llama drama

Oh she looks all innocent now, but one second before she was smacking those pups.

Llama, up close and personal!

The ruins of Machu Picchu!

hello from aguas caliente, aka Machu Picchu according to the mayor. just trekked around the ruins. don´t really have any concept of how to integrate them into my understanding of the modern world, but will post impressive pictures as soon as possible. also had close encounter with a llama that was really less interested in me than I was in it. lots of terraces stoned off for agriculture, small room-like areas that were maybe houses, and various plazas and watch towers. we traveled there and back from the train on Mercedes Benz buses, very posh, but i didn´t particularly notice the vehicle much because i pretty much immediately fell asleep like i do in every moving vehicle. the train ride up was also very nice, with a breakfast of ham sandwhich (in so much abundance on transportation), fruit, and strawberry shortcake. the baños was also quite servicable. the tracks ran along a rocky river at the foot of tall green mountains. it made me think about what americans do with some mountains, cordon them off to build trails for shuttle buses and campsites. but with how large our human population is how can we interact with nature without destroying it? nature is then by nature so unnatural. how much better is it to take an Orient Express train to see it? No se.

On one of the train stops I caught a photo of a girl with two puppies, the bigger of the puppies whose neck she would yank at and whose head she would periodically whack. Ah, au naturale.

mi manos can´t keep up with where i am

Cusco flags; not the gay flag, as a waiter pointedly told us.

Hello from Cusco, Peru! Hmm, yes, behind in updating about the mid-transatlantic driving adventure so I shall recap as thus. Camped out in Zion and Bryce. It is so hot in the desert even at high elevations. It was of much hotness yet sunscreen worked marvelously. Had great time with friends, catching up and bonding and hopping from tent to motels. Visited Yosemite only for a peek. Stepped out of car to take pictures of waterfall and were marauded by elephantine mosquitoes like out of a scene from Hatchet. The valley was, as my friend called it, a zoo. There was a mini shopping center that had shopping carts. There was an art studio for taking art classes. An Ansel Adams gallery. A car garage. Too much. And home again to California to spend some mad dash quality time with the sister.

And mad dash again from airplane to airplane, mini sandwhich to mini sandwhich, until I am here sitting in an internet cafe with a 2.5 liter waterbottle in my bag sitting next to my friend who is waiting for me to finish this so we can go grab some lunch and sleep the afternoon away before a 6am train ride to Macchu Pichu. It´s a mad house, this life of mine.

one wedding and 4 states

Hello from Mount Carmel, Utah. I am much chagrinned that I am unable to post my pics thus far up, but perhaps in a few days. I just attended a friend's wedding three days ago (a wedding that perfectly fit the personalities of my now wedded friends: bbq reception followed with an anime viewing). Got to see long-missed friends in Austin and camp out in an apartment complex that I used to live in. Found out that my travel route coincided with that of the newlyweds and so my friend and I are traveling with them and their visiting German friend. We made our way through Texas (long hot drive, much hills, then dry flatnessw, and scrubby vegetation, and many moo-moos), then New Mexico (beautiful mesas and goats and horses and metalwork and irrigation line/mobiles), and Arizona (gorgeous mountains and canyons, Hopi reservation with small houses and many school buses, postcard scenery in real time, layers of prehistoric sea history written on the walls), and Utah, which we hit at night and so there is not much to tell yet. We intended to camp at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon but we were thwarted by a forest fire that was smoking out the roads. So that is why we are in Utah outside of Zion National Park. Eee. More to report as the world turns. Thankfully did not kill any bunnies though they certainly displayed suicidal tendancies by running into the road in front of myh cart and parking their fuzzy butts.

Living la vida loca

Ah, happy to report that Grandmother is feeling much better. She's settled in a new hospital in downtown Houston for rehab, a hospital that even has a staff person from Fu Zhou! And her room is enormous, with sofas and accent tables with lamps and dressers and an extra bed for visiting family members. My grandmother's suicidal requests have decreased and will hopefully piddle out altogether once she gets walking some more.

I will also update the "new words" and "books" section once I get back from Peru/Guat/Belize/Mexico and don't have to suffer the stiffling confines of a dial-up connection that burns out when the day gets too hot. Will add Shalimar the Clown by Rushdie (excellent book! read it; i liked it even more than Midnight's Children) and From the Dust Returned by Bradbury (which was like a string of his previous short stories, some of which I have read so it was like reading a book I've read before).

Ah, my sis is getting into Houston today for a one day mad visit of family and grandmother and something for Father's Day and prepping for friend's wedding in Austin... Ahh. Much will be the travels that will soon be commencing, including a transcontinental (well semi-) drive-a-thon from Austin to Berkeley. Aii, I will not be in one place for long.

we all get at least one blogpost of abject desperation

The last two nights I have spent in cold hospital rooms, trying my best to sleep curled in frigid rooms against gauzy, sterile pillows. My presence there had nothing to do with and injury of mine but rather my grandmother’s. Wednesday afternoon I drew my sister out for a late afternoon walk. Strangely, my grandmother had not yet started dinner and it was seven o’clock. Then we saw her in the driveway, sitting on the ground. She had lost her balance and suddenly sat down, her left hip screaming in pain with every moment. She asked me to try to lift her up, and foolish me I did try, but thankfully had little strength. My sense kicked in and I called 911.

Thus began the sequence. Ambulance – emergency room – x-rays (and the wails and face contortions of pain pain pain) – cries for a catheter that fell on irritated and overworked ears of the perpetually unavailable nurses – and the first sleepless night in a cold chair. The next day surgery – a replacement hip socket – ICU – a second sleepless in a cold hospital chair punctuated by hourly doses of medication and blood tests. And it’s over. The worst of it, I hope, is over. If she can walk again and feel useful then she will possibly beat back the looming threat of dementia. If she can still get around and see people, she will shoo away the dogs of depression that nip at her tired legs and weakened heart. I think she will be ok.

Being home I sink into a stupor of lost identity. I’m not who I am anymore and can think of escape as the only recourse for regaining my selfhood. But escape gives me no peace because my absence is always physical. My empty room. That space in the house that will not be changed or filled. All my possessions there. My dad teasing my older sister about moving into one of our rooms and her refusal because those rooms mean that we will come back. The tether is long: it stretches for thousands of miles across states, mountains, and canyons. And it tugs on me and tells me, “You will never escape. You will always belong to place where you cannot be. You can be yourself in other places and talk with other people but you will not belong to them because you will always belong to me.” And I’m snapped back and I stuff myself deeper down to hide, for when I can escape again and unfold my unused voice and my rusty mind. And pretend that I am free and that the tether will not again pull me back. Because obligation is stronger than love. Because obligation is not love. One can coexist with the other but so too can obligation exist without love. Have we confused the two?

No-No the sexually molested baby seal

My older sister likes to listen to children's song and story tapes and most recently she has been listening to the tape of No-No the Seal. It is a story about a baby seal that is molested by his Uncle Seal. He tries to run away in the ocean and is scared to tell his parents, but with guidance from his friend Wise Whale he is able to tell. I remember years ago when my mom got this book and tape for my sister. I read the book and was shocked. I wasn't sure if my mom had read the story before getting the tape. The book had a picture of a fuzzy seal on the cover after all. But as unconfortable as the story is, Uncle Seal's voice is of a guffawing grandpa, perhaps the story's message is one that suggests a more appropriate response for children, for as the Neil Gilbert says, children should not be responsible for defending themselves. But I can't quite get over the weirdness of a sexually molested baby seal.

My sister's favorite song on the tape is his reflective/confliced song.

My world is falling down;
My heart is broken and sad.
When Uncle Seal's around,
I feel mixed up; I feel scared!
He is my special friend.
Why did he touch me that way?
I don't want to hurt Uncle Seal
Or make Mom and Dad bark and yell,
But this very funny feeling that I feel
Is worse because he told me not to tell.
Yes, it's worse because Uncle told me not to tell!