest. At the trail head, a sign warned tourists not to progress because of frequent attacks. Good things we weren't tourists...

[It must be noted that a herd of 9 piglets just ran by]

We hiked through the jungle, across crude bridges, and finally to a river edge. A wooden sign announced that we had entered autonomous land.

The crystal blue river was broken up by short, but dramatic waterfalls.

A small boat was poled over to us and we made it across in two trips. On the other side we were openly greeted. My bag disappeared as all the children were so excited to carry our things for us.

We set up camp in the school. After we explained our purpose for being there, it was time for a river bath. Suddenly every child was ready for a bath! We swam and dove and played for about an hour before coming back to a simple but hearty meal of beans, tortillas, and spaghetti.

Tired. We went to bed early.

Research Brigada: Parte Uno

2007-06-08T08:29:00.000-07:00

First day in a Zaptista capital completed. After a winding, sleepless 4 hour bus ride, I unrolled my mat in the back of a pineapple truck and grabbed a few hours of sleep.

A long drive into the forest, including a part where road and pond were the same. The site of grass thatched roofs finally came into view.

The first thing I saw was a sign reading:

"Esta usted en territorio Zaptista en rebelda aqui manda el pueblo y el gobierno obedece."

Next to the sign stood two masked figures. Behind them a brightly painted building with Zapatista murals. These two masked individuals are the ones we need to convince to let us stay.

We explain our motives for investigation and hand over our passports. We are told to wait in a cabin across the street while a final decision is made.

After some time we are invited in the official government building to speak with the local leaders. Four people, three men and a woman sit behind a desk. Black masks.

The afternoon was spent catching up on sleep, swimming, and then playing basketball with the Zapatistas. While playing basketball, I couldn't but help compare this place to my Aunt's campsite in Massachusetts: sign-ins, latreens, swimming, cooking by fire, and fun activities for the kids at night! The only difference is that this campground is the result of an insurgency and has been declared autonomous territory.

Reserva Huitepec as Territory

2007-05-22T09:27:00.000-07:00

"The reserve is more than flora and fauna," explains famous historian Andres Aubry. "It is people, towns, and the cultures of those towns as well."

After he explains the geological, cultural, and historical past, present, and future of the reserve he concludes:

"There are three options to move forward.

1) We can conserve the reserve through government control, allow minimal human interaction, and allow them to preserve the reserve in the way they deem is most suitable.

2) We can sell the reserve to Coca Cola through NGOs set up by the company for land appropriation and allow them to preserve the reserve in a way they deem is most suitable.

3) We can return to the ways of older generations and farm the forest ourselves in the way we deem is most suitable."

These are not only the three options we have for environmental conservation, by every aspect of our lives. Too often we give power and control over our lives, communities, and governments over to "experts". We have systematically disempowered ourselves and our ideas through this gradual process. Post-Katrina New Orleans, increased frequency of bankruptcy, decreased public influence over national politics, and the disappearance of family units and neighborhoods are all symbols of this trend.

Start today. Talk to you neighbors; attend a town meeting; take a walk through your home town and think of how you would like to make it and better; then do it. The time of counting on others, for food, for energy, for money, for security is over.

Gringo Quesadillas

2007-05-21T08:39:00.000-07:00

"No entiendo gringos y fuego." I don't understand gringos and fire.

That was my roommate's comment as I sat huffing campfire smoke trying to whip up a couple chorizo quesadillas. It's not like we don't have a stove.

There is something about fire though that reaches out to a primal core in us. Some theorize that the discovery of fire led to imagination and modern society (going back 30,000 years or so). Campfires are own little way of controlling one of the most destructive forces on the planet. Who knows.

Here's a quick recipe for gringo quesadillas.

Ingredients:
a moderate campfire
a pile of tortillas
chorizo
quesio
parsley (it's more gringo than cilantro)

Process:
1) Burn yourself while making the fire and swear in English.
2) Grill chorizo over fire, losing half of it into the fire. Swear again in English.
3) Lightly oil a few tortillas and grill on one side. Swear again when some of the oil drips into the fire and flares up burning you again.
4) Tell your Mexican roommate to stop laughing.
5) Turn tortillas just after the point they have burned. Another swear here is optional.
6) Cover with cheese and sausage and parsley.
7) Eat and take pleasure in your accomplishment.
8) Look away when your Mexican roommate makes a better quesadilla in a quarter of the time. Swearing again here would be appropriate.

And how is the food, different from Orizaba?

2007-05-20T08:43:00.000-07:00

A great question. On this topic I could write pages and pages of articles... OH WAIT! I have!

In seriousness, the international influence over the food here is stronger that in Orizaba. The Italian and French in particular have put there own spin on food in San Cristóbal.

The street food is more or less the same. There is not a whole lot of indigenous influence over the types of food served, even though most of the street vendors are indigenous.

Some local favorites different from Orizaba are snails, cow cheeks, and queso de San Cristóbal. But the food is pretty similar from what I can tell. A lot of Vitamin T: tacos, tamales, tortillas, tortas along with chalupas, ganachas, quesadillas, and mole.

This wraps up the Kate's questions series. I've been working with a local historian the past few days on a presentation for tomorrow. More on that later.

What's Been Your Favorite Thing Down There That You've Done?

2007-05-19T11:58:00.000-07:00

I think it's going to be tough to tell what the favorite thing I've done so far is. To avoid being trite, I certainly won't claim that just living in a foreign country; eating exotic foods; and meeting fascinating people is my favorite thing, because it's not.

Mexico is great, but my mail gets lost, ferrets disappear, and the pace of life is a little too tranquilo for me; I do love some exotic foods, but my stomach hasn't really been right since I've been here; and you really have to sift through a pile of snobs, wastecases, derelicts, and drifters (usually my people, but not here) to find truly interesting people here.

My favorite story to tell is about eating cow eyes which usually gets a good reaction from both locals and foreigners alike.

While the Zapatista Conference was really amazing and I love going into local communities, I have to admit, I did really get a kick out of lucha libre and climbing in the ring.

How am I Doing?

2007-05-17T07:15:00.000-07:00

Today I received an email with a list of questions about how I am doing. Thanks for the interest Kate!

I've decided to take answer each question with a blog entry. For those of you more interested in Zapatistas and eating weird stuff, come back in a week.

How would you rate your overall experience in Chiapas, and what would you like to get out of this experience?

5 out of 5 stars.

It's been a daily experience to have my mind blown here actually. A couple nights ago I had a group of Menominee Indians over for some beers after visiting the local Zapatista university. It was amazing how similar the problems are between both groups of indigenous Americans. This was after working with a local academic on a presentation about water and the local jungle reserve. Wowsers was my head full after that!

I would like to continue to learn about a myriad of topics: community development, information warfare, indigenous lifestyles, and whatever else gets thrown at me.

Besides that, this experience is giving me the ability to quickly switch between activities and languages. Every hour forces me to think in a radically different fashion. Between managing a non-profit from afar, to writing about food, to running a global communications campaign, to trying to write a geography textbook, to talking with local and foreigners from every corner of the globe, this experience is broadening my capacity to think and learn.

How it will change me is still yet to be discovered. I can only mold my experiences, which in turn will mold me, so much. I'm a bit of a leaf subject to the elements right now.

BTW: If you want my thoughts on faux hippies, neoconservatives, and how we feed ourselves, you can check out my blog on Suite101. http://latincaribbeancuisine.suite101.com/blogs.cfm

Lagos de Montebello

2007-05-09T07:43:00.000-07:00

A couple of youth paddle by on a makeshift raft dragging fishing lines through the turquoise water. A couple women are spending the afternoon washing clothes. Not a building is in sight on the opposite shore of this remote local.

To get away from it all for a day, Jorge and I headed to the Lagos of Montebello region of Chiapas near the Guatemala border.

A coffee cooperative in the village of Tziscao, where Choj is spoken, wants a website and we needed to present possibilities.

I was more interested in swimming with some of the local youth and basking in the sun by the largest of the Montebello Lakes.

I am going to write up a travel article for this area soon with more photos, but for now, these will have to do.

Feature Writer for Suite101.com

2007-05-07T12:13:00.000-07:00

Today I was promoted to a Feature Writer for Suite101.com! I'll be the editor of the Latin and Caribbean Cuisine section covering food and culture in this area.

More work, but it should be good fun!

Planned are interviews with celebrity chefs, more food, more adventures, more food fun.

Stay tuned.

Creating Images

2007-04-23T12:45:00.000-07:00

Our world is inundated with images, icons, and embedded visuals meaning.

In the recent media blitz following the Virginia Tech tragedy I've been thinking about how individuals have the power to highjack the cultural and media imagination with self-generated images.

We create ourselves and own our representation now with greater efficiency and power: youtube, my space, blogs, etc. Amongst the critique of how "old media" is covering the latest event, I've decided to post photos of the "oldest media": writing on walls.

Create your own history and representation by posting a comment.

Voyeurism

2007-04-21T09:29:00.000-07:00

I'm playing with the idea of voyeurism. Information operations are about collecting and distributing times, people, places, events, etc. I've decided to let it all flop out.

For a while, I closely guarded what messages I sent; but "this is me, here I am" is my new attitude.

On my front door is an old sign for a store called "Indigenous Roots". Though I am neither indigenous nor rooted, it is under this sign I sit to watch people. The porch-monkey culture is not very common here, but I'm doing my part to bring it on.

Watching people is what we do: You Tube, cafés, Springer ("America's TV show")... We are naturally drawn to watch. Take down the fences and let's be naturally drawn to being watched as well.

My Hero

2007-04-19T10:24:00.000-07:00

After meeting millionaires, princes, generals, doctors, gold prospectors, and revolutionaries my greatest hero remains my dad.

To talking to everyone no matter their looks
To seeing folks for who they are
To loving travel and new experiences,
and for the ability to appreciate them as they run at you like a mad mother moose,
and for the bravery and strength to never look away.

My hero. My dad.

Recipes vs. Terror

2007-04-18T13:43:00.000-07:00

Money's been getting really tight lately, so I've been searching for some creative forms of funding.

I've been watching closely my progress on www.suite101.com and how many people have been visiting my articles, which then leads to money. It turns out that my Mexican recipes have blown my articles on information and terrorism out of the water!

As such, I have been cranking out some really tasty recipes so people can properly prepare for Cinco de Mayo. Nachos, drinks, sandwiches... Everything I could think of.

Check out the list at http://mexican-food.suite101.com/ and leave a comment for what else you'd like to see!

Spanish and beer

2007-04-16T11:58:00.000-07:00

A Spanish teacher once said that 3 beers is the perfect amount to drink before learning Spanish. I'm not sure about that. I've had 3 beers and my Spanish still sucks.

It's a little frustrating trying to work for a Spanish speaking organization not speaking Spanish myself. Poco a poco.

Here's my latest published recipe. It's a spicy beer drink called a michelada. Enjoy.

What Makes a Terrorist?

2007-04-14T14:31:00.000-07:00

Former Marine Colonel Walter Murphy recently was held up at the airport because he had made his way onto the Terrorist Watch List. I recently wrote an article on this very problem, but was unaware how easy it was to get on the list.

When asked why he thought he was on the list, Murphy replied that he thought it was as punishment for speaking out against the current administration's use of military force.

If criticizing the government is enough to be labeled a "terrorist"–and put into the same group of folks known for violently attacking anyone for shock effect– then who is not a terrorist? I'm now afraid to criticize the government or share any allegiances with any organization that questions any form of government. Who's scaring whom? Where is this fear coming from and who started it?

I've decided to take some time this week and read up on the nature of "terror" and "fear" and how it is created.

This week my "Documents" folder disappeared from my computer in a wave of bizarre network issues plaguing the office. I never thought I'd ever be afraid of writing emails home...

Town Meetings are the Same Everywhere

2007-04-12T07:35:00.000-07:00

I was invited to a meeting of the minds last night about how local community organizations should progress with the new global movement recently started. It reminded me of a lot of community meetings I've seen in the states. Personality conflicts trumping actionable steps and concrete plans. Intellectuals thinking about broadening networks, while locals are concerned about "a Japanese woman throwing trash into the river".

It looks like no matter how well unified a movement may be, it's the internal stamping and spitting that will keep the fires of progress at the level of coals...

Semana Santa in Guatemala

2007-04-10T07:46:00.000-07:00

We had been sitting here for three hours already watching four men run a platform with John the Prick (John the Baptist in Catholic beliefs)4 blocks between Jesus and Mary. The thrusting of the statue invokes a bizarre orgy in which the brother of the corn god impregnates the earth. In this case, Jesus has been assimilated into the Maya traditions as the symbol of corn with the celebration of rebirth being one of the most important festivals of the year.

The men will continue to run the statue back and forth until dawn, about 8 hours total, without rest.

The following day is the raising of Christ followed by a Catholic mass. This is a celebration of both traditionalists and Catholics, each group with their own religious leaders and own ideas on the symbolism of the ceremonies.

After the mass, the statue of Christ is loaded into an enormous urna a large psychedelic coffin. The urna is then hoisted onto the shoulders of 30 men who will slowly carry the urna around a 4 block area for around 15 hours. During the mass, people have been working on creating street art work with colored saw dust. This collective art piece extends the entire path and is trampled as the men carry Christ until dawn.

Templo de Arcotete

2007-04-04T09:57:00.000-07:00

We exchange vocabulary in Tzotil, English, and French with a local family while waiting for a small craft shop's owner returns to buy some goods.

Women are washing clothes in the nearby river, while many of the men are chopping down trees for lumber and firewood. Sheep, game hens, and cows wander around the humble houses blurring the lines between the farmland and homelife.

All of this is happening in the shadow of the Templo de Arcotete.

The church at Arcotete is in the center of a small community of weavers and farmers. A symbol of colonial Spanish rule assimilated to the Maya traditions.

The land was maintained as a traditional hasienda with a patron whom the indigenous people worked for until 1979.

The property was then converted to an ejito, a collectively held piece of a land where each member has rights to certain parcels and all decisions pertaining to the land must be collectively made.

The church on the property remains a place of sacred worship and practice as part of the Mexican Orthodox church.

During the days when there was a Patron, he would pay to have a priest visit the church semiannually. Since his death their have been no visitations.

Most of the Patron's property has been left to fall apart, except for the church which is well maintained.

The Mayas have adapted many of the Catholic practices and symbols into their own practices and ceremonies.

Everything from the number of crosses, to their arrangement, to the symbols carved into them, to their color has deep meaning.

Much of the Maya belief systems are based upon dualities. The east/west alignment of the cross along with its vertical post connect the sun and the moon, and heaven and earth. The color is half blue, the color of the sky, and half green, the color of the earth, symbolizing further connections. Carvings in the crosses depict offerings and tree branches.

We are in the middle of Semana Santa, Saint's Week, and it is a perfect example of this assimilation of Catholicism and Maya traditions.

Post Marxist Conflict

2007-03-28T14:43:00.000-07:00

Before delving deeper into "netwar" and "infowar" I need a moment to think about conflict after the Cold War and how neoliberalism has destabilized the power of nation-states to react to new revolutions.

Current insurgencies –Hamas, FARC, Movimento ser Terra, al Qaeda,Zapatistas– are sited not to be founded in the "class struggles" of Marxist revolutions in the 70's and 80's demanding new state power structures to equalize capital dispersement, but in issues such as cultural autonomy and a shift towards more active forms of democracy. They are less about people's right to cash and more about people's rights to self-govern and maintain tradition. Globally, these ideals are expressed differently –armed conflict, terror, protest– but the message is the same "We want control over our lives and cultures!"

Why are nations scrambling to quell uprisings when the obvious military power is one-sided? While neoliberalism open markets, it forces nation-states into direct competition with each other restricting the amount of participation in national decisions can be delegated to the masses through democratic means. This disempowerment of people's demands at the national level and the homogenation of culture has led to the rise in local insurgencies that promise people power and a voice. Because of the disagrigated nature of these insurgencies (netwar), nation-states must engage these movements with radically new methods, while maintaining the visage of peace and control to stay competitive in the global economy.

Comment your thoughts.

Freelance Journalist

2007-03-27T19:41:00.000-07:00

Some of you already know that I started writing for an online newspaper www.suite101.com. I am writing articles about information war, the Zapatistas, travel, and, of course, food. A couple of you have asked for links to my recent articles (thanks Chris and Courtney for the interest). I have included a little widget in the sidebar to my articles. The text is really tiny and hard to read, but it should update automatically.

Right now, I have written recipes mostly to hit my three month quota in a week so I can take more time with some of the more serious work. If you've enjoyed the blog, you may be interested in the articles where I go more indepth into some of the topics presented here.

Coming down the pike are articles on Zapatistas 2.0, and on TIDE (Terrorist Identity Datamart Environment).

Thanks everyone for the love and support!

Zapatista Conference

2007-03-25T11:47:00.001-07:00

It's impressive to see the file of Zapatista Comandantes walk in. They are wearing a spectrum of clothing, from various traditional outfits to military fatigues. The only thing that connects them all is the iconic mask. They are everyone, they are no one.

The conference consists not only of speakers from a range of organizations in Mexico, but from around the world. We have teleconferences with leaders in Honduras and Brazil and the Zapatistas announce their new global campaign to combat indigenous land encroachment around the world.

Actions are vague, but the conversation has begun. Not only here, but anywhere people feel that they've lost control over their lives.

Examine your life. How much control do over your life do you really have? Do you own the land/business where you work? Where you live? If not you, then who and why do you tolerate this lack of control?

Join the conversation, or start one yourself. Eduaction is our weapon and our voices our ammo. Switch your safety off.

The Zapatistas are Coming

2007-03-23T13:17:00.000-07:00

This Sunday, 15 of the Zapatista sub-commandantes are coming out of the forest and coming to Tierradentro to make an announcement about the next phase of their "Other Campaign". Tierradentro happens to be the organization for which I work for. Work came to me yesterday that I needed to figure out a way to webcast the live event with three days to do it.

Cameras, cables, lights are going up all over as documentary makers, teleconferences with Honduras and Brazil, reporters, and we try to put together a media event on a budget in days.

A national newspaper La Journal leaked the story yesterday. Police and military vehicles have been driving past often. It's difficult to know what will come to pass Sunday, if anything at all, but rest assured I'll be in the center of it and you'll know everything as soon as I do.

Back to work.

Santa's Boots

2007-03-21T09:16:00.000-07:00

The cracked hands show decades of use creating pottery. Clay doves, jaguars, pots, pitchers intermingle with the farm animals- one hen has roosted inside of an over-turned pot ready to fiercly protect the eggs inside.

The over shows years of disuse. To fire the pots a huge bonfire is created around the works of local friends, family, and neighbors.

I lose count of the generations of women here after four. There is a timelessness in all of their manners from the youngest around seven to the eldest, somewhere in her 80's. I'm here with a local researcher, Maria Elena, not to conduct interviews, but just to visit and pick up some pottery.

Maria Elena stopped in Teopisca on the way.

"This place specializes in sausages, tamales, and tostadas. We'd better pick some up."

We sit in a circle eating tamales. Sweet and tender like when someone puts fresh corn in cornbread. We sit for a long while sharing tamales, laguage, and stories.

"The govenor bought everyone red socks and shoes. They looks like Santa Claus' boots!" the oldest women tells us.

Enjoy the popcorn

2007-03-18T16:47:00.000-07:00

In a recent interview on Open Source with Chris Lyden, Tammy Duckworth, Director of the Illinios Department of Veteran Affairs sited recent issues in the capacity of VA hospitals. One of the problems she sited was the reemergence of war Veterans from as far back as World War II admitting themselves for PTSD because of images on the evening news bringing back old memories.

War is in the livingroom of America, and we're sittin' back with a bowl of popcorn.

A recent photo shows an Iraqi briefing room board displaying "America is not at war. The Marine Corps is at war. America is at the mall."

The WYSIWYG representation of mass media is not revealing the full complexities of what's going on to the soldiers on the ground.

The US Department of Defense just declassified its "Informations Operation Roadmap" a couple weeks ago. The first assumption: "The ability to rapidly disseminate information to diverse audiences in order to directly influence their decision-making ability is an increasingly powerful means of deterring aggression" (p. 7).

As violence escalates in Iraq, Americans sit idol. Whose aggression is being deterred? How is the other side using the same techniques to keep the flames fanned? How can these techniques be used to encourage the end of combat and violence?

It's important to examine the first sited case of modern-day information warfare to begin to unravel some of these questions: Chiapas, Mexico.

Antonio's Garden

2007-03-18T11:01:00.000-07:00

The issues here cannot be separated from land reformation and ownership. Here's an example of one man's maintenance of his property currently held under the "ejido" system.

We visited a local indigenous man who successfully operates an organic "truck farm" that sells produce throughout the area.

Antonio made the decision to go organic because (in his order of importance):
1)Chemical fertilizers "burn" the land and after experimenting with different techniques found natural fertilizers to be better for the longevity of his land
2)Natural fertilizers are a little more affordable
3)Organic means are better for plants over time
4)"Also, organic means don't kill customers"

Strong value in first hand knowledge and experimentation for proof of best results.

"Maestro compensinos"- (loosely) the teaching and learning farmers.

Antonio is part of a larger network of farmers who share information on local market prices and successful growing techniques.

The organization also rents trucks, has "plant doctors" as members for specialized help, and provides scholarships for members to send children to school to become specialized in areas of need.

"Whatever it is, we'll learn it."

Historically, farming is a necessary and revered skill. Each man is expected to have his own "milpa" or cornfield to provide for his family. Ancient Maya pyramids were built with a farmer's home as the peak some theorize as an homage to the workers of the land.

In a Maya creation story, man was created out of corn dough and to this day corn is still a symbolic staple crop.

Phoenix Out of the Ashes

2007-03-16T10:38:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to let you people into my head too much, but you get this one chance. The past week has been tough. Culture shock they call it. A traveller's need to requestion everything they are doing and what their lot in life is. It sucks, but it happens.

The solution? Surround yourself with good folks and push through. Quitter talk is not an option. Delve into the issues and delve deep.

So what is it really that I am doing here? Informational warfare research. I can sugar coat it no longer. People are dying. A revolution is being waged. I've placed myself in the center to ask "Why?" and "How?". The New York Times called the Zapatistas the "first post modern revolution" because of their use of new information communication technologies (ICTs).

What have I found? Due time friends...

Lucha libre and River Snails

2007-03-12T12:39:00.000-07:00

Sporting the stars and stripes, this man embodies everything ugly about Americans. He throws tortillas into faces in the audience and tells them to screw their mothers. We become fast friends.

Most times, one tries hard to maintain respect and compassion for new cultures while traveling. Spitting tortillas, waving the US flags, and shouting "Who wants an Uncle Sam suplex?" is probably not one of these times.

It's lucha libre. A ridiculous demonstration of stereotypes and rude behavior. Men donning the craziest clothes and then pretending to fight all throughout the arena. Ealier a pink mini-skirt clad troll of a man kissed me on one of his skipping laps around the ring.

After the match, I invite everyone back to my place for river snails -a traditional food in Chiapas- and the mascot of the Zapatistas. During the week I gathered recipes for snails here and abroad. I think I'm ready except for one little details: I still haven't figured out how to get the meat out the shells. Hammers, knives, nails, machetes were all recommended, but even with this aresenal the process was slow and tedious. Fine if you have a dozen, but I've got closer to 1500.

By the end of the night, we have our own lucha libre match with the snails finally pulling out a few mouthfulls of meat.

Tasty? Sure.
Worth repeatedly hammering yourself in the hand for? Not even close.

If anyone has any suggestions, please comment!

The White Whale of Mexican Cuisine: Mole

2007-03-06T10:00:00.000-08:00

I'm tied of emails asking if I've learned to make molé sauce. I did some research and found that molé has about 20 ingredients only half of which I recognize the name of. On top of that, every family has their own recipe (think of the religion of BBQ sauce in the South). "Screw that!" said I until a cooking class presented itself.

Here's the skinny-

Chicken:
1 kilo (couple lbs.) quartered chicken
couple cloves of garlic
couple halves tomatoes
couple sticks of dried oregano
half an onion

1) In a pot, cover ingredients with water and simmer for 1/2 an hour. DON'T DRAIN!

Mole:
5 seedless dried ancho chili halves
2 sliced medium tomatoes
a few slices of onion
10 halved tomatillos
1 sliced ripe plantain
3 pan dulce- little sweet loaves of bread (substitute 5 dried tortillas or maybe donuts as a substitute)
3 oz. sweet chocolate
pinch of pepper
pinch of dried oregano
3 tbls. sesame seeds

1) Lightly fry anchos, bread, plantains
2) Remove to a bowl and cover w/ cooking liquid from chicken. Break up ingredients a bit and let soak.
3) Toast sesame seeds, then add the remaining ingredients (including chocolate) and fry until soft

4) Put all the ingredients into a blender and whiz until smooth. You will probably have to do this in batches. Add cooking liquid from chicken as needed.
5) Simmer sauce in pot w/ remaining chicken broth.
6) Stirring add salt and sugar to taste.
7) Add cooked chicken and simmer for 10 minutes.

This is only one recipe. There are thousands out there: black, red, green, white varieties are all over the country. This is a pretty good starter though as all the ingredients are available at any grocery store. Try it, play with it, enjoy it! Just don't buy molé in a jar any more. You have no excuses now.

Women's weaving co-op

2007-03-04T09:51:00.000-08:00

The women of varying ages from teens to twight gather in a circle huddled around the laptop practicing how to negotiate prices of their woven goods in English.

After the lesson we discuss why they want to learn English.

"Most of the tourists here speak English. At the meeting we decided you can sell more if you can speak English."

"The meeting" is a group of several different women's groups that come together to discuss business practices and techniques. 20 years ago the weavings all looked similar. Today flowers, glittery thread, and more designs are incorporated into the clothes, in part, through this collaborative process of business planning.

"We are saving this year for computers and an on-line shop", explains an ancient woman sitting on the dirt floor.

The women's organization has developed processes of self-evaluation and progress. The women weigh options, share experiences, and decide how to move forward to get better prices and produce more desirable products. Before the tourism boom, weaving was solely for clothing local families.

The women have learned to take control over their products and create systems to secure better prices and wider audiences.

At the Market

2007-03-03T09:08:00.000-08:00

The sales woman walks away with my sandals after handing me a slip of paper that reads "74 MIGE NE 28". I don't get it.

I'm in the grocery store picking up the essentials: beans, rice, chilis, michelada mix, and hot dogs. At the cash register I hand the cashier my slip of paper I'm directed to another line to wait in. I don't really want the sandals that bad.

I comb the market loading up on herbs, spices, and vegatables, hagling my way all along with the shrunken women. Week's grocery bill: $20 (Later I find out I was splurging at that!)

After the hours of shopping, I am ready for a cold beer. Restaurant Bar Los Amigos. Two mariachi bands travel from table to table playing specifically for paying customers, but in general for everyone. No menu can be found as the waiter come up for my order.

"One beer please."
"and to eat?"
"The snacks are fine for now."
"You have to order something to eat..." he lists a series of items that I don't understand.
"Carne asada?"
"Bueno"

He returns promptly with two cold Negra Modelas. I glace across the table at an empty seat.

"One is enough"

The waiter shakes his head and points to a sign on the wall. "2X1". I had just assumed that everyone was just thirsty...

Plates quickly filled my humble table: spiced peanuts with limes, a basket of chips, carne asada, and a salad. I see the other food options taken to other tables: whole fried fish, ceviche, mini-grills heating dips and soups, along with others.

I sit for a while enjoying the atmosphere, food, and beers. Rugrats is on the television, but noone else is watching. The longer I sit, the more food arrives. Guacamole with more chips and salchicha (a condiment made of chopped hot dogs, mayo, and chilis.

Finally, I decide it's time to move on. The bill? 35 pesos- about $3. A sum that has found its way onto my weekly grocery budget.

My first cow brain.

2007-02-27T06:48:00.000-08:00

It's a festival, but I'm not sure why. The mariachi band plays for the crowd of maybe 200 people. Fireworks go off almost in rhythm with the percussion section. Between the endless chore of keeping the beers fresh, the bartender lights the fireworks in his hand which then shoot off into the air and explode with a loud clap. The guest have all brought at least a few hundred to be lit off during the fiesta.

The food arrives after a half dozen beers. The main dishes are a soup made up of all the insides of a cow; I can only understand liver and stomach, but the list goes on and on. It was incredibly tasty and new for me. Each bite is an explosion of new tastes and textures without a vegetable in sight. The second dish is slow roasted beef in olives and prunes. A tendure and savory dish that was more familiar to me. I gorge myself to prove that I actually enjoyed all of the food. I don't realize that my true quest, to eat a cow's head, is still to come.

We stay for a couple more hours drinking beers, sipping brandy, and making jokes. I comment that the grandmother in the crowd is my "Little Dangerous Women" because of the frequency she tops up my drinks. Just as the party gets going, my "Peligrosita" says that it's time to go. We move around the crowd and I we say our good-byes. This was only our pre-party.
We drive to the family house. Introductions are quick because everyone is hungry. The cow's head, wrapped in tomatos, chilis, herbs, and a canvas sack, has been buried in a fire pit for a whole day. Everyone gathers around to watch my "Peligrosita" carve the meat.

A fatty piece of cheek is slapped on my plate with some limes and green sauce. The richness of the cut is not exactly the best for an already stuffed belly, but I press on. "Quires ojos?" I am asked. "Porque no" I respond. This little back and forth continues until I eat tongue, eyes, and brains. Brains were not my favorite, but the rest was quite delicious. Slathered in green sauce, listening to some great music, while talking with curious and interesting people, this is truely one of the great meals in my life.

I spend the next day and half with my "familia nueva mexicana" drinking tequila, swimming, playing basketball, de-combing chickens, and laughing and joking the whole time.
As different the food experience was, it felt familiar. Every family has their own traditions, customs, foods, and inside jokes; I feel priveledged to have been given the chance to share this one's.

A Regular Mexican Work Day

2007-02-23T07:07:00.000-08:00

The lights in the smoky club seem to dim and brighten depending how many of the band members are playing. The eclectic ecltro-jazz band switches seemlessly from Jimi Hendrix to Charlie Parker to blues. I recognize from people from a conference at work earlier in the day, and we chat about international food security issues and our favorite street food vendors. For $2 I get a beer and a pile of spicy peanuts while listening to live music for a few hours. It's the perfect way to end the 10-12 hour days I put in at work.

There are some language barriers working in an all Spanish-speaking environment given that I don't speak much Spanish. We're making it work though. Currently, I'm designing a new website for two organizations, trying to get some GIS maps worked out, starting to sift through years of audio and video files to upload, and beginning to create a database to expand the international reach of the organization's research. No exciting field trips this week, but the better my Spanish becomes, the more I'll be able to conduct my own interviews in the local communities.

The photo is my little buddy Amiliano. He's the only Chicklet kid I actually like. I let him where my sunglasses around and people buy more chicklets to take his photo. He's a bit shy about his own life, but is extremely curious and likes to tickle tourists (not a strategy that works for the old street vendors I've noticed).

Tonight I've been invited to go salsa dancing with a group of Canandian and American folks. The work week doesn't actually end even though the weekend begins. Puedo dormir cuando soy muerto.

A Regular Mexican Weekend

2007-02-19T07:22:00.000-08:00

Beer flew into my Spanish teacher's face as an over-excited fan threw his hands up in disgust. The irrate fan was too busy telling the ref to engage in various acts with his mother to notice his mistake. A band of around 100 people stopped playing their rhythmic melody long enough to give the ref a coordinated and collective piece of their minds. Immediately afterwards, the traditional flutes were once again leading the congos, maracas, and singers in the endless string of songs throughout the game. After the game, the Chiapas crowd left pleased with the 2 - 1 victory over the Michoacan Monarcas.

A short bus ride home and I had just enough time to grab a quick bite to eat and head to the club where my teacher's band was playing. Being the only white face in the crowd was a lot of fun as the band played Mexican love ballads with whooping and hollaring. Good fun! I was chastized for leaving at one. "No one is even here yet!" It's going to take some practice I think to keep up with the late night dancing here.

Now, it's back to work. I have a new house I'm sharing with a couple of other gals and life is starting to take on some sort of schedule. One week in San Cristobal and the adventures have only just begun.

Don Alfredo and Don Fidelino

2007-02-15T17:21:00.000-08:00

Their beaming smiles and genial dispositions betray their surroundings. Don Alfredo and Don Fidelino excitedly talk to us through the bars that have held them for 5 years. Political prisoners of Mexico wrongfully held for the murder of two men because of a land dispute within an indigenous community in the state of Chiapas.

7 years ago, José Lopez murdered a man, a Zapatista, in his community. Not wanting to escalate the situation, the family of the murdered agreed not to involve outside authorities and Lopez agreed to give the widow 10 hectares of his farmland. Shortly afterwards, Lopez fled the state for over two years.
In the meantime, the widow rented her new land to two farmers and friends of the family, Fidelino and Alfredo, to make money to support herself. When José Lopez returned, he demanded his land back. The young widow would not throw Don Alfredo and Don Fidelino off of the land and refused to give the property back.
Lopez, not known for his cool-head, got into a row with another community member, José Orlando. Evidence shows that Orlando shot and killed Lopez. In revenge, the son, Salomon, and the nephew, Isaías, decided to go after Orlando.

Fidelo’s niece waits with us. A girl with the face of a ten year old, but the eyes of a women many times that age. She curiously stares at another young girl who is happily slobbering lollipop all over herself. The rest of the family sit patiently. Their simple clothes are further cheapened by the discotheque dress of the penal secretaries. The secretaries, whose minds are on all the women they sweated and gyrated with of the dance floor the night before, are serving justice to the Dons, whose minds are on the women they sweated and bled for in their fields everyday.

Forms are brought to the men behind bars and they press inked thumbs to them. A shawl-clad secretary slips the paper into a stack of papers. The case files are so large here it is one staffers job to manually drill holes through the stacks and sew the papers together.

On the stand, Lopez’s family told the jury they saw Don Alfredo and Don Fidelino shoot and kill Lopez and Orlando. A year later, their story changed, but it was too late. With Alfredo and Fidelino behind bars, Lopez's family was able to take back the ten hectares of land. For the past two years CAPISE, an research organization that focuses on indigenous human rights violations, has built a case for a mistrial based on forensics, testimonies, and police evidence for a retrial to try to free the Dons.

With broad smiles, the two men wave goodbye as they are escorted away from their families and back into their cells. Everyone must now wait longer as the paperwork is processed…

First day at work?

2007-02-14T06:57:00.000-08:00

It's official! I am in the club. Instead of heading communications for one organization, I am going to be responsible for the sister organization as well. No pay, long hours, health and safety risks around every corner. What could I possibly be thinking?

This is no quest to find my true self in exotic lands; nor is this some decompression excursion after the stress of five years of the cheap and easy college lifestyle; nor am I hiding out for a few months from the real world to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life.

I am a student: a committed lifelong enquirer and learner. This is an intellectual expedition to expand my understanding and knowledge. I am hoping through this humble blog, folks following my trip too will pick up a thing or two here or there.

Three questions have formed in my mind over my time at school:
What shapes and directs urban development in this new century?
What shapes and directs local and global politics?
How can new communication technologies influence the political and community development?

HUGE questions. To begin to unravel them I have placed myself here: within a community that attempts to shift present paradigms of politics and progress through violent and non-violent means, and through traditional and new communication strategies.

Over the next few days I would like to examine each of these questions as I currently think about them while keeping you up to date on Valentine's Day fiestas, Zapatista rallies, and the pressures of the new job.

San Cristobal de las Casas

2007-02-12T08:43:00.000-08:00

I've made it. Despite delays from ferrits, illness, and other mishaps, I am at my ultimate destination for this little adventure of mine: San Cristobal de las Casas.

I arrived at 6:30 this morning and was pretty excited about everything. I checked my bags into a hostel and made way for where I'll be working. It was still early so I decided to walk to Iglesia de Guadalupe, a quite sanctuary at with a great view of the city.

Though the morning fog hadn't lifted I could see that the entirety of Real de Guadalupe was strung with Virgin Mary prayer flags leading all the way up to the church.

The view wasn't great from the top because of the mist, but it was great to sit and collect myself inside listening to prayers in different languages.

I went back to speak with Ernesto about work, but one of the women at the place said he won't be back until Tuesday or Wednesday. I spent the rest of the morning looking for a good language school. My favorite is located at the top of a hill over looking the city.

I forgot how many tourists were here. After being in Orizaba for three weeks I was beginning to forget tourists came to this country at all. We're easy to spoot: nappy heads, berets, scarves, fanny packs, spindly white legs poking out of shorts are all dead giveaways. Like lumps of pork fat in a can of bakedbeans, the tourist slog through the crowds; and just like cubes of fat, some relish in the richness it brings, while others would rather do away with it all together.

Luego

The Big City

2007-02-07T12:07:00.000-08:00

The world's largest city openned up before the us like an ocean of lights as we drove down into the valley of Mexico City. The city boasts high violent crime rates, expanisve slums, near-blinding smog, nearly a fifth of Mexico's populations, and the world's second-highest number of reported kidnappings: I was anticipating a stab-a-minute cough fest fighting through the hostile throngs of this goliath of a megalopolis.

After navigating nearly every line in the metro –the sixth largest in the world– and covering just about every major neighborhood in the District Federal over two days of ferret liberation efforts, I truly enjoyed Mexico City. Public transportation was fast, reliable, and cheap (about $0.20 a ride). The people were infinitely patient and helpful (aside from two gals at the airport). The food, from the 4/$1 hotdogs to the street vendors flutas to the Chinese food was all fun and enjoyable to eat.

The only bummer was the beaurocracy Anna and I were trying to navigate through to get Crackers out of the airport. All my paperwork was sufficient to bring in a domesticated animal, but Crackers is a wild animal being held by 3 different departments. At the third place, we were told he is a "rare" animal and that international certification was required to bring him into the country. A $2000 sum (20,000 pesos) was requested as insurance to guarantee we would not sell the ferret on the black market. At this point, we decided to go to the embassy and ask for Uncle Sam's help.

Our "day-trip" to Mexico City turned into four. To make the best of it, we visited the pyramids at Teotihuacán, shopped our way through animated street bazarres, visited the anthropolgy museum (free on Sundays), the zoo (free all the time), walked around Chapultepec Park, and just tried to make the best of the situation.

We had to bring Crackers food before leaving. Who ever knew the phrase "Where can I by cat food on the way to the airport" would ever come in handy...

Crackers in the clink

2007-01-23T11:22:00.000-08:00

"What type of animals, plants, chemicals, or pharmacutecals are you declaring?"
"Um, this guy is all," I replied holding up the wiggling sack.
"Do you have the proper documentation?"
"Of course. I have his potatos right here."
"Let me direct you to someone who speaks English..."

Crackers and I sat in an office with customes personnel for over an hour. They told me that I did not have a list of the required papers, even though I had all of the papers that were required, and therefore the ferret could not enter the country. Then at the beginning of hour 2 I was told I needed an invoice from the place I bought his. This I did not have because I picked him up in a box from an animal hospital.

With the help of Anna, we were able to get a list of places we had to go and papers we needed signed before finally getting the ferret libreration form to bring to the airport. Of course, these forms will all take time, days even, to be processed.

Poor little fella isn't built for jail. Even if it's an airconditionned, day-long all you can eat buffet with a view of all the other animals being held for the same reasons (we weren't the only one's to say "see ya soon" to our furry friend Sunday).

Stay brave!

First post

2007-01-15T10:02:00.000-08:00

It looks like I just missed being Time's person of the year by a few weeks. In a small way, I feel that this blog entry legitimizes me to earn Time's highest honor along with people like Earth (88), the comptuer (82), and the generation under 25 (66).

With less than a week to go, I am packing, visiting relatives, and rechecking all my forms for Mexico. The most difficult part will be making sure that Crackers has all of his papers ready and signed. I recently purchased the regulation-sized carrying case for my small furry friend which is a compact, fire-engine red box that straps to my gut not unlike, say, 20 lbs. of TNT. The last time I strolled through some of these same airport checkpoints even water was on the banned list.

The excitement and anticipation are building as I get ready.