Todo Tiene su Final

Guaymas/San Carlos, MILE: 5100
As is always the case with the ever elusive progression of time, somehow everything has come down to one day, to the end. And in this instance, it comes down to a race against the sunset. My plan for today was to drive from Los Mochis, Sinaloa all through Sonora, cross the border in Nogales and make it to Phoenix…sometime today. I am trying to get in time to celebrate the birthday of my best friend, and have been helping to plan a surprise party for her from over here. So i gotta get there!!

Still no top on the Jeep, and paying for it. Winter makes her presence known all throughout the day now. I can only add layers as it gets colder. But despite all the factors – a long drive, cold weather, shorter days – I find myself here, in Guaymas/San Carlos on the Pacific coast in the state of Sonora, following the rally cry of ‘one more.’ One more stop, one more look at the ocean, once more before this drive takes me home.

Looking out at the Pacific, stretched out far, she dares me to follow to its end. I wink and say, ‘next time.’ Here and on the road my mind plays catch with thoughts that recount and rewind, and others that look out towards the horizon at what’s next. As time got more and more crunched, my time in places shrunk. The last few weeks seemed to fly. After Guadalajara I went to Nayarit, a short but sure welcome back to the North of the country. There I met up with Ericka and Ivan. Hit the nearby beach of San Blas, a small town made famous by Mana’s song, ‘Las Muellas de San Blas.” By the way, there really was no lady..We sat near the beach and took in some serious micheladas, listened to trios singing our favorite mariachi songs and eventually made our way dizzy to the water. On another day we rolled to a nearby lake, Laguna de Maria del Oro, which is said set in between a mountain, a perfect circle and said to have no bottom. We had lunch practically at the edge of the lake, and finished the night off with throwing a party at Ericka’s house, complete with a live norteno band – like I said, there was no question I had crossed some kind of border towards the north of Mexico. After Nayarit, I drove through the state of Sinaloa stopping in Culiacan and Los Mochi’s, where I boarded a train to the Copper Canyons of Chihuahua. In Culiacan I visited the family of my best friend’s sister in law. It didn’t take long to get reacquainted with the feel of a family and a home. Of course, that is easily done with mama's home cooking. The name of the game in Sinaloa is machaca. mmmmmm. The family dog, a Chihuahua named ‘Sonsin’ – which comes from that he was born in SONora, but lives in SINaloa – took a special liking to me. In Culiacan I mostly rested up and tried to get my plan straight for the last days in Mexico and the party getting organized in AZ.

Now in Sonora things have started becoming more familiar – the land, the accents of folks in this part of the country. And as I drove forward, it’s all come full circle. I am passing landmarks I saw at the beginning of all of this. Where I stopped for gas or asked for directions, where I got lost. And I chuckle at the idea of taking a detour, going south instead of north, starting all over again.
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Guaymas/San Carlos, MILE: 5100, 8207 KM
nota! las computadoras que he usado en las ultimas semanas no las conozco, y no se como poner acentos ni las 'enyes' - perdon si acaso esta jodido para leer...

Con el eterno progresion evasivo del tiempo, como siempre, todo termina llegando al ultimo dia, el fin. En este caso, se trata de una carrera con el puesto del sol. Mi plan para hoy fue que iba empezar en Los Mochi's, Sinaloa y pasar por todo Sonora, cruzar la frontera en Nogales y llegar hasta Phoenix...en alguna hora hoy. Estoy queriendo llegar a tiempo para una fiesta de sorpresa de mi mejor amiga que cumple anos. He estado conspirando para hacerle la fiesta desde aqui. Asi que, tengo que llegar!!

Todavia no tiene tapa el jeep, y ya la estoy pagando. Invierno hace su precencia contar durante todo el dia. Solo me queda envolverme mas mientras mas se enfria en la noche. Pero a pesar de todos los factores - un camino largo, el frio, el sol que baja muy temprano - me encuentro aqui en Guaymas/San Carlos en la costa del Pacifico en el estado de Sonora, siguiendo el grito de 'una mas'. Una mas parada, una mas mirada al mar, una mas antes de que este camino me lleve hasta mi casa.

Mirando el Pacifico, estirado tan lejos, me atreve que la sigue hasta su fin. Yo guina(?) y le respondo, 'en la proxima.' Aqui y en el camino mi mente va jugando con pensamientos que repasan momentos del pasado, y otros que ven hacia el horizonte a lo que sigue. Las ultimas semanas volaron. Ya cuando el tiempo se me hacia mas apretado mi tiempo en los lugares se cortaba. Despues de Guadalajara fui a Tepic, Nayarit, un corto pero seguro bienvenidos al norte del pais. Alli conoci a Ericka y Ivan. Fuimos a la playa cercana, San Blas, que se hizo famosa por la cancion de Mana, 'Las Muellas de San Blas.' Parece que no existo la mujer de quien hablan en la cancion...Pasamos el tiempo cerca de la playa, con una cosa seria con las micheladas, escuchando y cantando musica con trios y despues llegamos a entrar a la agua, un poco tarantad@s. Otro dia fuimos a un lago, la Laguna de Maria del Oro, que esta entre montaNas, un circulo perfecto, y dicen que es insondable. Almuerzamos cerca de la agua y terminamos la noche con una fiesta en casa de Ericka, hasta con una banda nortena - como les dije, no habia ninguna duda que habia cruzado algun tipo de frontera al norte del pais.

Despues de Nayarit, fui al estado de Sinaloa y pare en Culiacan y Los Mochi’s, donde borde el tren hacia las barrancas de cobre en chihuahua. En Culiacan visite con la famlia de la cuNada de mi mejor amiga. Pronto me reacostumbre al ambiente de un hogar, de una familia. Claro, fue facil con la comida rica que guisaba mama pancha! Les cuento que la comida ricisima de sinaloa es la machaca. mmmm... El perrito de la familia, un chihuahua llamado 'Sonsin' - porque nacio en SONora pero vive en SINaloa - le guste bastante. Alli mas que nada pude descansar y organizar mis ultimos dias en Mexico.

Ya ahora en Sonora empiezo a conocer mas - la tierra, el accento de la gente de este parte del pais. Y mientras voy adelante, ya como el circulo se va completando. Estoy pasando lugares donde pare para hechar gasolina, donde pregunte por direcciones, donde me perdi. Y me da una riza la idea de desviarme, ir sur en lugar de ir norte, empezar otra vez.

Retrospect for Home, Part 1. Mexico

En route to Copper Canyons - Chihuahua

I boarded 'El Chepe' before sunrise, groggy from sleep and thrown off by the background music of 'The Godfather' at the train station in Los Mochis. Headed towards the canyons of Chihuahua. It's a long and slow ride up...

My tendency at this point of the trip has been to try and sum up and gather the lessons. As much as I try, it seems to big to wrap my arms around. There seems to be no sum up, no big lesson. Simply the outcome of what happens when you place yourself in the everyday fabric of a place. Sometimes you weave in, sometimes it all snags. Perhaps rather than gathering up its about stretching out my arms, letting it pass, letting it go, sink in.

As I prepare to return to Arizona, I'm struck over and over again with this word - HOME. How complicated it is, how it may never cease to be complicated for me. Coming here to Mexico was another attempt to immerse myself in it all, to try and make meaning of these words - roots, homeland. The feelings have been bittersweet. At times I felt at home, and other times, like a stranger. Because i know these branches grew so far away from their roots.

In cities and towns I visited, often times I would sit and watch the crowds of people in the street, people in cars driving by. The honking, the conversation, the buzz of a place. I would imagine all the people of that place who have left, who are now living far away. Imagined that part of their souls still followed their daily routine, that they walk amongst the people of the present. Get up, get their coffee, buy their food at that one corner store they like, take the same route to work everyday. And when a person leaves their home, the whole world must seem like its flipped upside down. But it doesn't end there, the ripples go on for generations. You cannot quanitfy the impact of a child losing the language of a parent. Cannot ever change the fact that the place that is home to you may not have the same meaning to them. That life inevitably goes on, time passes and people change. What is disconnected does not always fit the same upon return.

Sitting here, the ripples touch my toes and I remember ancestors, squint my eyes to recognize the land. I could've gone to some other place, could've even come to the homeland and gone to the Acapulco's, the Puerto Vallarta's, the Mexico that is gift wrapped for guests. But I have refused to walk my homeland as if in a museum, looking at artifacts of daily life behind some glass wall under flourescent lights. Because it is not dead, it cannot be the past. It is here, it is now, it is in me.

That contradiction lives on, in my existence. Because I am going home, and I am driving north. And it is home because on my arrival I will hear my mother's voice, will see my nephews who have grown taller than me, my friends will pick me up and we'll go somewhere I've been before. And it is in a place called Arizona, where my people are being hunted and persecuted because they have long ago been declared 'other.' I shake my head, because I cannot make sense of all of it. The ripples go on and on. And I cannot undo what has been done, cannot undo that I was born in that place and I cannot make what is half whole.

I ask myself then, is it that I leave broken hearted? Sorry for so many halves? To all of it, this chicana leans, tilts her head and says, 'y que?' (so what?) I pick up the Mexican flag before any stars and stripes, y que? I can also jam out to some weird classic rock shit, y que? My Spanish is always under construction, y que? At a certain point, home is both a place and a concept. You either water it, or it goes dry. And I plan to return here many times, hoping that I will recognize more and more and more. And maybe, one of those times, this home will recognize me.
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Borde 'El Chepe' antes de que saliera el sol, con sueño y sorprendida por la canción de la pelicula 'El Padrino' que tocaban en el fondo en la estacion del tren en Los Mochis. Iba hacia las montañas de Chihuahua y las barrancas de cobre. Sera un camino lento y largo para arriba...

Mi tendencia en esta parte del viaje ha sido de tratar de hacer resumen, juntar las lecciones. Y aunque trato, es tan grande que mis brazos no alcanzan abrazar todo lo que hay. Parece que no hay un solo resultado, ninguna gran leccion. Simplemente es lo que pasa cuando un se pone en la tela de la vida diaria de un lugar ajeno. Y a veces uno se teja, y a veces no. Quisaz en lugar de juntar es cosa de estirar los brazos, dejarlo pasar, dejarlo ir, que se penetre.

Mientras me preparo regresar a Arizona estoy constantemente estancada con esta palabra - hogar/patria. De que complicada es, que quisaz siempre sera algo complicado para mi. Viniendo a México fue algo de mi parte para sumergirme, para tratar de darle sentido a estas palabras - raíz, patria. Los sentimientos han sido agridulce. A veces me he sentido como en casa, a veces como una estraña. Porque se que estas ramas han crecido tan lejos de sus raices.

A veces en ciudades o pueblos que visitaba me ponia a ver la gente en la calle, la gente pasando en carros. El sonido, la conversación, la energia de un lugar. Imaginaba a toda la gente de ese lugar que se habian ido, quien ahora viven muy lejos. Imagine que parte de sus almas todavia seguian sus rutinas diarias, que caminan alli entre la gente del presente. Se paran, toman su cafe, compran su comida en aquella tienda de la esquina, toman la misma ruta al trabajo...y cuando una persona se va de su patria, el mismo mundo debe sentirse como que esta al reves. Pero no termina alli, las ondulaciones siguen por generaciones. Uno no puede renumerar el impacto de un hijo perdiendo la idioma de sus padres. Nunca se puede reparar el hecho de que el hogar no tendra el mismo significado a ell@s. Que la vida inevitablemente sigue, el tiempo pasa, y la gente cambia. Lo que es desconectado no siempre cabe igual al regresar.

Sentada aqui, las ondulaciones tocan mis pies, y recuerdo mis antepasados, escudriñan a mis ojos para reconocer la tierra. Podriar haber ido a otro lugar que no conozco, hasta podria haber venido a la patria y ido a los Acapulco's, Puerto Vallartas - al Mexico que esta como un regalo envuelto para los huespedes. Pero rechazo la idea de caminar mi patria como si fuera un museo, viendo los artefactos de la vida diara detras de una pared de vidrio bajo luces fluorescentes. Porque no esta muerto, no es el pasado. Esta aqui, ahora, y esta dentro de mi.

Esa contradiccion vive, en mi existencia. Porque ahora me voy a mi hogar, y manejo al norte. Y es mi hogar porque en mi llegada escuchare la voz de mi madre, voy a ver mis sobrinos que me van pasando de altura, mis amigas vendran a recogerme y iremos a un lugar que conozco. Y es un lugar llamado Arizona, donde mi gente son perseguidos y atacad@s por haber sido declarados como 'OTRO' hace mucho tiempo. Las ondulaciones siguen y siguen. Y no puedo deshacer lo que ya esta, no puedo deshacer que naci en ese lugar y no puede hacer lo que es la mitad entero.

Me pregunto a mi misma, entonces, es que me voy con el corazon roto? Con remordimiento por tantas mitades? Pues, a todo eso, esta chicana responde, y que? Siempre volare una bandera Mexicana antes de cualquiera de estrellas y rayas de azul y rojo -y que? Tambien me pongo a cantar con unas canciones del rock clasico gringo - y que? Mi espanol siempre esta bajo construccion - y que? De cierta manera hogar es un lugar y un concepto. Y le das agua o se seca. Y yo, pues, pienso regresar muchas veces a esta tierra, con la esperanza de que cada vez voy a reconocer mas y mas y mas. Y, quisaz, una de esas veces, me conoceran.

On a Mission for Mariachis

MILE: 4325
On Monday me and Jeepie left Morelia topless (jeepie, not me) for good. After that episode with the top flying off the night before, I checked the damage out and i saw I would have to re-something to all the screws..my vocabulary is seriously failing me, i forgot the word. anyway, my assessment was FUCK IT..onward to guadalajara!

when i got there, i rolled towards el centro, which has become sorta my routine when i get somewhere and don´t really know where i´m going. i figure i may be lost where there´s some kinda action. i ended up staying at a hostal, and i´ve stayed at...3 so far on this trip. I never stay long enough to develop any relationships. and i often get repelled at so many euro´s and gringo´s who travel the world and haunt these hostels, stretching their tongues to new languages. this place was especially too cool for school, there were a bunch of some kinda hipsters doing a photo shoot there when my scrappy ass rolled in. i took advantage of the fact that the place had a bar (thanks hipsters!) and ordered a havana club with coke and smoked in silence.

the next day, i had no real plan, or much of an orientation. after so many towns and cities, things start to blur a bit. i only had one day, and by late afternoon i was beginning to worry i was missing out on sinking my teeth into such a great city. i wandered around till night, and randomly, a friend i was meeting with further down the road ended up connecting me up with one of her friends who lived in the city. a guy by the name of ´cappy´. cappy is short for captain, and after we met up, we went for --- of course, chelitas at a nearby bar. i was confused at cappy´s stilo, he was hella perceptive and poked security holes all through my trip (what else is new). it turned out he was the personal pilot and head of security for a family that owned one of the countries most prestigious universities. a ha. That explained a few things. It was super interesting to hang, like johnny cash hed been everywhere, if you know what i mean...

but cappy gets a 10 cause he took me to see the singlehanded most important thing i wanted to see in guadalajara -- mariachis!! it was this spot called casa bariachi, which is a pretty big restaurant/bar, with long tables in front of a pretty big stage, and seating all around the bag. huge lit piñatas hang from the ceiling, and there´s plenty of tequila to drown out your sorrows or shout out some kinda AHHHHHHUUAA!!

Mariachi Cuautemoc played that night and they were amazing..i think i had a permanent smile plastered on my face. I could now die happy, and leave guadalajara. And I did (leave, not die..ha ha). The next day, I drove past the agave fields of jalisco and traded them for the volcanoes, red dirt and pink sunsets of the state of nayarit. next stop, tepic.
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MILE: 4325
Jeepie y yo nos fuimos de morelia sin la parte superior (el jeep, no yo..). Despues de que la tapa se descompuso investigue el daño el dia siguiente y vi que iba tener que re-hacerle algo a los tornillos..ya ni se explicarlo, mi vocabulario se va acabando, se me olvida la palabra(igual el ingles y español). Pero, mi decision fue a mandarlo todo a la chingada...adelante a guadalajara!

cuando llegue, me fui hacia el centro, que ha sido mi rutina cuando llego a un lugar y no tengo a donde llegar. al fin me quede en un hostal, durante el viaje me he quedado en ... 3. nunca me quedo suficiente tiempo para hacer amistades. y a veces me repelan los euros o gringos alli, porque pueden ser bastante prepotente. en este hostal, era ese tipo de ambiente con un grupo haciendo un tipo de sesion de fotografia cuando llegue yo toda mechuda! pero, tome aventaja que habia un bar (gracias, hipsters) y ordene un habana club con coca. bebi y fume en silencio.

el siguiente dia, no tenia un plan, tampoco una orientacion. despues de tantos pueblos y ciudades, las cosas se mezclan un poco. sabia que solamente tenia un dia, y ya para la tarde me preocupe que no iba por lo menos conocer un poquito esta ciudad tan chingona. ya despues, por casualidad, una chica con quien iba llegar ya mas despues en el viaje me conecto con su amigo que vivia en guadalajara. uno que se llama "el cappy" que es corto por el capitan. nos encontramos en el centro y --claro, fuimos a las chelas. me confundia cappy, me decia yo, que onda, estuvo analizando toda la seguridad de mi viaje y resulta que es el piloto y cabeza de seguridad de una familia quien son dueños de unas de las universidades mas prestigiosas del pais. ah, pues, eso explica todo! Era super interesante platicar con el, y como el cantante Johnny Cash, ha estado donde quiera (johnny cash tiene una cancion que se llama I´ve Been Everywhere, que quiere decir he estado en donde quiera)..

pero, cappy saca un 10 porque cumpli con el objetivo mas importante que tenia en guadalajara --mariachis! era un lugar llamado casa bariachi, que es como bar/restaurante, con mesas largas en frente de un escenario bastante ancho, con sillas alrededor. unas piñatas luzan el salon, y hay bastante tequila para ahogarte en tus penas o tristeza o para hecharte un AAAAHHHUUAAA!

Mariachi Cuautemoc toco esa noche y fueron increible, tenia una sonrisa permanente en la cara. Ahora puedo murir feliz, y ir me de guadalajara. Y lo hize (irme, no morir). El siguente dia, pase por los files de agava de jalisco y los cambie por los volcanes, tierra roja y las puestas de sol de color rosa de nayarit. lo que sigue, tepic.

Las Mariposas de Michoacan

Dicen que la razon que las mariposas llegan, de tan largas distancias cada año es porque saben precisamente cuando hace sufieciente calor y frio. viajan por todo el continente, canada, estados unidos (haber si no las tratan de deportar tambien)..y cada año se regresan el dia de los muertos, dicen la gente de esa area, para visitar a sus mariposas hermanas y hermanos que fallecieron el año pasado.

son las monarchas, y fui a verlas una tarde cuando estuve en michoacan. y como siempre, la distancia es mas larga que pienso y llegue ya cuando casi si bajaba el sol. subimos la montaña caminando, mas de 3000 metros, iba con un señor. ya llegando, en todos los arboles, estaban las monarchas acomodandose para dormir. colgaban de los arboles como hojas, y me enseño el señor como sabes si es macho o hembra. me decia que en la mañana cuando despiertan que todas volan, y hace un ruido como wuuuuuuushhhhhhh! por todo el bosque.

no me toco ver o escuchar el wuuuuuushhhh pero en la subida hay empezamos a platicar y resulto el señor un PRDista, y hablamos bastante sobre lo que pasaba en mexico. michoacan es en estado que le va mas a la izquierda, me di cuenta. me decia que desde niño fue "inquieto". mi momento favorito fue cuando me hablaba de como tratan a comprar a uno cuando esta involucrado en lucha, de una vez cuando era respresentante el el sindicato en df, y que cuando quisieron ofrecerle casa, y respondio, "no cabron, ni madre, a todos o a ninguno!" ja ja, todavia me pongo a reir porque casi escucho su voz. y pues, ya al fin, el señor quizo mandar este mensaje:

Mi nombre es Cesario Berios, naci aqui en el rosario michoacan, distrito ocampo sancturario de la mariposa.


Quiero mandarles un saludos a todos y a cada unos de mis compañeros por alla. En donde esten, hechenle ganas, no hay que declinar.


Yo estoy en el PRD por los ideales, no estoy de acuerdo con el tipo de gobierno que siempre ha manipulado el pais. Quiero que sepan que la eleccion del 2007 fue un fraude transparente del gobierno fox. no quieren aceptar un gobierno izquierdista porque saben que no va tener esos compromisos con paises como los estados unidos


Los invito a pie de lucha como dijo almo "para el bien de tod@s. no se riendan, que la lucha empiza

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they say the butterflies arrive in the mountains of michoacan every year at the same time because they know precisely when the climate will change. they travel thousands of miles across the continent, from canada and the united states (i wonder if theywill try to deport them too..) and every year they arrive at the same time, on day of the dead, they say because they come to visit their fallen brothers and sisters from the year before.
they are the monarch butterflies and i went to see them one afternoon while in michoacan. and like always, i underestimated the distance and arrived when the sun was going down. we climed this mountain up 3000 meteres, i went with this man who worked at the sanctuary. when we arrived to their spot, they were getting settled to spend the night. they hung from the trees in clumps, and at first glance, looked like leaves. the man showed me how to tell the difference between female and males. the darker colored ones with two really small dots towards the bottom of the wings are the males, the lighter colored ones are females. he said in the morning when they awoke and started to fly and it made this sound wooooooooshhhhh throughout the forest.
i didn{t get to see ors hear the woooooossshhh but during the climb we talked and it turned out he was a member of the PRD and we spke at length about what was happening in mexico. michoacan as a state is actually pretty left. i think he said the PRD had one a good percentage of mayor positions in the state. he said as a child he was always unruly. my favorite moment was when he was recalling an experience, one that demonstrated how they always try to placate people through buying them off. he was a union rep in mexico city and an official offered him a house if he settled and he responded, "no cabron, no way, all of us or none!" i still laugh when i think about it because i can still hear his voice. in the end, he had this message he wanted to send:
My name is Cesario Berios, i was born here in rosario michoacan, ocampo district, monarch butterly sanctuary.

i want to send greetings to all and every one of my comrades out there. whereever you are, give it all you{ve got, we must not go backwards.

I am in the PRD because of its ideals, i don{t agree with the typeof government that has always manipulated the country. i want you all to know that the election of 2007 was a transparent fraud on the part of the fox govrenment. they refuse to accept a leftist government because they know a leftist government doesnt have the same type of arrangement with countries like the united states.

i invite you all to stand up and fight, as said by ALMO, for the good of everyone. don{t back down, the struggle is beginning.

domestic workers are what...dynomite!

during the course of the drive, i´ve gotten into many conversations about what i ´do.´ and that inevitably leads to a good bit of politikin´. in df and also in cuernavaca i was able to have good conversations with folks who have been organizing domestic workers. one was with irene ortiz, who is a real vet, having founded 2 different domestic worker organizations in mexico and having been involved in lots of alliance building of domestic worker organizations in different counties. the other was with patricia from colectivo atabal, a domestic worker association in mexico. in those conversations its been insightful to be able to identify both the similarities and differences between the sectors in mexico and in the united states.


some of the similarities of course, were the challenges. that in this sector, many woman are heads of household and holding A LOT together, which impacts the time they are able to dedicate to organizing. this not only comes through the work, which can fluctuate a great deal, but also because they have what has now been called the double or triple shift. they work, go home and essentially clock in again. the problems that woman are facing transcend issues at work, which also presents big questions for program and approach in organizations. the personal, emotional or health problems that people are dealing with are real. and for an organization, the question exists of how to engage these problems, or not. in particular, colectivo atabal spoke about this and essentially their experience was that if they did not try and do something to try and support the women in this area, their capacity to organize was directly implicated. this rung true for me dating back to POWER. early into building the women workers project we identified this and tried to create ways to provide information and concrete skills for folks to be able to deal with issues of self-esteem, depression, domestic violence.


outreach seems very very similar also. parks seem to be a universal place to be able to meet domestic workers, whether they are working or relaxing. the media, which i think DWU in new york has utilized was also something used by the mexico groups. on a somewhat lighter note, the whole debate of what to call this industry seems to exist all througout latin america. different countries have different terms, irene told me once that they actually had a vote. they announced it on radio and did outreach, had people come to el zocalo in df and cast their vote, what ended up winning was ´empleadas del hogar´... it seems like this discussion is one that will probably be an ongoing one..


something i found especially interesting, which was somewhat a difference and a similarity has to do with the composition of the sector itself. within mexico, the composition of the sector is marked by race/ethnicity and class. there is a migration within mexico from the south to the north, into cities and centers where there is a concentration of wealthy people. this is a direct parallel to the dynamic in the u.s., which demonstrates a global manifestation, with people of the global south migrating to nations of the north for work. those that are forced to make this move are clearly the most impacted by poverty and globalization policies.

it underscored the importance of race and ethnicity within the context of immigration in the sector. as it is a labor struggle, its easy and possible for it to stay that way. however, one cannot ignore this dynamic and the importance of race and class, and of course, gender within the fight. it directly implicates how we fight and what we fight for.
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en el camino, he tenido muchas conversaciones que inevitablemente llegan a la pregunta, de a que de dedicas, eso casi siempre termina con hablando de la politica. en df y cuernavaca tuve la oportunidad de platicar con personas organizando trabajadoras del hogar. una es irene ortiz, una veterana del movimiento quien fundo dos organizaciones de trabajadoras del hogar. otra es con patricia, quien trabaja en colectivo atabal, un asociacion de trabajadoras domesticas en df.

pude en esas conversaciones identificar simulitudes y diferencias en los sectores en mexico en los estados unidos. claro, muchas cosas que hay en comun son los retos. que en este sector, muchas mujers son la cabeza de la casa y tienen que mantener muchisimo, eso impacta el tiempo que pueden dedicar para organizar. el trabajo puede variar mucho, pero muchas trabajan en varios lugares y llegan a la casa para seguir trabajando. los problemas transcenden el trabajo, que presenta grandes cuestiones para organizaciones en terminos del programa y orientacion. lo personal, emocional o problemas de salud son reales. y para una organizacion la cuestion existe de como responder. colectivo atabal en particular hablo de esto, que su experencia era que si no hacian nada al respeto que impactaba la abilidad y capacidad para que las mujeres se organizaran. eso me recuerdo de experencias en power cuando estuvimos construyendo el proyecto de mujeres trabajadoras, identificamos esto y tratamos de crear maneras concretas para dar informacion y capacitacion para los problemas de auto-estima, depresion, y violencia domestica.

el alcanze a mujeres es muy similar. parece que los parques publicos son un lugar universal para encontrar a trabajadoras del hogar. tambien utilizando la prensa, que creo que es algo que hace trabajadoras de casa unidas en nueva york. algo mas que aprendi es que el debate de como llamar este sector existe donde quiera. irene me conto que una vez anunciaron por radio que iba ver una eleccion de como querian llamar su trabajo en mexico, y miles de mujeres fueron al zocalo para votar. lo que gano fue empleadas del hogar...parece que este debate es uno que segira.

otra cosa, que es similitud y diferencia tiene que ver con la composicion del sector. en mexico, la composicion es marcada por clase, raza/etñia. hay una migracion dentro de mexico desde el sur al norte, a ciudades y centros donde hay una concentracion de gente rica. esto es paralelo a la dinamica en los estados unidos, que demostra el fenomeno en lo global, donde gente del sur del mundo se va a naciones de norte para trabajar. la gente que es forzada imigrarse lo hace claramente por pobreza y polizas de globalizacion. para me sobrerayo la importance de raza y etñia en este sector, con el contexto de inmigracion. como es una lucha obrera, es facil que se quede simplemente asi, enfocada en lo del trabajo. pero no explica todo, y no se puede ignorar la importancia del papel de raza, etñia, clase y claro, genero dentro la lucha. implica directamente como luchamos y lo que exigimos.

hodge podge

morelos, dec. 1 -- MILE: 3203
after oaxaca i went to morelos and stopped in cuautla, tepoztlan and stayed in cuernavaca. cuernavaca seems kinda like a college town because there are universities plus so many language schools, touristy also, it is a very popular haunt for foreigners. i don´t know if it was that i was tired, or as its been in more touristy places i choose to more hang back. i stayed at this woman´s house, irene, who i´ll write more about later. aside from having an amazing house, she had an amazing library and i spent lots of time reaquainting myself with some books on the mexican revolution, and in particular emiliano zapata. i think i was extra inspired, given i was in his home state, and had passed near his hometown, cuautla. its always really interesting to re-read things, things always seem to land in different places. and reaquainting myself a little with that context of those years in which zapata lived and comparing that to what is happening now kept me in this in between place of neither now or then. as i read, there was this reply that one of the hacendados had given the villagers of anenecuilco (where zapata lived) when they demanded back land that was rightfully theirs..the village literally spent centuries fighting for that land, and one of the last replies given to them was, ¨if they want to farm, let them farm in a flowerpot.¨ what happened soon after, is history.

and in the moments i did get out, i was struck by how much the state prides itself on being the land of zapata. zapata lisence plates, businesses with the name of zapata, big mustaches and big hats, monuments...i kept wondering, with revolutionaries who are revered after they have passed on, what would he say about all of this thats done is his name now? and, who are the zapatas of today, most likely they are not revered, instead probably dismissed.
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despues de oaxaca me fui hacia el estado de morelos y pare en cuautla, tepoztlan y me quede en cuernavaca. cuernavaca es como una ciudad universitaria por las escuelas que estan alli. muy turistico tambien, es un lugar muy popular para estranjeros. no se si fue que estaba cansada o que en lugares mas turisticos como no salgo tanto. me quede en casa de una señora irene, y ademas de tener una casa increible tenia una biblioteca bastante buena y pase mucho tiempo leendo libros sobre la revolucion mexicana y en particular sobre emiliano zapata. quisaz estaba mas inspirada porque estaba en su tierra y pase por su pueblo cuautla. es muy interesante leer cosas de nuevo, porque uno siempre saca cosas diferentes. y pude conocer mas el contexto de esos años cuando estaba vivo zapata y comparando con lo que pasa ahora. todo eso me mantuvo en este lugar que fue ni en el presente, ni el pasado. una linea que me impresiono bastante fue la respuesta que un dueño de hacienda le mando a la gente de anenecuilco (donde vivia zapata) cuando exigian que les regresaran sus tierras, el pueblo literalmente lucho por siglos por esa tierra y una de las ultimas respuestas que le dio el cabron fue, ¨si quieren sembrar dejenlos que cultiven en una maceta.¨ lo que paso despues, pues, ya es historia.

y en los momentos cuando sali me impresiono mucho cuanto el estado se llama la tierra de zapata. placas de zapata, negocios con el nombre de zapata, monitos con vivotones y sombreros, monumentos..pensaba, siempre los revoluconarios los aprecian ya que no estan, que diria zapata hoy con todo que se hace y dice en su nombre ahora? y quien son los zapatas de hoy, probablemente no son reverenciados, en lugar atacados.

ciudad mexico, dec. 3
i decided to leave the jeep in cuernavaca and take a bus to mexico instead. only one hour away, and it would save me some likely nightmares on the road. in df i stayed with aurora esteva, gloria´s sister and was able to peice together more of the esteva family puzzle. i wasn´t sure what to expect, given that i´d met revolutionaries, artists, poets, singers so far..i didn´t know who i would find! i spent lots of time talking with aurora, who kept me laughing with stories about gloria, who someone once said of her, ´if she´s selling rocks, then rocks people will buy!´ it made me miss her daily occupations of the door to my office at POWER telling me the latest big idea she had. i also loved seeing some old school donaji pictures, with all her different hairstyles! during my time in mexico i also had a chance to visit with two groups - one is comite pedregales in santo domingo, who is a group i´ve had contact with throughout the years through a compañera marisol. another is colectivo atabal, a domestic worker organization who i heard of through ai-jen. i´ll be writing on both visits in separate blogs. i also met up with a comrade ray from back in the day in arizona, i´ve been working with him on some upcoming campaigns in arizona around immigration.
other than that, mexico was mexico. always impressed with the metro. struck by the immensity of it, the pace. everybody has somewhere they gotta be, yesterday. you try and find your way or at least not get in the way, and by the time you settle in, you´re rushing around too. the other crazy thing was that there was an ice rink in el zocalo! it was a straight trip! right in the middle, a huge ice rink with bleachers all around, and huge light displays. and let me tell you, mexican@s may not know how to ice skate, but they did not give a damn. that line was long and half the people were holding on for their lives against the walls, and plenty fell. but it didn´t seem to matter...cause they was ice in el zocalo!! after that, aurora and i left the spectacle and sought out the danzantes. there, tucked in some corner away from the crowds they were assembled, with a big group of people watching. they turned the shit out, some of the best i´ve ever seen. despite the hoopla just meters away, to me, they were the best thing happening...
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decidi dejar el jeep en cuernavaca y tome un camion hacia mexico. pense, queda solamente una hora y podia evitar unas pesadillas en el camino. en df me quede con aurora esteva, hermana de gloria. pude poner varios nuevas piezas al rompecabezas de la familia esteva. no sabia que iba encontrar, como ya de esa familia he conocido revoluconari@s, poetas, cantantes, artistas..pase un buen tiempo con aurora, siempre yo reendome con sus historias de gloria, que alguien dijo una vez, ´si ella vende piedras, piedras son lo que comprara la gente!´ me hizo estrañarla y sus plantones diarios en la oficina contandome sobre la nueva idea que se le ocurrio. tambien me gusto a ver fotos viejas de donaji y todos sus estilos de pelo. durante mi tiempo en mexico tambien pude visitar a dos grupos - uno es el comite pedregales en santo domingo, quien a conocido por unos años por medio de una compañera marisol. otro es el colectivo atabal, una organizacion de trabajadoras del hogar, a ellas las conoci por medio de ai-jen. escribire sobre esas experencias en otra parte. tambien vi a un compañero ray de arizona, he estado trabajando con el sobre unas campañas en arizona acerca la inmigracion. mas que eso, pues, mexico era mexico. siempre impresionand por su imensidad, el ritmo. todos van a la carrera, tenian que ver llegado - ayer! y uno se trata de colocar, encontrarte, o por lo menos, no estar destorbando. para ya cuando te acostumbras, terminas corriendo tambien. la otra cosa bien loca fue de que pusieron una pista de hielo en medio del zocalo! fue bien loco! alli, en el medio, una pista grandisima, con graderios alrededor. la cola estaba larga y muchos mexican@s como no sabian muy bien como patinar pero les valia, hay andaban pegados a la pared pero con sus patinas y en el hielo. despues, aurora y yo nos fuimos del espectaculo y buscamos los danzantes. alli, en una esquinita alejados de la mayoria del gentillo estaban, con un grupo bastante grande. se aventaron, de los mejores que he visto. aun con todo el drama con la pista muy cerca, algo nuevo, para mi, fue la mejor cosa.

morelia, dec. 9 MILE: 3937
think i´ve hit the rough spot of the trip. have passed through some hard days. throughout this time, i have tried to be very perceptive and in touch with what´s going on around me, but also what´s underneath. meaning, i´ve tried as much as possible to integrate spirit into my decisions of what i do and don´t do. recently i think i made what turned out to be a big error in taking a detour on my route and it led to shit that i´m still grappling with.

traveling alone has its perks and its challenges. though i can stop, go and do as i please, it also means that i alone have to make sure everything is cool. the jeep, though it has ran like a CHAMP, has its hard days. for example yesterday i drove to butterfly sanctuary and the front latches for the top flew off, nails and all, which meant it the top was flying around. this while i´m driving in the dark, on a narrow road, with cars coming at you crazy with their brights on. i coudn´t pull over and the whole thing sounded like it was gonna fly off. ha! i laugh about it now, but i had to stop 3 times and wrestle with it. finally took the whole top off and drove ass cold back to morelia, smoking cigarettes and singing really loud to make myself warm.

and i also think that maybe its getting to be lots of stuff to take in without really letting it out somewhere. i miss my people i am so used to talking to, spending time with. so know that i am thinking of you all and missing you lots. for now, i´m shaking it off, porque no me se rajar. and the truth is, for every bad thing that´s happened, there are have 10 good things.
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creo que pegue la parta mas dificil del paseo. han sido unos dias bastante dificiles. durante todo este tiempo en mexico, ha trado de percivir, estar consiente de lo que pasa en mi alrededor, pero tambien lo que esta abajo. quiero decir, a tratado de integrar el espiritu en mis decisiones de lo que hago y lo que no hago. recientemente creo que hize una decision que resulto probablemente como el error mas grande en desviarme de mi ruta y tuvo resultados bastantes desagradables que aun todavia estoy enrededada.
viajando sola tiene sus beneficios y retos. aunque puedo parar, ir y hacer lo que quiero, tambien quiere decir que tengo que yo solito asegurar que todo va bien. el jeep, aunque ha corrido como un campeon tiene sus dias dificiles. ayer lo maneje al sanctuario de las mariposas y los tornillos de la tapa de enfrente se rompieron y la tapa estaba volando! esto mientras que ya se oscurecio, voy en un camino bien angusto, los coches vienen en la direccion contraria rapido con sus luces encendidas a lo maximo. no podia para porque no habia donde y hicia un ruido! ja! ahora me da riza, pero tuve que parar despues 3 veces para asegurarlo, ya le quite todo y me fui a morelia en el frio frio, fumando cigarros y cantando para quitarme el frio. tambien, creo que es mucho de ver, pasar sin tener a donde platicarlo. extraño a mi gente a quien estoy acostumbrada, pasando el tiempo. asi que estoy pensado en todos ustedes y extrañandol@s un chingo. por ahora, no me se rajar, me estoy sacudando. porque la verdad es que por cada cosa mala, hay 10 buenas.

The Halfway Point

Somewhere in Oaxaca i realized that this had become more of a 'where have you been' rather than a 'where are you going'. I am past the halfway point of the trip by now. I've since left Oaxaca, drove through puebla, morelos, stopping in cuernavaca and tepoztlan and just left méxico city.

i've settled into some kind of rhythm. The beauty and agony of all of this has been getting lost, to get found, to find my way. And rarely is that something you do alone, but i guess sometimes you do... Its been a trip to worry about few things, basic things, and knowing that even if those fall through its ok. I have loved the road, seeing so much land.

Recently i thought of this exchange me and my pops had before i left. he wasn't too enthused about the trip but wouldn't bring himself to say he was not supportive. because after all, that would contradict his philosophy of 'you're the law'. for a full explanation of the 'you're the law' philosphy, hit me up.. he said, well, i guess if somethin's gonna happen to you it could happen to you here, 5 minutes from your house. then he sorta stopped, shook his head and said, yeah, i wouldn't do it but fuck it. mexico is not like here, every place is different. here you go from town to town and you say the same stores, people dressed the same, same houses. mi mexico no es asi. (my mexico isn't like that) and he was right.

so, i'm at that point of the big u turn, about to start heading west, eventually north. the sun is on my left now, gotta squint in the afternoon rather than the morning. but nevertheless, i still got a long way to go...

p.s. at the bottom of the blog page i put a little album with more pictures...i think if you click it it'll take you to the album itself..
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Creo que era en oaxaca que me di cuenta que todo esto se ha cambiado de mas 'donde haz estado' en lugar de el 'a donde vas'. Ya he pasado mas de la mitad de toda la distancia que voy a recorrer. despues de oaxaca, pase por puebla, morelos y pare en cuernavaca y tepoztlan y acabo de irme de la ciudad de méxico.

ya encontre me propio ritmo. la agonia y lo bonito de todo esto he sido el perderse, encontrarse, y encontrar mi camino. Y es raro que eso sea algo que haces sola, aunque a veces si. Ha sido un pasaje donde me preocupo nada mas por lo basico, y cuando eso no sale, pues tambien esta bien. me ha encantado estar en el camino, ver tanta tierra.

el otro dia pense en esta conversación que tuve con mi papa antes de irme. no estaba muy entusiasmado por el viaje pero no llegaba a decir que no apoyaba. porque, eso contradiciera su filosofia de 'tu eres la ley'. para una explicación completa, me dices... pero dijo, bueno, si algo te va pasar te puede pasar aquí, 5 minutos de tu casa. luego como paro, y se empezo a reirse y dices, si, pues yo no lo haria pero es verdad que méxico no es como aquí. cada lugar es diferente. aquí vas pueblo a pueblo y las tiendas son las mismas, la gente come lo mismo, se viste de la misma manera. mi méxico no es asi. y tenia razón.

ahora, estoy en ese punto de la gran vuelta de U donde empiezo al oeste, luego al norte. el sol ahora esta en mi izquierda, y en mi cara en la tarde en lugar de en la mañana. de todos modos, aunque sea la mitad, todavia falta bastante...

p.s. puse un album de fotos en esta pagina, abajo. creo que si lo sigues te lleva a la pagina donde esta el album