in my shoes

The dress in Europe is not so different from that of the United States.  The best indicator of this is that all of the clothing names are familiar:  jeans, shirts, blouses and skirts.  There are no longer lungis, saris, burkhas, or tzizit vests.  Although the clothing culture of Spain is very similar to that of the U.S., there are specific rules that distinguish itself.

For example, in August along the beach men and women are scantily clad. Men wear short shorts (although American-style board shorts are becoming more popular) and women wear bikinis, often topless.  From the parking lot to the beach, men and women cover themselves with casual wear.  Specifically, men will put on a cotton shirt (t-shirt of button down) and women will wear a short cotton dress, often white and dainty.  Sandals and flip flops are a must, along with the beach umbrella.

As soon as you take ten steps into the city center though, the expectations change.  Men are expected to replace their t-shirts and sandals with button-ups and closed-toed shoes.  In fact, bars and dance clubs have a very strict policy that requires men to wear closed-toed fancy shoes; even blinged out, patent leather, sports shoes are turned away.  Women often wear heels and skirts and very rarely wear shorts.  Couples or families will often wear matching clothes, especially on Sunday and during festivals.

Now, Puerto de Santa Maria has a very casual culture during summer.  So casual that I didn’t notice the change in rules until I made a mistake.  I was volunteering with the Red Cross at the beach during summer so I donned the red shorts and t-shirt uniform that they gave me.  In mid-September, our jobs switched to walking with the elderly and disabled in the city center.  I met the rest of the volunteers at the Red Cross office dressed in my beach uniform, when everybody looked at me stunned.  I was the only one wearing shorts and sandals.  They fumbled for a bit and asked me if I happened to have pants.  We talked about whether or not I could possibly wear red, beach shorts into the city center.  And finally, they decided that I was not dressed appropriately for the day and my help was turned away.  We wouldn’t want to offend any of the elderly by my casual wear.  Oops!

On the northern coast of Morocco lie two pockets of Spanish civilization.  Ceuta and Melilla are Spanish-governed, Spanish-taxed, Spanish-speaking and fully protected borders on the African continent.  Like most borders between developed countries and developing countries, this wall creates a lot of tension, strife and illegal trade opportunities.

The picture of the illegal trade route looks like this:

Thousands of poor Moroccan men and women wake up early to report to merchants on the Morocco side of the border.  They wrap their bodies with layers of goods transforming them into overstuffed snowmen.  They stuff more goods into bags that are twice the size of them and tie these bags onto their backs.  The weight is so heavy and the size so large that they hunch over to walk one to four kilometers to the border.  They wait in line for hours at border control while being shouted at and demonized by police.  When it is there turn, if they are lucky, they are permitted to enter without declaring the goods, without being checked for prohibited items, and without being asked for a visa.  They walk another several kilometers to the receiving merchant, and then begin the cycle again to try to fit two cycles of smuggling into the day.

When I was first introduced to the issue, my thoughts immediately jumped to “the workers are committing crimes,”  “the police and border control are corrupt,” and “the merchants must be mafia-like.”  As I listened to collaborations over the issue, my responses transformed into questions like:

• What circumstances have caused these workers to choose such rough and low-paying work?
• What is the responsibility of a government and individuals within a community to insure that every person has access to work that provides sufficient money, medical care, and education for families?
• Is it possible to create work that allows everybody to improve their economic status rather living in a vicious cycle of barely making enough to eat and maintain their current status?
• How can we stop illegal trade without demonizing and incarcerating the workers who trade as their livelihood?

I have always been one to vote for the underdog, so it’s not curious that my heart throbs now as well.  I am not sure yet how I can help the situation, but I do think just learning about it helps us become more aware of our world and how our decisions affect others.  If you are interested in learning more about the porters working along the border there is video in Spanish called “Cien Metros Mas Alla.”  Here is the link.

I come from Hawaii, a hugging culture.  We hug to say hello, good-bye, congratulations, nice to meet you, etc.  And in Hawaii, they are not just quick touches of the shoulders.  A hug is long enough for any air in between your bodies to dissipate.  It is long enough for any tension in your body to relax, to become present and connected to the other person.  In Hawaii, the hugging rule doesn’t depend on gender; hugs occur between women, between men, and between men and women.  In each country though, there is a different manner of greeting each other, and most do not hug.

In Guam, people hug as well, but it is a much quicker hug.  More notably, when encountering a group of people, it is important to recognize elders.  When you come into the presence of elders, you bow gently touching your forehead to the back of their hand.

In India, touching rarely happens.  I only received hugs from westerners or after living with an Indian family for three weeks.  Instead, you place your hands in prayer position and bow your head briefly.  Again, there is a special greeting for elders.  In the presence of elders, you bow down and touch their feet to show respect and receive their blessing.

Israel is a country of no touching.  The most likely thing offered would be a shake of the hand, but even that is rare.

In France, I entered the culture of kissing.  In France you quickly kiss each cheek beginning on the left side and ending on the right.  If you are a man, you will kiss the women you are introduced to, but you will more likely shake the hand of the men you encounter.  In Spain, the same rules apply as France, but you begin the kisses with your right cheek.  In both France and Spain, you introduce yourselves in between kisses.  This is a point of contention for me actually.  I think it is extremely difficult to remember the name of the person you are kissing when your eyes are focused on their cheek/ear region!  I had to do a lot more re-asking of names than usual.

In Morocco, you begin the kiss on your right cheek and then give two kisses on your left cheek.  I am not sure what the rules are for men here!

In northern Europe, many countries give three kisses alternating between cheeks, but different countries begin on different sides.  I’ve also heard of a four-kiss country, but do not remember which one it is.

It is interesting being a foreigner adopting these traditions, because it takes practice to execute these gestures correctly.  I have been a bit too eager, and kissed ears instead of cheeks.  I have hesitated a bit, creating a dancing situation between cheeks.  I often mess up and begin the kiss on the wrong side.  And, I have definitely grazed a few more people’s lips than is appropriate during the change from one cheek to another!  I often feel like the kisses are not intimate enough and that I want to hug as well to show my gratitude . . . sometimes it is accepted, but often, it turns into me hugging an obviously uncomfortable, stiff body.

Being back in the United States, and specifically among foreign communities in the Northeast, I am learning to cope with the handshakes, waves and occasional hugs.  It feels very cold and so overly professional.  I long to break the personal barriers that we have up to give a brief peck on the cheek or a warm hug.

Wow!  I’m more famous this year than I have been in years.  I was published in another newspaper in France while giving my presentation at the Ecologists in Action.

I have been working briefly with a human rights organization in Puerto de Santa Maria called APDHA.  APDHA has offices all over Andalucia, and although their work spans many topics, there is a strong emphasis on immigration.  Much of their work is affected by or connected in some way to the African continent . . . Morocco is just a stone’s throw away from the southern coast, literally swimmable if desperate enough.

So, naturally I found an opportunity to visit Morocco for four days to help the Morocco chapter.  I was surprised to find out upon arrival that my new co-workers and hosts were nuns.  But these nuns challenged every notion I had of nuns.  They weren’t donning habits or carrying rosary beads.  They only went to church on Sunday morning, their discussions never centered around the grace of God, and they never prayed in my presence (not even before meals).  On top of it, two of the sisters smoked and all of them drank beer!

The four women that I lived with exposed me to an entirely new sisterhood.  They live with other sisters in normal apartments around the world, embedding themselves into normal society with the specific purpose of serving the world in a way that uplifts communities.  The only physical feature that one could identify is their simple golden band that they wear on their right ring finger symbolizing their commitment to the church, God and the sisterhood.

These women work in human rights and have quite spectacular stories.  Some of them have worked with prostitutes helping educate them, connecting them to resources that can change their circumstances and insuring their medical care.  Others have worked with illegal immigrants from the poorest regions of the Sub-Sahara.  Now, they are creating an international non-governmental agency that studies, educates and fights for human rights, especially those of women, and especially in the most poverty-stricken, oppressed areas.

My work with the women was mainly building a start-up website for their new organization.  I also helped translate their newest project proposal to make it easier to collaborate with other local, non-Spanish speaking associations in Morocco.

If you are interested in seeing their work, supporting their cause, or just looking at the super-cool blogsite I designed, check out www.najma.blogspot.com.

My feet have always been a little bit claustrophobic.  For this reason, I cleared my wardrobe of all close-toed shoes when I moved to Hawaii.  My feet have mostly seen sandals and running shoes in the last five years.  During my trip thus far, sandals and running shoes have served me well.  But, I am about to enter autumn, a season of chilly toes and puddles.  So I’ve decided to add my first pair of closed-toed shoes to my wardrobe in years—a pair of red, Natura Lista boots.  I know for most this seems trivial.  But it was a truly monumental shopping trip for me.  I tried on pair after pair of low top, high top, mary jane shoes and decided on these for their versatility, protection and comfort.  I am almost ready for puddles and chilly weather.  The next shopping trip will be to buy socks—I only own short running socks!

Note of truth: To be fair, I also own a pair of cowboy boots.  But I sadly found out last year that cowboy boots and slippery surfaces (aka ice) don’t mix well unless I’m spinning around a dance floor!

September 29, 2010 changed my vision of organized activism. I have been to my fair share of protests and rallies that filled streets and courtyards, but I’ve never seen an event on such a large scale. Every city in Spain has been advertising September 29 as the day of the Huelga General for over a month. The day was dedicated to closing down shop (at least partially), and telling the country’s leaders what they need to be focusing on. The city center of Madrid was packed with people wearing red, covered with stickers, waving flags, and occasionally blowing into noise-makers.

Spain is in a crisis. It hasn’t been known to have a healthy employment rate in decades, but now it is extremely severe. 28% of Spanish residents do not have a job. Among the community members that I have been living for the last two months, more than half of the people I met hold temporary jobs and part-time jobs. There is a saying here, “Work less so that everybody can work.” Although Spaniards recognize that the entire world economy has been strained in the last several years, they feel that their leaders have been extremely poor at rectifying the issues within their country.

So, yesterday, masses of people from every party, union, and region stood up and let the world know that things need to change. Some were extremely passionate about changing the banking and big-business world. Others passed out flyers denouncing the meat industry and persuading people into a life of vegetarianism. And others denounced the church and the war in the Middle East. It was tremendous!

When I lived in Spain before, I never saw a bullfight.  Being an activist for humane treatment of animals, I never knew whether or not I wanted to partake or support such a sport.  I decided though, that I had no cultural image of the event, and that I wanted to see why this sport has stayed such a central part of the Spanish culture for so long.  I bought sunny side, nose-bleed ticket and came early enough to see the crowds arrive.  An elegant calm surrounded the bullring even though thousands of people circled the parking lot looking at the vendors who sold pillows to sit upon, peanuts, fans and matador trinkets.  Many women dressed up in fancy skirts and hats as if going to a horse race.  Men wore slacks, a gentle, striped, collared shirt and a thin-brimmed hat.  I peeked into the pens where the horses and men alike were draping themselves with layers of colored cloth and sequins.

I was lucky to find myself sitting next to an elder man who loves bullfights.  Having a mentor was good because prior to seeing the bullfight, my image of it went more or less like this:  There is one man dressed in a fancy sequined costume in the ring.  When he is ready, they open a door where a large bull with bad eye sight emerges.  The matador waves a red flag-cape-thing, and the bull charges to the other side of the ring missing the cape.  This happens over and over again until the bull is tired at which point, the matador is capable of getting close to the bull and killing him with his sword.

I found out that the fight is much less fair than my image.  The fight begins with up to nine people in the ring.  Between the nine of them, they play a big game of chase with the bull, tricking the bull into chasing them and then hiding behind a wall where the bull can not get.  Then, a man holding a long joust like sword rides into the ring on a horse.  The bull ineveitable tries to charge the horse, but gets jousted between the shoulders, causing him to bleed profusely.  Then three picadors take turns sticking the bull with long hooks that continue to bounce around in the bull’s wound for the rest of it’s fight.  The matador comes into the ring, enticing the bull to charge at his red flag cape in very close range.  And once the bull is sufficiently tired of running in circles, the matador takes a chance at inserting his sword through the shoulders, weakening the bull enough to fall.  Once the bull falls, another man with a small knife quickly stabs the bull again in the nape of the neck or the brain ending the bull’s life completely.  If the matador does a good job in the dance and the kill, they cut off the bulls ears and tail as a present.  The matador does an honorary walk around the bullring collecting flowers and fans and seat pillows from the crowd and throwing them back.  And the next of six fights begins.  The bulls are delivered to a butcher, and all of their meat is used for human consumption.

I had a really hard time with the initial jouster hurting the bull, and the last man killing him.  The rest of the experience was surprisingly beautiful, courageous and filled with energy.  Although I think it is cruel to have nine men playing chase and hide-and-seek with an injured bull, there was an element of circus-like fun to it that I enjoyed.  I loved the live band playing the Pasa Doble and the crowd clapping along and then falling into complete silence.  And, it was amazing to see how close the matadors let the bulls get to them while, they did balletic poses and gestures.

I don’t need to go to any more bullfights in my life, but I’m glad that I experienced it.  There are many Spanish people who feel that bullfights and plazas are still a strong part of the Spanish culture.  In my experience in Puerto de Santa Maria, there are just as many Spanish people who dislike them and will never go again in their lives.  We will see  how the bullfight culture evolves in the next twenty years, because many activists are speaking out against it.  In fact, there are no longer bullfights in Barcelona because of such activism.

While in Spain, I came across Ecologistas en Acción, an cooperative NGO that provides education to the public while also working with local politicians to protect and create smart ecological policies.  While meeting with them, we decided the best way for me to help their organization was by presenting at their monthly lecture.  Specifically, they wanted me to educate them about ecological issues within the U.S.  They have a strong awareness of issues within the European Union, but they rely heavily on Hollywood to inform them about the U.S.

After this presentation, I was recruited to speak at the local secondary school as well, the Instituto de Juan Lara.  There is a bilingual program within the school, so the Spanish teachers wanted me to expose the students to American culture, ecological issues, and my journey using as much American-accented English as possible.

Both presentations were fun challenges for me.  They definitely challenged my level of Spanish; luckily the audiences were patient and a few people could help me translate when I got stuck.  It’s also my second time coming into a foreign audience to present.  I’ve been a teacher for awhile, so presenting comes naturally, but it’s a completely different ballgame when I have no idea what the audience knows, enjoys, and is comfortable with.  Here are my links to my powerpoints if you are interested.

Ecologistas en Accion

Everything You Do Matters School Presentation

Sadhana Forest is a place that has forever changed my life.  The manner in which we lived, the friends who I met, and the aspirations that we all had will never leave my body.  Yorit and Aviram are reaching out for help.  If you know anybody who can help, please pass this message on.

Dear Friends of the Forest,

Thank you all very much for supporting the launch of Sadhana Forest Haiti in Anse-a-Pitre!!!

The community in Haiti is doing very well. We obtained the permission from the Government to reforest and do water conservation on a very large piece of land.

Since April 8th, we have planted thousands of trees there, established an organic gardening demonstration plot and interacted with thousands of Haitians in Anse-a-Pitre and in the camps of Port-au-Prince.

On October 26th to November 5th we will be holding a free International Sustainability Event in our community in which Haitians and international participants will exchange knowledge of different sustainable practices and experience friendship and unity. You can see more details on http://www.facebook.com/l/6b63eS6EEgpl3A0qiC0CrjpjUrg;www.sadhanaforesthaiti.org.

In the mean time, in India, things are also advancing very fast. In the last few months, we have had a huge amount of water conservation work and last Friday we started the tree planting season. This year we have large seedlings to plant that can cope well even with the hardest conditions. Many groups from across India and the world are coming here and getting experience and training in different aspects of our work. We have also started a small reforestation project in Madhya Pradesh, Central India.

Funding is still our weakest point. We are facing a huge financial challenge due to some large unexpected expenses related to the early onset of heavy rains this year. Some roofs are in need of fixing or changing, some parts of our solar system have to be replaced, the road has to be improved, etc.

We would like to ask you for your support with fundraising. At the moment, Sadhana Forest needs around $10,000 US urgently and any help would be greatly appreciated. If you know anyone who could help us, you are welcome to refer them to the donation page on our website: http://www.facebook.com/l/6b63e2vi1OFpR8fo1YHhJfdWXSA;https://secure.aviusa.org/donations_donatenow_sadhana.php.

Thank you very much!

Lots of love,

Yorit and Aviram