This past January, I posted a our original call for cameras, asking you to donate any digital cameras your not using to our Wichi/H20 project. Thirty cameras, four trips to the Hickmann Wichi community and over 4000 photos later, I am pleased to present our first exhibition of these photos.
Original photos taken by the children of the Hickmann Wichi community. See the world through their eyes from the Wichi/H20 project of Cloudhead Art Foundation.
Inauguration August 1, 2011 at 7pm
Exhibition runs from August 1-13, 2011 at the Casa de la Cultura, Sala Mecano in Salta, Argentina.
Bear with me for a moment while I gush. The photos are really incredible. From photos of pigs lounging by the cooking fire to squash picking to preparing dinner in huge metal pots over a fire, the photos tell the story of their lives. They show how these children live and what they love to do.
One boy named Javier has already developed his own style. I always know it's his photo because whether he's out exploring drain pipes or walking across dry cracked earth, his bare foot peeks into the right side of the photo.
What we're trying to create here is art. When people buy these photos -- be it originals, reworked through photoshop or on t-shirts -- they buy them because they love the photo and not simply out of kindness.
Even better, when you buy one of these photos, all profits go toward fruit trees, goats and gardening tools, so the photographer and the members of his community move one step away from dying of malnutrition and one step closer to supporting themselves through sustainable means.
Thank Yous & Appreciation To:
Casa de la Cultura who is hosting the event. Corralon America who has graciously donated wood for mounting the photos and to Maximilliano Mura of Mura Fotografia for organizing the exhibition.
One More Thank you!
We and Cloudhead Art Foundation have just received a grant from Burners Without Borders to help us develop our website through which we will sell photos and more to support the Wichi/H2O project.
My 7 Links is sort of like a Best Of post, but with a twist. Instead of measuring by number of hits, Tripbase asks each of us to evaluate our blogs based on 7 different criteria. Kind of a Yom Kippur for bloggers, if you will.
Audrey and Dan of Uncornered Market tagged me as one of their bloggers.
This comes at a particularly perfect time as I’m in the process of moving my blog over –- finally – to Wordpress and have been going through all my posts to decide which I want to keep and which will be left to seep into the dark and forgotten corners of cyberspace.
And now, with no further drama or ado, I give you my seven.
This one was easy to choose. This post has by far received the most hits, the most links in and the most e-mail. It's been featured on AOL twice, MSNBC and other places I don't even remember.
I do remember, though, exactly where I was when I wrote it. Sitting in Cafe Victoria on Plaza 9 de Julio, the main square in Salta just a few weeks after we arrived. At that point, I had no idea we would still be here three years later.
I was just starting to gear my blog beyond family members so this was one of the first posts I wrote with a larger audience in mind. I published How to Pay For Two Years Of Travel, Part II, shortly after.
Almost immediately after hitting publish on this post, I began to receive nasty and usually anonymous e-mails about how I'm not a good American and have betrayed my country. Then I watched as my blog subscriptions dropped more in one week than in the rest of the five years I've been blogging.
I don't believe myself to be unpatriotic simply because I'm willing to be honest about a very ugly part of American history. I believe it is only through that honesty that we can become a better, more inclusive nation. Anyone who can't handle it? Too bad.
My choice for this category was a toss up between this one and a post giving the nitty gritty, boring details of renewing your tourist visa in Salta. I ultimately chose How To Avoid Scams, because it has a more widespread usefulness. While the scam I encountered was in Buenos Aires, the methods to avoid, handle in the moment and report afterwards are universal.
This was my first post to go viral. I published one night before ped, and the next morning when I saw my hits were about 1000 times what they normally were for the early morning, I was surprised.
This, too, was shortly after I began writing posts for people other than family or friends, and I was just beginning to get a feel for what worked and what didn't. While I can't say I have mastered the art of making posts go global, seeing the response to My Birthday Challenge taught me much.
This post always gets me. I think because when I read it I remember being at Lenox Mall so clearly and being overwhelmed with conflicting emotions of being overjoyed to be home while simultaneously and with equal force wanting to return to the beach and the freedom of travel.
It's a feeling all travelers know well, but it's not so easy to capture and explain. I think this post does both.
This post was also featured at the TBEX 2010 convention in New York City. I couldn't be there in person, so I'm glad a little piece of my writing could represent for me.
When a family member, pet or human, dies, once we get over the initial shock, we parents soon realize our kids are going to have questions. How does one explain death to a child? How are we supposed to encapsulate and clearly transmit information about something that, quite frankly, adults don't understand either?
When we talked to Lila that day in August, she made it easy. She asked the questions, and she was content to accept that sometimes Mommy and Daddy don't have the answers either.
This post didn't have much readership, though. I think in part because, well, I didn't have much readership. But it's also because it is so difficult to talk about death. So often, we hide it, push it away, cover death in metaphor in an attempt to avoid our own discomfort with not knowing.
Dan from Uncornered Market cited Unspoken Patagonia as his choice for Didn't Get the Attention. I think it didn't for similar reasons. We simply don't really know how to talk about death and the injustice that often comes with it.
The way I describe her on this day a bit over two years ago is no longer an adequate portrayal of my daughter. Now, she rides horses. She can swim. She reminds me every morning to take my multivitamin and even brings it to me with a glass of water. She still loves art and music. She's still very much attached to us, but has lost her fear of going places without us.
I am proud of this post, because I am proud of LIla.
*******
Now that I've finished my 7 links, it's time to tag five more blogs. All are from people whose blogs I read and opinions I respect.
First, Juliane Huang who knows the best place to find sandwiches in NYC and writes from her own twisted and wonderful view of the world.
I had a chance to get to know Aracely and Jason of Two Backpackers when they spent some time with us in Salta. The writing is funny, poignant, interesting, but don't forget to check their videos, too.
Paul Sullivan of Slow Travel Berlin, crazy funny English guy who knows how to take a photo.
I met Susanna Donato in college. She writes the Cheap Like Me Blog where you'll find endless ways to save money and the environment.
And I know the rules say five, but there's one more person I have to add. Hal Amen from Wayworded. His recent photos of roads traveled, landscapes (including the South Dakota Badlands which hold a special significance for me) just got me.
So tag, you're it. Thanks again to Audrey and Dan for tagging me.
Last Saturday, we celebrated 16 years of marriage together. Six-teen? Really?
I went through your iTunes playlists a few weeks ago with the intrepid plan of finishing this post in time for our anniversary. It was to be an open tribute to you, our marriage and our life together.
I started chicken scratching in my notebook -- you know the one I won't let anyone else touch -- three days after our anniversary but never made it online until today.
I know my lateness with this won’t bother you. It won’t bother you any more than it doesn’t bother me that you probably won’t even read this unless I tell you it's here. I know you usually don’t read my blog because, as you tell me, you don't read any blogs. Besides, there’s little I’ve written over the years online that you don’t know in more detail and with infinite repetition in real life.
So in no particular order or even of importance, I give you sixteen songs. One for each year.
Farmhouse
Phish. You were always more partial to the Grateful Dead. I didn't care one way or another until Lila's first week of life when Farmhouse was the only song that put her to sleep.
I played it the other day for her to see if she’d remember it, even a shadow of it. She didn’t.
Must Have Been the Roses
I barely knew anything about the Grateful Dead when we hopped in a car with that guy Eric -- the one who lived in your building and refused to stop for bathroom breaks because of his obsession with making good time -- to drive to Buckeye Lake. All I really knew of them was from the tape -- yes an actual tape -- you made for me the first month we dated.
I played that thing endlessly, and it was still going the week over Christmas when all my Orthodox room mates went home for break, leaving us alone in that apartment on 116th street and Broadway.
We lay in bed in my tiny room listening to the sounds of other people's moans as they bounced off the walls of the airshaft outside my window. We smoked cigarettes and weed and ate hummus and peanut butter sandwiches while we asked ourselves “What would the Lubuvitcher Rebbe say if he walked in on us right now?”
For some reason I remember you wearing a silly hat, the kind with a pointy top and earflaps, because the heat didn't work. But I think I'm making that up.
That was the same winter your father called us up and told us we should be concerned because people were talking about us. There were rumors we were having sex, and I should worry about my reputation.
You realize, the same ones so concerned about the sex lives of nineteen year olds, have long since divorced or died. Just saying.
Sea of Heartbreak
Your bedtime song for Lila, and you sound a lot like Johnny Cash when you sing it. You also sound just like Bob Dylan when you sing his songs and can affect a Neil Young so perfect that when my new neighbor came over to complain we were playing music too loud, she didn't believe me when I told her the stereo wasn't plugged in yet.
I sound more of the Roseanne Cash variety. I always mess up the same words and Lila corrects me.
Simple Twist of Fate
We walked down the aisle of our orthodox Jewish wedding to this song. It was a kind of wordless muzak-y klezmer remake, performed by the band a la mode for Atlanta Orthodox Jewish weddings.
No one aside from us knew the tune or the words or how not-quite-appropriate they were for two 20-something not-so-Orthodox-anymore-but-no-one-knew-yet jews to walk down the aisle to these particular Bob Dylan lyrics.
I couldn't find the master himself performing this song on Youtube. Only covers. But it seems like Jeff Tweedy now carries the mantel for this song. I think you'll like it.
Comeme
These days, all you want to listen to is Rza, Gza, ODB aka Big Baby Jesus who’s now dead anyway and really, for you it’s more about the Method of the Man. But I want that Latin beat be it funk or reggae or Calle-trece-ton with a little Brazilian samba.
How when I fell hard for this song, you didn't complain when I played it over and over.
Now I can’t listen to Comeme anymore after the person who introduced me to Chambao fucked me over so badly it's made me reevaluate how easily I open my life to people and trust them. You told me it doesn’t matter. Music is music. Don’t let the real world ruin it for me. Then you tell me I shouldn't let some asshole change who I am in real life either.
Tom’s Diner
I listened to it in high school and again in college when I spent late nights chatting at the diner of the same name. I went there with Ken my last night of my first year of college. That was before we even met.
I sang Lila to sleep with this song since before she could speak. She still asks for the "On the Corner" song and sings it with me as a duet.
I sang this song to her in Rob‘n’Joy’s apartment down the street from the place we sold in Brooklyn the night we really almost ended things. It was right before we left New York, and the process of moving was like ripping out deep roots. At a certain point, you figure, “Hey, I’m getting rid of everything, why not just get rid of you, too?”
Lila woke up in the middle of our serious talk. I took her back to bed and tried my best to explain what was happening without scaring her or confusing her then sang Tom’s Diner again and again.
I was surprised to find you still in the kitchen after she finally fell asleep. I don't think I ever told you how glad I am you stayed.
Shady Lane
I used to like Pavement. I used to love Pavement. But it has gone the way of Johnny Cash for me after too many roadtrips with the same few CDs on repeat.
Shady Lane makes me smile and think of one of our first trips together when we heard Pavement live in Dublin, and I was convinced I wanted to move to Ireland, never go back to New York.
Trains Across the Sea
We were in Amsterdam three months into our world travel trip and had only just started to find a rhythym. We finally started to relax and enjoy it.
I hung out with Lila one morning and you went off to explore. When you took her that afternoon, I dragged the manuscript of a novel I’d been butting heads with for years and went to The Rokery with a pen and notebook.
I spent most of the afternoon people watching. There was the guy who refused to remove his hat before going down to buy whatever it was he was going to buy. And the woman behind the counter who was young and beautiful but damn could she handle herself when the guy with the hat became belligerent and began to threaten her. Soon after Guy With Hat was escorted from the place, she showed me how she cut her t-shirt to make it more interesting. “I don’t like things that are boring,” she told me.
The Rokery manager hit on me the entire time, and I found him adorable and sexy. It stopped being flattering, though, the moment he smiled and suddenly aged fifty years and turned evil. I went back to my notebook.
I'm glad I can tell you these things. You're never jealous or upset. After sixteen years, you know where you stand with me. You don't have to worry.
I left soon after, and waited on the edge of a canal when I saw you down on the other side of the bridge. You with Lila asleep in the stroller, and I watched as you floated across the river to the tones of the Silver Jews.
Ok, so really that's eight, and my intention had been 16. Can we call it one song for every two years? That way I'll be finished this post by the time you get to this wifi cafe where I'm working, and we can have a coffee together and talk about other things.
Then I a can surprise you with this today instead of waiting until, maybe, it never happens because I'm reaching for more instead of being happy with what I have right now.
Live and Learn! This is the mantra that has helped me get through this particularly difficult week, and I'm hoping you'd offer your perspective on this.
The past year has been insane for us. Between forming Cloudhead Art Foundation, buying the arthouse here in Salta, filming for House Hunters International, setting up the art residency and, well, just living life, it's been difficult finding time to breathe.
Just recently, we were blackmailed by an artist we've been working with. She tried to extort money from us. . She threatened to go to immigration and tell them we are working illegally in Argentina We're not, but telling them so might lead to an investigation and cause problems for our residency status. She warned if we didn't pay, she'd go to the press and say bad things about our organization and then report us to the police for stealing her art.
The reality is we've done nothing illegal, so her blackmail didn't hold much bite, but it did make for a rather stressful week.
I think it's over now. The worst has passed. While we lost out on time and money spent working with her, we did gain some valuable experience and have a much clearer idea of how to work with artists in the future. We will also employ a much more rigorous vetting system before allowing anyone into our lives and organization.
All that said... is this just a sign of putting yourself out there? Is this just the sort of thing that happens when you take risks and chances? That inevitably, we will make some mistakes, that we will encounter challenges and pitfalls?
While in NY this past February, I met with people from three businesses. Openhouse Gallery. Wix. And Help A Reporter Out. Talking with Jonathan Daou, Victoria Monsul and Peter Shankman taught me much about how I want to develop Cloudhead Art Foundation.
One thing I've found distasteful about running a business is the constant sell. In order to make your business grow traditionally, you have to be out there hustling all the time. Constantly talking about yourself and your work. Pushing your product. It felt too self-focused. And by that, I guess I mean selfish. To much ME, ME, ME!
What inspires me about these three businesses is the way they work with people -- potential customers -- to fill a need within the greater community. Talking with them lead me to Seven Basic Principles of building a successful business by giving things away for free.
The Holy Bible of a Free Based Economy
1. Develop A Public Face That People Can Trust
2. Business & Friendship Overlap
3. Money Is Not the Only Capital
4. Always Keep An Eye To What You Can Give In Return
5. No Strings Attached Means No Expectations
6. Transparency Is Key
How I Apply What I Learned to Cloudhead
First and foremost, I think of what Cloudhead can give to the community.
We Give: A place for artists to stay for free. A place to work. A place for artists to display their work. Access to my social media connections in order to develop resources and sell their work.
The cameras so many of you donated to Cloudhead are also part of what we give.
Last January, before going to NY, I put out a call for cameras. You all responded, and we easily met our goal of 20 cameras. We now use these cameras for all the Cloudhead projects. Teaching English Through Photography & Social Media to 12 year olds at the local university's experimental high school. Next month, we will visit a Wichi community in Tartagal, in the north of Salta province, for children in the community to take photos. And finally, we are lending the cameras to a local Salta city community project designed to bring street safety awareness to children in Salta's Solidaridad neighborhood.
We Get: Artists creating work, giving workshops, using their expertise to helps us develop projects in the house: a dark room, a composting system, preparing gallery space for exhibitions.
This in turn helps us market our products that are for sale: Photography, lightboxes and artwork from our various artists.
The Anatomy of A Win-Win!
When people leave Cloudhead, they tell others about us. They write about us on their blogs. They write articles about us. In essense, they market for us. And it’s the best kind of marketing. Not because they’re paid to do it or because they have to, but because they want to. Marketing us means marketing themselves. They have a good experience with us and thus want to help us develop our community which in turn helps them develop their own network of contacts at the same time.
We also rely to a certain extent on philanthropy, another form of free. People donate money, cameras, computer equipment, gallery space. In exchange, they receive anything from updates on the people who receive their donations to a good feeling that they are doing something worthwhile and are part of a larger community.
Which brings me to the final principle of Free.
Free is self propagating.
All three of the businesses mentioned in this article grow by word of mouth. You won’t see advertising on TV or on Google Ads. You will see them pop up in articles like this one, on personal web pages and you’ll hear people. Wix’s marketing budget is primary for the Wix Lounge. HARO's popularity grew, because who doesn’t want free publicity for their business? And OpenHouse attracts advertisers because each exhibition and installation has been created with you in mind.
Your organization will find people naturally follow you on Twitter,Facebook. You'll gain a greater audience because people come to you by sheer force of the fact they really want to be there, really want to tell their friends, really want to write articles just like this one to spread the word.
That, in a nutshell, is free. Whatever you give for free should give something the receiving party truly wants in return for something you want as much. Win-win. No one feels cheated and there’s a give and take between the two parties for mutual benefit.
Today is a day off for us here in Argentina. It is Dia de la Memoria.
Last year, my friend Horacio visited with us on this day. He told us the history, explained what it was like living in Buenos Aires as a teenager during a military occupation. I posted what he told us. Here is his follow up comment.
Hi everybody!.
I'm really glad to know that my chat with the kind Leigh has generated at least the space to discuss this topic. Actually was she who encouraged me to write and say what I think.
As it happens all over the world is much easier to keep people worried about things that have nothing to do with solving the several problems we have in our economy, public services and whatever you like to mention.
But that doesn't allow us to forget the terrible and cruel things we suffered some three decades ago. We had 30.000 people dissapeared by that nasty dictatorship as an organized response to the supposed generalized terrorist attacks. Nobody can denied that there were some forces which tried to impose the fear attacking military chiefs or military relatives.
In my opinion that was produced by some of the ones who belonged to the left side of the socialists parties. And once again, in my opinion, it was due because they were losing their political importance. Little by little they were dissapearing of the political map, because they tried to become the strongest part of the "peronismo", the main political force at that moment. The one ruled by Juan Domingo Perón.
This leader expulsed this "left wing" of his political party after using them to win elections (in 1973) and to be the hardest part of his forces. It was like saying, you're not useful any more for me, go away.
This go away meant a declaration of war inside the peronismo. The "leftsiders" reacted as bad as they could, putting bombs, organizing attacks inside the party and against the military forces. And this was exactly what this leftsiders wanted to do, make sistematic attacks to them.
The reaction of the dictatorship was even worst, terrible. They took control of the government and imposed all over the population the fear of being suspected to be a terrorist.
There was a common phrase on those years "algo habrá hecho" (translation could be: for sure something dirty he has done), this statement was said by the common people to justify the kidpnaps made by the military government. And as a second thought "mejor no te metas" (something like you'd better don't ask what's happening).
As a result of all of this, we got a selfish, ignorant and really feared society of what happened.
That's why I say, let's remember what really happened, do not make the same mistakes. Let's learn to deffend our human rights. Let's be involved in what happens to our neighbor, to our friends, to our countrymates. In order to avoid this nasty inheritance that our sons received. Specially when still now there are people who say "during the dictatorship we were better than now", wishing they to come back, forgetting all the unhuman facts they did like babies kidnapping...
There are many other things to say and discuss, like who supported the military forces inside and outside the country, what was the economical reazon for supporting that dictatorship, etc.
Thanks for "listening" me and for forgiving my language mistakes.
Horacio
Thank you, Horacio for your insights. It's one thing to read about history and another to hear it in the words of someone who experienced it. While Lila may not understand now, the stories you shared with us made the history real.
And the only way to change our actions in the future is to learn from mistakes of the past.
I'm sitting here in Argentina, landlocked, about as far away from the seismically active Ring of Fire as a person can get. I am not directly affected by the destruction on the other side of the world, so I watch the news.
And I can't help but wonder when we'll stop talking about Japan.
Every media outlet is reporting every new shake of the ground, showing photos of bodies being pulled from the rubble and posting videos of enormous waves engulfing the coast of Sendai.
But when will we forget?
When is the last time Haiti made the front page? Have the effects of last year's quake been mitigated? Is Chile fine? Indonesia? Peru? What about New Zealand? The earthquake in Christchurch happened less than a month ago and are we still talking about it?
Yes, some people still are. In fact, my list of to-do for this week includes preparing two blog posts for Matador Life about Christchurch for Blog4NZ, a grassroots blogger effort to bring support to the area. Pisco Sin Fronteras, a Peruvian volunteer force set up through Burners Without Borders, continues to work to fix the damage from the 2007 earthquake that destroyed 80% of the area.
But you don't see it in the news.
What do we see in the news?
Last night, one of the Matador team e-mailed around a video of a woman, supposedly from some religous group, thanking God for the earthquake. Apparently, they prayed for a sign from God to teach the athiests of the world a lesson.Personally, I think this video is a hoax. That doesn't make it any less disgusting.
And I am proud to say that Matador, without hesitation decided not to post the video even though it was on the cusp of going viral. Even though publicizing it could have brought in huge hits and publicity for Matador. We would have been the first to post it but said no.
Since last night, Gawker published it as have other media outlets. I'm proud to say that I'm part of a media organization with integrity.
What does Gawker hope to gain by posting this video? Is it helpful? Does it bring attention to a story that people need to hear? Is there any reason the people of the United States need to watch a video in which a young woman goes on and on about how happy she is for the destruction we're seeing all over the news?
It reminds me of how after September 11, as two massive plumes of smoke poured upward from the once World Trade Center, we heard reports of people all over the Middle East dancing and celebrating. The news reports, too, remind me of that time. It brings back painful memories.
It makes me sad and anxious. It pisses me off badly.
Yesterday, my friend Mike Lynch, who lives in Okinawa, posted wildlife photos he's taken in Japan. He posts them because he cannot look anymore and urges that we all wait patiently as rescue efforts continue and Japan takes stock of the damage done.
What Japan doesn't need, I can tell you. They don't need Uncle Bill cleaning out his yard sale collection to send over as a charitable donation. They don't need some major pharmaceutical company to write off a big donation of drugs with an expiration date of next month. And they don't need anymore news reporters, cameramen, travel writers or anybody else going after the big story.
No more gawkers.
I think that says it all. Mike goes on to say:
We need to let those on the scene do their work without clogging up their transportation and logistical systems. They will ask for help where and when it is needed.
It is human nature to show sympathy and want to help those in distress, I know. I want to help, too. We just have to be patient if we really want to help. Wait.
I only hope by that time, the rest of the world hasn't moved onto something else.
I don't doubt this is a revolutionary device. I like using it for many things, but when I watch Lila play games -- I shake my head and hate it!
There's just something about playing a game on this crazy thing that makes my normally pleasant child aggressive. Lila doesn't listen when she's playing. She ignores, probably doesn't even hear, what we say to her. If you try to take it from her, she becomes petulant and angry.
I've seen it happen to Noah, too, especially when he and Lila play Plants vs Zombies together. Lila grabs his hand in this pincer like grasp she has. It's not particularly painful, but she is surprisingly strong and quick. It's definitely aggravating. So Noah is aggravated. Then Lila gets upset. Then there might even be some grabbing and pushing.
Or they both poke at the screen trying to play together and end up poking each other. Worse, they block each other and miss a point or a sun or whatever it is. Then they both get frustrated. Then I get frustrated.
Is it really so wrong for me to take it away from them? Tell them that if they can't play nicely with the iPad, they're going to lose it until tomorrow?
But I don't blame them.
I've felt the same intensity with Angry Birds. When someone distracts me, and I accidentally set off a bird before I'm ready. Then it flies off in some random direction, and I don't crush a single pig. I get mad. It makes me want to pincer grip people and maybe even push them away.
Clearly I'm not the first to see this. A recent article on NPR calls angry birds addictive. So I researched it and found this study that suggests certain tones raise our serotonin levels. Could the bips and beeps and squawks from iPad games invoke that little rush of pleasure in addition to the reward of seeing the pigs' clever and maze-like defenses dropped?
When we're then removed from our tonal reward, do we then become aggressive?
What I do know is that anyone in our house -- metaphorically speaking, since we don't actually have a house -- must stop playing when they become rude during a game. If you don't stop on your own, it will be taken from you.
Yes, I mean it. Please don't test me.
What else I don't like?
It's all been said before, so I'll keep it short. The keyboard. I find it cumbersome to use. So I don't. Ever. At all. I figure, though, this is simply a technology limit that will change soon enough. It's annoying, also, that iPad doesn't support Flash.
What I do like?
I use it primarily for reading. Suddenly I can read magazines and books. That's a lovely new thing in the five years since we left NY. The games themselves force you to think logically and spatially. Apps tend to be either free or you can buy them for less than $2 each. We've recently started using one to help Lila keep track of her chores.
I'm a huge fan of Flipboard. During my recent visit to NY, I chatted with Benjamin Wagner, old friend and SVP of MTVi, who loves the interactivity of Flipboard. Where else can you so seamlessly integrate social media platforms, Google Reader and RSS feeds while also staying in touch with what your friends are reading and doing?
Just In Time for iPad 2
I've managed to squeak my little review in just before the iPad 2 comes out March 11, 2011. The new one has a camera and video camera. Lighter. Thinner. Has a cover attached magnetically to protect the display so you don't need a separate case. The screen, apparently is sensitive to strength of touch.
All sounds great, although I probably won't see it myself for quite a while, because we just got the old version. Add that to my list of Dislikes, by the way. Such is the nature of owning an Apple product.
But the addictive anger, aggression-pincer-thing makes me want to fling the damn thing out the window. I doubt even the newer, snazzier model will change that.
Have a digital camera you don't need? Please donate it to our new photography project with children from a small village in Northwest Argentina. DONATION DEADLINE EXTENDED!
The Project: WichiWater
We take your old cameras and put them in the hands of Wichi children from villages all around the Salta province of Northwest Argentina. They’ll take photos of their lives, themselves. They’ll have some fun and in the process learn how to use digital cameras as well as how to interact with professional photographers both in person and online. You get to see them smile!
You get to see their photos online and in gallery and museum exhibitions across Argentina and the United States.
Our first exhibition was at the Casa de la Cultura in Salta, Argentina. People couldn't believe the photos were taken by children, let alone children who had never held a camera until a couple months earlier.
A group of indigenous people who live all over the region. Often their villages do not have a clean water supply. Many times they do not have enough food or even clothing. They do have a rich culture and language that is an important part of Argentina’s heritage.
Maximiliano Mura: a multi-talented Argentine photographer originally from Buenos Aires province now living in Salta.
Ana Soruco: nutritionist from Argentina’s Jujuy province. She has been working with members of the Wichi community to help bring food, water, clothing and awareness to the people there.
Elio Néstor Fernández: founder of Idioma Wichi, a group dedicated to preserving Wichi language and culture. He is our Salta city connection to the communities around the region.
What We Need?
Your functioning digital cameras. Any kind. Any age. It's ok if they don't have all their parts or are scratched and dented. They don't need all the accessories. If the camera has it's own specific battery, it's best that that be included and working.
How To Send Your Cameras?
For people living in the United States:
You can mail the cameras directly to our Atlanta mailing address. They should arrive on or before September 1, 2011.
Leigh Shulman c/o Jane Steele 5505 Roswell Road, Ste 300 Atlanta, GA 30342
Any cameras that arrive before that day, I'll bring back with me to Argentina.
For people living in Argentina:
If you live anywhere other than Salta, you can send me a text to my Argentina cell 0387 15 539 4777 or e-mail me at leigh (at) cloudhead.org and we can figure a way to get them.
If you live in Salta, let's go for a coffee. You can bring them then.
For people living anywhere else:
Send your camera to the Atlanta address above. When I have a reliable Argentina address, we'll send them.
Let Us Know About You
We're designing a website, coming soon, soon, soon, that will provide more information about this and other projects we have happening through our new, soon-to-be-announced non-profit. I'd like to include your names on our sponsors page.
So please remember to include any personal and business information you'd like to see on the sponsors page. I'm happy to include links to any website or blog as well. And please send your e-mail address if you'd like to hear updates about this project and be the first to know when we post photos.
I promise never to send any spam. You can opt out at any time.
Any Questions? Feel free to e-mail me with any thoughts, questions or concerns at leigh (at) cloudhead.org.
I’m often in a position where I’m the only American in the group which means I'm often asked to represent for all Americans.
Just recently, a friend of ours mentioned to Noah that whenever there's a big Couchsurfing asado at someone's house, it’s generally the Americans who will assume that it’s just a free dinner and there’s no need for them to pitch in for payment, clean up or preparation. A few weeks ago, we had a Belgian, an Argentine, one Canadian and one person from Poland in the house, and when the subject rose again, all four guests reluctantly admitted they find Americans to be the most rude when traveling.
“I Usually Don't Like Americans But You're Different"
I cannot tell you how many times I've heard this, and while it’s nice to be told that I’m an exception to being rude and unlikeable, I am as uncomfortable with the stereotyping as I would be were someone to say that Asians are bad drivers, Germans have weird sexual proclivities and the English have bad teeth because they drink too much.
I'm also pretty proud to be American even when I don't agree with the politics or president. It's a unique culture full of people who have grown up with the ideology that anything is possible, that anyone can do anything.
Yet, I’ve also had similar experiences with the Couchsurfers and guests we’ve had in our house. Rarely a week goes by when our spare bedroom and couch are empty, and while we rarely have bad guests, the only ones I can name are American.
There's a fine line between our US government given constitutional rights and plain old fashioned self-entitlement.
I have no issue with people who want to carry and use weapons, provided they are using them properly and with oversight and experience. I have no problem with political protest. In fact, I am tickled that anyone can say pretty much what they want and not be hauled away in the middle of the night.
When the American Dream Hits a Mental Health Glitch
During a discussion between Matador colleagues after the shooting took place, one editor said this sort of thing makes her feel "desperate about being American."
Kate Sedgwick, Matador Nights' editor who blogs at Yes There Is Such A Thing As A Stupid Question raises another point regarding the way the US treats the mentally ill and how voices claiming that guns are the way to solve issues directly address those who perhaps have no other recourse.
The US is the petri dish where people feel that the only way to do anything worth a shit is to be featured in the 24 hour news cycle and volatility and violence are what gets attention. When politicians use and encourage violent rhetoric, you better believe people are going to get killed. And what makes this different from long term political and religious wars? The fact that there was nothing to fight against in the first place....
These killers are lost souls who crave recognition and something greater than themselves, and they find it in the likes of Glenn Beck. They don't even have a belief system. There is no support, No one is even there to notice that this shit is about to happen. Isolated with paranoid, poisonous rhetoric they can do with what they will are the only voices that come close to matching the anger within them. I do believe this is an American phenomenon.
Is It the Same As Crying Fire In the Proverbial Crowded Movie Theater?
Of course, no one would be spurred to mass murder simply by the words of these pundits, but perhaps our political and ideological leaders have a responsibility to curtail what they say in order to avoid what seems to be an ever increasing violence in American culture.
So who are we as Americans? What do we stand for? And if we should be calling for change, what changes would you like to see?
We had to move out of the house we'd been renting last Wednesday, and the new house is still a bit on hold due to a series of complications, so just before new year's day, we were, essentially, homeless.
Then Ani and Maxi, two friends of ours took us in. Then Mary, another good friend, invited us to her place for New Year's dinner. Then Dennis, a.k.a Victor -- because apparently Argentines simply cannot understand the name Dennis -- traded a website for his hotel in exchange for giving us a place to live for the next two weeks.
Dennis is fantastic in so many ways. Obviously, because he's given us a place to call home, but also because he walks around all day long in his bikini bathing suit and loves to chat about anything, but especially his girlfriends.
I feel like I'm in some made for TV movie. Something funny, not the cheesy sort of crap you find too often on the Lifetime network. Something you'd find maybe on HBO, you know, creative but allows nudity and obscenity. Keeping that in mind, imagine the scene that followed when we found a bat flying around our room late last night.
The hotel, Campo de Esperanza, is just a little way down the road from our last place, but there is so much more wild life here. Perhaps because of it's proximity to the river?
Mani loves the new place. This photo shows him hunting for a family of cats that lives in the the trees behind the house. Truly, he has not a chance of actually catching them. In spite of his almost fifty pound heft, he's a puppy at heart and the white mama cat easily intimidates him.
Yes, that about sums up life right about now. Am I frustrated? Yes. Am I grateful? Absolutely. The sheer number of people who have helped us most definitely takes the edge off our uncertainty.
Besides, this isn't the first time we've been homeless. It's just the first time that we've done it with a dog and a couch.
Last week, we had unexpected Couchsurfers stop by the house. Javier, Noemi, Michal and Jan. From Argentina, Quebec, Poland and Belgium, respectively. They spent the night. We cooked curry and chapatis together and stayed up really late talking. So by Friday night, when it was time to go out in celebration of Michal's 30th birthday, I was exhausted.
The Schedule Went As Follows
10pm: "I'll brew up some coca leaf tea," suggests Michal. "That'll wake us up!" And so he did. A pot full of strong, deep green and overly sweetened stuff that made my tongue cramp and stomach lurch on first sip.
But I was tired, and this is Argentina. The clubs don't even bother opening until 1am. So, when the first cup didn't do much of anything, I went for cup number two. My lips and gums were a'tingling as we approached Balcarce Street.
Midnight: Then, what's a birthday celebration without a toast? Of course, when the waitress at Rana Burger tells you there's a two for one promotion on liter bottles of Quilmes, you don't think to say no.
4am: We're neck deep in thump, thumping reggaeton at Club XX1. It feels like my head is going to pop off, but still, we danced.
8am. Lila is awake and wanting breakfast. I get up, feeling fine and make her french toast. I'm trying to use up as much food as possible in the house before we move later this month, and we have a lot of beans, peas, lentils sitting around. I decide to make soup.
10am: "I'm not feeling so good," I tell Noah who is still sleeping. "Do you mind hanging out with Lila for a bit while I lie down." I remind him of the soup. It should be ready in time for lunch.
A Cup of Water, A Wet Towel & Hair Band
The following 48 hours mash into one long, painful blur. All I remember with extreme clarity is feeling sicker than I've ever felt in my life. My head pounded. I was sure the slightest movement would cause the top of my head to burst right off. My stomach gyrated as if trying to muscle its way back to the dance floor.
My bare necessities? A cup of water that Noah graciously refilled for me throughout the day. A wet towel to put on my forehead and a hair band to grab quickly before I ran back to the toilet to vomit again. I couldn't even keep water down, but needed something in my stomach. The worst part was the sickly, sweet aroma of coca seeping from my pores. The smell alone sent me retching back to the bathroom.
I kept thinking of all those ayahuasca journeys in which people describe the most horrific reactions, expelling liquids and solids from every possible orifice. Yet they still claim their trip as the most overwhelmingly positive spiritual experiences of their lives.
Was it spiritual? No. Not really. Spiritual redemption was just a tiny carrot, a golden hope, some little way of trying to convince myself that all of this would ultimately be worth it.
By Monday morning, I was out of bed again and nibbling on dry toast having learned an important lesson. Never again will I treat coca leaf with such disrespect.
It Doesn't Do Much For Me
I hear this from many people. Perhaps that's because they are drinking the kind from tea bags or they don't drink enough. But we were using relatively fresh leaves which were steeped in hot water for a few hours.
Or maybe they are smart enough to listen to their body's when they say, enough, don't drink anymore.
I've often been able to determine that an herb -- tincture or tea -- was the right or wrong one to take based on my taste response. Do I like the flavor? Am I repulsed by it? That's often a good indication of what your body needs.
All the signs were there. My stomach had an uncomfortable reaction to the first sip, and I hated the taste. I stupidly ignored what my mouth, tongue and stomach told me.
Too Much Of A Good Thing Takes You In the Opposite Direction
Coca leaf is meant to stimulate your stomach. It's also a mild sedative. Thus, I had too much and found myself both painfully overstimulated while dreadfully sedated.
Herbs are all about finding balance. That's why I tend towards herbs like chamomile and red raspberry leaf that are dual modulators. They help bring you back to the center. These are also very gentle herbs and you'd be hard pressed to over do.
Coca leaf has much stronger properties. The alkaloid tropane can be poisonous in too high doses, and is the active constituent in cocaine (but only if highly treated. Coca leaf is not cocaine.)
Am I Warning You Not To Take Or Try Coca Leaf?
Lord, no. That would be like saying not to wear shoes because some idiot decided to wear her's without tying the laces and then fell when they got stuck in an escalator.
But use it with respect. If you have a bad headache or nausea. If you're suffering from altitude sickness or to perk you up if you are extremely tired but have no choice but to keep working, particularly physical work. Coca leaf can also be used to blunt symptoms of withdrawal. It's not meant as a casual pick me up before going out dancing and certainly shouldn't be mixed with alcohol or other substances, depressants or stimulants.
Learning By Trial & Error
I've always been my own guinea pig when experimenting with herbal medicines. Normally, I'm more cautious, take things more slowly. I test a little of an herbal preparation and see how I feel before downing more.
I should have known better. It's a mistake I'll never make again (probably.)
Photo Credit: A huge thank you to photographer, videographer and 3x Emmy winner JD Andrews of EarthXplorer for allowing me to use his coca leaf photo. He took it while on a recent trip to Peru where he drank and enjoyed coca tea without incident.
Sometimes death teaches more about life than what's on my computer.
After almost four months without a word from me, it's time to answer those gentle nudges of "Where are you?" What's going on with your blog?" I've been getting.
First, again, thank you for asking. I am grateful and, as they say, humbled that not only do people actually read this little red thing of mine, but even notice when it's gone.
But it needed to be. It has become abundantly clear that I needed to focus on my non-blog life.
The Catalyst
Or should I say catalysts, because it's rarely just one thing that causes change in our lives.
This past July while in New York, we learned from a friend of ours in Bocas del Toro that our old landlord Cher, a really lovely woman, had been murdered. By a serial killer. It almost sounds like a joke, but clearly, it's not funny. Not in the least.
Then, when I got back to Argentina after Burning Man, I learned that another friend of ours from Salta, Diego, had also been murdered. I don't really understand what happened. Apart from some vague intimations about it being a gay-related crime, that the murderer was an exotic dancer.... Quite frankly, that's when I stopped listening. Those details aren't the core of the matter. It is more that a really decent person is now dead for no reason at all.
It really fucks with a girl's head, you know?
I Wanted To Blog, I Really Did But...
I stopped writing soon after I heard about Cher's murder. Since then, the idea of writing about what was going on in my head just felt wrong, but to write about something else seemed forced and a waste of my time. I’d rather paint with Lila or hang with Noah or do something altogether different.
So that's what I did.
I Don't Want To Be Too Late For What's Most Important
With all the traveling, running around, trying to develop programs, meeting people and posting, I felt I never had time for anything. My life too often felt like a massive unfinished to-do list and I was always working to reach a constantly moving horizon.
If I continued like that, I would miss out on my real world. So I had to let go of the online world for a while.
My hits were at an all time high when I stopped writing, and I’ve watched them fall, fall fall, as well as watched how my connections with many of the people I know online have faded. That has been hard to see.
But I had intended give Diego a call and get together sometime, soon. By the time I got around to it, I was too late. I don't want to say the same about Lila or Noah or the other people who are most important to me. I want to be truly present in their lives and mine.
Making A Commitment To Real Life & Community
This week, Noah and I will sign the papers to buy a house here in Salta. It will be our home, yes, but it will also be a community center for traveling artists, writers and teachers. (And will be filmed for an upcoming episode of House Hunters International. We're even flying to NY in February to do some filming there.)
So far, we’ve formed connections with local universities and non-profit organizations. We plan to use the internet and social media as a tool to connect students between countries, allowing them to share their work with each other as well as with bring in international artists, writers and photographers, travelers and educators.
The goal of our program, though, goes beyond a creative exchange to an initiative to teach English, keep students in school and ultimately improve their economic prospects by connecting them with an international community.
We just finished our first semester working with 12 year olds at the experimental high school that is a part of the Universidad Nacional de Salta (la UNSa). Next year, we’ll work with the same group of students, incorporate online and gallery exhibitions of art and photography and are working to begin teaching at the two local universities of Salta.
Does This Mean We Will Be In Salta Forever?
It is unsettling to think of being settled. It is overwhelming, too, to commit to one place after being on the move for almost five years.
The underlying assumption of our program is that since it is based on the people, the needs and the soul of Salta, it will not need us permanently to continue growing. We are here until our work here is finished;then we will move on.
Paper Mache Butterfly Wings and Walks By the River
Along the way of designing the project, I stopped to design paper mache butterfly wings with Lila. We picked dandelions by the side of the river flowing near our house. I stepped away from the to-do long enough to start weekly belly dancing classes with a really fabulous teacher. Someone who will be teaching as part of our community center.
And maybe, just maybe, I've learned a bit to accept that the most important thing I want to realize in this life of mine is how to be patient and not be too attached to any one outcome, because the bottom line is you never know what happens next.
Yes, I realize it's been well over a month since my last post. That last post, the one about bulls in the main square of Meynes, said nothing about my sudden disappearance from blogging and from social media for that matter and I've been asked, "Where did you go? What's going on?"
First, I want to say thank you for even asking. The fact that enough people read this blog to care means a lot to me.
This last month, I've been mostly offline traveling and spending time with family. We arrived back in Salta Friday, began a new education project yesterday. I haven't talked much about this project because so many details are up in the air, but soon I'll have something more definitive to say. For now, I can tell you that it was fantastic to be back in the classroom. The students we have are amazing, and I'm really excited for the future of our program.
Tomorrow I leave for Burning Man. You can check out an article I wrote for Craig and Linda of Indietravelpodcast on ten steps to prepare yourself for this amazing event. They'll be publishing a Burning Man packing list in the next few days as well.
I'll be away two weeks, the longest I've ever been away from Lila, and I am feeling apprehensive about it.
In the meantime, I'm still writing and editing at Matador Life where Nick Rowlands and Candice Walsh have been keeping things running at times I'm offline. And I'm working with Simon from Neverending Voyage to rework this blog. I began The Future Is Red over three years ago and much has changed since then. I'd like what I post here to better reflect our new home in Salta and the new work we'll be doing here.
It's been overwhelmingly busy, and I often remind myself of my Five Rules of Banishing Chaos. Mostly of the second step.
It will all eventually get done.
But it's also made me realize, I can't do everything. I'm going to have to make choices. And while we now seem to have a sense of stability we haven't had since we left New York, I feel like now is a time of amazing change.
Suddenly, there were bulls running through the streets of this sleepy town of the beaten path between Avignon and Nimes. What a way to start your round-the-world trip!
South of France, July 2007. We had just arrived in France from NYC and were staying with our friends Ronnie and Michael in Meynes. They used to live in the same building as ours in Brooklyn, and both were deeply instrumental in helping us make the decision to break free from the life we'd known there.
"Yes," Ronnie told me often enough over glasses of wine or cups of coffee. "You've been here long enough. It's time to go." He and Michael made travel a way of life long before travel blogging came along to make it a viable thing to do. They were also my first model of people who happily open their house to travelers.
This particular day, we walked down to the central square of town during the Meynes five day festival to find the streets barricaded with spectators crowded behind, beer or pastis in hand, waiting for the bulls to run back around.
I stood with John -- another guest of Ronnie and Michael's -- each of us with our own beer and marveling at how the way men in Meynes dressed, they would most definitely be taken for gay in NYC.
John works for AirItalia as well as runs Duck Diver Tours -- adventure for gay travelers -- with his partner Edvard. They, too, are inveterate travelers.
Someone let the bull free at the far end of town, then a group of men on horses corralled the animal down to the main square while another group of men on foot wrestled the horned beast to the ground. Testosterone at its best. Both John and I easily agreed on that.
Lila took this photo while sitting on Noah's shoulders.
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