Snapshots

I feel as if time is escaping me. There are too many things already to write about, too many moments to try to capture and convey, and too little time in the day to pause and grasp hold of these experiences that might mean nothing or might mean everything. Maybe it's more difficult to chart transition than I thought? For this reason, I will try to highlight little snapshots of my second week at the Casa.

I lug my suitcases up two flights of stairs from my cuartito next to the women's dormitory to the Azotea (flat roof). The name is as beautiful as the place... A-zo-te-a. Soothing like a sip of sweet tea. One of the summer volunteers has left, and there is an open space now for me. The other volunteers privileged enough to make it up to the roof have kept up a beautiful and eclectic assortment of plants. They infuse the space with life, in the same way that baby Nita livens the Casa with every squeal and pump of her balled-up fist. The Azotea holds a fantastic view of the city, and sitting up there at night with new, fast friends listening to songs that drift away with the breeze is a thin slice of heaven. I tape pictures of family and friends all over the heavy yellow paint of my wall, and to take them in at a glance is in a way like glimpsing the fabric of my heart, the people and places that have made my life. I feel the strong emotional pull when I gaze up at the collage, lying alone in my bed. I love the Azotea immediately, but notice keenly the absence of my roommate. The silence in my room is more lonely than tranquil, and I realize that I am a person who likes to fall asleep to the rustle of another person settling into their bed.

When you have someone living with you who is walking from Baja California to Santiago, Chile, you can´t help but to feel just a bit lazy in comparison. So, this past Friday I walked a leg of the journey with Rolene Walker, who had her last name legally changed to her favorite form of exercise. She is easily one of the most interesting characters I´ve met at the Casa. From what I´ve pieced together of her life story, Rolene was quite radical in her young age, marrying a Columbian who wanted to blow up multi-national companies in order to make things right for the poor. I asked her if she agreed with this violent extreme, and she said that back then she did... as a pretty serious Quaker now, I´m guessing she no longer does. She quoted that oh so interesting line to me, "If you´re not a liberal when you´re 20 you have no heart, if you´re not a conversative when you´re 40 you have no head.¨ (But I think she said ¨communist¨instead of ¨liberal¨...) Rolene worked for most of her life advocating for laborer´s rights in the States, but also lived in Mexico City and worked at the embassy. She is well-versed on a slew of topics and has just enough intensity to make you nervous but just enough of an easygoing vibe to make you comfortable. Her walk or ¨caminata¨ from California to Chile is all about raising environmental awareness because she feels so deeply troubled by what is happening to Mother Earth. At each place that she stops along the way to share her message, she asks that her audience agrees to three things: 1) Planting 10 trees in their lifetime 2) Eliminating the use of gasoline within ten years 3) Praying or meditating for 10 minutes at 6:00 PM every Sunday for a more beautiful and sustainable world. I found myself trekking down some mountainous paths along the outskirts of Mexico City with Ms. Walker, asking strangers where the closest school was located. This is her modus operandi; as a true gypsy, she rarely calls ahead to set up appointments, but rather shows up at high schools and universities with a business card, intriguing story, and impressive level of Spanish. We breezed right past security. Before I knew it, I was a mini-celebrity by association, sitting in a classroom full of curious adolescents as Rolene captivated them with disconcerting facts about the environment and pictures of the Sequoia tree, the most complex living organism.

Xochimilco is like the Venice of Mexico City. It is a canal system full of long, brightly colored trajineras or boats that are swept along the water by the strong paddle strokes of young Mexican guides. There are mariachis and salesmen that float by, offering up beverages, tacos, flowers, and elotes (thick corn cobs dusted with chile pepper or cream). The last time I was in Xochimilco was last August with Maria, and the trip was made memorable as we shared some friendly banter with our guide about the ever surmounting cost of the ride, from boat to tacos to music to cokes. This Saturday night we held Nico's surprise birthday party at Xochimilco, and the experience was made altogether magical by candlelight. We glided along, between 25 and 30 of us in total, singing, dancing, sighing, and feasting on slivers of nut cake and apple/fig pie, chicharrones with Valentina sauce, champagne, and red wine. It was truly great to see Nico surprised by adoring friends in the extended Casa community; he has deeply invested himself in this place to the point of knowing almost every guest that passes through these doors. I am excited at the prospect of investment as well; after four years of college and almost constant transition, even a year dedicated to building ties and relationships in just one place seems so appealing. I identified with the summer volunteer who just left to complete her senior year of college. I saw her disengaging from the Casa in the same way that I had to disengage from my summer job, realizing that the most I could do was treat the clients the best that I could day in and day out, knowing that the time was fleeting. A year is how long I will be here. Whether in all actuality that time is long or short, I hope to commit and engage and be fully present and dedicated to this community for 12 months. A ver que pasa...