Here´s to the crazy ones.

Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently -- they're not fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can't do is ignore them because they change things... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do. Steve Jobs

  Yesterday, I watched a TED talk that inspired me to be each one of my students´

champion. Every kid needs a champion! 

   Contemplating this, it´s quite a big task, but somebody´s gotta do it, right.  I challenged myself the the last 30 days of teaching to be extraordinary.  To be a teacher that shared new things on a daily basis that weren´t necessarily relevant to the coursework or units, but relevant to life on a whole new level. And maybe, I am a rebel for it, and maybe I just see things differently and meaning differently like Steve Jobs suggested.  However, for now, this is a mission and an important one, because inspiration is integral to our lives as human beings.  We dance around happiness, looking for love, looking for light but really, we just need something to believe in and something to move us forward into action. 

   When I think back of all my professors, the ones that truly inspired.  I think of Lavada Nicholls, my photography teacher, from High school, who stood by my side as I fumbled towards photographic ecstasy over 4 years and came out with a small but developing eye for beautiful things, but probably more, particularly, the need for human beings to interact with each other and art.  

  I think of Mr. Kennedy, who asked me to stay after class in Expressive writing class.  Everyone knows that terror of having to stay after class and I immediately though I had done something wrong, when in fact, he wanted to praise me and encourage me to publish my work in a mainstream magazine.  My kwirky writing had hit the right note and sent me soaring into believing I was finally, a capable writer.

  When I think of the crazy ones, I think of Chandra Mohanty, who told me, "maybe Hamilton isn´t right for you, maybe you need something way out of your comfort zone."  Looking back, I know she knew me way before I knew myself.  

  You need to know that Bob Palusky, my pottery teacher, who watched me meticulously try to master the art of throwing pots and centering clay, stood by me, knowing that all that ridiculous pneumonia filled passion that I spent in the studio, would one day lead to some powerful hand sculptures.  Our professors that make us good don´t only push us to be funnier and smarter, they push us to go way outside of where we knew existed.  They push us to work harder even when we aren´t good at things.  They push us to want to be successful in things that are initially impossible.  What a big job they had.  What a bigger one I have nowadays with social media, globalism and increasing economic gaps in every small crack surrounding us.  

  Facebook rumor has it, it´s National teachers week and I have to say that being a teacher for the last 11 years hasn´t been a ride in the park.  It´s been a turbulent filled ride around the world, filled with tears, romance, depression, captivation, awe, beauty and sadness, but writing about it, makes me realize, how much I myself embody all those feelings on a daily or weekly basis.  Being surrounded by these emotions only really makes me feel more human. So, in honor of National teachers week, I fully support Steve Jobs´wise words because I would be aimlessly feeling for the light in the dark without those teachers that made me "think different." Without good teachers,making me smile until my face hurt, or smiling and nodding and knowing I would find my path, I would be still wandering through the fields looking for my part to share.  Because of good teachers, I have been blessed to share the love and adventures I find around the world with each one of my students in a hope to inspire equally, magic. 

I want to break free

This past weekend I went away to a technology conference in London. 

 I thought nothing of going to it.  It was just another conference in something that I am interested in.  And yet, going back to Barcelona I feel like I've been on Jupiter and had this somewhat life altering experience.  

I have mixed feelings about the whole experience. Leaving your comfort zone isn't what I would call fun.  I mean there are moments when you learn or do something you couldn't dream possible or when you are intoxicated by cold, fresh air like you would be from taking a shot of tequila or 3, but the word fun isn't what comes to mind.  I think challenged would be the positive side of it but confused would be the opposite side of things.

I guess that was what was scary, how lost and confused I felt after, after feeling confident and secure before I arrived. Now, I don't know where to go or what to do with my life, with my career as an educator.  I feel a little bit more sad about the world and really just unsure of what's the next step, when in the back of my mind I know that I need to be stimulated and inspired by my work which must on some level involve a good deal of intellectual research and discourse, but also involve working with people of varying levels of education, class, race, etc. 

  That being said, everything that I have seen in the last 2 days awakened me to a few clarities:

A) Even though our school doesn't have tons of resources it is a supportive environment for giving its staff the opportunity to develop professionally. I feel I am on the right track and my independent motivation combined with a pretty supportive community has allowed me to personally advance in my understanding of technology, and 75% of what we have finished have aided in students understanding of themselves as individuals and collaborators

B) The bells and the whistles of all these technological ipad/ android apps in the world are beginning to overlap and finding the ones that help push critical thinking skills, and which also have a real and forward set of real world application and lastly, produce something which shows a comprehension of content and ability to understand and explain, are far and few between

C) Asb has to start honing in on one implementation strategy or all of them are going to implode

D) Kids are losing out on some core understandings of basic economics in the world due to all these gadgets and gizmos and all this incessant consumerism largely influenced by the extreme increase of technological devices over the last ten years

E) I have to solve some issues of the world, whether that happens by actually going out into underdeveloped countries and teaching OR by starting to design some projects in school with technology  that actually help people in developing countries gain access to some of the basic human resources we have; something has got to change and quickly.

When we don't know, we are free, but when we know, we inherit chains limiting our freedom.  And the knowledge brings a whole different set of powers, because we have the privilege to choose what we do with this knowledge, do we break free from the chains and try to pretend like we don´t know, or do we summon up all the courage we have and do something.  

Sometimes, especially when I think of my time in Senegal or Southern Venezuela or in the mountains of Chiang Mai, I feel like not knowing is power. The smiles on those faces in those places stemmed from smoking corn cigarettes and playing 3, 6, 9 in a variety of languages; or how about a foreign couple entering the local bar located in the living room of another foreigner; or laughing at the four foreigners sleeping together in solidarity to avoid the danger of a single rat, all of these generate energy you can´t get from an Ipad. 

Often I feel as if our Westernized worries and fears only bring laughter to the poorest people in the world and when we think about them, they can bring laughter to even us and the ridiculousness of our reactions.  

On the contrary our westernized wealthier cultures often bring worry and stress as people travel or immigrate to our countries and sadly this repeats twice as much on our side.  We aim to accommodate but cultural norms sometimes close down communication ending commonly in misunderstanding.

In the end I come back to the Macy Gray lyrics and aim to be bigger, better and bolder in the days to come.

Get up, get out

And do somethin'

Don't let the days of your life pass you by

You got to

Get up, get out

And do somethin'

How will you make it if you never even try

Get up, get out

And do somethin'

Can't spend your whole life tryin' to get high

You got to get up, get out

And do somethin'

'Cause you and I have to do

For you and I

2013 Vision Boarding..

If you could cook up your life, what would it look like? 

Everyday I go in and outside of my life, through my work, through my relationship, through my commute, and through my doings and I wonder if this is what it´s all supposed to be. 

Of course, we all have these waves that we crest and float safely into sure, smoothly, on days that we feel loved and proud of our lives and our work.  And, we have agonizing ones for sure, that seem to take us forever to get into shore, swimming across currents instead of with them, getting sucked down by a huge wave and trying to fight your way out of it.  It´s nothing new and yet, at times, I wonder if I get worse or better at dealing with it all. 

If I could cook up my life, here´s what I imagine it would look like. 

I´d be in love with someone who makes me laugh when we are intimate, challenges my patience levels outside of the classroom, brings my lows to highs and smiles from ear to ear when my highs are on the horizon.  I´d have my life and he´d have his, but we´d meet in between for wondrous voyages and mouthwatering meals.   And to be honest, this is an area which I am comfortable with, but am still trying to challenge completely as well.  I want to be married to amazement and the only place I know I will find that initially is with me.  Making it with another person is a whole different ride in the park. 

I´d be in a job which I feel like I give to the world.  Check on 9/10 teaching posts so far..

But I´d also be in a job where I feel like I am creating.  Less on the artistic side but much more on the literacy/ technology side, I must keep moving forward and pushing those ideas through... Sometimes check... 

And a job where I could make a little bit of money to pursue bigger dreams or crazy ideas.  Negative check.

Finally, I´d be in a job where people take me seriously and respect my ideas, don´t patronize me and value my experience.  A veces, si, A veces, no....

Finally, my life in 2013 and what it would ideally look like.

My commute would be less than 20 minutes.

I would run at least 3 times a week and run a marathon. (in the cards friends)

I would play volleyball on the beach or court twice a week and actually play the whole time.

I would fulfill at least one of the crazy prophecies I have once a week. 

I would cook 3 times a week at home and maybe do the Barcelona Eat with Friends thing..

I would speak Spanish better than I do now.. 

I would break the 50 country mark.. 5 more to go and a couple hundred plus days to do it this year.. 

I would complete some version of "Before the end" project in Spain this year.

Here we go 2013.. Here´s to you, here´s to me and here´s to not only thinking but really doing.. 

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
e. e. cummings 

We remember. We celebrate. We believe.

This title comes from a song we sang in church a lot growing up and I found it an intriguing way to start a post-holiday reflection.

I remember arriving in Banjul, eyes half-open, a smirk on my face and as we walked dreamily through the airport, our entrance into Africa wasn´t so different than any other country I have traveled to.   When we walked out, the completely normal row of drivers holding papers, as to be expected at 3:30 am,  but where was Buba?  Nowhere to be found and hence the adventures with public transport began.  Our first taxi, a small green 1970s version of the Ford focus, rattled up, and so we hopped in.  As we travelled down the smooth Gambian roads, with a cool breath of air blowing through the window and a cute, cozy Spaniard snuggling into me, I felt Africa welcoming me with open arms.
I remember diving into the Atlantic off Gambia for the first time, feeling baptized by the water, a little bit colder than my liking but nevertheless, it was as if I had been cleansed of my sins and resurrected from the hard work of the last few months.  I splashed around, and rode the waves, my mind secretly swimming back to childhood moments of getting lost in the water for hours upon end.

I remember arriving in Ziguinchor, which seemed like a scene from the movie District 9.  It was like a junk yard/ trash deposit that had come alive with old cars dominating the scene.  Men of all colors haggling, stores constructed of car hoods, rope, and plastic bottles selling anything you could imagine and a lingering odor of urine and farm animals.
I remember being thirsty and confused when Andrés directed me to a house in Kartong and said, "This is the bar."
And, we rocked up and a small Guinean man came out and said "What do you need?"
"We can get a cold beer here?" We asked.
"Sure, come in."
And sitting in the cozy living room of this man´s house/ bar, I couldn´t help but laugh about how important it is our definitions are always changing while traveling.

I remember getting told that "Bisous son interdit," otherwise known as "Kissing is forbidden" in the street while getting in some make out magic on the streets of Cap Skerring.


I celebrate the voices, dancing, costs, access to entertainment, energy of the Abene music festival.  While watching African women shake their booties and move their legs dancing like crickets would, I watched, hand in hand with a small African child who had grabbed my hand and insisted we were dance partners, shaking our hips with broad smiles and wide eyes.
I celebrate the fireworks and chaos of Place de Independence in Dakar on New Year´s eve.  Firecrackers flew in every direction.  By some people´s definition, a war zone, energy flew around and lit up people´s faces and hearts.

I celebrate the island of Goree and the ability to walk around freely exploring like it was your grandfather´s old farm house.  Every corner lied photo opportunities people dream of and the tranquility of the island left room for your imagination to create independent accounts of people´s experiences and adventures in this island.

I celebrate a good boogie in Cap Skerring and holding my own in the African discotheque.  I was never a hip hop star.  But somehow, on that magical evening, I was surrounded by a crew of Senegalese men,    busting a move to Sean Paul and somehow, for a moment channeled Rihanna.  We all have moments when we fool ourselves into thinking we are cool.
I celebrate the Saigonesse in Saint Louis.  In general, Vietnamese food makes my world go around; nevertheless, I will be dreaming of the pho we had at the Saigonesse for awhile until something else nurtures my culinary spirit like that again.  Here´s hoping.

I believe that I had the best tiger prawns yet along the Cap Skerring coast, at a fly-infested hut along the beach.  Always reiterating beggars can´t be choosers and expect the unexpected.
I believe that sharing experiences makes color disappear in front of your face.  As we sat in the crowded bus, and more people climbed, kids on every lap possible, a bench and people basically sitting on our laps in the back and finally 5 people holding onto the luggage rack and ladder along the back of the bus as we cruised down the road towards Saint Louis.  You can´t help but share nods, expressions that say "I know, this sucks" or "Respect that we can do this."

I believe in the healing power of hot water and really, how it can make everything better, when you are traveling out of your comfort zone.
I believe from the happiness of the people in Senegal with so little that we all must take a step back and look a little bit closer at appreciating what we have.
I believe that trips like this help us to reflect, laugh, grow, develop patience and to appreciate and value our existence, our partners, our families, our lives.

I encourage you to remember, celebrate and believe.

Hopeful wanderer

My space heater, the size of a microwave with less power than my hairdryer sits behind me, as I long for a warmer place, I sit with a cup of tea, momentarily content at the same time. 

Winter has arrived in Barcelona and after a year and a half here that pinge of anxiousness of where I am in the world and life, lingers.  Nevertheless, for once, in 7 years, I am fairly content and excited about the possibilities of another year or two or three or more in Barcelona. 

Last night, I went to my first football match and though the brisk air and ruthless wind made me think twice about attending, it paled in comparison to the energy in Camp Nou.  For the first time in months, after protests, national strikes, salary discussions and a generally low staff morale at work, I felt a surge of hope. 

And, I really realized that is what Barcelona, ASB, and myself all need at the moment, a little hope.  And the puzzle pieces started to surface in my fingers: a project impossible card, an email from a friend who helped me light up some people´s lives in Venezuela and a hard drive, that miraculously contains some photos that we thought had gotten lost in cyberspace or in a move which multiple people did. 

The project I did in Venezuela changed my life.  It got me reengaged in life and also made me connect with a country that I had generally given up hope on.  

I am not losing faith in Spain.  When I look back at all my wanderings this year, I smile warmly at my two favorite trips I did this past year, both in Spain.  One to Sevilla, with three very different but amazing, inspirational and powerful thinking women.  And then, of course, there was the Camino, something that I will recommend to anyone who enjoys hopefully wandering across a country, across people´s journeys, across one´s individual path and existence in the world. 

So, as 2012 comes to a near close, I am looking forward to taking my wanderlust to a new part of the world, Western Africa, with someone who smiles at the unique world and gets as much satisfaction from random adventures as I do.  I look forward to wandering hopefully in 2013 and getting lost within the possibility of a photography project in Barcelona that might rejuvenate some people´s hope within themselves and connect people who need to know that they are not alone at all right now in this time of crises and change in Spain.  

What lies before me builds a mystery, but the current cold air awakens me to opportunities that creep in corners waiting to come into the light. 

Dear Mr. Chavez

Dear Mr. Chavez,

      I am not sure where to start.  You see, I lived in your unbelievable country for 14 months.  I had the opportunity to travel to the amazing islands, beaches, to Angel falls; one of the natural wonders of the world.  A country with green waves of forest, a country with beaches untouched and charismatic, a country with people who love to dance, sing and hope for a better time.  A country I believe has the potential to be the Thailand and Maldives of the Western hemisphere, and yet, I hugely respect you not wanting to share this because you want Venezuela to be for Venezuelans and that is something that many of the westernized countries I have lived in, including my own, could learn from.
      I worked with the most elitist and also with many of your supporters.  Working at Escuela Campo Alegre, I had the opportunity to meet some of the most educated and professional people I have met in the field of education.  Completing the project "Antes del fin," I worked with pilots, sociologists, photographers, artists, all who have contributed and will contribute more to your country.  I dated a Chavista who idolized your views like you were a God, so much that I started to see some of them as potential truths for a better world, in ways.
      I was fortunate enough to live in a posh area of Caracas, surrounded by green and beautiful housing.  On the contrary, I was lucky enough to travel into the barrios to watch theatre and see how the other side lives.  I am confident that you are a good influence on the people in the barrios.  Their lives seemed comfortable and not much different from mine in Las Mercedes, but still something lingered.   I ran through neighborhoods my colleagues were scared of during the half marathon.  I regularly took public transportation both buses and the metro and walked around during the day.
     And yet, I stand here wishing that it had been the other man who was elected.  Why you might ask, if you have experienced some of the wonders of Venezuela?  And why, if you hold socialist principles like you have stated?
    The thing is, I was terrified.  I was unconfident to let someone, I wanted to employ, a way to help out the underprivileged in your country, clean my house, because I felt that they would steal from me.   And both times, they did.  On top of this, I was robbed on the street for a $20 phone.  If these were only my stories, you could say I was paranoid or stereotyping a country, but the horrors I heard exceed any of any other countries I have lived in or my friends have lived in. Double robberies within hours on the walk to work, babies lives being threatened, airport kidnappings, murders at pharmacies.   And it is not okay that people live in fear; preferring to get in a taxi with someone who has been drinking, then a taxi driver who might kidnap them.  It is not alright that I was terrified to take out my phone in public in fear that anyone might come up to me on the street and take it away.  I was frustrated for my Spanish friend who could not take her son out for a walk during the day because another friend´s baby was held at gunpoint.  This is not how people live; socialism or not.  This is not what we "humans" call living.
    They say you have 6 more years.  It is your time to make Venezuela for Venezuelans.  That means making it a place where people can take back the streets, take back the night and demonstrate everything that their country is to the world.
    So, Mr. Chavez, I challenge you to rise to the occasion and make it the place people want to call home.  You have a long way to go.  45% of your country does not believe you can do it.
   For them and the rest of the world, I do hope you can.

Saludos,
Heather Onderick

Carry on, An Experiment in International Living on the Camino De Santiago

Our shoes were tied, feet already sweating in thick socks, water bottles filled and ready to go and all by a chirpy 5:30 am.  Starting in Pamplona and ending about 350 km later, in Ponferrada, here is a quick glimpse into the world I experienced while walking the Camino De Santiago this summer. 

There we were, Heather and Heather, 20 minutes after watching the running bulls and then being led out of Estella, Spain by a helpful old man who wanted to dictate the entire history of the town to us.  We promised him, "another time," and carried on.  As we neared the path guided by yellow arrows on buildings, glances exchanged, we knew this was going to be a long, tiring day.  We´d had our best night so far, 3 days into the trip, bull watching and dancing with locals, a dinner with an association of students. Nevertheless, an evening on the Camino de Santiago out until 1:30 am, I learned shortly after, was a rare, wondrous and slightly dangerous thing.  

As we began day 4 of our walk, happy to see some pine canopies draped above our heads, taking shelter from the powerful sun.  Shortly later, right next to the Fuente Del Vino, as if by some strange stroke of luck, fellow hungover friends on the Camino, we met Alex, Antoine and Rudolph, some of our best of the Camino friends.  Young, worldly French/ German boys who could charm a cockroach, we delighted in their antics, conversation and ridiculousness for the next week.  Some of the moments included: the early morning Birthday song and presentation to Ms. Rich; getting run out of churches by wirey, old ladies; getting lost on the golf course, eating for kings in Burgos; the Whitney Houston serenade in the plaza; and long good talks about travels, futures, relationships and more.  As far as the generation underneath mine, often  being called detached and not present; Alex, Antoine and Rudolph gave me hope that the future of tomorrow is on the right track. 

The more we walked, the easier it became.  Sometimes, Heather and I walked together.  Other times, nearly 20 minutes apart.  From Burgos to Leon, after Heather returned to Munich, I was often alone and with my thoughts, intoxicated by the nature around me, overflowing energy combined with some tunes I will forever associate with the Camino inspiring great warmth within my body.  

And then, there were walking partners,  Paki and Fernando, from Maturo, who were like surrogate parents, making sure that I was always comfortable, okay, healthy, etc.   There was Beni, a 57 year old Madridleno, with a love for ladies and a vinito.  And, Roberto, a man with a heart of gold, who would dish the world out for you on a platter, if you let him.  Roberto and Beni, were more after walking companions.  We´d meet for a drink or dinner, or a laugh.  Hannah and Adam, a young British couple who saved me in the last three dry, deserted days of the Burgos to Leon stage when I was aching for company.  Italian friends, who tried to communicate by listening in Spanish, responding in Italian, broken English or Spanish.  And that pretty much was the whole nature of the trip, just a group of people, ranging in age from 7 to 87,  trying to get by and wanting to understand each other.  Just think of what could happen in the real world, if people worked as hard to understand one another as they did each day on the Camino.  The funny thing, is that, the communication was often the easy part compared to some of the long days of walking. One night at dinner in Carrion de Los Condes, there was Italians, French, American, Spanish and somehow, four different nationalities in a table of 6. We managed, laughed and shared gigantic grins. 

The translation for El Camino is "the way." And I believe it´s because everyone is doing just that: finding their way in life, love, work, spirituality or just not getting lost as they walk across a country.  For me, it was a way to get to know a country better, its people, its ideas, its landscapes, its hopes and fears.  It was also a way to gain patience, acceptance and more appreciation for nature and it inspired me to be more and do more.  You know you are doing something right when the energy of the earth shoots up through your feet, lifting your head a little higher, giving you healthy natural encouragement to carry on.  Carry on, indeed.