Saturday, November 07, 2009

Kind of crazy


I am the kind of person who keeps as much stuff as I possibly can. I'm not a DSM V-disorder hoarder, but I do have a few good sized boxes filled with photos, old journals, letters and assorted memory aids which wouldn't make sense to anybody else.

Today, as I do from time to time, I went through some of this ... my "files" I guess you could call it.

I was looking for photos of Freddy Vinces, Jennifer Santos, Rebecca Montoya, Jose and Luis Velasco, Karla Endara, Erica Robles, Danny Pincay (perhaps) Lionel and Carlos (whose last names I forget all the time), Francisca Pincay and David Cobos. Why? Because December 20th is their last day in high school. And I remember when they were in kindergarten, little fighters: José distinguished himself from his twin by using more swear words. Running around in yellow, red and blue t-shirts two sizes too big, with a squirrel on the front. I remember their first day of high school, too: clean uniforms, tidy hair. Dad drove them there, all packed into his white van. He was proud. They were, too.

I was, too.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Welcome back to me

It is October 19. Summer is well over. In fact, November is less than two weeks away.

Almost as soon as we got back to Halifax after our travels across North America, I started school. I studied Radio at University.That course started earlier than the regular term, and ended a couple of weeks ago. I came away from it having recorded my first radio news story, a minute and 13 seconds long. It wasn't bad. Here's a link:

Paul and the dogs and I moved out of our co-op house in the North end of the city, and into a flat in Spryfield, which is a good long bus ride outside of town. Spryfield is as poor an area as the North End is, but sans the art-school kids and struggling musicians. It is just poor, as opposed to being poor and hip. But here, we can walk half a kilometre to the West or to the East and we are walking through woods. When a dog escapes, we're chasing him through underbrush and fallen leaves, and not through a cementery and chain-link fences. Its quieter, but we did have a unshot the other night. We have had two black-outs, lasting hours. The bus shelter has a smashed roof. The library is bigger and has a communiy centre attached to it. The grocery store is just as far away, but doesn't have a liquor store next door. The only thing I really hate is the long bus ride into school... during rush hour, the traffic jams can make it last an hour and half. But the house itself is nice, I like not having to climb a flight of stairs to go to the bathroom.

But we wont be here long. I couldn't sleep last night, trying to think of ways to be in Ecuador during the month of January. I get an extra long school break this winter, because I'm taking my second term at a Mexican University. Their school year doesn't start until the first week of February. My parents are talking about being in town over Christmas, but after that: I want to take off. Be in Guayaquil for New Years. Do a four week unpaid journalism internship at Ecuavisa, channel 2. Go home, for a change, instead of just going more and more places. Go home in between going more and more places.

Mexico: I'll be living in Colima, the capital of the province of the same name. In my studies of the Mexican Revolution, Colima had no part to play. It's just a tiny province tucked in between the big ones that raised revolutionary armies, agrarian reformists, skanky politics. It's on the west coast, and the city is an hour away from the Pacific Ocean, so it is a similar location to what I have know, but the city itself is tiny. Probably even smaller than Halifax, from what I hear.

I'll be studying one journalism course, while I'm there, and three electives, none of which I have picked. I'll also be expected to create a feature story (either online, radio, audio or multimedia) about a topic related to water. I'm thinking about collecting people's stories and memories about El Niño phenomenons through the years, but I don't know yet whether that region is affected by the current. I don't really have any hard-hitting investigative ideas. Maybe one will come to me when I am there.

I'll also be doing another writing course, via distance, with my professor Stephen Kimber. Creative Non-fiction. If I am in Ecuador in the period between school terms, I might do research while I'm there for stuff to write while in Mexico.

I have a Jack Russel terrier that might be keeping me company on the trip to Mexico. Paul says he will come a few months after I go, maybe in March or April. He wants to record an album and finish up his Masters courses first. He wants to do so in complete isolation, in a cabin on an island or something equally as remote. Muddy will stay with him.

And I've gotten this far without mentioning the Gazette! That's amazing. I am the news editor at the student newspaper of Dalhousie University. We are a wicked paper this year, check us out: www.dalgazette.com

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Go here!

I have officially started posting more often on White Bus Black Dog. I will not post on In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida suring my summer adventures. If you want to keep following me, go here and subscribe.

Highlights so far:

The day Paul and I got our bus converted to run on vegetable oil

The day Paul and I adopted a Jack Russell terrier

The day Paul heard the shipyard BOOMing

The day we built a bed inside a bus

I promise to respond to every comment over there! I can't promise I'll respond to comments here on this blog over the summer.

Happy adventures!

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Paper art

Fascinated by this woman:


I Don't Know from ATO Records on Vimeo.

Lisa Hannigan, famously from Damien Rice's ever-impressive O

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Time to regain goodbye

Just read Elena Poniatowska's Massacre in Mexico (La noche de Tlatlelolco). I read it in Spanish, and it made me realize how foreign Mexico is... At some points, I couldn't understand 1 out of every 4 words! A lot of it was political, so there were lots of names, acronyms and nicknames I had no chance of getting, but some regular words would escape, me too. Living there next year will be completely new and exciting, I feel: I wont approach it like an Ecuador, though the spanish will make me more prone to enjoy my time learning.

A year ago I was in Ecuador. Paul and I got there on April 11 in the early hours of the morning. A year is so long, but it is going to be longer before I can be back. I have been defending that to many friends lately. They have started to ask, in emails, on Facebook and on MSN, "when are you coming back, when will we see you again" in droves, like they had co-ordinated the onslaught on my nostalgia and my regret. The thing is, the ones I can talk to, I don't have too much trouble with. I miss them, but it is manageable: the infrequent chats and emails do enough to assuage my memory of them, and my obligations to staying in their lives.

Its the others that kill me. The kids. The fact that I know exactly zero about what kids like Jessenia Munoz, Alexandra, Francisca, Freddy Vinces, and others are doing. The fact that I left Titi so distaught a year ago and nobody, NOBODY, has been able to tell me a jot about how he has been doing since. I don't know if Alexis is back at Tarqui, or if he is following his dream of switching to a trade school. I don't know how Luis Bravo, or Miguel, are doing. Jessica Montiel, and Johanna: total misteries. It drives me crazy to not know. Knowing isn't really a matter of exchanged sentences with an intermediary, either, it is a matter of contact: the content of my chats and emails can't re-assure me that my friends are ok, or that they are happy, safe or content. I couldn't recite to you the latest news in their lives. It is just the contact that means something to me right now. Just being able to touch them, however impersonal the brain-to-fingers-to-keyboard-to-internet-to-screen-to-eyes-to-brain-touch actually becomes, it is at least immediate, it involves the two of us. Being away is unforgivable, and I feel guilty every day.

But then I remember how completely alone and wounded I was to leave Ecuador the last time, after having been there almost a month. It was not enough, it wasn't what I wanted to do. I gave myself just enough time to go in, feel frantic, catch up, feel angry, and leave before becoming fully reconnected, which in regards to some people, was good, but in regards to others, was agony. I dislike living anywhere in that sort of context, but I guess I'm doing it again to myself this summer: a blitz tour of everywhere, without time to set down any roots. It is going to be geographically exciting, but potentially colturally alienating. Also, a blitz catch-up with some important people is planned. I think it is because I NEED to re-see those people, that I am allowing myself to do it in such an unpermanent and impractical way. Ideally, we would share more complete adventures together, but I don't know when life would allow for that, so this summers short versions will have to do.

It will be one LONG and complete adventure with Paul and Muddy, that's for sure. We need to give ourselves some new environments. I speak for myself, but Halifax is getting old. Muddy is running out of things in our yard to tear up, but the world is still completely new to him when he gets out on a walk. I want to see a whole bunch of places I don't have to miss once I leave. What a luxury! I hope it works.

Friday, April 03, 2009

Warmth


Story from North America from Kirsten Lepore on Vimeo.

Paul and I are in the market for a video camera. We are planning ahead for the summer. We want to create a multimedia blog with writing, video and pictures of our trip. Unfortunately, that will mean In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida will be mostly empty during four months... May to August! I hope you will not abandon me in that time. I might still post stuff here that is trip-unrelated, or that I just make up so that In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida doesn't lose it's 8 or 9 daily visitors.

-Bethany

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Wading into a pool of infirmity and sludge, looking for gold

I swore I'd never get involved in campus politics, but now I'm writing about for two classes, so I might as well get my juices going here, too.

Students Mobilize for Action on Campus
is a Dal group that has stated shaking things up a bit at the student union level. I started writing about SMAC for Kimber's class, except I didn't really start writing because I leave everything to the last minute, so I took on the assignment for my Research class as well (the end product of that was a very different thing than what I am now writing for Kimber, but it got me started, which is what I needed).

I finished the story for Toughill by March 11: SMAC had been gearing up for a Dalhousie Student Union meeting on March 11. Even though I was done the news story, I needed to attend the meeting for the narrative story, and I was still in news-writing-gear, so it was an excellent feeling. I was going to be able to capture it all! I wasn't going to have to parse it down to 800 words, and I would be able to write it in an interesting way!

Unfortunately, the fates were against me.

Because any time I am excited about something I am bound to get dragged out of it by police.
(OK, "dragged" is an overstatement. I've been saying "escorted out," though I'm pretty sure the police quit escorting me before I was fully out... I'm wishing now I had doubled back and sat down).

So what now? You can't possibly write about the meeting now, after missing the most important parts of it!

Well, you sure can. You sure can.

Kimber thinks this was an excellent development (story -wise, he means... media-justice-wise, not so much. The King's J-school profs have written a formal letter to the DSU, as has the King's Student Union).

And now, I sit at my computer early in the morning, to write. The sun is bright through the crack in the curtains. I haven't opened my mouth since last night, and it feels like it is full of white glue. Backpacks and dirty plates are piled up behind my computer screen: I pushed them forward to leave me some working space. I'm going to go to the bathroom now and I promise to come back. I promise to come back to start writing for Kimber!

----

Update: 400 words completed! I feel a bit dizzy, vertigo/car sick-like. I wonder if it is the thrill of finally getting some solid work done on an assignment that has been hanging over my head since January 5? Or it could just be hunger.

-Bethany