Writing a Portfolio

I am currently finishing up my semester with Global College/ Friends World Program of Long Island University. This week I have a lot of writing to do, a lot of editing, and a lot of piecing it all together. Forgive me if I do not do too much blogging this week.
More stories will come soon! I promise!
Also, I have started a spanish language blog for the work I have written in my spanish class. If you are lingually inclined, check it out:
http://vagabundagringa.blogspot.com

Safe Journeys and Happy reading,
Mira

Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala

Santiago Atitlan is amazing. Stepping off the boat, I felt as if I was entering Guatemala for the first time. An indigenous school girl hoisted me and my heavy backpack off the rocking boat and onto the slick dock. This area is over 50% indigenous, and is still thriving with culture. All of the women here wear their traditional trajes, woven skirts with thick woven or beaded belts and poncho like blouse embroidered with flowers and birds. Many of the men even wear the traje here, which I haven’t seen in Antigua. The men’s traje is a little more simple, with stripped, pajama like shorts and a sash.

(A photo of an indigenous boat man in Lago Atitlan)

Getting off the boat there are the typical runners and taxi drivers. One indigenous man wearing purple shorts seems to be the head honcho of them all. He asked us if we wanted everything in the books; cheap hostel, restaurants, crafts, good prices, marijuana, everything. Wade and I ran away.

The main street is riddled with tourist shops selling beautiful, hand-made indigenous arts and crafts. It is eye candy. Bright colors, exotic shapes, woven clothing, leather hats, stone sculptures, oil paintings of the volcanoes and the lake, and shiny beaded jewelry. It all sits next to the street tempting tourists with the enticing brilliance and low prices. The women sit in their stalls with gold teethed grins, embroidering p’ots, and beckoning the passer-buyer.

Even my ears were overloaded by the town. Here they do not speak Spanish as their first language. The first language is a Mayan dialect. It has thick, harsh sounds, like snarls and spitting strung together in a clacking rhythm. I was amazed even that many people do not even speak Spanish. A few attempts at conversation with the indigenous women and I learned that, because they did not have formal education, only spoke their native tongue. I love hearing new languages.

(A photo of an indigenous Mayan women selling jewelry and beaded necklaces in Santiago, Guatemala)

People in this village are extremely friendly. Every little old lady and wrinkled old man is brimming with toothless smiles. The women are a bit too shy to say, “Buenos Dias,” but they always offer a timid smile. The shyness only makes them seem more appealing and affable. Maybe they don’t speak because they are always carrying huge baskets or bags on top of their heads. Maybe speaking will make them fall off. I really do not know how they can balance such huge loads on their heads in the first place. It has so affected their walk that they glide so smoothly along the pavement that you hardly even see them lift their feet.

I like this pueblo, and I am glad to finally be finding the richness of Guatemala.

(Photo of the street and indigenous women in Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala)

Turrialba, Costa Rica

El 28 de enero

Hoy yo descubrí la belleza y la hospitalidad de Costa Rica de Nuevo. El Wade (mi novio quien está conmigo) no le gustó Costa Rica cuando estuvo aquí la última vez. El solamente visitó San José y Cartago y tuvo una experiencia mala.Ahora yo quiero mostrarle el otro lado de Costa Rica, como la gente amigable, la cultura divertida, la naturaleza bella, y todo lo que yo he conocido de este país.

Ayer salimos de Heredia y fuimos a Turriabla. Yo no conocía Turriabla, pero El Wade quería ir a las montañas y nuestro libro de guía se dice que allá las hay. Cuando llegamos, no vimos montañas ni senderos ni parques ni nada. Eso no estaba por las nubes tampoco. Yo le pregunté a la dueña del hotel y ella me miró como una loquita.

“Pues… se puede caminar hasta Santa Rosa, pero es muy lejos, como cuatro kilometros.”

Entonces Wade y yo salimos caminando por la calle a Santa Rosa y en pocos minutos empezó a llover. Nosotros regresamos al hotel después de mojarnos mucho. Estabamos tristes y desalentados.

Pero, por la mañana hoy no amanecimos con ganas de un buen viajecito. Salimos caminando otra vez. De Nuevo no vimos senderos por las montañas ni parques ni nada. Hasta casi una hora después , vi un campesino con una pala. Yo le pregunté si el conocía este lugar. Con una sonrisa muy grande el me dijo, “sí” y me llevó a su quinta. Lo seguí por cafetales y fincas y corrientes. Hablamos del ambiente y su vida y mi vida. El señor era muy amigable y nos mostró muchos senderos en las fincas privadas por las montañas. Vimos aves y mariposas e insectos. Wade y yo aprendimos como cultivar café, bananas y caña de azúcar.

Lo sentí muyrefrescante porque la gente de otros países no es tan hospitalaria y amigable. Los ticos del campo siempre rien y tienen tiempo para ser amigos.

(Yo con plantas de cafe, a photo of me with coffee plants)

El 25 de Enero

Es muy extraño para mi que estoy en Costa Rica otra vez. Cuando yo estuve aquí hace casi dos años era una persona muy diferente, más joven, más loca, y más ingénua. Ahora yo he tenido muchas experiencias y he visto el mundo, y he aprendido mucho de la vida. Estoy más tranquila y estudiosa.
Muchas cosas en Heredia hancambiado y muchas cosas todavía son las mismas. Esta semana yo fuí a todos mis partes favoritos de Heredia. Fuí a las cataratas en Monte de la Cruz y mi restaurante favorite de hamburgesas con cebollas y bares de mis amigos conocidos y el campus de la UNA. En la finca de las cataratas ahora hay vacas en vez de caballos. El restaurante ahora tiene dos partes y es más pequeño. En los bares todavía hay mis amigos Buenos y en la UNA todavía hay cartels de conciertos y marchas politicas.
Mis amigos les alegra mucho de verme de nueva. Ellos tienen brazos abiertos y corazones sinceros. Todavía ellos bromean mucho, bailan bien, y toman como siempre. Me gustan mucho la passion, el amor, y la amistad de los Ticos. Estoy muy felíz de estar en Costa Rica.

Why Oranges and Lemons Grow in Spain and The Origin of Citrus Groves

Which came first: the fruit or the color? Was the orange named after the color or was the color named after the fruit? These big juicy, brightly colored citrus fruits grow all over southern Europe, but where did they come from? After having this conversation multiple times and eating lots of oranges off the trees in Portugal, I decided to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Although the exact origin can never truly be known, it is commonly believed that oranges are indigenous to Asia. The first cultivation and domestication of citrus may have been in China, but India also fights for that title. Ancient Ayurvedic medical texts praise the orange for its health benefits. Even the English word "orange" is said to be taken from the Sanskrit word "nagarung." This is also strikingly close to the Spanish word for the color orange, "anaranjado" and the word for the fruit, "naranja." (The ado placed on the Spanish word for color kind of makes it sounds like "oranged"). In Portuguese the word for the fruit if "laranja," and the color is "cor de laranja" (which translates to color of an orange). This still confuses me as to which came first, or if there wasn't even a word for the color orange until the fruit came around. Maybe orange was just called "light red" or something to that effect. (It is funny, when you look at linguistics you find out weird things like that. In hindi there is no distinction between the color red and the color pink. Maybe this is why it is not unmanly for Indian men to wear so many pink shirts. The cultural connotations of the color pink being "girly" just isn't there.)

Anyway, The Moors brought lemons in their conquest of Spain and Portugal, and thus started the citrus craze. Lemons were well established in the 1200's as a result. The first oranges, however, came a little later. They were not introduced until trade with the East Indies was in full swing around the time of Vasco De Gama in the late 1400's, and early 1500's. It is thought that pirates, sailors and merchants on these caravels would brings back the plants and seeds of orange trees to grow them in their own backyards. (It sounds like a wonderful gift for their lonely wives back home, eh?)

It is odd to ponder that such a common fruit as the orange has such an exotic origin and interesting history. Globalization, through a process of hundreds of years, has carried these voluptuous citrus fruits throughout the world and straight into my kitchen.

The Spainish Language and Comprehension

Wade and I arrived in Spain I the middle of the night. I was groggy and travel worn, but somehow my Spanish came back to me like a clap of thunder that starts a flash flood. Even after not speaking a word of Spanish for over 1 ½ years, and studying three other languages in the elapsed time, the language was still lodged deep in the basement of my brain. It was readily accessible in a time of need.

I could understand people again! And furthermore, people could understand me! I could ask questions, get directions, and even have conversations with local people. Wow! This is a shock after not understanding anyone around me for long periods of time. Such as every time I return to the U.S. and suddenly everyone is speaking English.

It felt so strange. In India and Morocco Wade had always done all the talking as women are treated differently to in these countries. They are not expected to talk, nor are they spoken to. In China, Wade knew more Chinese, so obviously his comprehension and language skills could take us farther than mine. But in Spain, my Spanish is better than his, so I am the leader.