thefutureisred

Picturing Flamingos Flying In the Desert

What a crazy week with visitors galore! First Jason and Aracely from Two BackPackers. Then Audrey and Dan from Uncornered Market arrived. It's been wonderful to meet up with other bloggers, particularly those I've known for a while online but never met face-to-face.

Still, I haven't had much time for blogging. What better time to add another photo for Delicious Baby's Photo Friday?

We saw these flamingos at Laguna Chaxa approximately 45 minutes south of San Pedro de Atacama. It is an unbelievably harsh, yet spectacular place with pockets of life somehow living in the midst of dry, hot, salty land.

I suggest renting a car to reach here. The rental companies in San Pedro have only 4x4s and if you share the ride with a few others, you'll spend less than you would on a tour. I'm not sure many tours go to Laguna Chaxa anyway.

Now, if you'll excuse me, we have more visitors. My parents have just arrived from Atlanta bearing a Snow White dress-up dress and a spiky, furred Webkinz cat for Lila. Shhh. Don't tell her. She'll get a hapy surprise on her birthday next Thursday.

All is quiet and extremely beautiful.

What Kind Of Bird Is This Flying Around My Kitchen?

Funny how often we find birds in the house. Not just here in Salta but also in Atlanta and Bocas. Cardinals, horneros, hummingbirds, too. I found this one flitting about the kitchen recently. Yellow bellow. Red pate. A small creature. Anyone know what kind of bird this is?

I took these photos then set about the project of helping the poor thing return outside. At first, it was petrified. 

Anytime I came near, it would panic and dart back and forth, banging it's head into the screen. After a little while, though, it just ignored me.

I have this weird fear of birds. Prior to this bizarre rash of random birds flying into our living space, I've been attacked -- yes, literally attacked -- by many birds over the years. From an old employers parrot grabbing onto my hand with it's amazingly powerful beak to random birds flying out of the sky trying to peck at my head, I've had my share of negative bird experiences.

I always figured, I'll leave them alone if they leave me alone. But that's not an option when there they are inside on your kitchen windowsill.

So, I grabbed a large curtain our landlord left in the house, climbed up on the counter and waited for the bird to come closer.  Meanwhile, the bird squinched down below the window frame making it almost impossible to catch him with fumbling curtain-hands.  Almost. I reached in and could feel his tiny quivering body -- surprisingly frail -- between my fingers. Captured.

I've never before held a bird, let alone a wild one. Never before have I felt a living creature leave my hands and instead of falling to the ground -- as I half expected -- take flight.

It was exhilarating.

Today, though, no more birds. Today, instead, the house is full of butterflies. Black and orange, about an inch and a half in diameter, they sit on the windows and kitchen table. They land on our hands, slowly flap their wings.

Soon they'll be gone, but my short experience in this country house has shown me that something else will soon take its place. We've been through frogs, birds, horses, grasshoppers, butterflies and bright green beetles as large as sucking candies.

What will tomorrow bring?

Photo Essay: Folding Origami With the Blind

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to teach origami to someone who can't see? I hadn't, until I met my friend Monica at the Salta public library for a lesson.

At the far end of the Salta library -- corner of Belgrano and Sarmiento, across the street from the Salta branch Museo de Bellas Artes -- you'll find a spacious room specially for the blind. That is cienaga in Spanish or the more appropriate term novidente.

Wind chimes tied to the door jingle as you walk in. Maria Elena, the woman who organizes the place, pops out from a back room when she hears me enter. It is a well lit and quiet room with three tables where people study, read and in our case learn to fold origami cranes.

 
 

That's Monica on the left and Maria Elena on the right. Maria Elena immediately asks to join when she learns what we're doing.

Monica taught me to make cranes by showing me step by step. First she'd make the fold while I watched, then I'd copy. I couldn't imagine how she'd teach Maria Elena without the ability to visually show the steps.

It was actually very simple. Monica showed her the first fold and Maria Elena placed her hands on Monica's. Then Maria Elena made the same fold herself with Monica guiding.

It took the same amount of time for Maria Elena to learn the crane folding steps as me. And it didn't take long for me to realize that seeing has many different meaning. It is not different for me to see with my hands as for Maria Elena to see with her eyes. They two are simply different expressions of perception, akin to different dialects of a language.

Another thing I noticed. Each of our cranes had their own personalities. Mine had a longer beak and larger body. Monica's had a longer tail and delicate beak, while the wings of Maria Elena's birds looked as if about to take flight.

What Is Said Through the Augury of Birds?

Playing a bit of catch up: It was a long and round about route to Buenos Aires, taking us through Miami, Panama, Bocas, Costa Rica, a short stop in Lima and then finally. Here.

Miami: Quick stop. Just running from gate to gate. We arrived late, so I wasn't sure we'd make our connecting flight. I asked a woman dressed in an official looking blue uniform how to get to our connecting gate.

"Turn left, then right at the sign," but clearly, she was disinterested.

What she failed to mention is that after turning right, you walk straight for ten minutes, then turn again, keep going, then up the stairs, onto a train. Once the train arrives, you take it I-don't-remember-how-many stops to another building where you keep walking until you reach a crowded waiting room in bad need of rennovation.

We made the flight, just barely. But Lila was hungry and we had no time to stop for food or at duty free for a bottle of wine (Sorry, Randall, at least I brought the M&Ms).

Panama: We arrive in the evening. The airport is packed. We wait for visas, wait for customs, wait for luggage, wait for immigration. Wait, while all the while Lila is still hungry and asking for food where there is no food. I'll admit, thought, she was unbelievably mature about it. It did break my heart, though, when she asked "Why, Mama, did you leave the marshmallows and chocolate chips on the airplane." She asked over and over and over. "I would eat them now," she told me. Even thought she hadn't wanted them on the plane.

IT WAS A MISTAKE. I DIDN'T MEAN TO LEAVE THEM IN THE FRONT SEAT POCKET WITH THE SAFETY CARD AND BARF BAG!!!! I'M SORRY.

Fred's car glided by Tocumen exit just as we walked out. Perfect timing. Thank you again to him for driving through the traffic and pouring rain to get us. We stayed up late talking. Then up early, early for Fred and Mel's new baby's naming. Ilana. She is adorable, looks just like Fred and is quite a child. You can tell she wants to be a part of everything.

I'd like to also add a quick thank you to Rochelle and Mark (friends of Fredd and Mel's) who had us over for Thanksgiving dinner. I love the holiday and was sad to miss it. They even had stuffing. Because really, what is Thanksgiving without stuffing?

That's when we learned of the flooding and mudslides in Bocas. "No way you're going," everyone told us. But I still saw updates on Facebook from friends there. They didn't even mention the rain. How bad could it be? We go anyway.

Of course, we almost don't make our flight because the alarm doesn't go off, and we wake up at the exact time we are supposed to be at the airport. Still, we jump around, shower, grab Lila still asleep and run for a cab to the airport making it just in time. Barely. (So now you know you can be late to catch the flight to Bocas and still be first on the flight if you have a child.)

We spent most of our time with Ozzy and Trevor. They lived in the house behind ours last year. Now, they've moved further down the beach. Ozzy cooked her amazing Turkish food. We hung out, talked, drank wine, and gossipped (once again) about everything we'd missed in Bocas over the six months.

A hawk perched on the tree outside the house, calling and singing while all the tomcats of the island prowled around looking for, well, I'm not quite sure what they wanted, because there weren't any eager female cats around.

What is it with all this bird imagery? First the cardinal in Atlanta. A very unexpected Thanksgiving turkey, and now the hawk.  If life is art, then someone is trying to tell us something.

I choose to think it's something good.

(More on the rest of the trip to come... specifically with pictures. Some really lovely ones from a cloud forest in Costa Rica, outside of San Ramon.)