Saludos (greetings) from Mexico,

Do you ever have a story to tell that you can’t figure out where to start? Let’s just hope I can figure out how to end it!

At the moment I’m in La Mision (Miss-ee-own), Baja California, about 40 miles south of the border. I’m here to teach a photography class.  I’ve been coming to La Mision my entire life (my grandma used to live here) but for most of that time just came down to the house or went to the beach, without really getting to know the surrounding Mexican community.  It occurred to me that I have been teaching photography to teenagers in LA and in Ecuador (www.photopiece.org for more info) so why not do a class here in La Mision as a way of building bridges and relationships? I pitched the idea to Marty Harriman (who has also been coming here her entire life and whose parents knew my grandma) and before I knew it we had the students and the sponsors for the first ever La Mision Photopiece.  We’re now in week 3 of the class. We hope to have an exhibit at a local fiesta over Memorial Day Weekend (consider yourselves invited!).

In the course of planning for class a couple of weeks ago, Marty happened to mention a book that she was reading, written by a retired Presbyterian minister, who happens to live here in La Mision. I had never met him or heard of him, but the book sounded interesting.

The following week I happened to be talking with one of the staff in my own presbytery and mentioned that I would be in La Mision. “I know someone who lives in La Mision,” he said, and of course, it was that very same retired Presbyterian minister! Turns out this same man had worked at Bel Air Presbyterian Church, where I worked right after college, and also at the Immanuel Presbyterian Church, which is where we teach the photography classes in LA.  Oh yeah, he also went to Princeton Seminary and spent time in St. Andrew’s, Scotland!  He and his wife recently moved here full time (from Connecticut) after he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease.

So, last weekend Marty Harriman arranged for us to meet and this weekend he and I will be leading an impromptu Easter service together!  As my dad used to quote from the A-Team, “I love it when a plan comes together.”  The service will be on the beach at 10:30AM (complete with a Karaoke machine to amplify the sermon) to be followed by a brunch pot-luck.  Feel free to join us if you find yourself in the neighborhood!

I don’t have a phone or internet here at the house. So, in order to send this out I have to climb under my neighbor’s porch to get to their patio to pick up their wireless signal (not quite the pony express) so I might as well bring it to a close and start that process.

Feliz Pasqua y hasta luego.

Greetings from the garden,

I have to say I got many funny responses to my email about ‘manually’ pollinating the squash…

After all that effort with the Q-tip I found out from a community college herbs and vegetables class (definitely an email in its own right) that the problem was likely either too much water or not enough carbohydrates. Though I contemplated pouring some spaghetti in the pot, I tried the ‘less water’ approach first and it seems to have worked like a charm!  My mom did comment that this seemed like a lot more work than simply going to Trader Joe’s…

I’ve also been doing some gardening with Tommy (he’s 7) in his grandparents’ (Martha and Jack) backyard.  So far we’ve got an herb garden, some undocumented succulents (yes, there’s a story there), cherry tomatoes, peppers and even a pumpkin patch! Martha makes the best pumpkin pie in the world, so Tommy figured we should grow her some pumpkins to make it from.  He also wanted to put in a fountain and a fish pond, but I told him that might be out of the scope of our initial gardening phase. In the experimental section of the garden we’ve planted an avocado pit. I think we might have some guacamole in about four years, if we’re lucky.

When I can fit it in amongst all of the gardening I am actually doing quite a bit of freelance work these days…writing, photography, and websites as well as preaching two weeks in a row. The first week I preached to the choir—literally!  I think there were about 8 people in the choir and about 7 in the pews… It was actually wonderful getting to know the 15 of them!  The following week I preached to more of a traditional congregation, size-wise. There was one funny moment when the offering had been collected, the ushers were standing in the back, the organist was playing, and playing, and playing…and all of a sudden I realized that I was supposed to stand up and call the ushers back to the front for the prayer. I wonder how long we would have sat there? If you are interested in the sermon I preached, it is posted (in text form for now) and called “It’s a Crazy Story.” Honestly, it really is a crazy story.

Finally, I am getting ready to head to Ecuador tomorrow for my third “Adopta Una Familia” trip with Erica (seminary roommate) and a team of about 70 gringos. We will all be staying with Ecuadorian families and while they will all be doing hard manual labor (mostly construction) my job will be to photograph them sweating!  Actually, this year I will also be teaching a photography class to 10 teenagers from the barrio. It should be fun, and I can’t wait to share the pictures with you! It is a mini version of something called photopiece that I have been helping my friend Leanna to teach in downtown LA last fall and this summer.

Stay tuned for (hopefully, internet connection willing) photos and updates from Ecuador…

Growing up in Newport Beach I didn’t have much opportunity to spend a lot of quality time with cows. So, on the way back down from a four hour hike (alone) in the Alps (apparently there are three mountain ranges in Austria–rocky, grassy, and granite. I was hiking in the grassy range, hoping to get to the top of a peak that would allow me to see all three. Unfortunately my trainers were not sufficient for the snow-covered final ascent to the top, but I still had a good hike up and took lots of pictures) when I encountered three cows (at least one was a he–does that make him a bull instead of a cow? Once again, I was never in 4h…) on the path in front of me I was not sure what to do.

One of the three cows (the bull–by the way, they all have horns, males and females) was closer to me, the other two were behind him, further down the path. He looked at me. I looked at him. He did not seem friendly. Maybe he thought the same of me. I took a step toward him. He did not move. I yelled. He cocked his head, but still did not give up any ground. My mind raced. What do I know about cows? Nothing. Are they nice, mean, violent, territorial, easily frightened…? Nothing. Cowboys ride horses. But is that for safety or transportation?

I picked up a stick and waved it at the cow/bull. In response he pawed the ground with his right hoof (or is that just the name of the foot of a horse? Perhaps my next trip should be to a farm!) The connection was made. Male cow equals bull. Bull equals bull fight. Bull fight equals a slow miserable death by goring. No thanks. I backed off and waited. The three cows did not move. This would have been fine, except that I had to get to dinner, and was already risking missing it entirely. Fasting wasn’t in my plans for the evening.

To my left, uphill, was a rather steep bank with a mess of trees and brush. I decided I would have to go up and around and return to the path downhill from the cows. So, still in my trainers, I climbed my way up the side of the bank by grabbing on to saplings and wedging my feet into the mud hillside. It was slow going. Mr. Bull started roaring (even I know that cows don’t roar, but this was definitely more fierce than a simple moo) with his head pointed in my direction. Was this directed at me? Was it threatening? Or was he simply saying to the other two, “look at this crazy girl, so scared of us that she is scaling the hillside!” I kept moving. How fast can a cow climb a hillside? My guess is, fairly quickly. As far as I know, though, cows cannot climb trees. Unfortunately, neither can I.

I═creeped along the hillside, at one point using the branches of a fallen tree as support while I crossed a mini waterfall/canyon. Finally, downhill from the three cows I realized that I was still about 15 feet up the═(steep) hillside, with not much for support along the descent. Mr Bull started making noise again and seemed headed in my direction. I needed to act quickly. Unfortunately there was no one there to witness what happened next. All I can tell you is that in one motion I was down the hill, on the path, with mud covering my backside, right leg, and right arm, a few small puncture wounds in the middle finger of my right hand, scratches on my left shin, and an ache in my left knee from hitting something on the descent. No matter. At least I was free from the three menacing cows. I hobbled the rest of the way down the mountain to dinner, only a few minutes late, but covered in mud. Fortunately, we did not eat beef.

The moral of the story? I am not sure there is one.═ Better to slide down a mud hill than be gored by a mad cow?

For those who are wondering what the heck I am doing in Austria (other than outwitting bad-tempered bovines) let me give you a bit more information.

After finishing the photography course I left Paris for Taize, a monastery/retreat center in the Burgundy area of France (pictures from both are posted) and spent a weekend in communal living with 3000 of my closest European friends where German was the most dominant language but English was the only common language. It happened to be a holiday weekend in both Germany and France because of Ascension. Ascension celebrates Jesus’ returning to heaven after appearing to his disciples having been risen from the dead on Easter. I found it interesting that France, which seems to consider itself such a secular country, has a holiday for Ascension, while the US, often claimed to be such a Christian country, does not. The bottom line was that due to the holiday weekend train fares from Paris to Taize were a lot harder (and more expensive) to come by!)

After four days of communal living I was glad to fly to London for a few days of respite with my friend Meg. I know Meg through my seminary roommate, Erica, and have been on the two Ecuador trips with her. She is living and working in London for the time being. While in London I also had the chance to meet up with my friend Henk, who I met in Thailand last year, who runs a cafe (www.cafeforever.org) in a Bangladeshi immigrant area of London.

From London I flew to Salzburg (the low fare airlines in Europe are fantastic!) to meet up with seminary friend Kim, who is in Austria for her brother’s wedding. We spent a week hiking in the Alps (amazing pictures and crazy stories, including hiking up alongside a waterfall in the snow and lunch in a hillside hut with an Austrian man named Walter, both of which I will post when I get back to my own computer) from Zell Am See to Innsbruck. Apparently Austria is having what they call a Sheep’s Winter. Depending on who you ask this happens either every 20 or 30 years. Either way it means that much of our hiking (still in the trainers) was either in the snow or the rain. I have added a pair of gloves, a beanie (sorry Melissa) and a blue plastic rain poncho to my traveling attire. From Innsbruck Kim headed to Vienna for her brother’s wedding and I made my way to Mittersill to stay at Schloss (castle) Mittersill, a Christian retreat center within an old (15-16th century, I believe) castle on the side of a hill. Thanks to Julianne for recommending it to me while I was staying with them in Belfast! From here I will return to Salzburg for a few days and then back to London.

Tchuss (the German version of Malawi’s tionana, otherwise known as see you later),

Though I have found free wireless internet access in Paris, it happens to be on the front steps of a church, outside along the street. This would be a bit odd to passerby, but otherwise fine, except that I think it is beginning to sprinkle…

But while I had the chance I wanted to say that yes, I made it safely out of Malawi and had a wonderful trip. I have a selection of my pictures posted.

The other big news is that my friends Stuart and Julianne and I all successfully finished the Belfast Marathon! The course was a bit random…including a jaunt by the city dump, a finish line hidden along a winding path through the Ormeau Park, and a remote stretch of no spectators and no water stations from miles 18 to 22 (when we definitely could have used both!) but we had fun and we did it! Pictures from the marathon (I bought a disposable camera and carried it along our way, and Stuart’s parents came and cheered us on and took photos at three different points along the way) as well as some other Northern Ireland adventures are also posted.

On Saturday I flew into Paris to begin my ten day photography course here. (I have to say that a man just walked by and said something to me in French—keep in mind, I am just sitting along the street, on the ground! I looked at him, smiled, and didn’t say anything back (I know more Chichewa, the language of Malawi, at this point than French) and he caught on and said ‘addiction’ pointing to the laptop…who me, addicted to the internet, sitting on the ground in the almost rain? Nah.) The course is taught by an American who lives in Paris and there are twelve of us in the course, all Americans (it is an American company that offers these workshops around the world). There is one guy from San Diego in the course, another woman from Vermont whose family lives in Huntington Beach, and another man who lives in NYC, Jewish, and very involved with the Israeli/Palestinian issue, so much so that when I said I was Presbyterian he responded by giving me an earful of the Presbyterians recent discussions on divesting from companies that support Israel’s occupation of Palestine. Needless to say (which Jack says is a pointless thing to say…if it is needless, why say it?) we had quite an interesting dinner conversation last night, given my recent experiences in Israel and Palestine.

This morning as I was heading out to shoot (photos) I met a guy from Bosnia who asked me about the situation of Muslims in America. Yesterday I met a guy from Sudan who has come to Paris to find work, due to the horrible conditions of life in Sudan. This morning I also talked with a man from India and two from Senegal who were selling Eiffel Tower key chains. I did talk to one woman, who I asked for directions to Rue Cler. She shook her head and said something that sounded like Spanish, so instead of my faltering Bonjour, do you know where Rue Cler is, I switched to ‘hablas espanol?’ She was from Columbia and gave me great directions to Rue Cler, in Spanish.

So, so far I’ve got Bosnia, Sudan, India, Senegal, Columbia, oh, and the guy who works at my hotel (more about the hotel in a minute) is from Morocco, a few New Yorkers, Vermont, California…maybe soon a Parisian?

Just a word about my ‘hotel.’ It was the cheapest thing I could find. It did mention that the bathroom was down the hall. I was prepared for that. What it did not mention was that the shower was down the hall, separate, and requiring a key. The key is stored at the reception desk. This is better than the hotel I stayed in in Venice where the actual bathroom was behind the reception desk (I vowed to never skimp on an ensuite bathroom again…til now) which meant going with your towel and toiletries and saying hello to the people waiting to check in… The shower key issue was marginal when I was on the 2nd floor (really what we would call the third, as they start with zero). But the room on the second floor opened out to a very busy street that did not quite down until about 4AM. After three nights of trying to acclimate to the trucks, cars, drunks, tow trucks, motor bikes I realized acclimating wasn’t happening and switched rooms. The only catch was that the only other single room available was on the 6th floor…remember the shower key? Oh yeah, and the other disclaimer, when I was booking the room, along with the showers being down the hall, was that there is no lift. Let’s just saying showering frequently might not be all its cracked up to be…

The sky seems to be darkening, so I will end this for now. One other thing—for those on the west coast you may get this in time to know that the Today Show is broadcasting live today from Paris! Apparently it is in honor of the Da Vinci Code, which opens here tomorrow.