Mitch in Medellin

Return

2010-11-07T12:31:00.000-08:00

I'm back in the US.

I already submit my final report to the Colombo on the different places I was working. Here's the list, without the report's details:

Manizales

University of Caldas: A week-long series of workshops with undergraduate theatre students.

‘Punto de Partido’ at Teatro Los Fundadores: Two weeks of workshops with teachers, students, and members of the theatre group Punto de Partido in a studio space in the basement of Teatro Fundadores.

Fundacion Contacto: A series with workshops with ‘Titiri Clown,’ volunteer clowns who visit hospitals.

La Casa de Cultura, Neira: A week-long series of workshops with students interested in theatre and active with the theatre group there.

Grupo de Teatro Colegio Alfonso Hoyos: A full day workshop with the school’s theatre group.

Wilson Mejia: I taught two workshops with classes normally taught by Wilson Mejia, one with 6-8 year olds, another with 13-16 year olds.

Medellin

Institución Educativa María de los Ángeles Cano Márquez: A two month process of weekly workshops, with over forty high school students focusing on conflicts in the community of Granizal, followed by a performance for the Colombo Americano’s youth festival ‘Arte e Escuela.’

Colegio San Ignacio de Loyola: A two month process of weekly workshops with twenty-five high school students focusing on their school community and identity formation, followed by a performance for the Colombo Americano’s youth festival ‘Arte e Escuela.’

Circo Momo (Jovenes): One class weekly with students, for this organization that teaches circus skills, drumming, art, etc., to children, many who come from backgrounds of conflict.

Circo Momo (Docentes): One class weekly with teachers who work at Circo Momo and other organizations that work with children.

University of Antioquia: Two four hour workshops with undergraduate students in the class ‘El Cuerpo Habla’ taught by Angela Chaverra. The University was closed down during the time I was teaching, so we had class in a room in the Museo de Arte Moderno.

Nuestra Gente: Two workshops with the teachers/actors of the theatre group Nuestra Gente.

Arte e Infancia: Two workshops with a program of the Colombo Americano for children 7-13.

Colombo Americano Integrated Skills Class: One class with advanced level English students, mostly high school students.

Centro Diagnostico: Two workshops at a transition center for children coming off the street.

Mujeres Que Creen: A full day retreat at a finca in San Vincente for thirty women discussing women’s rights and ecology.

A list of where I've worked does not begin to summarize my experience.

I have many people to thank, but my most important thank you goes out to Juan Alberto Gaviria, for giving me this opportunity, and all of his support throughout.

My last night I went to a show from Matacandelas called 'O marinheiro,' by Fernanda Pessoa. Three white masks hover in darkness over a corpse, howling lamentations, accompanied by occasional flashes of light onto the background and a frightening soundtrack. Reminiscent of Beckett's 'Not I,' it was quite static, with no movement other than the faces distorting. Then I went over to Taller 7, head out to Carlos E. Estrepo, and had my last night of Salsa in Medellin. I may have learned to speak Spanish, but I definitely still haven't learned how to dance salsa like Colombians do. I had planned to head up to Castilla and to another party in Poblado as well, but a car was picking me up at 5AM to go to the airport, and I was already collapsing, so I called it a night a little after 2.

The airport in Medellin has 11 gates. My ticket said gate 12. I waited and watched a line form, clearly with some other confused Americans, around gate 11. I arrived at my assigned seat, and an old Colombian man's eyes met mine, with a look of begging and guilt, as he sat in my window seat. Of course I said nothing and took the aisle. In the middle was a Louisianian-Colombian in the country for his mother's funeral, who recounted his family history over the course of the flight.

Transferring flights in the Miami airport with CNN blaring, surrounded by white people, sipping 15% cranberry juice and biting into a flavorless apple, that cost together as much as two full meals would in Colombia, it occurred to me what organization gains and loses. I wanted to note down the melody of a flight attendant's vocal pattern over the loudspeaker.

There's something I genuinely love about leaving. Goodbye means the time has come. Goodbye means you're ready for it. I threw away the boots I bought just for this trip, the only shoes I had my whole time there. I put on corduroy after three months in the same three pairs of jeans. I washed my hair with my sister's shampoo. I went out for a fancy steak with my parents.

I could write about how these three months feel like a dream now. I could write about how dramatically these three months have changed me. I could write about all the people, all the places, all the ups and downs I encountered in Colombia. Nothing I could write would really do the trick.

I have a few regrets, but they crumble in the wind.

I don't believe life has a purpose. But I believe there are potentialities that can be fulfilled. Ways to break past the little fragments and touch the whole. I can't help but feel closer to that mission.

I'll return to New York, to a life familiar yet also unknown. If you've read this blog a little bit while I was down in Colombia, I want you to know I appreciate it. It's been a great way to me to communicate without writing a bunch of separate e-mails, and for me to reflect on my experience while having it. I look forward to seeing everyone again. Maybe I'll start another blog for my next adventure.

Yo no se manana, yo no se manana. Quien va a estar aqui.

Un abrazo, ciao!

Cueva de Los Guacharos

2010-11-04T09:21:00.000-07:00

A purely touristy but purely enjoyable trip to Rio Claro. I rode a series of zip lines along rivers, went kayaking 12km, then went on an awesome three hour trip to a cave made totally of marble. Gorgeous. Marble all around. It was surreal. And in the cave live these blind owlish birds called Guacharos, that screech horribly and zoom about the upper parts of the cavern. It is a little over an hour going through the cave itself, along a flowing stream, climbing, sometimes swimming through. In the middle of the cave, in the largest cavern, we turned off our flashlights and sat in silence for a minute. Pure black and rushing water. How incomprehensible things are at their most fundamental. I felt a child's delight crawling through this marble cavern.

Most people stayed in the hotel Refugio right on the reservation, but I was in a cheaper hotel 3km down the road. The first day I walked from the bus stop to the hotel, but there is an intersection right near it where people wait with there motorcycles to give cheap rides, since there is no taxi service in the area. So I'd hop on the back, and ride on up to Refugio for a few mil.

On the same cave trip there was Marcus from Queens, his Colombian girlfriend Maria Isabel, a British guy, Bill, doing research for his company 'Journey Latin America,' and a Bolivian fellow, Migro, traveling the upper part of the continent following the routes of Che Guevara and Simon Bolivar. I went with Marcus and Maria Isabel to Doradal, the town close by for dinner, delicious Bagre caught right from the river, then flagged down a bus with them to head back to Medellin, because I had just run out of money and there was no ATM in town, so I had no choice but to return.

Mucho Conocer en Guatape

2010-11-01T20:21:00.000-07:00

Back in Medellin just for the night after two days in Guatape, then tomorrow to Rio Claro.

I decided to go to Guatape because it was not a very long bus ride from Medellin, and there is a very large rock there, La Pierda de Penol. Or as they call it in Guatape, El Penon de Guatape. Penol is another town next to Guatape, that somehow has itsname associated with the rock, even though the rock is in Guatape, to great displeasure to those in the rock's 'correct' town. People are proud of Guatape. You see the letter 'G' and part of a 'U' on the rock, because the town started to paint on it in order to make its rightful owners clear, but they were unable to finish due to the difficulty of rock-side painting.

The rock is quite an anomaly. I've never seen anything else like it. It's just a huge chunk of granite sticking up in middle of this valley, probably formed by glaciers melting. Going on hikes when I was little, for some reason I always wanted to climb to the top of the big rocks. I guess all that's changed is my rocks have gotten bigger.

On the walk over, there was a full rainbow, from one island in the lake to another, and since it was my first time being able to see both ends of a rainbow touching the ground I was quite tempted to go over and look for some gold. I was really stunned by how beautiful is was, and just how odd that rainbows occur as they do. I went up this very large rock to a 360 degree view of the small valley that has only within the past twenty-five years become spotted with lakes. A dam was built close by that flooded the valley and simultaneously created the tourism industry there. I hung out up there for a while, felt great, considered what the hell I was doing traveling alone in the pueblos of Colombia, felt great again, then I got down and went into town.

After scouting the potential hotels, I went to the lake shore and went on a boat ride. Before I knew it I was handed a beer and was sitting with this family getting to know them. It turned out they were the family of Elmer Arismendy Florez, the ex-mayor of Guatape, and owner of the boat we were on. They were all overflowing with friendliness towards me. The boat rocked with salsa and we had some guado as darkness came over the lake.

They offered to put me up in a room in their house for less than the hotel. A large house. Back on land I had some more shots, of rum now, with the wasted ex-mayor. He told me I was allowed to tongue kiss his twin daughters but anything more and he would 'chop it off.' Before he went to sleep he set his son Emmanuel as my nighttime Guatape guide. Incessantly he repeated the same set of phrases for a couple minutes, about how his son would show me around, and I wasn't to leave his company, somehow forgetting he had just said the exact same thing, with different accompanying hand gestures every round. We drove to the place of a friend of Emmanuel's, some others quickly arrived, and the guado made its rounds. Although it was Halloween there were not a lot of masks and costumes. One guy who went by the name 'La grua' which means 'The Crane,' had on a disco wig, and Juan Diego, who said he was a National Geographic photographer from Medellin, had some type of make-up on I think.

We went out dancing. In a small town people know each other, so I met a whole pile of people. Most families just come into Guatape for weekend, and live in Medellin the rest of the time. La Grua introduced me to one girl, named Sarah, who with salsa blasting and a shadow over her face said she had to leave, but thought I was good looking, and would like my phone number. I haven't written about this part of my experience of Colombia before in this blog, but what happened in Guatape I feel obliged to share. So I gave this girl my phone number, not thinking anything of it because I would be leaving the next morning.

In the morning I was unable to leave because a desrumba, small avalanche, had blocked the only road leaving town. I had breakfast with the ex-mayor's family, met some more of the extended family, and spent some time just hanging out and getting to know them as I waited for news of the street being cleared.

Around lunch time I got a call from Sarah, asking me to come meet her in a part of the town a little far from where I was, about thirty minutes away. But her voice was hard and cut; uninviting as she offered me an invitation, with a luke warm sugar-glaze fading in and out. I had planned to leave soon and the ex-mayor's family had now offered to drive me part of the way to where I needed to go. As I expressed my hesitation, she gave me instructions for the taxi I ought to take. I didn't have a lot of money, wasn't sure if there was the correct ATM in town, and wanted to make sure I had enough to get where I was going. If she was right close by I might have gone just for a minute, but since I didn't actually talk to her the night before, I didn't really feel like going the distance. Then she offered to send a car to where I was to pick me up. That was when I knew something was wrong. Her voice made me unsure, but this made me scared immediately. Nobody sends a car. She said a car would pick me up in front of a hotel near the town center. I said I really wasn't sure what I was doing, this family I was staying with was leaving, and I didn't have somewhere to stay. She immediately said I was obviously invited to stay in her house. Nobody is that forward or that fast, even Colombian women. I said I had to leave town that night and that my ride was leaving. I thought I heard someone else's voice in the background telling her what to say. I hung up. She called back and I didn't answer. She continued to call back. Then she called from a different number, I answered, and she immediately said she had already sent the car to the hotel and it was waiting for me. I was glad I didn't tell her where I was staying. I explained my situation to the people I was with, and when she called back again I gave the phone to someone, and he make quite a good joke over it, putting on his best gringo accent, making sweet talk, and after she hung up in reaction to the sound of the entire family bursting with laughter, she didn't call back again.

But I needed to leave Guatape. The road was cleared, and I decided not to wait and leave with the ex-mayor and his family in their car, but to get out of town on the bus a little bit sooner, with a few members of the family. They had tickets, I didn't, and the bus was full, so for the first bit of the ride I sat on a bucket up front with the driver. The idea that there was some car driving around the town center looking for me was unnerving to say the least. I initially planned to go straight from Guatape to Rio Claro, but I didn't feel going into a new place at night without a specific place to stay was a good idea, so I returned to Medellin, a stop along the way, to stay in a comfortable place.

Trick or treat?

Arte y Escuela

2010-10-30T16:14:00.000-07:00

What happiness. Yesterday was an amazing day for me. I stayed up almost the whole night writing and translating what I would be saying before each school's presentation. I had been very busy in the days before.

The presentation from Colegio San Ignacio was quite good. The students spent the whole morning rehearsing it over and over. It was a short presentation, just under 10 minutes, but everyone had a chance to do their own part, because there ended up only 4 students performing. The process began with 24 students, but not everyone attended consistently, so just last week we divided up the group into those who were willing to dedicate their time and wanted to participate acting in the performance, and the rest who would contribute to the design component, and 8 decided they were interesting in doing the scenes. One girl ended up going to Bogota, so she just contribute a monologue that someone else performed, two ended up not attending the following classes, and finally two days before one student had his tonsils taken out and was unable to perform.

The four students created some small 'machines' representing the students of San Ignacio, their lives in six years, the fathers of San Igancio, and each gave a monologue someone connected to individual expression and identity formation. They chose these topics, they wrote everything, they created everything, I simply guided them through it. It was just an example of our work, which was really about the exercises we were doing with the whole group, but I felt it hit on the overall issues the students expressed, being boxed in by parents and teachers protected from the world outside, looking for opportunities to assert who they are, artistic expression being discouraged, etc. This is a private school, one of the best in the city, and these students are kept quite apart from the rest of the reality of Medellin. They remained somewhat timid, but often moved their bodies freely, spoke with clarity, and didn't miss a beat.

But the work from Maria Cano is what really brought the house down. Since it was almost everyone's first time performing in anything like this, I had them play a game together on stage, walking around and hugging each other in groups of numbers I called out, while I gave my little opening speech, so they didn't have any time to make themselves nervous waiting in the wings.

They decided to frame their presentation with a Spectrogram, a sociometric exercise we used as a medium for people to speak their opinions and to see the general opinions of the others in the room, moving to one side of the space or the other to indicate to what degree they are in agreement or disagreement with a given notion. Whether the statement is 'I like soccer' or 'I feel safe in my school' or 'my life has been effected by violence,' students voiced their opinions, and the viewing audience was able to see a sampling of the school community's opinions and experiences.

Then, they went into scenes representing the conflicts in their school and community. They originated all these scenes with images that they then turned into improvisations. Some also included a solution to the given problem, but regrettably we didn't have the time to develop that stage with all of them. These conflicts ranged from cutting in the snack line to warring gangs. Some of the scenes were a bit sensationalistic, and they knew it, so I asked someone to say something about their relationship to gang conflicts after one of these scenes. He expressed that these conflicts are real, but a lot of the time become like myths in the community that verge on fictional. Others had more simple ways of addressing serious community issues, like scene of a young girl choosing to sell herself for the first time after seeing all the nice things her friend has who does the same, or a monologue about fights breaking out just because someone is wearing a t-shirt supporting a different soccer team. These are the things they thought of when they thought of Granizal.

It ran just under 40 minutes, with fifteen students in the main scenes and the entire group of over forty on stage for the closing Spectrogram. It was received extremely well by everyone involved in the festival. I could not have been more proud. The elation in the group maintained for the entire rest of the day; dancing together, starting chants (a number of times of my name), there was an energy unmatched and noted by the teachers and every other school in attendance. And what I found one of the strongest signs that what I had done with this group really signified something, is when the festival ended and they were about to leave in the bus, without my saying anything they insisted on forming a circle holding hands with their eyes closed to pass a pulse around the circle, the way we closed every class together. This from a group that the first day would be pushing and shoving each other doing a simple exercise walking around the space, messing with each other at every chance, and it would be almost impossible to get to be quite for more than a few seconds during an exercise. I think I was in a picture with every one of those forty students individually at least twice following the presentations. I was beaming the whole day. We danced together, they all signed my shirt, I got a dragon painted on my face, and I received an unrelenting flood of high fives, hand shakes and hugs.

Although I spent the whole day happy, that is not to say there weren't some other conflicts. Remember that originally I was to be working with a third high school, Santa Elena, but do to some conflicts, the Colombo decided I wouldn't return? Well, Santa Elena had its own presentation as a part of the festival, since they worked with Oneidis on some other artistic projects. After a dramatic entrance of a Silletero (a tradition in Antioquia where they carrying a huge frame of flowers on their backs) and the national anthem, four students each said a little something. Two of those somethings were about me. To be honest at the time I wasn't paying attention. I was overwhelmed with the success of the Maria Cano presentation, not really listening to what was going on. It's easy to turn off my ears to a language when it isn't my first. But, I did notice an odd energy in the room, and was informed afterwords that one student said the reason they did not have anything to present was because "the Yankee left, denying us freedom of speech." And another said something about "we began with the anthem, which features the mountains as a symbol of liberty, because the gringo from the empire was imposing his Yankee oppression" or something like that. Then they showed a slide show of their art projects with the techno song 'Love is Gone' as background music.

What happened my first and only day in Santa Elena is during our introductions some students said things like 'I hate the empire,' 'I'm xenophobic,' and a few other things directed at me when saying something personal about themselves accompanying their name. We began exercises, which many of the same students refused to participate in. Then during an interaction in an exercise one of the students made a physically threatening gesture towards Juan. Juan left immediately. The teacher said and did nothing in response to any of this. After talking with the director of the Colombo, Juan and he decided it didn't make sense for me to return there. What surprised me most about this, is that for the presentation called 'Desearte Paz' which means 'we desire you peace,' the teacher would decide to permit the same students who caused the problem in the first place to be the ones to speak at this festival, and launch similar insults my way. It was not as though they did this without the teacher's permission. She was clearly angry as well, and chose to include this as part of their presentation.

During lunch, I found this a great opportunity to talk with my students about how to react to a situation of conflict. I feel we had a very fruitful conversation as a lunch table about the different options, and how to choose what is the right response. Obviously Juan was enraged, and I had an entire festival full of teachers and students who felt what was said was odd and unjustified. It wasn't even my choice to stop working there in the first place. And after I offer a presentation where students swear, mock smoking marajuana, represent prostitution and gang violence, who really thinks I'm restricting students' speech? Later in the day, a group of girls called me over, and said that they were from Santa Elena, and were not in accord with what was said. Near the end of the day, a girl mounted the platform with the teacher, and said in the name of Santa Elena, they would like to apologize to me for what was said when I visited their school. I'm not sure if they expected a response from me after this, but I didn't give one. I carried on dancing with my students.

The past week was a blitz. We had a powerful final class at Circo Momo, with tears throughout, and truly warm thankful close. Saturday I went to the year end presentation from Renovacion, featuring students' music, dance, and theatre. It really is a great group, and it was good to spend another night in Castilla. The work with APICP was the best yet Monday, but the class didn't happen Thursday. I met up for drinks two nights with Matt and James, friends from New York who were stopping in Medellin for a couple days as they travel through Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia. I spent all day Tuesday at a retreat in San Vincente with Mujeres Que Creen, where I gave short workshop amidst sessions on the properties of plants, making natural shampoo and sun tan lotion, and practicing a song for their the opening of their art piece next week. Not to mention rehearsals everyday with either Maria Cano or San Ignacio, and sometimes both in a day.

I have one more week in Colombia and I have to decide what to do with it. Tomorrow I'm going, I just haven't chosen where. Choco, Bogota, Manizales for the festival, the Amazon, or a list of gorgeous pueblos to stop into. There's a lot more thoughts I've been having and things to write about, but it really is necessary that I go out to the fiesta. I'll try to let you know where I end up.

One Week Remaining

2010-10-23T08:11:00.000-07:00

One week remaining in Medellin, another week traveling somewhere, and I will be returning. I'm already setting up jobs and auditions in NYC. I spent this morning updating my resume. That took some time. I still need to plow through my pile of contact information from here.

The youth festival 'Arte e Escuela' is this coming Friday, the 29th. Things are coming together for the schools' presentations. The work in the two schools is really different from each other. We've got rooftop tiles drawn on and t-shirts printed for Maria Cano, and a cube of tubing along with their uniforms for San Ignacio. Things might change over this week, so I'll talk about the presentations themselves afterwords.

I grabbed a drink last night with Matt O'Brien, here on a Fulbright for photography. We discussed the oddities and joys of being Americans here in Medellin. I planned to go to a Mayan dance presentation, but ended up deciding I didn't want to risk being in a room where everyone was concerned about the apocalypse coming in 2012.

I've got a bit of the sniffles, so I'm not being too active today. I have quite a week ahead.

I forgot to mention the University of Antioquia opened again the other week.

That's pretty much what's going on. Everyone seems to be very busy all of a sudden. It was a solid week with a lot of work. And this week will be a week of goodbyes, group by group.

What does peace mean to you?

2010-10-17T18:14:00.000-07:00

I spent last night in San Vincente, a rural area about an hour from Medellin, in a finca owned by Marcela's family. With her brother-in-law Carlos and four other Colombian-Cowboys, I went on a late night horseback ride. Galloping through the night, passing around aguadiente, and dismounting to pop into rural bars, was another totally new experience. The next morning the kids there, Samuel, Valentina, and Simon, gave me a very thorough tour of the ranch; from the tree house, to the army bunker, to the absurdly large pig, to the parrots who bite if you get to close, to the 'men's club' including a thrown and dentist chair where the older men sit around and drink aguadiente, to the far out rocks that mark the end of the land, and then we played 'Uno Spin' according to the house rules, which means not actually playing Uno, just spinning the spinner and doing what it says, and some game where you kick a bottle and hide. After lunch we went to hang out a bit at the finca of Gloria and Olga, who are working with 'Mujeres que Creen.' I'll be returning there for the final day of the project on the 26th to participate and lead a few exercises. There is a large model statue of liberty on their lawn, a gorgeous garden, art everywhere, and they have hundreds of plastic cups each with a different type of herb inside for an art/ecology/ethnobiology project they are working on.

On Friday, I was privileged to participate in part of an international conference, where people involved in community development projects from all across Latin America were convening to discuss their work and ideas for collaboration. This is a four day process, but since I just returned from Santa Marta I was only able to jump in on this day. The morning consisted of group forums in the Museum of Antioquia. One of the younger actors from Nuestra Gente, Joes, was there representing his community, and helped me around a bit. For lunch, each person was to go out into the street, and invite someone they didn't know in for lunch. I found this really lovely. Probably 150 people from the conference, each spent lunch with a stranger from Medellin. It was a long lunch line.

Then, they split up into small groups, and each had a chance to see a barrio of the city intimately, and a preview of the various community oriented projects going on in that particular area. Comuna 13, or San Javier, is known as one of the other major conflict areas in Medellin. Only a couple years back, the army conducted a massive raid to seize the area, because previously it was an area they couldn't even go into and had little to no control over. I chose to go with this group because it is one of the areas of the city I haven't become familiar with. We stopped into more cultural centers than I can remember the names of. They have a very nice new library there, like in Santo Domingo, also close to a metro station. The pride the area guides had talking about these sites clearly indicated the change they represent for the community.

On the bus to El Corazon, some rap artists from the community gave a freestyle sampling. We walked from Corazon to Saltada, where we watched a presentation from 'Son Bata,' an African dance, pacific-style music, and rap based organization. Read an article about them here: Con Son Batá, África suena en la Comuna 13. They have their own building, and they rehearse and present on the rooftop. The leader of their group was killed in July, but they did not talk about this. They showed their dedication and persistence, and it was clear just from the dynamic on that rooftop that this place is like a home for many of the young people there.

There were number of other interesting organizations, with different methodologies, but all seeming to stem from the idea that cultural programs decrease violence in communities. One of the rappers, after a discussion at a nursery school type program we went to, got the group of kids repeating a chorus of "los ninos, somos el futuro." A Brazilian in the group who started a major community center in Sao Paulo, asked the children, and many people we encountered, what 'peace' means to them, and he jotted down responses in his notebook.

I'm going to try something different. I don't feel like rambling my thoughts down like usual. Please leave a comment responding to that question: "What does 'peace' mean to you?"

Ciudad Perdida

2010-10-14T19:31:00.000-07:00

There is a lot to write about. I'll do it out of order, because the five day trip to Ciudad Perdida was the highlight. The pictures are here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/108723329678166020807/CiudadPerdida#

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Day 1

After a long bumpy ride from Santa Marta, we arrived in Machete, a small pueblo just before the path leading to the Sierra Nevada. There was a group of young men playing 'tejo,' a game where you throw round stones into a mound of clay with a packet of gun powder in the middle, that explodes when you hit the target.

And off we went; the guide Cesar, a Dutch couple Richard and Marika, a couple from Jackson Heights Christian and Jess, and me. Cesar's son, Cesar, took a mule ahead with our food for the trip. I went with a company called 'Turcol.' There was another group from 'Magic Tours' running at the same time as us: a couple from Oregon and a British fellow. We didn't walk together, but we usually ended up staying at the same sites.

As I mentioned in my previous entry, I was well prepared for this trip. That turned out to be to my detriment. My bag was quite heavy.

The first day was the toughest. It was actually the shortest day of hiking, 3 hours, but there was a lot uphill, and I certainly struggled. Marika was unlucky enough to fall into the first river we crossed, leaving her shoes soaked for the remainder of the trip.

There were lots of little tiendas along this part of the trip; selling gatorade and such, or with running water to fill up our bottles. Cesar also gave us fruits at most rest stops. Oranges and pineapples never tasted so delicious. At the first rest stop, the home of a Kogi family, we ate oranges, and there were some chickens tossing dirt around and pressing their rears against each other to mate. At the second, we fed the centers of our pineapples to a stray dog. The magic tour group caught up with us, and there was a different dog following them, which joined our group when we left the tienda. Later, when we tried feeding pineapple centers to this stray, he refused them. Thus Richard gave him the name 'No-Pina.'

The clay changes colors like a rainbow on the walk. Giant blue butterflies soar about. Ants carry leaves across the path and up tree trunks.

At the first campsite we took a dunk in a natural pool. That night Cesar told us stories of the jungle, and of awful groups in the past. By the river next to our open cabin, there were upside down hanging flowers called Borrachero, which apparently make you flip out if you eat them. Our group took them, stripped, and ran rampant all through the night. He told us to check inside our shoes in the morning for scorpions and spiders before putting them on.

I read Juan's copy of "This is IT" by Alan Watts during my nights in hammocks.

Day 2

We woke up early to watch a full demonstration of how cocaine is made. Apparently almost every tourist group goes to see this, a little off the beaten path. Coca leaves are picked, mashed, add salt and cal (a type of rock), push around with a shovel, dance on it, add gasoline, stir, add water with a small amount of sulfuric acid, let sit for the gasoline to rise, add iodine, filter until liquid is clear, add baking soda little by little, filter again, what remains on top of the filter is the coca paste, which requires the final step, not shown, of drying and adding acetate.

The young man who gave this demonstration had been making cocaine for twelve years, since the age of fourteen. But he said he never touched the stuff himself, neither did almost any of the farmers, because they knew what went into it. He said a farmer growing corn, or some other crop, makes the equivalent of about $3 a day, while making cocaine would earn about $15 a day. Not a lot for the farmer for a good deal of risk. But cocaine is no longer prevalent in that region; its production has moved to other parts of the country. He has a regular farm now, and gives these demonstrations to show tourists how disgusting cocaine is, and to talk a little about how the drug has effected his country. He said Paramilitary groups protected his family and farm. They made things secure, but had very strict rules. If someone making it began using, the Paras would kill him if he wouldn't stop. In the era of Pablo Escobar, if people made cocaine without going directly through him, they were killed. Guerillas would take over towns in order to seize the fields. Rampant death as a result of the money made from this drug.

There was a large breakfast of eggs and toast. The hike was easier, but still quite strenuous. Not so many tiendas anymore. We passed by a Kogi village used for rituals and meetings. No-Pina continued to follow us the whole day. Passed by some interesting creatures: a spiny caterpillar, some cricket-beetle mix like thing, a crab.

That night we played a vicious game of spoons, with the losers having to make animal sounds and movements, and the winners consuming tasty Gol bars.

Day 3

The next day we had to cross a number of rivers, not walking over rocks like before, but fording. There was a cart some Kogis used to cross at one point, but Cesar said it was much easier, since we would be getting wet anyway, to go through the water. I meticulously dried my feet after every crossing to avoid blisters, but somehow still got a big one of the second toe of my right foot.

No-Pina decided to leave with the other group this morning. At the river crossing, he tried to follow them, and ended up being tossed down stream, back onto the same side. They tried to summon him towards the cart, but eventually had to keep going.

Day by day I worried about the water less and less. Initially, I only drank bottled water. Then, I started to purify water filled up at various homes/campsites. Then, I purified water from clean flowing streams. Then, I would fill my water bottle from campsites without purifying. Then, I would fill up water from the clean streams without purifying, if Cesar said the water was safe. The process of purifying is tiresome, and seemingly unnecessary, since I did not have any problems with my stomach on the trip. Once Cesar lent me a lemon to squeeze in and that seemed to work fine. But clean mountain water is clean mountain water. It's delicious.

We passed by a gigantic 1,200 year old tree. There were many huge trees, but this topped them all. We encountered spiders, snakes, and a strange shiny-aqua bellied butterfly-winged insect.
After arriving early at the next campsite, we played cards for a bit.

Day 4

I awoke from odd nightmares. My pocket light had remained in the on position close to my hammock.

A different dog followed us. No-Pina Two. He would stand whimpering and shaking at the riverside, and lift his paw asking to be carried across. Clearly tourists had fallen for this before. Jess carried him across once, and I helped him across another time.

Ciudad Perdida was gorgeous. We ascended 1000 steps, constructed in the year 700, to the ancient city. From the moss covered stones of the old market place, to the open landscape of the Shaman's thrown room, it was otherworldly. I dreamed of a life long passed and secrets never to be told. I felt centered as a myriad of fantasies passed through me. I thought of Hermann Hesse's 'The Glass Bead Game.' I wondered if I had found what I was looking for coming into the jungle? I encountered my own will, simply walking there. I pushed myself hard when I might otherwise have rested. I considered my attitude towards group dynamics as I walked with strangers. The group would unhesitantly leave someone moving slower behind temporarily. This bothered me, not just because it was the jungle in Colombia, but it seemed a simple matter of respect for the needs of others. I was usually in the middle of some running ahead and some drifting behind. I went deeper into my attitude towards empathy with this, wondering at its potentially as a reflection of unity, or a mask to avoid full asserting my own strength. What makes me stay behind with those moving slowly, or burst ahead and push myself with those trying to race the jungle rather than experience it. When I wonder how to confront a snake in the forest, I feel I might really be wondering how to confront my own fear in general. Or even my own hesitancy. I determined this would be a journey to my center. In that I confronted these truths, or at least questions, thoroughly and dynamically, I find this was a successful trip. An experience of connection; in moments of genuine questioning, in moments when I surprised myself with the negative feelings and judgment that emerged, and in moments of genuine comfort, looking out over the vista. All of it was good.

I sat by 'the fountain of youth,' and considered the delight and naturalness of being a child playing in a pool such as this out in the jungle. When leaving, there was a snake on the path. I believe Cesar said it was a 'rabe amarilla,' but I was unable to find a snake of that name when I looked online. It was yellow and small, but Cesar said it could kill with a bite. The dog wanted to play with the deadly serpent, and walked right over it. Someone had to pull the dog away, it was a close call, as Pedro, the other group's guide, tossed a giant rock onto the snake, crushing its head. The 'natural' life no longer seemed so simple and delightful for the child by the pool.

We walked a lot that day after visiting the city. I walked and daydreamed more on this day.

Day 5

A day crossing somewhat familiar territory backwards. The first two days worth in one day. Luckily we had a chance to go for a dip before the final chunk. I only hopped in and hopped out of this one. The water was murky and loaded with fish. We spit our orange seeds into the water, and rushes of fish would surface for them. Then they went at the peels like piranas.

Back at Machete we were glad to see No-Pina had returned safely.

On the way back, after the bumpy bit, some police flagged us over and detained us temporarily for having one too many people in the vehicle. They seemed to be expecting money, but the driver wasn't giving, so after a frustrating wait, they sent us on our way.

I had a quick nibble, went into a hostel, wrote some, read some, and watched 'Anchorman' with Spanish subtitles.
____________________________________________________________________

Before Ciudad Perdida I was in Santa Marta and Tanganga. The sunset in Santa Marta harbor was nice. The cliff-side ocean-side walk from beach to beach in Tanganga, the fresh mango juice and snorkeling, were also enjoyable. I couldn't go to Parque Tayrona because I had to spend a number of hours renewing my Visa.

I spent a couple hours layover in Bogota, and tried to do some exploring, with little success. A woman at the airport recommended 'Gran Estacion.' I got there only to find it is a large mall. I particularly dislike malls. I got on a bus for a bit, then returned to the airport.

All in all, a great little vacation before my final weeks of work here in Colombia.

off to nature

2010-10-03T20:23:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow morning I'm headed to Santa Marta, from there to Parque Tayrona, and from there to Ciudad Perdida. It's a five day trek through the jungle to Ciudad Perdida, and I'm very excited. Everything is packed: extra socks, rain coat, insect repellent, snake bite remedy, malaria pills, diaherria pills, vitamin B, water purifying solution, and a nifty bandanna.

I won't write too long, because I'm going to bed, but here's some of the past week.

Last Saturday, I marched from the library in Santo Domingo to the futbol field in Granizal (which I think is called 'La Crem'). Part of the march for non-violence went down the same street I use to walk from the bus to Colegio Maria Cano every week. I haven't been to many marches before. I decided to go to this one because it was directly connected to a community I'm working with. I wasn't totally in accord with the symbolic vocabulary of the peace march initially: everyone wearing or holding black and white Gandhi masks with holes in the eyes, and carrying a white candle. The candle was fine. I found the mask creepy and felt although the event was on Gandhi's birthday it maybe wasn't the most fitting unifying symbol for this event marching between two warring barrios in Colombia. I agree with ahimsa as a strategy for a political or social movement, and I am actually especially a fan of Gandhi as a historic figure, but the pieces didn't go together as precisely as I would like. I gave my mask to a young boy I passed. But marching from the library to the futbol field, two locations that are 'neutral ground' in this area of conflict, I found appropriate. There were people standing on the streets, running to their windows, to watch the march. One older woman was weeping, with her hands on her heart, nodding her head to every passerby. Some group equivalent to the girl scouts was standing at an intersection, repeating a chant of greeting and thanks. In the march there were a multiple groups of soldiers, a couple yoga or maybe hare krishna-ish groups dressed in all white, families, and school groups. Eventually I got over the mask and felt quite moved by the event. At the end, there was a concert/event featuring dance groups, a Reggaetone singer, and a monk.

Then I went to Andrea from Circo Momo's birthday party. Her cousin's baby didn't really like my jokes. I think she actually scowled.

La Guerra, a play at Nuestra Gente, Sunday, was like the Colombian army version of MASH. A glorious farce where the army has lost the enemy and decided to create one, using famous events in Colombia's history, and a lot of great physical comedy. I like this sort of interrogation of armed conflict, unrelentingly calling it out on its arbitrariness. Later that night I found myself listening to a Steven Pinker lecture on youtube where he talked briefly about Hobbes' Leviathan, and maximum security resulting from centralized state power, countering the fear instinct that leads to a lot of unnecessary violence.

That same morning, El Encandilado at Teatro Popular was also entertaining. A kids show with a magical design component and a delightful story of a little boy looking for his kingdom and his love. Think, if Odysseus were a three year old.

I was at a great Salsa concert in El Poblado last Friday. There are positives and negatives to being right in front of the band. Less cowbell, please. I especially enjoyed hearing Buena Vista Social Club's 'Candela, Candela.'

John Alexander, a teacher in my class at Circo Momo, asked me to come in and work with an organization called Centro Diagnostico, where he works full time, with street kids. I taught there Friday and returned Monday. There is so much to say about this experience, I feel odd squeezing it in before going to sleep. The kids live at this transition center before going to somewhere that can continue to help them. I've been told most have substance abuse backgrounds in addition to being utterly alone in the world or utterly discarded. Many are as young as six or seven, up to around twelve or fourteen. I felt totally drained after being there Friday, but I couldn't help but return Monday, and I'll certainly return again after my trip. They were so immediately giving of themselves yet so difficult at the same time. What can I say here without disrespecting the safety of our space together? Ahhh. It tears at my fucking heart.

I returned to APICP, in Popular 2, Monday. I could only squeeze onto the side on a crowded bus in the pouring rain after I transferred on the way.

Another University of Antioquia class Tuesday went even better than the first. A smaller group, more intimate work. We worked for four hours and it still felt like they wanted to stay and do more. Still nobody knows when their University will reopen.

Today class felt really great in both high schools. Little organizational things got in the way, but we decided on extra hours to work on our respective projects, and did some really interesting scene work in both groups.

Goodnight. Off to the jungle.

El Semaforo es Rojo, Para Otros

2010-09-30T17:47:00.000-07:00

I took the wrong bus leaving my workshop with Colegio Maria Cano in Granizal today, and ended up on a street corner loaded with prostitutes, midday. Luckily my sense of direction guided me back to the more familiar area, which was surprisingly not very far.

There are a lot of homeless people in New York, but there are a real lot here. One man was seated right in the middle of the sidewalk filling up his crack pipe with powder that looked almost silvery. Any time of day, all over the place, there are people sleeping in front of closed shops. Little kids will walk up to me in the middle of the night begging.

Yesterday, a nice guy selling candies on the bus without any front teeth identified my appearance as distinct and wanted to have a quick English class. He said he applied to work for some center where English was a requirement, but they said he couldn't speak clearly enough, so he can't find work other than hopping onto buses and selling candies. This is as common here as musicians in the New York subway, if not more so. Occasionally there are kids selling candy "for the basketball team" in NYC. But interestingly, here the vendors throw the product into your lap, or put it directly in your hands, through the whole bus, give their speech about how delicious the candy is, then walk back through the bus for people to either return the candy or pay for it. The same thing happens in cabs: at stop lights people toss bags of chips into the cab onto your lap, then come back around to retrieve it.

The streets are loaded with pirated DVDs and pornos. The most interesting to me, is there are tons of people walking around with briefcases around their necks full of gum, candies, and cigarettes. The gum costs the equivalent of 5 cents. Not to mention all the people selling cell phone minutes of the street. Or the guys walking around with carts loaded with aguacates (somehow always 'los mejores aguagates'), or guayabana, or other fruits, and a megaphone repeating their product and price. Certainly in Times Square there are the African men selling brand imitation purses that they wrap up in a sheet and throw over their shoulder when police walk by, and the old women who wandered my street in Long Island City collecting bottles and cans to recycle, but the masses of people here selling something or living in the street (not to equate the two) is daunting.

Not that I haven't thought about it thoroughly before, but I thought about it today and it was almost as though all my philosophy fell away. What do I know of these lives of the street? Little. I was handing out fliers in Times Square for a little bit, repeating myself all day, to support myself when I started living in New York. And I've listened to stories of being on the street from people here and in NYC in my work. But I've never touched that particular monotony, chaos, insecurity. Pity can be inherently demeaning, so I want to avoid 'feeling sorry' for other people and somehow making myself the 'not pitiful.' What's the positive? A different sort of freedom? If I take Zen seriously than the repetition of a street vendor should be a delightful way to touch the infinite, should it be treated as such. And haven't the great mystics been wanderers?

The fact that I really go back and forth with my feelings on this I find interesting. Sometimes I'll have no problem with the experience of a street person being as justifiable a way of living as anything else. Maybe someone wanders in a field of bliss as he searches through trash cans. How am I to know? Then there are days like today when I start feeling sorry for people. If I'm going to say 'yes' to life, don't I have to say 'yes' to poverty and suffering as part of life? I think when I see poverty of such a massive scale it feels more systemic. Or rather, it seems even more inescapable.

Part of this reaction emerges after seeing 'La Sociedad del Semaforo' which translates to 'The Society of the Traffic Light.' It's a movie about street performers and vagrants at a particular intersection in Bogota. It used non-actors for a naturalistic acting style amidst an often dream-like disjointed directional style. The film opens with an entire highway full of ambulances blasting their sirens and honking, unable to move forward. The principal character vacillates between intelligent and sensitive in moments, turning traffic noise into jazz, to drug driven madness, stabbing a security guard to steal a pair of baby shoes that he later puts onto a dog. At the conclusion of the film, the intersection explodes in anarchy from the 'paisos' after one of them dies in jail.

And where am I in this? Watching a movie about it. Writing about it on the internet. Passing through the street to my little house where breakfast is prepared for me every morning. Taking cabs often. Not flinching to treat friends to coffee or dinner because everything is so comparatively cheap. Going into schools and groups affected by poverty and violence, giving a different sort of relational experience and a different type of opportunity for personal expression.

I wonder, if someone here had to choose between an opportunity to really express themselves, and to be heard, or $50, what they would choose? It depends on the person and the level of poverty, but I'm leaning towards $50. That's 100,000 pesos. Resource based development is certainly different than offering 'cultural' programs. Of course I believe both are necessary. With poverty of this scale, I better be damn sure theatre is necessary. Although life isn't about eating, people must eat. A fasting monk chooses his hunger, and then can have a powerful experience. Let’s not get into the hierarchy of needs...

Am I looking for my own affirmation in this blog entry, feeling odd playing theatre games in the third world? I get affirmation of the experience I offer every class I teach. For example, the class at the University of Antioquia went excellent today. We met at MAM (Museo de Arte Moderno) in a studio space because the University remains closed. The students were excited just to have the opportunity to be in class. A group hug, an applause at the end of class, beaming smiles. I need to stay with this joy and connection instead of worrying about the man smoking crack in the middle of the street.

There's a cat that meows outside my window every night. I can assume it meows because it’s hungry and is asking me for food, or I can assume it meows at its pleasure, singing to the stars and the streetlight sparkling mountainside.

El Semaforo es Verde

2010-09-28T09:31:00.000-07:00

-I rode on the back of a motorcycle for the second time today
-Saw a performance at Nuestra Gente, 'Te Toca?' which I saw part of and commented on during the rehearsal process, so it was very cool to see the final product, with things I suggested changed, new scenes, and I was also touched when they used one of the exercises I did with them as a part of one of their scenes. One new scene in particular with people stranded on a desert island I found especially intelligent.
-I started working with a theatre group in barrio Popular, APICP, for the Imagineros organization. A small group who wants to focus on 'Theatre of the Oppressed' proper. It looks like I may be able to have my cake and eat it in regards to other traveling, if everything works out.
-I went to a concert of 'La Prohibida' of Spain in El Poblado.
-Visited an organization in Floresta for the mentally handicapped where Danny works and watched part of his 'bodily expression' class. One boy who lived in the US for a while had a 'Best Buddies' shirt on.
-Played billiards. I am terrible at billiards.
-Saw the film 'La Sociedad del Semaforo' from Colombian director Ruben Mendoza, filmed in Bogota. Upsetting but good.
-Had hot chocolate and cheese buns with the Circo Momo teachers.

Ja. Mucho trabajo. Pero mucho divertido tambien.

Hippopotamus: Enemy of the State

2010-09-22T14:37:00.000-07:00

I began last night at a talk with Antonio Caro, the man who created this image, probably Colombia's most famous living artist, at the Museo de Arte Moderno. He is just the type of absurd intelligent fellow I like to listen to.

After some wine and an interesting Q & A, Caro gave out copies of his new art piece. Then I left with Juan to stop by 'La Oficina.' On the drive we went by 'Dallas' (a name coming from the American TV show) and 'OVNI' (which stands for 'Objeto volante no identificado,' UFO in English), two buildings that used to be owned by Pablo Escobar. Dallas has been bombed out and abandoned, and many believe it should remain that way, as a monument to that part of Colombia's history.

At La Oficina in El Poblado, Alberto Sierra, the curator, Roberto Luis Jaramillo, the historian who I was glad to have the opportunity to thank in person for connecting me with his friend Christian in Manizales, which gave me the chance to go horseback riding on the mountainside, Roderigo Callejas Vieira, a Colombian-Willie-Nelson-type painter, sculptor, retired professor from the Universidad Nacional, and two other men who left before I could talk more to them, were seated around a kitchen table, looking carefully through old photographs from the 30's and 40's from Medellin, and Roberto Luis, the man/encyclopedia, was explaining who everyone was in the photographs, and where they were, just by looking at them for the first time. They were preparing for the next exhibition at the gallery where these photographs are to be expanded and presented. I sat around drinking whiskey with this group of old men, eating almonds and figs, listening to stories from Colombia's history, accompanied by a plethora of dirty jokes. Looking at the faces of powerful men in an era referred to here as 'La Violencia' beginning in the late forties, I felt chills. There are also some very cool photographs taken using a rotating camera that present an entire panorama.

Then we walked around the excellent new gallery exhibition. A piece with 7000 toy soldiers lined up against a single toy hippopotamus, refers to an absurd incident when after Pablo Escobar was killed, his personal zoo was abandoned, and nobody wanted to enter his land. One hippo escaped in the search for food. This hippo, since it belonged to Pablo Escobar, was tracked down by the army and killed. Here is a picture of the group of soldiers celebrating their victory:
Another piece, has a wall covered in framed little plastic bags, and next to it, a device with a motor and a fan, and a plastic bag attached to it, replicating the action of huffing glue from these little plastic bags that is common among some poor children here. I found this piece very upsetting. The rhythm of the fan increasing and decreasing meshed with the repeated image of the bag was haunting, suffocating.

Monday morning I spent a couple hours in a meeting of thirty women at 'Mujeres Que Creen' to discuss properties of plants and the concept of 'Ecofeminism.' Me and Juan were the only males in the room. I sat next to Olga Patinio, an expert on plants who spent many years in the jungle in an apprenticeship with a native Shaman to learn what she knows. And it is clear in her delightful demeanor. She got up to speak; and she can control a room in an instant, turning from utterly entertaining to sincere and meditative on a dime. They've invited me to return as these talks continue, so I'm going to try to be there when my schedule abides.

I've been offered another job during my remaining time here, working for a group called 'Imagineros.' It would mean a substantial time commitment on a very specific schedule, such that I probably wouldn't be able to do some traveling I was thinking about doing. The project is funded by the Alcaldia, the city government, so it might be a really great opportunity. Just yesterday afternoon I was getting details on the six day jungle trek I can take, and I really would love to attend the International Theatre Festival in Manizales at the end of October. But it looks like if I take this job, I wouldn't be able to do either. Colombia, you tease!

Papas Fritas

2010-09-19T08:53:00.000-07:00

The University of Antioquia is closed down, at least until Monday, but possibly for longer, in order to 'restore security.' The 'Assemblies,' the student organizations which present political opposition, have been quite active in the past week. For students, the sound of 'papas,' little bombs going off, and people in masks running around, are not exactly uncommon. Although most Universities are five years long here, it is rare for students to leave the University of Antioquia in five years, because it is often organized within certain majors for students to boycott classes as a way of wasting the University's money in political opposition. A single semester can take a few extra months, or a whole year to complete. In particular, they have been opposed to the 'TIP,' an identity card required of every University student. Some believe there is a GPS chip installed in these cards that can track students everywhere they go, but most students I have spoken with find this ridiculously paranoid. A month and a half ago they bombed a computer system connected to the TIP. On the 13th of this month the TIP was fully implemented, and after some opposition at the start of the week, on the 16th the Rector of the school announced that the implementation of the TIP was 'a decision irreversible and un-negotiable.' The student opposition erupted even more in response, resulting in the police coming in and shutting down the University. The student groups are referred to as 'insurgents' and 'terrorists' in the media here. I guess the political language for the demonization of institutional/state opposition is consistent. I've been told to be careful around this campus because a general anti-imperialist sentiment is common in the community. 'Yankees go home!' is an often heard chant. But nonetheless, I'll start teaching at this University a little over a week from now, should it reopen.

I know they're in Spanish, but check these out, and maybe you can use Google translator:

http://www.elmundo.com/sitio/noticia_detalle.php?idcuerpo=2&dscuerpo=La%20Metro&idseccion=25&dsseccion=Educaci%F3n&idnoticia=155919&imagen=&vl=1&r=primera_pagina.php&idedicion=1822 [from early August, when the computer system was bombed]

I returned to the 'Arte y Infancia' program yesterday to help Oneides by doing some exercises on character creation with those students, then had my second, and luckily last, day of performing the Dr. Seuss songs at the Festival de Libros. It was fine, better than last week, but I don't think I could ever work consistently singing kids songs. Juan was running an event right after me, so I watched Emmanuel while he taught drawing. Being a parent must be like sacrificing yourself on the alter, and becoming a new, without-self, solely preoccupied the safety of the anarchic force you have created. I saw a group of Apaches from Arizona give a presentation at the Colombo on Friday, then had a bite with them and other Colombo staff. At night I went to Tango show at Teatro Lilo, featuring Veronica, a friend of Danny from Renovacion. Thursday night I went to 'De Dos Amores,' a comedic version of Federico Garcia Lorca's 'Boda de Sangre' or 'Blood Wedding,' which was really fantastic. I was almost crying from joy during a surreal moment when Leonardo is conducting an orchestra of the the other characters' movements. Raol, one of the actors I was working with at Nuestra Gente, invited me, and was excellent in this role. All three men in drag were fabulous as well. I enjoyed the production's attitude towards reality: post-modern if you want to categorize its style. Then we stopped into a bar with live 'ranchero' music for a bit.

Work continues to be excellent. In addition to Circo Momo, Nuestra Gente, San Ignacio, and Maria Cano, all moving forward differently this week, I taught in English on Wednesday to a high school age 'integrated skills' English class from the Colombo. I was able to reflect differently after teaching in English, on how Boal's exercises function as a metaphor for how individuals act relationally: how someone uses power, how someone treats someone else in power, how much trust someone can give, how comfortable someone is being spontaneous and playing in front of others, etc. Of course these are motifs I'm concentrating on overall, but I was reminded of this 'relational parallel,' you might be call it, by processing after the workshop in English. Especially after working with the professional actors from Nuestra Gente, feeling quite strongly their confidence in themselves, their unwavering dedication to each exercise, their respect and trust in the others in their group, working with this group of high-schoolers totally unaccustomed to working physically in a group setting, helped reawaken me to the subtleties of distrust and disrespect. It is so easy to abuse power when you have it, even if it is masked as a joke between friends. I had to really yell after a student kicked someone who had their eyes closed. What makes someone unable to invest themselves in a simple game, or follow simple instructions, or lash out at another after an experience of vulnerability, is of course fear. And I'm finding that with a clear ritual I can often assuage some of these fears that would otherwise pop up. But when I enter a group dynamic already established, it is a slow process of altering that dynamic. My ability to control my own presence in the room in general is definitely still hampered by the language barrier. I'm comfortable putting in this little bit of class processing here, because it is a group I will never return to again, and I have not been overly specific.

It's raining again today. It's been raining a little bit most days this week, but usually not for more than an hour or two. And I guess...I guess as I lie here in slippers in a hammock on a rainy Sunday, wondering whether to try to find a place to get a hair cut or translate some exercises I want to try for this week, or go have lunch at Taller 7, I feel mostly solid. I didn't go out last night, I stayed in and read. Despite how nice the friends are I've made here, social interaction can be tiring sometimes, because I still don't understand everything unless people speak slowly. And so I thought about silence. It's something I'm always insisting on in my workshops. But students somehow find a reason they need to talk. My tendency is to consider it an attempt to comfort themselves or escape the direct experience. So my job is to insist on the direct experience. But if my own fear is connected to verbal communication then my silence is the escape. For now, I feel the respite is justified. Tomorrow, to confront again. The language, and hopefully in my own way, the silence. Because there is a lot more to silence than merely the lack of words. Ah, it stopped raining already. What's worth doing with a Sunday?

The Lorax

2010-09-12T19:57:00.000-07:00

Thursday night I went to the Museum of Antioquia for the opening of an exhibition by Paula Rincon. There are works by other artists there as well, but I spent my whole time there with her piece. There are three leaders from different indigenous tribes gathered around a fire, and surrounded by a number of symbols significant to their cultures. And they are there to talk. Wayra Chasqui (Nación Yanacuna), Asdrúbal Torres (pueblo Arhuaco) and Mauricio Gañán (pueblo Embera). I talked most with Wayra, who actually came from Ecuador. Conversing was difficult (Spanish is both his and my second language), but neither of us had a problem speaking very slowly. He spoke about the four sided symbol we were seated upon that represents the four elements, the rotation of the nine planets, the lunar cycle, functions as a calendar, indicating crop cycles, and more. He wore a similar symbol on his wrist. The fire at the center rest upon a small pile of rocks, was surrounded by water, and the room was open to the air to the wind could be felt and seen moving the fire about. Just a few symbols function as references points for every component of life for him. A rainbow banner expresses the essential unity of the variety of life. He has a small cane, with a rainbow ribbon on it, that symbolizes that he may speak on behalf of his community. He spoke of the non-violent resistance movement among the indigenous peoples here, trying to secure their land from the intrusion of a variety of groups resulting from Colombia's armed conflicts. There have been very large marches in the streets of Colombia's cities, with indigenous peoples from Colombia's eight-five distinct indigenous cultures, asking for peace and for rights, which have been met with violent force by the Colombian army. And moreover, he made a plea overall for a worldview which sees people as part of the earth, as opposed to the view where nature is to be tamed or conquered by man, its rightful master. When offered some beer by a girl next to him, he accepted, poured the beer on four different places on the fire as an offering, then had a sip. The kindness and constancy in his eyes, the calm sincerity in his voice throughout our conversation, the care he took setting and blowing on the fire, the gentleness of how he touched the sacred symbol on his wrist, all felt to me like a type of connection and engagement with the world that is worth having. When he talked about materialism resulting in detachment, I thought of Marx, and when he talked about setting up boundaries as unnaturally dividing up an essential unity, I felt hesitant for a moment about the veracity of his convictions, but from the look in his eyes, his unworried brow and creaseless forehead, it was hard for me to deny that these things really change human nature. Although this was the opening day of the exhibition and it was very crowded, I was one of less than five people who came to the center to speak with the indigenous people over the course of the night. I asked Wayra if he felt it was an unintentional metaphor created by the art piece, that he had come to speak to people about his beliefs and traditional, and people stayed on the periphery, looked in, and talked to each other, rather than come to the center to hear what he had to say and engage in a genuine dialogue. He looked sad, said nothing, and gave a slight solemn nod. I'm not so connected to the art world, but it also might be the case that people go to openings more for handshaking than for the art, and ideally return another day to really experience the work. I actually returned the next day, and talked more to Asdrubal, or 'Koki' to the people in his pueblo, a name meaning 'Senor de la noche,' because he was born at night, who was stuffing his mouth with coca leaves throughout our entire conversation. More other people stopped in on this day, most for no more than a minute, but some stayed to talk for a bit. Some took pictures with the indigenous people. One woman asked if they were being paid, Koki said they weren't, and she gave him a few pesos. One man shouted 'How!' and raised his right hand from the stairway, before approaching and asking for a picture. Koki let out a soft displeased grunt.

Friday morning I posed for half an hour for the weekly group drawing session at Taller 7. Then to the museum the second time as I mentioned. That night I went to see "...menos que caricias," based on "Caricias" by Sergei Belbel, at 'La Caja Negra,' from a group in their second to last semester at University de Antioquia. It was a work representing the psycho-sexual basis of familial relationships, and the inability to form genuine connections, using a lot of violence and strong sexual imagery. The set was a large rotating circle, with a bathtub/table in the center and a birdcage above that could be lowered. A number of interesting images were created, but I can't say I found it overall appealing. A character had two possible states, as the smirking violating perpetrator, or the weeping struggling victim. I understand the attempt to represent an 'id' like force, as irrational, ridiculous, comically-evil, relentless, and without sympathy, but I found it too silly and repetitive. The actors were also very rough with each other, actually pushing each other off the stage, hitting each other, pulling each others' hair, slapping each other. I can understand that maybe they were doing this to make the audience more uncomfortable, but I think that lack of safety creates a type of discomfort that results in detachment from the piece overall, rather than a representation of violence that would make its terror tangible. At least that was my experience. Then we went of dancing in Castilla at 'Yage.'

Saturday I went to a traditional Colombian dancing presentation from a group of University of Antioquia students, at a school in Estrella, a little outside of the city. It was an interesting cultural school event, with traditional foods, presentations by student musical groups, then finishing with the wonderful traditional dancing. They also had a young boy leading a an auction at the end. I don't think in the US we usually give children that sort of power. That night I went to two birthday parties, one for Maricella, where we went out for ice cream, and then for Viviana a house party.

Sunday I played guitar to Dr. Seuss books in the Jardin Botanica, as a part of the Colombo's section of the 'Festival de Libros.' I didn't have very large audiences, and the children didn't understand what I was singing because it was in English, despite my elaborate epic version of 'Oh, the places you'll go' and Jimi Hendrix inspired 'The Cat in the Hat,' so I started just asking kids their names, things they like, and making up songs for them. I'll only be back there one more day this coming weekend, but this is a ten day long festival, and a very large cultural event here. There's nothing really similar in the US. It's like a gigantic book fair, with representation from every publisher, book store, library, cultural center, etc. And there are loads of events for children: a circus, science experiments, sing-alongs, trucks loaded with toys in the back for kids to use, small wandering performance groups, people posing as statues all over the place, and books and books and books.

Monday I worked with actors/teachers from Nuestra Gente in the morning. It feels quite different working with actors than students in the high schools. There are much different things to focus on, and its relief not having to say 'sin hablar' or 'en silencio' every five seconds. I was glad to hear that most of the exercises were new for them as well. They are developing a piece through improvisation, without words,about people living together, or sharing space, and Thursday I'll see some of their work and do some things to contribute to its development. I worked with Circo Momo teachers in the evening, and I felt like the work accomplished there was also excellent. I'm really gaining confidence in my instincts for what is necessary to move a group forward. When things need to be said, and when things don't need to be said.

Girardota

2010-09-07T20:24:00.000-07:00

Here are pictures of the river and mountainside next to the Caribe metro station, Girardota, Copacabana, Juan's finca, and Paula's finca:
http://picasaweb.google.com/108723329678166020807/GirardotaBeforeAndAfter#

There must be a faster functioning program than this Picasa web album thing for uploading pictures.

Snip-its of happenings in the past couple of days:
-They have quite large (carrion?) crows here that have heads like vultures. I watched some fly around and hang out on trash piles for a while, as I was waiting for the metro.
-On the way to Juan's finca Saturday we ran into Paula and her son Arwavil. Paula has an exhibition opening at the Museum of Antioquia Thursday, which I plan on attending.
-Saturday night I went out in Castilla with Renovacion people, and Laurel brought her two Australian friends who are visiting, to a place that played varieties of rock, with an emphasis on corny eighties British tunes, accompanied by their corny eighties very British music videos. 'Rock Lobster' can be a little frightening. Late night. Dancing. Aguardiente.
-Sunday I went to a rehearsal in Castilla of one group from 'Renovacion' directed by Danny. The group is very well trained and especially connected. The group dynamic and the dynamic that Danny has with the group are admirable. We left the school, and there was a young guy yelling 'mama!' and struggling with police as they tried to put him in the back of a van. A member of Renovacion ran over, because it happened to be his cousin. Afterwords we watched Toy Story 3 in Spanish with occasional Chinese subtitles.
-Monday I had a small class of teachers at Circo Momo and today I had a class with students of Circo Momo. I'm very glad to be working with this organization. Good people.
-Also today, rode the metro cable up to Santa Elena to Parque Arbi for a little bit with Laurel and the Australians. I have to return to see more of the real park, but we did get to peek into a butterfly house, go for a short boat ride, and ride a zip line across the lake.

Sparse update, but an update. Maybe I'll expound manana.

Momentico

2010-09-03T10:27:00.000-07:00

There is much to talk about regarding my classes in Santa Elena and Mara Cano yesterday. But I've determined this blog is not necessarily the place for processing my classes. So what I'll say is, I'm both excited and challenged by the work ahead. But it looks like I won't be working at Santa Elena anymore. I won't go into details, but a decision was made by the Colombo that I will no longer be teaching there. I have my own thoughts on the situation, but the Colombo has different things to take into consideration with this sort of project.

Another night dancing at Eslabon last night (the actual name of it, not 'La Bon' as I had previously thought. Eslabon translates to a single link in a chain.) It was Jess's last night here, so after another artist's workshop with Wallace, there was a large gathering of her friends from Castilla and elsewhere. Damn can some of them dance. There was a lot of good press for Jess's exhibition that went up while I was in Manizales, in El Mundo for example, but the article I saw before in El Colombiano isn't available online. Most of the Castilla group work for an organization called 'Renovacion,' which similar to Circo Momo, has volunteers that teach music, dance, theatre, to kids in their area. I had an interesting conversation/interrogation with Lina, who works for the organization, who seemed upset about my objectives here. Essentially she was asking what right or legitimacy do I have to come here, only stay for two months, and expect students to honestly express themselves and address problems in their community, without intimately knowing the community myself. She said I don't know the power I have, being a foreigner and working with these students, and it is a sort of deception to come only for a short time, start a process, and not leave any way for it to develop. I think there are two important things being expressed here:

The first, is about relationships in general. Can a fleeting relationship be of value? Can a moment mean something, or do only lasting bonds satisfy our needs? I forget who said, 'all love affairs end in disappointment.' Lina seemed to feel that to form an intimate bond quickly, and leave, is deceptive; implying that real connection means lasting connection. Without really knowing someone, without me really knowing this community, can I effectively provide an outlet for expression; a real connection? I believe I can. I have confidence in the medium. But, I find it undeniable, that a lasting connection is likely stronger and more meaningful. Would my work be stronger if I knew the community more intimately? Undoubtedly. But that for me does not negate the moment of connection that transcends boundaries, particular knowledge, and speaks to a commonality of experience.

The second, is why foreigners are being funded to work in communities here rather than that funding going to the organizations of that community. I don't have a response here, other than that I'm thrilled by the opportunity I've been given, and I genuinely believe I have something distinct to offer to those I'm working with here. But also, in with the various groups in Manizales, and with Circo Momo here, I'm also teaching teachers, ideally creating the opportunity for follow through. I am certainly young, and I certainly do not have the amount of experience some of these organizations have. I just have different experience and training. But as Lina said, my being an outsider does shift the dynamic. And what I hope, is the fact that I'm an outsider, that I'm doing things people here have not encountered before, that I am looked at in a certain way for being 'an actor in New York City,' irregardless of the reality of the situation of most actors in NYC, as someone with a certain sort of status, and that I have a quite different perspective on things overall, I can use this to prompt a different type of a awareness and a different degree of connection than would otherwise develop, even if just for a moment. Here's to hoping. Here's to the moment.

Lifting a flower?

2010-09-01T18:28:00.000-07:00

The first class at San Ignacio de Loyola was a bit disorganized. The school was having some musical event making many of the students I will be working with unavailable, and also a number of students in my class today will never be able to return. Again, it seemed that for the first session I was expected to give some speech regarding what I'll be doing overall. Thinking that uninteresting and unless, I went ahead and had them clear the chairs in the room and start with some things. I'll go over my expectations, the purpose of the workshops, and discuss what they hope to get out of it, when all the students are present. They definitely seemed to have a good experience in the work, and move forward a bit even in that short time. Little things, like applause after a class, are good indicators that people are connecting in some way. Also, I went into deep negotiations on what else I can do for the school since they are giving the theatre space for Arte y Escuela, so it seems I'll be creating a short performance with children for the 20th Aniversary celebration of the theatre as well. Not a problem, I understand they are giving the space for the event. I find it interesting when things are framed as a choice, when in fact they are obligatory. They are not asking for a lot of time for this, luckily. It just feels odd.

Yesterday, I arranged for two days mid-September to improvise songs with my guitar to Dr. Seuss books at an event in the Botanical Garden. Wearing the Cat in the Hat hat.

I may delete what I wrote above about San Ignacio. Maybe that's something for my journal, not for the blog. But I haven't written in my journal today, nor in a couple of days, and I am just starting on the blog, so I can't help but write what's on my mind. It's definitely tricky what information to make 'public' and what to restrain. I know a number of the schools I'll be working with have read the blog, so am I able to openly discuss my thoughts and experiences? My feeling is, like I've said earlier, I'm not going to divulge any personal information about people I'm working with that is in the context of the work, except maybe with a distanced unidentifiable reference because a moment had a significant impact on me. But as for petty conflicts on the business end of things, I don't feel as concerned about putting them here, because I'm not violating anyone's trust, I'm just airing minor grievances. I hope this doesn't turn into a whine-log though, like a live-journal.
I'll save this as a draft before I put it up. Or just delete part of it.

Pre-meetings with the teachers from the various schools have been excellent though. Exactly the information I need, about who these student populations are, and why I'm being brought there.

Joseph Campbell just keeps popping up as important for me. Such clarity of thought, such honesty, such beauty, such deep connection, is in his work. I'm not sure there is another thinker I agree with so wholeheartedly and consistently. I say this, both because of the connection I have to his discussion of the symbolic/psychological function of story, but also because I want to develop an even deeper understanding of the implications of his ideas. What makes someone connect more thoroughly to their own trajectory? Both for myself, and for my students here? It's odd that in New York I've been mainly an actor, but teaching as well, while here my identity is as an actor, but I'm really only teaching. What I mean is, I introduce myself as an actor first, teacher second, while here, am I an actor, if it's not what I'm doing here? I guess the box I try to put myself in isn't so important. I feel really great being here, doing what I'm doing. It feels like a constant confrontation. I'm constantly feeling stupid for not understanding what people are saying to me in Spanish, constantly put in charge of groups of people and expected to give some sort of learning experience, ideally transformative, constantly being looked at on the street like some sort of 'other,' and necessarily confronting myself, in terms of how I conceive of myself, what it means to be an American in this world, the extent of my own privilege, what I really know and have to offer to students here, and where to go from here. Unless I am thorough in this confrontation, can I really ask students to confront themselves and their communities? I found myself, doing push-ups on the yoga mat Mariana gave me after not having done a push-up in bit, thinking there is really always further I can push myself, always. And the life really worthwhile is one where I challenge myself to be more alive in every instant. You might read that and say, no man, just chill out and ride the train. This I find tricky. I certainly don't want to be worrying about not being enough of something; stressing over moments of relaxation, or thinking I should be 'accomplishing' something rather than enjoying a sunset. That's not what I mean. How much I can put myself into the sunset is I guess part of it. Put the push-up in the sun set and the sun set in the push-up? I've been told my first word as a baby was 'more.' There is more sunset to be felt, always!

This really did turn out more like a journal entry, huh? Now you have a sense of what my journal is like, but make the thoughts far more disorganized, and bunch more ridiculous.

Here is the website with pictures of where I'm staying:
http://albergo.webcindario.com
I must say, Marcela is just the sweetest host imaginable.

Oh yes, forgot to mention last night I met up with Taller 7, there was a workshop there with a Brazilian artist named Wallace, and a whole bunch of other artists there to discuss each others' work. Then the Irish girls made fish and chips, we had some aguardiente, and went out dancing to live music at the crowded La Bon. I really need to work on my dancing. This is important. I feel muy gringo. I must dance more, literally and mentally. The rapture, and fully-aliveness of dance, is totally where it's at. Maybe tomorrow I'll dance to the sunset?

The blogger is being sensitive and won't let me save this as a draft and think about whether I should be writing what wrote, so whatever, here goes.

La Merced

2010-08-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

I'm back in Medellin now after a superb weekend and an overall great two weeks in Manizales.

Friday, after making it out of Neira only by the generosity of a bus driver, since there is only one ATM in the whole pueblo and it doesn't work with my card, I went to see Fundacion Contacto perform at a geriatric hospital. They started off going from room to room, clowning about in twos, certainly bringing smiles to peoples faces. Then somehow things turned into a geriatric dance party. There was an event with some music, a guy singing, and a maybe one couple dancing, but once the clowns arrived things really livened up. At this point I couldn't just watch anymore, I jumped right into the action, clowning about, dancing with abuelita after abuelita. There was such an honest delight in the eyes of the people there. Just to have young people there willing to have some fun with them was enough, but the extravagant silliness of the clowns turned an afternoon dance into a thrilling fiesta. That night I went out to San Carlos with Lina, Diego, and Juanita, and finally tried aguardiente. Tasty, but I didn't have too much, because the next day I had an outing.

Christian and Luz Maria, who I made contact with via Roberto Luis, brought me to their respective family's fincas. The friendliness and kindness to invite me to their country house for a day after only having lunch with me once, I found astonishing, but consistent with the openness of the culture here. We stopped into Luz Maria's finca, owned by her brother, then went on to Christian's, which had been his father's, grandfather's, and great-grandfather's before him, named 'Mateguadua.' Guadua trees look similar to bamboo, and are used traditionally to build a lot of the houses here.

Here are some pictures of the day:
http://picasaweb.google.com/108723329678166020807/LaMerced#

Walking up to the house, the mule ran over to greet us. Then I met Fernando and his family, and David, who live and work on the finca and keep things running. And their dogs, parrot, chickens, and turkey. Christian, Fernando, and I hopped onto to horses and started off. I can't remember the last time I was on a horse. I was on a camel in Israel almost three years ago. I don't think I've been on a horse since I was maybe twelve. But the horse I was on, named 'Resorte,' which translates to 'spring,' was incredibly easy to manuever.

Our three hour ride across the side of the mountain that is Christian's land was totally amazing. Unlike any other experience I've had. The grass and bushes are filled with butterflies everywhere. The ride was quite steep, zigzagging up the mountainside. There are cattle roaming about, organized into sections of the land by type. The view was constantly breathtaking. We stopped by various trees to eat their fruits: mango, guava, an orange lemon; and I nibbled the outside of some ripe coffee. The aguacate (avocado) and some spiny green fruit weren't ready. Fernando also brought along some maracuya (passion fruit) which have a texture and appearance very different from other fruits I've had. It's like you open a large hard boiled egg, peel off a fuzzy white layer, to find what could be insect eggs but are in fact silvery seeds coated in sweet tasting jelly. My legs and ass started to ache a bit into the ride, but a quick look off into the distance brought me back to bliss. Fernando was very interested in the cost of goods and life in NYC compared to La Merced. The beef from his and Christian's cow's, is brought in markets for one third the amount beef goes for the US. He asked a lot more questions about differences between the land and farms in the US, but I just didn't have the answer to questions like 'how many hectors of land does an average cattle-herder own?' My guides explained components of our surroundings; points of interest in the distance, varieties of plant life. But mostly I took in the beauty and the peace of venture. I found myself not wanting to speak very much afterward, relishing the connected silence.

From the finca we went into the town of La Merced, which is substantially smaller than Neira. Christian seemed to know the whole village. His family has been connected there for years, and he is active in business there selling the meat of his cattle. We walked through the meat market, a whole perimeter of hanging meat, with every part available from chest to intestine to head. We had un almuerzo, un tinto, y un ron (rum), with every other passerby coming to greet Christian. I found myself uncomfortable in the small town. Not just because I am stared at by everyone, but I felt a strong lack of understanding of the way of life there for some reason. What I felt I wasn't understanding I don't know, but I could feel a different mentality at work, that I want to understand better. We stopped into the impressive local church, which features the common iconography here of 'Christ's sacred heart.' Renderings of Jesus, with his heart showing, and in the case of this church, with red and blue light bursting from it. I left the town curious.

That evening I went 'El Florero de Llorente, una Historia Diferente' at the invitation of Tuto from Punto de Partida, who was helping manage the event. The performance at Ecohotel Rincon del Buho told part of Colombia's history in parody using giant doll/puppets. It seemed like I knew half the audience through my various workshops. I found it entertaining, even without knowing the historical events exactly. Then there was an small classical music ensemble, that played selections mainly from the typical Italian operas. And afterwards, with Christian and Luza Maria, Lorena and her cousin Leonardo, I went to the apartment of some friends of Christian's, whose son Juan David was in my one day workshop with the theatre group organized by Wilson Mejia. We had a good deal of ron, an excellent dinner, some wine, and then I really needed to go to sleep.

Especially thanks to the help of Lorena, Lina, Diana, and Clara, from the Manizales Colombo I was able to have such an amazing time in Manizales. I may have the opportunity to return to see part of the International Festival this year. But they really made sure I was taken care of, for work and outside of it. But now I begin again. New groups, new interns in my workshops, but a somewhat familiar place with a number of familiar faces about. I'm staying at Juan Alberto's, in a fantastic cottage-ish thing, now through the next two months. It will be different, although I have my own space apart, sort of living with Juan, his wife Marcela, and their son Emmanuel. Emmanuel already explained to me what every different button on the television does. He isn't allowed to watch TV this week, so he was quite focused on it. There are lots of lights and lots of locks here. And a hammock in my room. I need to figure out my schedule for tomorrow.

Pies de Pollo

2010-08-26T20:17:00.000-07:00

This is the second day in a row I've been stopped by a couple of soldiers and asked for my documents. Yesterday they wanted my 'tarjeta' or ID, and today they wanted my 'libretta militaria' which is a document exempting you from military service. Both times, the guys couldn't have been older than twenty, and approached me with an odd smile. They left me alone shortly after the words 'turistico' and 'Estados Unidos.'

Tonight was my last workshop with Fundacion Contacto, but tomorrow I'm going to see them perform in a hospital. They gave me a clown nose, apron, and other trinkets of thanks over some aqua-panella. Other than some confusions with time management and transportation arrangement, things have gone well with this group. They expressed in closing that I was able to offer them some training that has helped them develop as a group, and will help them in their work as clowns. So I felt very appreciated, but I also tossed out to the group that I feel what they do using laughter to heal is great, but they need to be careful they aren't also using laughter to avoid difficult things, a trap that occasionally popped up in our work.

Tuesday I taught a longer class at Colegio Alfonso Hoyos. Five hours, a one shot deal, with a group who were all very interested in theatre, from elementary to high school age students. I'll post some pictures of this eventually.

Things went much better today in Neira than they have other days. I think they still are in school mode, which disengages them sometimes, but there are also moments when they fall into their own creativity and forget to be embarrassed. Today we really hit on the community issues directly, and although their was some drifting into 'movie moments,' the effectively rendered real moments definitely made up for it.

I took some pictures of Neira, and the bus ride back to Manizales:
http://picasaweb.google.com/108723329678166020807/NeiraAndTheRideBack#

Yesterday I worked with a group of five girls at Teatro Fundadores, a combination of some from the original Fundadores group, and some from Wilson's group, and we created 'La Danza de Los Madres Adolescentes.' I guided the girls through a sort of meditation on friends of theirs who have had children at a young age, taking on the form of that girl, creating images of their friends and their differing attitudes towards their young motherhood, arranging those images and transitioning between them to create the dance.

Also yesterday, I spent about an hour last night chatting with an English class at the Colombo. It was great just to speak in English at such length. The overall shy group asked me questions about acting and life and such, like 'who is your favorite celebrity actor?' 'what do you like most about acting?' 'do you want to be a hollywood actor?' I rambled about this and that, and maybe a few of them understood what I was saying. Upon request I recited the first Hamlet soliloquy, and then did a quick bit of 'sculpting' with the group.

Oh, also in Neira today for lunch I had some soup, with quite a variety of chicken parts in it: liver, feet, leg. I might like to think I'm adventurous in eating, but when it came to the reality of eating chicken feet, I just finished my soup and left the feet in the bowl uneaten. The liver was good though. It was a little more today, but lunch for two the other day, a full lunch with soup, meat, rice, potatoes, salad, juice, for two people, converted to $4.

People here keep asking, "And how to do you like Colombia?" In Spanish of course. I answer this question, saying I like it, the people are friendly, the country is beautiful, and it's very different from New York City. But I'm not sure if that is really the best answer. At least it feels odd repeating it just because I don't have a better answer. How do I like it? I'm certainly glad I'm here, experiencing what I'm experiencing. How do I like Colombia? The extent of poverty here is hard to ignore. Not that I try to ignore it. Last night I was having a late bite up in a restaurant, and a thief stole and man's wrist watch and ran off right outside the window. Lorena was giving some change to a small boy, and while they were talking his eyes kept darting from her eyes to her change purse. I didn't mention this here yet, but the first day I was in Medellin a fight broke out in the park right in front of the little place I was eating. A commonality in most of my workshops is people don't feel safe in their own community. I won't name which workshop, but one young student said he didn't like to smile and he liked being violent. How do I like it here? I'll have to sleep on it.

Vallenato is at least better than Reggaeton

2010-08-23T18:49:00.000-07:00

A picture of the University of Caldas students on the final day.

And here are the pictures from the awesome trip going up the Volcano:
http://picasaweb.google.com/108723329678166020807/Volcan#

Today was a bit frustrating. It was my first day teaching in Neira, a small pueblo about half an hour bus ride from Manizales, and when I got there I was told the students did not have proper clothing and would not be able to do any exercises today, and only part of the group was there, so we should just do introductions of some sort. I thought that was silly, so I just went ahead and did a bunch of exercises that didn't require a huge amount of physical activity. Then Enestor Fabio, who runs the library at La Casa de Cultura where my workshops are in Neira, took me and Lorena for un tinto, and on a mini-tour of Neira, explaining its history, architecture, etc. In the afternoon I arrived at Teatro Fundadores, and there were only four people there for the workshop (in comparison to the almost thirty there Friday.) There may have been a schedule confusion, because originally the group didn't know that they had more classes this week. But also, they had invited me to a party Friday night, which I had said I might attend, but did not attend, because I went back to my hotel to sleep before the final workshop with U de Caldas in the morning, so it is possible the group, which did very intimate work on Friday, felt shirked. But who knows. Anyway, there was a back up plan, so I ended up doing a short workshop with young kids that was loads of fun, and another workshop with a young theatre group, in this house that has every type of art imaginable happening in it. Wilson, who teachs the theatre classes there, clearly is doing some excellent work with the young kids there, because they are open, energetic, fully engaged, as kids should be. They were better at Boal's "Complete the Image" exercise than any group I've worked with here. At the end they kept asking and asking when I was coming back, even though I told them I had to leave Sunday. They all said 'thank you' to me in English, but couldn't understand 'you're welcome.'

Saturday night I went out to a tango bar, where old men in fedoras sit around, walk up and tap girls are the knee signifying 'come on and dance,' they dance marvelously without eye contact or words, and when the dance is over they still don't even make eye contact or say a word, they just go their separate ways and the man taps another girl on the knee. We met up with some of the students at Juan Valdez, then we went to a bar where I received an intricate lesson on the varieties of music here: salsa, merengue, vallenato, tango, bolero, ranchera, reggaetone (my personal least favorite), and various fusions. One of my students is also a salsa instructor, so she gave me a quick lesson. It is quite clear that gringos like me don't have the dance instinct that they do here. Regardless, I enjoyed the dance party.

The pictures from Sierra Nevado should speak for themselves. The bus ride up and through the mountains was beautiful. Around every bend there was another magnificent view. Before ascending, they gave everyone coca tea to prevent headaches from the change in air pressure, and coca cookies were also available. Colombia. Once we got further up there it was like being on the moon or something. Amazing. The peak was as a peak should be: Chevere. Que chimba. Is it strange that I can't help but start thinking about Nietzsche when mountain climbing? A direct confrontation with my own will. Relishing my own relative strength in contrast to the weakness of the group of tourists. It was certainly difficult, but they really moved very slowly, and a couple of people had to turn around and go back. After descending, on the ride back I definitely had a head ache though; human, all too human. Then part of the little trip was a dip in a natural spring after the climb. Warm, sulfury, not too thrilling water. But the view from the pool was great.

Que mas? This blog needs a title better then 'Mitch in Medellin.' Really, very lame. Suggestions?

Final Class at U de Caldas

2010-08-21T15:33:00.000-07:00

The work over the past three days has really been excellent. The depth of the work has dramatically increased in every group I've been working with. For the sake of confidentiality I won't discuss specific pieces from workshops, but I'm very happy with it.

It was hard to say goodbye to the Artes Escenicas Universidad de Caldas students today. They are a really great group and I'll certainly miss working with them. I wanted to get a picture of the students, and gorgeous space we've been working in, but I forgot my camera, and actually we ended up in a different space just for the last day. Hopefully I'll get some of the pictures with the students via e-mail. But really, yesterday, work emerging from images of self transition, and "The Song of the Mermaid," for the few who know the Boal exercise, and today, following an exercise NTI alums would remember crossing a room to a partner maintaining eye contact (I'm not sure it's actual origin), the longer scenes created were also strong, although there were a number of new students today, my mistake for saying this was okay, which shifted the group dynamics. Their work was fine, but it is always better to work with the same group consistently. One student, Ronal, wrote a very sweet speech for our closing, bursting with optimism for the power of art, and the students who have been there all week really seem to have connected to the work. I was touched by the degree of their investment and appreciation.

The group at Teatro Fundadores somehow manages to double every session. They are also a great group to work with, a very different dynamic than the University students. A mix of young and old and in between, they are very dedicated and focused in their work, and many seem like clearly practiced performers. "The Song of the Mermaid" brought out some really distinct work with them as well. What struck me most working with them in a similar workshop structure right after U de Caldas in the morning, was the amount of overlap in the symbolic vocabulary and the types of conflicts, but with quite different ways of expressing similar themes. I'll continue working with this group next week.

I've only had one session so far with Fundacion Contacto, a group of clowns that volunteer performing in hospitals led by a therapist in the community. Another group mixed in ages, who are very enthusiastic and willing to go where I push them. And all it took was that little push, and they really went for it; deep and down and visceral. It was really excellent.

And so what of me? Who am I now that I wasn't before? It's been two weeks, one in Medellin and one in Manizales, and there are moments, whether teaching or simply walking, when I become aware of myself in the role I'm in. It's almost as though I'm leading these sessions, and then realize for a moment I'm leading them. I almost forget most of the time that I'm taking charge of all these sessions, that I'm the one guiding and controlling these groups. It just seems natural. But it's quite different. Searching for words in Spanish, reading from my Spanish script, I'm in a different zone. A different mind, that when I'm speaking in English again I return to, and I'm able to reflect on my other self for a moment. Or my same self? Just trying to express a feeling. Maybe as I sink deeper into this place, into what I'm doing here, I'll have that awareness of doing while doing, which I'm reaching for, that maximum awareness, but I still have far to go.

Did I mention I'm climbing a volcano tomorrow? A guided full day trek. But for now, out with the students for cervesas!

Un Tinto

2010-08-18T17:30:00.000-07:00

Today was my second day of workshops in Manizales. Both mornings I taught at the University of Caldas, and both afternoons at the Theatro Fundadores. I'll actually work with four different groups during my two weeks here.

Moreover, I'm quite tired. I was going to see a documentary screening tonight, about a fire here in Manizales many years back, but I decided not to go. Here's a link to a Picasa page I just put up. The pictures should tell part of the story of what I've been up to:
http://picasaweb.google.com/108723329678166020807

Excellent vistas: I had a stunning plane ride over the mountains, spent the beginning of a day at the Recinto del Pensamiento, a gorgeous nature reserve filled with orchids, went to the top of Chipre for a 360 degree view of the city, and took a ride on the Cable that goes up and down Manizales. I'll upload the Cable ride pictures another time.

But really the highlight has been the work over the past two days. I feel quite good about it. That isn't to say it hasn't been quite challenging, but I keep encountering things I know I could do better, things that clearly don't work, and directions I definitely should go in. I have great spaces to work in with both groups and both are very enthusiastic. The college kids can get quite silly, but that is to be expected.

I'm very lucky to have either Lorena or Diana from the Manizales Colombo helping me when the language barrier is in my way. Clara, the director of the Colombo here, has been very kind. Her brother Jorge has also been helping take me around.

So yeah, more to come. But now, rest.

El Barco Va, El Barco Viene

2010-08-13T21:39:00.000-07:00

El Barco Va, El Barco Viene is the name of a performance I was at tonight. It felt appropriate, because it feels like I'm just settling in to how to get around in Medellin, but tomorrow I'm going to Manizales for two weeks.

Early this morning I went to San Ignacio, the only private school I'll be teaching at. Meeting with the staff it seems they also want me to organize/perform something for the end of September as well, as a part of a different festival. I'm not sure why they would want me to give a one person performance, so I said I felt it would be more interesting to organize something with a smaller group of students, but it would require more time than the two workshops I have before that date to do so.

I rode the Metro here for the first time with Oneidis who works for the Colombo. Tomorrow morning before I leave for Manizales I'll be conducting a short workshop with her, with some younger kids. I see it as a good opportunity to practice running workshops in Spanish before I'm doing it at the University of Caldas next week.

I spent the afternoon with Juan Alberto and Roberto Luis, a well known Colombian historian. We walked through the exhibit in the Colombo, and Juan the curator and Roberto discussed the relationship between the art and Colombian history. I had been in the building a number of times, but never gotten a chance to look at the artwork. Funnily enough, the piece right at the front of the exhibition is by Julian, one of the guys from Taller Siete where I'm staying. Julian also teaches at La Institucion Universitaria Bellas Artes nearby. There was a piece by Oneidis as well. Both were excellent, and I found a lot of the work in this exhibition quite compelling. Robert Luis explained how a small golden vase was symbolic of an event in the Colombian war for independence, comparable to the Boston Tea Party, in that it is a small event used to encapsulate an entire revolution. A brightly colored home covered in small cheery houses, except that many of the small houses had fallen off the large one in front of it in a pile, indicating the amount of displaced people here in Colombia. Then we went to San Fernando, to a different branch of the Medellin Colombo, and an interview was filmed between the two, discussing the San Fernando exhibit. There was a wall covered in clocks, all ticking away at the same time, each with the name of the place in Colombia where there has been a mass killing. Then the three of us had a very nice lunch.

Yesterday, I went for a guided group tour of a different exhibition at the Suramericana. You can see the exhibition here: Club Fotografico Medellin. Most of it was photography, but there were other types of works mixed in. One series of pictures of crack pipes jumped out at me, also a series with pictures with an attractive prostitute on a bed in focus, surrounded my scrawny indigenous men who are slightly blurred (by Andres Sierra Siegert) was effectively upsetting. The guide said the artist paid the prostitutes and the men, and then put them in a room together. I went on the tour with Juan Alberto and Matt O'Brien who is here on a Fulbright for photography. Then we stopped into CEFA, a school where Matt will be teaching. Later in the day I went down to El Poblado via bus with Julian for an excellent yoga class. At a supermarket, I saw the largest lobster I've ever encountered, I wish I had my camera with me. I learned a new way to make pasta sauce, by boiling many tomatoes, just to the point where you can remove the skin, then dicing, adding garlic, basil, diced cheese, cilantro, olives, etc., then just adding it cool to the pasta. Fue sabroso. I saw a selection of the collages that Jess, the Irish artist here at Taller, is working with people at Los Amigos de los Limitados Fisicos to create, and it is some really fantastic stuff.

The day before yesterday I had a meeting with Juan Alberto and Michael Cooper, the director of the Colombo. It was great to have a long chat with another American, and fascinating to better understand the place I'm working for. Apparently, a whole bunch of these cultural exchange centers were opened all over the world, but the majority of them in Latin American, after the Second World War, to teach people about American culture (I think the polite term is propaganda.) But as of 1984, all direct funding from the American government was cut off for these organizations, and they were left to fend for themselves, but also they were no longer obligated to serve a political function. Until recently, when the Obama administration has decided to reconnect to these organizations, and now they get small grants for community development work and artistic exchange from embassy's, which is how I'm here! I came to appreciate the objectives and genuine good will towards its community behind the place I'm working for much better after this conversation.

Then I met with Marcela Quintero of Circo Momo, where they teach circus skills, art, drumming, etc., to underprivileged children. I'll also be teaching there now two days a week! One day with the students, and one day to teach the faculty exercises. Some of the students were in a short section of El Barco Va, El Barco Viene, so that's why I was able to go tonight. The students were great in their drumming part, but with the exception of a few dance numbers and maybe one or two songs, the show was not spectacular; it totally fell apart technically. But Tuesday night, I actually went to a Moliere play "Escuela de Mujeres" at the Pequeno Teatro. For some reason Spanish with a French accent was difficult to understand. The show was free and just donation based. Many of the actors were very dedicated to the ridiculousness of their characters, and dedication to ridiculousness is an important life skill, but I still can't say I was captivated. I went out for drinks by el Parque de las Periodistas with Laurel (la Irlandesa), Julian, and one of his students, Juan, to wash out the farce. The streets are filled with people at night!

And Tuesday night I went to a gallery opening at a place called La Oficina on Calle 10 in el Poblado. Most of the work was actually by an American artist who lives in Medellin named Tony something. I'll edit the blog when I remember. Two of his pieces in particular I really felt something from, but I could certainly appreciate the quality of all his work there. Some fabric he has tossed charcoal dust onto in a pattern (I am not a visual artist, so although Tony explained it, those are probably not the actual materials), such that it looks like a landscape covered with holes, many of them exploding just a tad, I stayed with for a while. After words I walked with Taller y mas through the Zona Rosa, went for a Chorizon and drinks in el Poblado, then to La Bon (the sign outside says La Papayera, but apparently everyone calls it La Bon) where there was a great live band playing "Oye como va" when we arrived.

So that's what I've been up to the past few days. I probably won't continue to be as thorough in outlining what I'm doing, but for now it is good to reflect on just how many different places I've been recently. Y mi espanol es mejor cada dia. Manana, a Manizales. I'll actually be staying in a hotel there, which will feel very different from being here at Taller.

Thanks to everyone for the comments. I'll toss up a facebook message right now, because I realized that I actually didn't really let too many people know I created this blog. I don't usually bring my camera around, just for that one drive Tuesday, but maybe tomorrow I'll get some good shots from the plane!

Okay, I'm going to brush my teeth. Un abrazo.

Mi Segundo Dia

2010-08-10T09:56:00.000-07:00

Where to begin?

This morning I saw a performance at Nuestra Gente, from group of students around the age I'll be teaching; some in high school, and some studying at Universities. It was difficult to understand everything porque todo estaba en espanol, pero their performance was really great to see. It dove right into the country's political dynamic via a specific incident from its history. A map of Colombia was created with the colors of its flag in sand on the stage, and over the course of the performance the sand was moved about, obscuring the image, and eventually a bucket of blood was poured onto an actor, leaving a large stain, una mancha de sangre, in the center of the obscured image of the country, quite clearly representing the permanent impact of violence on the country. I was struck by the dedication on the part of many of the actors, as well as how strong and visceral many of the choices were. The director would often have realistic action occur with little dialogue; a strong and risky choice, really allowing the scene created to be felt. There was a talk back following the production, and this being a special presentation, the audience was not large. I felt like there was quite an expectation for me to ask questions. I eventually asked one, spoke with some of the performers after shortly, and me and Juan spent a bit talking to Jorge who runs the place. But, wow is it frustrating to be so interested in what someone has to say and to be unable to hear all of it. I guess 'we all make the bed we must lie in,' or something like that. I certainly hope to return to Nuestra Gente during my time here.

For this week, I'm staying at Taller Siete, an artist's workshop, and a very cool place to be. Everyone here makes me feel very welcome. Comemos una cena rica la noche pasada. In addition to Taller Siete y su amigos, there are two artists from Ireland here working for the Colombo as well, working with Los Amigos de los Limitados Fisicos among other places. Houses are designed very differently here. The main area of the house is essentially outside. There are little lizards running about and birds sleep in the top of the kitchen. Take a look at the place:

I had two very patient guides go with me to the super market to get some necessities. Lots of little differences with things. Milk is only available in plastic bags. Cars and motorcycles zoom around each other as they please, and pedestrians might as well be geese that drivers assume will fly out of the way as long as they keep speeding up. Luckily the streets are numbered.

My main contact at the Colombo Amercano Juan Alberto Gaviria is really great. He's been introducing me around to everyone and helping me get my bearings. It's thanks to him that I'm able to be here. Here are some pictures I took on the drive with him between Nuestra Gente y Los Amigos de los Limitados Fisicos:

But the language is definitely in my way. Speaking is not nearly as frustrating as listening. Tengo mucho aprender.

Departure

2010-08-08T09:53:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow at 5:30AM I leave for Medellin, Colombia to teach Theatre for three months. I've started this blog as a way of sharing and documenting my experience there.

I'll be working for an organization called el Centro Colombo Americano, teaching at three different schools in Medellin: La Institucion Educativa Santa Elena, La Institucion Educativa Maria de los Angeles Cano Marquez, y El Colegio San Ignacio de Loyola. I will organize a short performance from each school for the festival 'Arte y Escuela' on October 29th con el proyecto 'Desearte Paz.' In addition, there will be a number of other workshops and short performances I will give, but 'Arte y Escuela' will be my primary project there.

I'm about to enter a world unknown to me. Who knows what tomorrow may bring?