Across the Pond; gardening adventures begin!

Friday I made it to London Heathrow, early in the morning - and despite having plenty of time, managed to spend far more money than necessary...to arrive late to my first rendez-vous here in England. It wasn't entirely my fault; my friend had said simply that we'd meet up 'in Central London'...but then, I hadn't thought to ask for further details until that morning (! - and his mobile phone wasn't working properly for some reason). At any rate, I was humbled and ready to take a load off by the time I made it into London to meet up.

Refreshed with a spot of good pub brunch/lunch, amid much good cheer (including meeting his lovely new sweetheart), I made my way to meet up with my sister-in-law in High Barnet and to the rounds of picking my niece and nephews up from their respective schools. It was very good to see them all - and I was indoctrinated into the important sport of foosball (sp?? - table-top soccer with spinning rods of attached 'players') after arriving at the house. My brother Will arrived not long afterwards, and after a good dinner, cleaning up, and watching a show on the telly, I was ready to drop into a profound slumber, which I did promptly when my head hit the pillow. I did not wake up until the next morning, when everyone was sitting down to breakfast. (After nine hours of sleep).

Happily, the weather was on the warm side, if a little damp and cloudy. As far as I was concerned, this was all right. Especially since that next morning (Saturday) I got to have a somewhat unexpected early start on my gardening adventures(!). It turns out that my brother and his wife had just had a number of trees removed from their back garden (newly acquired with their newly purchased house in August), and the remaining brush pile from this operation was impressive - taking up an entire corner of their future garden space. I was a timely extra pair of hands, and we all set to work that morning breaking down as much as we could into manageable bits to fit it into the bins. Much of it was holly, and prickly, and because of the dampness in England - fairly mossy, too. It was fairly monotonous work, but we fell into a rhythm, and managed to put a big dent into it. I was quite happy to help get the garden down to more of a 'clean slate' state - and will feel good about that contribution when it starts to take shape, and grow into their outdoor retreat in suburban London. (My sister-in-law - who is fairly new to garden design and gardening on this scale - is in good hands with this project, as she has joined the local gardening club that gives support, advice, and encouragement.)

In the midst of this enterprise, my 4-year old nephew started talking to us about how boring it was doing what we were doing. So then I began to tell him how things that can be monotonous (but are necessary) are easier and take less time the more people there are doing them. I mentioned how talking with people can help to pass the time, too, and makes it that much more fun. Then I realized that talking to him had helped the time pass more pleasantly, and when I mentioned that, I think he may have understood what I meant (...maybe? :-).

One night at dinner, we joked about how I was adding another kind of gardening exchange to my adventures. In the typical love-of-word-play fashion of my family, we came up with several possible acronyms for names (as opposed to 'WWOOF'). The favorite (and most appropriate to share here) being "BURP": 'Barren Urban Regeneration Program.' I'd say this new scheme went well, and is quite satisfying for both parties - any help there at this point makes a difference, and I'm sure is much appreciated! So, will there be another BURP in Katy's future, when she passes through London again on her way back at the end of March? What other outdoor and gardening adventures will she find along the way? Stay tuned, good readers, to find out... !

And....she's off!

Here I go... !

This morning I awoke to the first dusting of snow in Virginia (where I've been staying with family) that I've seen since arriving in early January. Pretty exciting... as I prepare myself to travel to the lands of winter rains. It has felt a bit surreal to finally be leaving, after preparing for so long.


I stayed up late to finish packing, and got up early, to run over and say goodbye to folks. The snow melted quickly...but left an invigorating nip in the sun-streamed air. I was ready.

On the way to the airport (flying out of Washington, DC, so we drove up from Richmond, VA) what was striking were the number of things strewn in the road. I'd never seen so many in one trip! First, there were the bits of rubber that usually mean someone's tire has blown out on the highway. Then, we saw some bits of wood - wood that looked like it had been broken, with some ragged edges, and the possible occasional nail (yikes!). Then, all of a sudden, there looked to be someone's vacation wardrobe tossed all over the highway (quite an obstacle course, that - good safe driving steering us through, Dad!). We saw someone pulled over with a large load of luggage on their car a short distance further on... And, finally, just before our exit (a good thing! I was getting a little concerned) we were passing a big truck that made a bang/bump sound, and expelled more than a little grey dust of some kind...and there was a burned rubber smell. Whew.

So, I was very happy when we made it to lunch, and then the airport, without any mishap of our own! I said my goodbyes, and wrote my first postcard(!) of 365 (see postcard gallery), and boarded the plane... aaahh.

:-)

Why postcards?

Why choose to write a postcard a day for a year? Well, as I said, I want to keep the art of hand-written correspondence alive - but I have also always loved postcards. Sending them - and receiving them. My Mom had the most clear and tidy handwriting, and she could fit an entire letter about whatever trip it was onto a single postcard. She would usually send postcards that were educational or exemplary of the places they were visiting. My brothers and I have an ongoing tradition (although it's slowed in recent years) of sending each other the most ridiculous (cheesy) postcard we could find from any place we visited. A friend from college, who knew of this, would try to outdo them - and sent me some of the best bad/strange postcards I've ever seen from her travels in Africa and Italy ('St. Catherine's Head in a Box' was a memorable one...).

What's fun about a postcard, too, is that it's kind of like poetry. You have limited space, and have to try to distill what you would want to say down into fewer lines. And the postage is cheaper (typically - and if things haven't changed since I was a more prolific postcard writer!) than letters. I have always picked up postcards where I go... some are just beautiful images, that you could put in a frame, or pin up on a board...and some have reminded me of good times and places that I've loved. Many make me laugh, or smile. A postcard says 'I'm thinking about you' - and has traveled some distance to deliver it's sentiment; it is a kind of snapshot that you get to hold in your hand.

I used to be a really good, consistent correspondent - I unearthed a box full of letters that my friends and I wrote to each other in the 80's when we were in high school, and starting college. It was a big part of our friendship, and we became closer through the things we shared in those letters. I have always felt that what you say in a hand-written letter, or even a postcard - is different than what you write in an email. More of your true sentiment, more of yourself, is present. It is personal and evocative - it has a kind of presence and soul that email lacks. I can't help but wonder what kind of a difference it makes to today's teenagers and college students, that they do not write letters, but email and text instead?

Because I have always been so excited to receive postcards, I decided that one way to receive more could be to follow through on my good intention to write them more myself!...and I know myself well enough to know that if I make it a daily ritual, a promise to myself, in this way - that is the best way to make it happen.

As sustainable living is becoming something I'm more and more interested in - I can't help but wonder what kind of environmental impact international mail services have? It seems a good question to ask - and one that could unearth some enlightening information.

So - long live the hand-written postcard! And long live our ability to connect to each other in meaningful ways...

Something creative...every day

I want to mention something 'cross-pollinating'-ly fantastic that an old friend in Richmond, VA (and beyond) is doing, and promoting. His name is Noah Scalin, and he is the founder and director of a socially-conscious design firm, ALR. Noah started a personal daily creative project back in 2007: making an artistic skull every day for a year - the 'Skull-A-Day' project. What happened next was remarkable - leading to a great interactive following online, a Webby Award, a book, and even such crazy things as a spot on Martha Stewart's t.v. show! As he has talked to other people who have done their own daily projects for a year, too, he realized how important and transformative connecting to your creativity, every day, can be.

This eventually led to his next big project, a book designed to guide people through their own daily/regular project. The book (and blog - where you can submit what daily creative project you are working on, and see what others are doing) is called 365: A Daily Creativity Journal. The book is designed to be used, and to give inspiration.

It has already inspired my artistic and creative sister-in-law, Heidi Rugg, founder and Director of Barefoot Puppets (and writer of a blog herself), to start her own daily project: a puppet-a-day! It will start on Thursday - you can follow it here.

She has also called to my attention a related article (mentioned and linked to on her blog), that points to a disturbing trend in America - it appears that creativity in American children is on the decline. And this at a time when we are going to need to be perhaps more creative than ever, to face the challenges of peak oil and climate change; according to the research cited in the article, creativity is a bigger indicator of success than IQ. (Heidi suggests we all start to make puppets! And become puppeteers!)

Reading Noah's book (and this article) has encouraged me to be more dedicated to this project (doing it, not just conceptualizing...!), and to think about what other (purely fun!) creative things I could do every day for a year. I have an extensive post card collection, a love of receiving and sending 'snail mail' - and a desire to keep the dying art of hand-written correspondence alive.

Does anyone want a postcard? Please post a comment and let me know if so - I'll write to get your address (if I don't have it already) and put you on the list! Who will be first?

Happy creating, everybody! (And remember - it's important, not just fun! Spread the word!)

Preparing for the next adventure...

When I left my job before heading to Costa Rica, I was dreaming of doing the WWOOF exchange - in France! Since I have become so interested in gardening and sustainable urban living, and love France (I was a French major, speak it pretty well - and have many fond memories of times spent there; studying, volunteering, working, traveling), it seemed a great way to get some more experience growing things, have my own intercultural experience (what I am trained in helping others to navigate), and to practice my French and learn some new and useful vocabulary.

France is also a place where people are passionate about what they do, and how they live their lives. I have no doubt that I will meet people who are really inspired to be living in a way that is not only gentle to the earth and the creatures that inhabit it - but very much in tune with the natural world, too. It should be a time filled with vitality and richness of experience; of true exchange (of different kinds).

I'm going to try to keep my costs down as much possible, and may even blog about that (any interest out there?). To start with, I have a free round-trip ticket on Virgin Atlantic (thanks to voluntary delay in trip across 'the Pond' in 2009!) that I must use by April 8th. So, my departure is set for February 10th from a Washington, DC airport. I have to fly direct and non-stop, so I'll go to London (where I have some friends and family), then go on to France from there.

There are some friends that I have made over the years, and friends of my family, too, that I hope to visit along the way in France. I am in the process of figuring out which farm (or 2?) where I will stay as a WWOOF participant - but I know that it will be in the area known as the 'Gard'. This is home to Nîmes, Montpellier, the 'Pont du Gard', Camargue, and the Cévennes National Park that I have always wanted to visit. I love the south of France, and have loved what little I've seen of this particular area. It is also traversed by some of the old Pilgrimage route to Spain, and contains Cathare history (where Mary Magdalene is said to have settled).

I forget sometimes, having so much to do to get ready, that I am excited! And don't want to forget to write... I will let everyone know that I'm posting again. Please tell me what you all want to hear about, and that will help me to keep it up!

Allez...! (Let's go!)

Message In A Bottle

On Friday, December 17th, 2010 at approximately 7:20pm, a poem I wrote was titled, signed, contact info/blog link given, safely sealed into a bottle - and tossed into the waves off of Plum Island, MA, USA. You can read the poem here. [I intend to create another site with a link here - and that may come soon - but it has proven problematic, and I wanted to get this up as soon as possible(!). Meanwhile, try to read it in the picture I've posted].

Since my apartment has been sold, I have been saying goodbye (or at least - see you later!) to places and people that have become a part of my Boston area home for the last few years. It's funny how places come to mean something sometimes... almost like characters, in their own right, in your story. Boston has been full of some places like that for me. My old neighborhood, Allston/Brighton, has a quirky kind of edgy, creative, culturally diverse grit to it. And now, a garden carved out of gravel that feels like a tough, if also somewhat fragile, friend.

Plum Island, on the North Shore of Massachusetts, has been one of those places for me, and was someplace I felt I wanted to say goodbye to. I have known it best in the winter and very early spring, as a snow-covered, cold-blasted, wind-tossed magical moonscape. It has been synonymous in my mind with one person, the first person with whom I ever visited it. I wanted to honor that connection, and create a ritual that would also be about transforming that into something more...universal. Where does this fit into my blog? Well, it's a poem... and a kind of scattering of art and purpose. And, hopefully, something that will find its way to a connection to someone else's story.

This idea started as a personal goodbye ritual, and then transformed itself into a fun kind of experiment, as well. As often happens to things that spring from inside you, and you turn over to the world and others, to have a life of their own. I look forward to seeing where this bottle has ended up; maybe just down the coast a mile or two - or maybe somewhere far away? Hopefully with a good story, either way. I hope that whoever finds it actually looks up this blog online - and that we hear from them. What fun to be reminded in that way, that as far apart as we might be geographically, the world is still not so small a place, and we are still connected to, and by, the natural world. In all its wind-blown, water-washed and tumbled wonder.

[Author's note: I am going to start filling in the gap between my Costa Rica trip, and the here and now; realizing that I was in danger of losing my momentum altogether, I decided that the best way to proceed would be to begin doing both. A little about reflection, a little living in the now. This last year, it seems to me, has helped me to embrace transition and uncertainty as more of a constant in my life, seeing where life leads me - and also about documenting that experience for others. Somehow that last piece feels like a big part of its meaning... and I can't see where this is going if it's not going at all! So, bear with me readers (whoever you are), and - bring on the nomadic life! I'm feeling as prepared as I'll ever be...and hoping that sharing these stories may prove useful and enjoyable to some of you out there.]

Las Heliconias - 7/7/10 - Kids Camp/La Finca de Abuelos!

[After a long break to negotiate, sell, and pack up apartment - picking up where left off! Look for future posts on Grand Canyon hike...]

Day one of volunteering for the 'Green' Camp for the kids was a whirlwind, and a really great experience! Perhaps my favorite day of the whole week, although each was wonderful in many ways. Because I found this day so rich, I am devoting a whole post to it...

The morning was playing 'Simon Says' with the kids, in English and Spanish, and several other activities including songs, until snack time, and preparing the space for lunch.

Then, I was whisked away to 'make tamales' without much warning... I was excited, it sounded like fun, but really wasn't sure what to expect. (At this point, I had learned enough to know to just roll with it - and Kim, who was going and had asked if I wanted to join her, was someone I thought it would be fun to get to know. She was obviously very involved in the camp and enthusiastic and affectionate with the kids). My sense was that although this would take me away from the kids and the camp, it would be a special thing to do, and a chance to spend some time getting to know people. I was not disappointed...!

Tamales, it turns out, are a very traditional and meaningful food in the Costa Rican culture - and this opportunity was very special indeed. For the entire enterprise - that ended up lasting the whole rest of the day! - we went to the sustainable farm of the 'abuelos' (grandparents - in particular, those of Donald, the coordinator of the volunteers - but they obviously were considered 'abuelos' by everyone, that is to say, people of importance and standing in the community). I didn't understand half of what was being said (that included many moments of not understanding ANYthing, and some times when I understood pretty much everything - but usually I got the gist of what people were talking about). Kim helped a lot, acting as my sometimes translator. But I was brought right into the whole process, all the action (and the laughter!, and good humor, that was obviously an important aspect of it), which began with the roasting of the banana leaves (taller than most of us!) - and that began with lighting the wood fire in a drum.

I was surprised to see plastic bags and small bottles put into the fire. My initial reaction was - oh, no! That's not healthy! But... maybe it's better than putting them in a landfill, never to decompose? I'm not sure - I had just never considered burning plastic an option - but I was able to put my assumptions aside, accept that it was okay there, and continue to take part. I got a

turn taking the big banana leaves, and slowly moving them over the fire, once we got it going (not entirely easy, since it's the rainy season and the wood was damp - there was a lot of smoke!). The leaves turned from a matte green to a shiny green, as they were heated.

Next, we cut them and cleaned them, into smaller and larger sizes (and piles). This took up most of the afternoon, and gave us a chance to get to know each other a little better. In between helping with this, there were interludes of: coffee break!

(homemade cheese from the finca!, homemade cakes, and milk from their cows, too!), motorcycle riding, helping the abuela (grandmother) make the 'masa' (corn meal filling for the tamales - cooked in a giant round iron bowl, with some potato, garlic, cheese, and broth), an international cast (us) singing 'Turn Around Bright Eyes' (80's pop song), and testing the

sugar cane juice extractor (after cutting some cane and eating it raw, too!). Also picture-taking of the 'hormigas' - fire-ants nearby - and lots and lots of laughter and chatting. Topics covered included - getting-to-know-you conversations in Spanglish and English about our families and what we are hoping to accomplish (etc), who-likes-who, racy jokes (didn't understand these precisely, but got the gist :), to name a few.

Kim told me that she was interested in learning the traditional ways, knew a lot about the rainforest birds (including already recognizing some 500! and knowing their calls) and animals, and wants to share with others what is so GREAT about her country, working as a nature guide. She already speaks English very well, and is learning German and Italian - at an age when many people here in the U.S. are still in college (only know one language), and women her age in her hometown were already getting married, and having children. She felt very passionate about teaching the children at the camp to know and appreciate the rich culture they're a part of.

I felt really fortunate to have a chance to be there, and to be taking part in such a special time of being together, and making something that was such an expression of who they were. I just basked in the glow of that occasion, and tried to add mine to it, too.

Later in the afternoon, and beginning of evening, we started to assemble the tamales. I could see the practical way that they can make a little go a long way. There was a table set up with all of the ingredients, and all the banana leaf pieces piled high. Included in each tamale: a scoop of masa on two leaves, then - rice (seasoned), one each of cooked potato and carrot pieces (seasoned in sauce), a thin slice of red pepper and celery, fresh cilantro, peas, and a piece of cooked seasoned meat. Then, they were wrapped up in the leaves and stacked in preparation for boiling the next day. I was told that tamales are a very traditional, very Costa Rican food, usually prepared for special occasions - like weddings. We were making them for the kids, who would visit the finca the next day, so that they could eat real tamales, made the traditional way. By the abuelos and the community.

It took us hours of going around (and around) the table, each with our own part of the tamale to add - young and old, male and female, telling stories and laughing. At one point, they let me go and lie down in a hammock for a bit (they could probably see that I was losing a little steam!). Finally, after it had gotten dark, and after hours of work, we were all done. Someone told me we made 250 tamales! We got to eat them then...

I don't know if I ever remember food tasting so good. In each bite was the satisfaction and preparation of an entire day... the nourishment of all the conversations, the jokes and teasing and laughs, all the ties between us that had been created, nurtured and supported. It felt like a blessing... I don't know how else to explain it. I had no words for how grateful I was to be included in such a special occasion, making food that was so much more than mere nourishment, the sum of its parts - it was an expression of who they are, and how they live. Good food for the body, heart, and soul.

¡Muchas gracias, todos! Muchisimas gracias...