Pottery and Red Hawks

I just got back from an exam - I think I passed - so I can relax a bit and write something on the blog. Exam time just started and every week I will have an exam and in December I will have comprehensive exams from the whole year. Dios mio! I am not going to think about it just yet so that I don't get the stomach ulcers too soon...



In order not to get too crazy with school work, and to have some peaceful meditative time, I joined a pottery studio not far away from my house and I started last week. During last week's class I made my first pot which doesn't really look like a pot but if you look really closely you might find some resemblance... When an experienced potter makes a pot, within a few moments he makes a pot which has some nice round walls, some nice hollow opening in the middle, some shape, some stand, etc. When a novice potter makes a pot, after a long and laborous moulding, wetting, drying, etc., a pot is really a blob of clay, shaky, too thin on the bottom, too thick on the top, etc. It's just really hard to make a pot! I actually made two the first class and my arms hurt more afterwards than after a boxing class, believe it or not. It turns out you need strength to make pottery. That never occured to me... And also, the clay has a soul and a character. If you don't know what you are doing, it splatters all over you, slides away from the potter's wheel and hits the person sitting next to you, it gets into your face and your eyes, and into your mouth if you loose concentration... Pottery is like horseback riding - if you don't know what you are doing, the horse/clay takes you on a wild ride. Today morning was a little better. I put some better control to it and got better results. Now we are doing the ordinary "earthy" clay but after a while we will "graduate" to the white clay which is a pure breed (the previous being a donkey but I like donkeys very much...) and requiring more skill. Eventually, one day, I will make my own pots, cups, plates, tiles, fountains, lamps, washbasins, and whatever else can be needed in the house of my dreams (when I get it one day). For now it's just fun to be splattered all over among the ladies and gentlemen who share the passion for taming clay.



This weekend they forgot to put me on schedule at PQ so I jumped on the opportunity to go away from the city on Sunday and I went, together with Gosia and Rashid, Patrycja and Daniel, Maja and Piotr, upstate NY to a park where there was a Pow Wow - the meeting of the Red Hawk tribe. There was a really great music (original and unchanged Indian music with lots of singing and drums) and dances, and a lot of beautiful crafts and works of art made by the Indians of North and South America. It all started with putting up a flag, also the US flag (with the figure of the Indian on the horse on the stripes). Afterwards the man leading the festivities invited all the veterans of the wars (WW II, Vietnam) and those who were serving in the American army to come out and be known - they were honored and hugged. I was watching this thinking at first: "How weird, to be honoring those who work for your opressors..." But then I was thinking about it and I think I understand what it all meant. The Indian brotherhood keeps strong, at least the Red Hawk brotherhood - whatever the choices its members make, they are still part of the tribe and they will not be judged. The roots are the most important - brothers and sisters belong to the tribe as long as they want to be part of it. The whole atmosphere was really that of the free people, free enough to dance their dances and sing their songs, to dress in their traditional clothes, to present their works of artistic creativity, and to look in such way that you know for sure they are not any part of the corporate world because no office would ever employ them. It is just very important to these people to be free. Some time ago, reading about the Indians, specifically about North American Indians, I was thinking how these people especially cannot ever become part of the Western society of cubicles, short hair, suits, laptops, "guality time", gyms, 2-week vacations, etc. What's most important to them is fresh air and sun light, and not having to adhere to all these stupid and impossible rules and regulations of "civilized" society. I am saying "specifically" North American Indians because they were the ones who never suffered any feudalism, any type of empires (the way South American Indians did), any type of slavery or organized goverment, other than the tribal wisdom of the elders. When they laugh, they laugh from their heart and when they are sad, they are sad for real and not because that's "how you are supposed to feel". I know, I know.. a lot of the North American Indians are alcohol addicts, gambling addicts, lost and degradated. I think I would be degradated too if I came from this culture of freedom and vast open spaces and they would tell me I had to live in a cubicle... I don't think I would ever comply... It's hard for me to complay, and me - I was born in a "limited space" culture, so I can only imagine what they felt when their buffalos where all killed and the still horse was installed.



I was wearing my main chief necklace of dark amber at the Pow Wow and a few of the Indian jewellers wanted to see it and to hold it - they knew the healing and energetic value of stones. It it great to have all the energy of their hands in my amber necklace. Usually the Indian artists don't have any websites and don't even use e-mail (not wanting any technology spoil their ways)so I got their addresses to contact them in the future and to present their jewellery in my future art gallery. Until it's a gallery it will be a website gallery. My neighbor Grzegorz is working on the website and it should be ready in December. I will let you know when it's done. It will be one of these long-term projects to develop with time, to be doing a fun thing, to help others support themselves, to support myself a little, and to just be around works of human creative force, hold them in my hands, and pass them on to others. The gallery will be named "Syrena" - the mermaid of the Baltic sea, about which I will write in the future and which you will see on the opening page of the gallery. Buenas noches.

Of Love and Other Demons

I came back from the anatomy and physiology class and I have to say I found it super interesting. Today we were talking about how energy is made and used in the body in detail and watched an incredible movie about the various organelles of the cell. Cell biology was quite boring so I think a lot has to do with how the subject is presented and how much of her own energy the instructor spends on presenting it. Linda loves her subject and seems to have a lot of energy to make it fascinating. What I also like about this class is that Linda is also studying acupuncture at our school part-time and always makes connection between Eastern and Western perspective on how the body functions. Next week I am going to list a few books which Linda told us about and which have this connection in them or which, apart from the purely Western scientific take, discuss the spiritual or not-so-scientific explanation of the issues. The thing that hugely cought my attention today was the fact that the mitochondria in the cell can be grown or produced. Mitochondria is the part, or organelle, in the cell which deal with production of energy which then is used for various functions within the cell (and some of that energy is made into heat which keeps our bodies warm) so basically how your mitochondria works and the number of it determines how good your metabolism is (how well you transform things: sugars, fats, etc.). The better the metabolism, the better the body functions: things are transformed fast and eliminated fast. So through the exercise (of body and mind) you give your body a signal that it needs more energy and so more mitochondria is needed, and consequently produced. We were talking about body functions (and staying fit and lean) and also the mind. At one point Linda said that if you exercise your mind and exercise your concentration, your body can preserve the life of brain cells and possibly build new ones. Exercising concentration is meditation so I guess for those Westerners who think meditation is silly stuff which should not be taken seriously, there's basically evidence in the Western science that it does work, on cellular level.

And now about Love... I didn't take any book with me to Colombia because I was so tired of reading textbooks, and also I didn't want to worry about the inside of my backpack getting wet or dirty, so for the first two weeks I didn't put my eyes on the printed word. However, on the third week I noticed a book exchange in the little store adjecent to the only one little restaurant in Cabo and I borrowed Gabriel Garcia Marquez' "Nobody Writes to the Colonel" - a collection of stories - which I read with pleasure, as all the other books by this author I read before (especially "One Hundred Years of Solitude"). And when I came back I spotted on Katarina's book shelf his "Of Love and Other Demons." It is a very beautiful book. Everything is beautiful about it. Life's eternal truths are vailed in a way that they are there for everyone to discover on their own, or not. And I especially like the two different takes on illness: one of the doctor Abrenuncio (a mix of Western and Eastern, I would say, perspective) and the other of the Bishop (a spiritual view, however, distorteded by misinterpreted reading of the Christian bible, done by the Holy Office - Inquisition). I think my favorite line in that book is such: "No medicine can cure what happiness cannot." It is my firm belief, indeed. And the love story which is part of the book is, of course, beautiful. I always said that the story of Romeo and Juliet's love is nothing in comparison to the love between Balthasar and Blimunda ("Balthasar and Blimunda" by Jose Saramago) and now I add to the greatest love stories the love story of the priest and Sierva Maria. I become to love Marquez' books even more after I have travelled to Colombia. He very vividly describes the heat, the rainy season, the laziness, hammock siestas, and all this which is part of tropical climates and which is part of life in Colombia. I was reading "Nobody is Writing to the Colonel" swinging in the hammock in the heat of midday, experiencing all that... Part of "Of Love and Other Demons" takes place in the Convent of Santa Clara in Cartagena de Indias which was later turned into a hotel, which fact the author mentions in the beginning of the book, and which I visited when I went to the city two years ago. I remember how beautiful the Convent/hotel was, the courtyard and the beach nearby. I feel I am there when I read the book, transported in time a few hundred years ago when it was populated by nuns and demons...

Elan's tribute

Here's a link to the website of my co-worker and friend Elan and one of his short movies, about the incided that happened at PQ. The link was sent to all of us waiters with the following note from Elan:

"Some of you already know. There was a nefarious act committed at PQ Soho between me and another employee (Zohar). It was awful. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Click below for the details. The title is "Putting up these chairs..." -elan

[For those out in the world unfamiliar with the American dining system, the restaurants are divided into sections and each waiter has a section he "services." The more customers you get into your section, the better...]

P.S. Not all acts commited by Elan are nefarious so check out his other movies and stories.

http://www.elanzafir.net/

Colombia

I came back from Colombia a few days ago. It's getting really hard for me to come back to NY... It's hard to come to concrete and asphalt after walking on sand and earth for a while... I decided that the reason why I like Goa in India and Tyrona in Colombia so much is that I am not enclosed by walls there. In Goa I slept in a coco hut and in Tyrona I slept on a hammock with a roof made from coco leaves. So this must be what I crave - a way to live outside, all the time, day and night, being surrounded by nature instead of other buildings... Regarding the details:


It took me 18 hours to get to Santa Marta by bus. Most of it I slept but I watched the sunrise on the bus and the places we passed on the way were beautiful. The road in some places was really rough. Not as bad as the road from Diu to Bombay/Mumbai but almost as bad... But the bus had the airconditioning so that made the 18 hours pleasant. When we arrived in Santa Marta and left the ac'ed bus the heat wave hit me... it was really hot, hot and dry. I got a collectivo to the city center, which is basically around the beach and port, and I found the Mira Mar hostel which was recommended in the Footprint guidebook. I got a bed in the dorm, showered and ate, went for a walk around the city, walking very slowly in that heat, and after I came back I met Arava, a girl from Israel, who shared the dorm room with me. Arava got back from the hike to the Lost City and was covered by mosquito bites. I decided, even before I saw Arava's legs bitten to the limits, that I would not do the trail. It was six days, six days of walking up and down the mountains, and I thought I was just not feeling like walking a lot this time... I just felt like spending time on the beach and I decided then that I would stay in Tyrona if the beaches were as nice as people were telling me they were. The next day the hostel arranged a taxi for Arava and I, and also Susanne and Oliver from Germany, to take us the 35 kilometers to the entrance of the park where we got our tickets and then the extra 5 km to the absolute end of the road. From there we walked the trail in the jungle another few km to the coast and we reached Arrecifes - a very nice campground with hammocks to rent, a restuarant, bathrooms and showers. We decided to go another few km to the other campground, Cabo de San Juan de Guia, which we heard had beautiful beach and which had a more of a backpackers' atmosphere. All the beaches and little bays we passed along the way were breathtaking. Midway between Arrecifes and Cabo is La Piscina - a natural pool - the rocks block the waves so la piscina is calm and the currents are not as strong as the ones close to Arrecifes. La Piscina is a great place for snorkling and I spent a lot of time doing that there, observing all kinds of fish and corrals. When we reached Cabo I felt like home. Everything was very basic there: bathrooms, cold-water showers ("coeducational" and without any walls so you eaither take a shower nude or in a swimming suit), and restaurant. Hammocks are $5 a night and the tent space is about the same. Living conditions are basic at Cabo but the beaches are beautiful and atmosphere is great - it's one of these places which attracts people who like nature and quietness and the company of other such globtrotters who don't care for luxury so much as for the spirit of adventure. Arava decided to go back the next day since she had other places to visit and Suzy and Ollie also returned to Santa Marta because it was almost the end of their trip in Colombia. I was sad to see them leave so soon - we had wonderful conversations and enjoyed eath others company - but the day they left I met Leiner, who works as a guide in the park, and also Alvaro and Gordo from Bogota and Nestor from a city I forgot the name of but which is close to the border with Venezuela. The next day I also met Narciso and Carlos, also from Bogota. We spent a lot of time together. The first day we went on a small hike to Pueblito - remains of the village of one of the indigenous groups. We walked up the mountain first in humid heat, then in the tropical rain. The ruins are small but the atmosphere of the place is wonderful. The indians still live there and operate a small store with some artesanias and cold drinks. Along the way in the mountains we saw some monkeys of the makkak family, lizards, birds and lush vegetation. My plan was to just lie flat on the beach all the time but the first few days were a lot about walking, the hills, the trails in the jungle, the rocks along the beaches. The first walk on rocks was like rock climbing and it was so difficult that at one point I asked Leiner if a helicopter could just take me from there (we both laughed) because I got to the point where I thought I would not be able to go forward and thinking of going back the same way was eqaully scarry... but I made the big step over the abyss of 7 meters (Leiner measured it with a rope - I think he knows every pebble and every crevice in that park) between the rocks and it got easier. I think any type of mountain and rock climbing is good for that sense that things which seem impossible to do, are possible to do when you overcome the fear. And the satisfaction after you've done it is immense. So after the first few days my legs were full of bruises and scratches from walking and snorkling (hitting the rocks and corrals). Then Leiner took Alvaro, Gordo and I and also Abu who works at Cabo, to a place at the other side of the park called Chengue - a bay full of corrals and fish which seems like another fin del mundo. The only way to get there is walking through the mountains or taking a boat from a fishing village, which we did. It's a beautiful but very desolate place. There's a small camp there and a few people run it. Senora Sobeida seems to be the only woman there. She is a licensed masseur and was showing us the massage technigues on Leiner. There is a kind of kitchen there, a table and a roof of plam leaves to hang hammocks under. We stayed there for two days, snorkled and slept during the hot time of the day - the heat is profound and I had a hard time coping with it. There's no fresh water there so anything for drinking or cooking has to be brought from other places. We had some food and were thinking of cooking but, gracias de Dios, the people cooked for us so we eate wonderful dishes prepared mostly of rice, corn flour, fish and other sea food. Everything was delicious and it's incredible that you can cook so well having such limitted cooking facilities (and little water). The animals which were part of that little "farm" were very curious when we got there: the chickens came and jumped on our backpacks, the skinny cat came to get a pat (we were feeding him to fatten him up a little), not to mention all the ants who were climbing our legs in great numbers... I also found a scorpion in my hat but told him to go away - I prefer to be his friend from afar... I think he was hiding in my hat from the rain as that night there was a big thunderstorm, which was nice because it cooled down the air a little. On one of the beaches closer to Cabo I also saw a beautifully green iquana and then in the jungle a small alligator and around everywhere lots and lots of big red and blue crabs. Crabs are very interesting creatures. I observed them many times coming back to Cabo, looking at me, one eye this way, the other that way, walking sideways, jumping in their holes in the sand... A few times we also met the indigenous persons belonging to the Kogui family. They live in the mountains and try to preserve the way they have lived for a very very long time... They farm, live in palm huts, make their own clothing (white pants and shirts and stripped bags), and sometimes come down to exchange goods. They are tiny and lean people. Their knowledge of Spanish is limited - they speak their own language. Once when Alvaro and I met a Kogui young man Alvaro asked him how old he was and he said "I think about 20". Time is not something that preoccupies the minds of the truly free people... Looking into the eyes of a Kogui person is seeing a different reality, the reality of honesty and innocence. The evening I spent in Santa Marta I went to the beach and I met Edouardo who is an older person and who was telling me how he and other seven kids were the only survivors of a massacre on his village a long time ago, during the "war with the Colombian government" as he called it. He lost his village and his family and was wandering around for some time, looking for a way to live. Now, being older, he found his peace and his home in the mountains not far away from Santa Marta. He makes jewellery and sells it on the beach and enjoys his life "in between", being part of the modern society but keeping his indigenous values... He is a very wise man. His education is his life's experience and I believe it is the best education - it makes a person modest and compassionate. Spending time among people honest and free from fear (basically if you have nothing, there's nothing to loose and so there's no fear of loosing anything... not even a notion of loosing your face which so precoupies the Western minds seems to exist there...) makes it hard to come back to NY - a city of fake smiles and lots of fear... but coming back to school is wonderful. I met with my group and my teachers and my heart is expanding again, with admiration and appreciation, and gratitude to be part of this wonderful school and group. This semester we are beginning observation in our school clinic and checking the pulses and tongues of REAL patients and doing assassment and proposing methods of treatment so I am very excited. Yesterday my classmates Autumn and Shoan and I went to get our white lab coats and it seemed like a big thing to me. I am going to write more soon about my various thoughts. I am going to school now for the first internal anatomy class with a wonderful Ms. Linda Puckett who will make it fun and easy to digest.

And a little note to all wonderful people whom I met in Cabo and who are reading my blog: greetings and many hugs to you dear new friends! The memory of the place and our time spent together will be with me for ever. Until we sea each other again muchos besos.