I've put together this list of the top ten most influential fiction and non-fiction books in my life. If you ever wondered where my strange viewpoints and philosophies came from, or if you want a recommendation on a good book to read, you've come to the right place with this list. I've presented the books in chronological order. Please note that this is a list of my most influential reads, not necessarily most enjoyable. That's going to be another list.
Non-Fiction
1. The Bible:
Obviously no discussion of influential non-fiction in this day and age could be free of the bible. In my case, it's especially relevant, as I was raised in a conservative Christian faith. I've read almost the whole thing front to back and studied it for years and years and years... I like the old testament for its stories and the new testament for its teachings. Although I no longer consider myself a Christian, I have maintained respect for (most of) the teachings in the Bible and since I began studying it so intensely at such a young age, it obviously had large effects on my ethos. I especially like Jesus' sermon on the mount: blessed are the humble, the peace makers, etc.
2. The Book of Mormon:
I've gone ahead and lumped all other Mormon books in with this (The Doctrine & Covenants, etc.). Again, growing up a Mormon, having my family follow the teachings of this book and this religion, it influenced my life greatly. Not only do I respect most of the teachings in the Book of Mormon, but any atheist tendencies I have are inherently influenced by my Mormon upbringing. So it influences me as its opposite even as it tries to teach me in a certain way. But I did always love the Book of Mormon. I've read it at least three times all the way through.
3. The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu
Talking about the Tao is to move away from its perfection, I will only say that this book/philosophy helped me through depression in a lasting way nothing else possibly could. To define something is to create its opposite. "The softest thing in the world dashes against and overcomes the hardest."
4. "The Tao of Pooh" by Benjamin Hoff
This book is a great way to introduce Westerners to the concepts presented in the Tao. It's a quick, easy read that may possibly change your outlook on life. It certainly helped bring the levity into my philosophy that is nowadays so characteristically Helen.
5. "The Web of Life: A New Scientific Understanding of the Universe" by Fritjof Kapra
The best example of why I consider science to be my religion. I love this book. I even gifted it to one of my professors.
6. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe
Oh to have lived in the 1960s! I read this book, a true account of the life of Ken Kesey and his gang the Merry Pranksters, immediately after reading Kesey's "Sometimes a Great Notion". I had an extremely hard time putting this book down: I remember reading it while bouncing around in the back of the work truck in Eastern Oregon, driving between sample sites, and talking about it to my co-workers who thought I was a little too excited about something a little too far out. This book, alone with a recent read "Storming Heaven: LSD and the American Dream" provide the best insight into what it was like to live in the Counter-culture movement of the 1960s.
7. "DMT: The Spirit Molecule" by Rick Strassman
"Reality" may not be what we perceive it to be. This book opened my mind further to the possibility of alternate realities existing on top of these dimensions we perceive on a daily basis. On top of that, this book is an enjoyable read. It is both an account of what it's like to work as a research scientist and a diary of hallucinations of a wide assortment of people. It's one of those books you read and feel like you have to share. I gifted it right away and since then have wished I could have it back, if only to gift it again to somebody else.
8. How to Practice: The Way to a Meaningful Life by His Holiness the Dalai Lama
This book was the first of many, many more to come written by actual Buddhist teachers. It taught me the valuable lesson that your worst enemies are actually your best friends because they provide you with the most opportunity to develop your practice of patience and centering yourself. It introduced me to the concept of "If you can solve your problem, then what is the use of worrying? If it cannot be solved, the what is the use of worrying?" (Shantideva) which is oh so true and pacifying. It also taught me a little something about meditation, a foundation to my daily practices now. For those interested in Buddhist philosophy, this book is a good place to start.
9. "Autobiography of a Yogi" by Paramahansa Yogananda:
I recommend reading this book more than any other book on this list. It's a glimpse into a completely different world that I never would have imagined. Paramahansa Yogananda is the founder of the Self-Realization Fellowship and one of the first Indians to bring yoga and transcendental meditation to the West. His autobiography is filled with beautiful lessons as well as mind-boggling stories of yogis who could read minds, float, inhabit multiple bodies at once, live for decades without eating, or make objects appear and disappear. Even if you choose not to believe that what he's saying is true, this is an amazing story!
10. "Be Here Now" by Ram Dass:
I found this book at a time when I was on a spiritual quest and it hit me so hard I knew I had found everything I was looking for, and that I had really found it long before. Never before have I seen any book so beautifully and concisely say all that I had thought and felt but never put words to. The illustrations are beautiful as well! As soon as I could, I bought almost all of Ram Dass's other writings and declared myself a follower of his.
Fiction
1. "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
I toyed with whether or not I should include books I enjoyed in my childhood, but when I thought of this book it just made perfect sense. I've read this book about five times and I own a copy in English, in French, and an awesome VHS of this book as a musical. I do think it helped encourage my creativity as a kid and the importance of never taking yourself too seriously as an adult.
2. "The Sirens of Titan" by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.:
This book was the first to make the list and it was an easy choice. The novel itself is a marvelous science fiction story about travel through space and time. It deals with religious themes and of course issues such as destiny, free will, morality, etc. But it isn't the story specifically that influenced me so memorably. Sure, it was certainly one of my first anti-religious influences (among other things, the Church of God, the Utterly Indifferent is prevailing), but the largest influence this book had on me was that it got me to read more Kurt Vonnegut. Vonnegut's irreverence, dry humor, unique ethos and cynicism for humanity became completely intertwined with my own world view. I read this book in the summer of one of my middle school years and I don't think I could have made it through middle and high school without Vonnegut as a guide.
3. "Something Happened" by Joseph Heller.
Again with the cynicism influencing my teenage angst! You may have read "Catch 22" by the same author. If you enjoyed Heller's uniquely neurotic voice and perspective, if you appreciated his disregard for societal norms in his Vietnam war novel, you'll love "Something Happened": All the same neuroses (plus some even delightfully more disrespectful and outrageous philosophies) but this time it's based in New York City, in the head of a seemingly all-together, bread-winning father of a perfect nuclear family. He's having a midlife crisis, and you'll see why!
4. "Siddhartha" by Herman Hesse:
I read this book in high school when I was 14 years old. Some passages were so deeply moving that I remember them specifically up until now. Siddhartha was my first introduction to Buddhist philosophy, a very important part of my own philosophy now, and its beautiful outlook on life is something I have always carried with me.
5. "The Jungle" by Upton Sinclair
There's just nothing quite like the image of toes freezing off from standing in pools of pig blood to fuel the budding socialism of a counter-culture adolescent. This novel gives a startling view of what life was like for the American immigrants of the late 19th/early 20th centuries. It led to an FBI investigation that turned into the beginning of the FDA. Thank you, Upton Sinclair, for telling the truth.
6. "On The Road" by Jack Kerouac
I didn't actually like this book, nor did I finish it, but I still find myself talking about it all the time. The reason I include this book is more for its position in the counter-culture movement. It influences my way of thinking without even having to read it because it is so intertwined with the collected cultural knowledge. Still, I did read the book (mostly), and I know it to be a romantic encapsulation of the nomadic way of life I dream about, inspiring me to "live fast", enjoy my surroundings, and adventure always.
7. "1984" by George Orwell
I'm so glad somebody put all my distrust of the government so conveniently into one place. See also "Farenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury and more importantly "Brave New World" by Aldous Huxley. This book made me cry. It's entertaining, heart-racing, beautiful, funny, tragic, poetic.
8. "Sometimes a Great Notion" by Ken Kesey:
It's hard to pinpoint exactly how this book influenced me, but during the time that I read it, I became so engrossed that I literally thought about almost nothing else. Whenever the book was out of my hands, I wondered what was happening in Wakonda. This was my first Ken Kesey book and it's really a must-read for any Oregonian or Pacific Northwesterner. Not only is it a beautiful narration of Oregon life, Kesey's role as a revolutionary in the Counterculture Movement is so massive, this book influences my life as a Eugenian in more ways than I can identify.
9. "The Poisonwood Bible" by Barbara Kingsolver
This book probably made me cry harder than anything else I've ever read. I had read some Kingsolver before and didn't like it, but when my mom read it while visiting me in Brazil, she recommended it so intensely that I couldn't help but read it. I am SO glad I read this book! It's a haunting portrayal of life in Africa during a time the CIA was fucking around with African revolutionary politics. As if I needed another reason to hate the CIA... Seriously, though. Read this one.
10. "Point, Counterpoint" by Aldous Huxley:
By the time I was about 1/7 of the way through this book, I knew it would be one of my all-time favorites. It's written mostly as dialogue between about a dozen perfectly understood and totally unique characters. All the important themes are addressed and not only is every sentence beautifully written but every page is completely thought-provokingly brilliant. It's a wonderful 400 page read.
quinta-feira, 11 de fevereiro de 2010
quarta-feira, 10 de fevereiro de 2010
Electroacupuncture
He calls it his Star Trek Therapy. Small boxes with dials and lights scattered around the room and I wonder what exactly they're for as I undress. "You can leave your bra and skirt on, but make sure to take off your shoes." I'm beyond the point of being bothered much by any sacrifices I'm taking to heal my shoulder. Six months ago the cartilage in my right shoulder joint was blasted out by my velocity as I hit Dorena lake after jumping from a 60 ft. cliff. The tricep tendon and bicep tendon were displaced and every shoulder muscle torn: the deltoid, lateral, biceps, triceps, infraspinadus, subscapularis, pectoral and clavical. My scapula (shoulder blade) is now rotated inward from a combination of the force knocking it out of place and no muscles to correctly position it anymore. The AC tendon which attaches the clavicle has been partially torn and a broken piece of Acromion bone floats above the shoulder socket. An X-ray at the urgent care clinic, an MRI and two visits to the orthopedic surgeon--all horribly overpriced--have left me even further disillusioned with Western medicine than I already was.
Despite the dials and gauges, I'm more comfortable here than at the last acupuncture appointment: a sliding pay clinic outside of downtown Denver, reclined in a dark room next to quadriplegics as Chinese flute music plays, barely audible beneath the laughs and screams of the severely mentally disabled. This clinic is completely different.
It's a modest office in a building of suites in downtown Eugene and I've been recommended by my massage therapist, who I trust very much. The receptionist, Carla, is an attractive, clean-cut and friendly woman who makes me feel at ease. A good family friend is even coming out of the therapy room as I go in. "You've come to the right place," she assures me. I believe it, but the small silver boxes with black dials still make me nervous as I carefully undress. (It's a lot harder to take off my shirt these days. When I first injured myself skiing in Colorado four months before the cliff jumping incident, I passed out in bed on Percocet for three days before I got the courage to take off my sports bra for my first shower.)
Four tiny needles are tapped into my shoulder and one at my foot, "to ground me". As this mousy man with his pants pulled up high balances on his black orthopedic shoes, his grey moustach informs me that at around 200 billionths of an Ampere, the electricity isn't enough to trigger neural impulses so it won't hurt, but my cells will still feel it. Carefully, he clips wires to each of the needles and tapes them in place before turning up the various dials. "144 cycles per second is the tested optimum for muscle tears," he assures me.
You don't feel the electricity all at once as in electrocutions, but I assure you, I feel it. A heavy weight seems to seep into me like dark food coloring in a glass of water. The change in electric gradient across the membranes of my cells seeps lower into my shoulder. Lying on my back, my shoulder is propped up on a pillow with another cushion under my hand, above my stomach. At first I have to battle the urge to move my arm. My forearm twitches. But slowly the pain in my bicep and pectoral muscles decreases and I feel my shoulder has rotated back, ever so slightly.
When he left the room he told me he'd be back to make sure I was ok and that if I needed help to call out, as the walls are quite thin. It worries me that he had to instruct me on what to do in case I need help. As I said, the feeling of the electricity doesn't come all at once so initial discomfort with the needles and the position of my arm gives way slowly to a fear of the heavy weight seeping into my shoulder. It doesn't hurt, but it also doesn't feel very good and it's unlike anything I've ever felt, which makes me nervously hopeful.
After 20 minutes, I'm more than anxious to get the needles out of me. My arm feels like it's made of sand. I hear the timer go off, informing the doctor of my anxiety, but he's talking to Carla about some business matters and I feel like screaming. But he comes in sweet and smiling and when I tell him my shoulder feels heavy, he clasps his hands in delight that the entirely too Mystery-Science-Theater-esque therapy is working.
Once the needles are out, my head spins as I sit up slowly, but my shoulder movement is back to normal. (Normal, of course, is a relative term here. Swelling and scar tissue have reduced the movement of my dominant arm severely.) My body continues to buzz for about an hour afterward until I fall asleep and have an anxiety-ridden nap--the kind you have with a 105 degree fever.
Strangely, I can't wait to go back the day after tomorrow.
Despite the dials and gauges, I'm more comfortable here than at the last acupuncture appointment: a sliding pay clinic outside of downtown Denver, reclined in a dark room next to quadriplegics as Chinese flute music plays, barely audible beneath the laughs and screams of the severely mentally disabled. This clinic is completely different.
It's a modest office in a building of suites in downtown Eugene and I've been recommended by my massage therapist, who I trust very much. The receptionist, Carla, is an attractive, clean-cut and friendly woman who makes me feel at ease. A good family friend is even coming out of the therapy room as I go in. "You've come to the right place," she assures me. I believe it, but the small silver boxes with black dials still make me nervous as I carefully undress. (It's a lot harder to take off my shirt these days. When I first injured myself skiing in Colorado four months before the cliff jumping incident, I passed out in bed on Percocet for three days before I got the courage to take off my sports bra for my first shower.)
Four tiny needles are tapped into my shoulder and one at my foot, "to ground me". As this mousy man with his pants pulled up high balances on his black orthopedic shoes, his grey moustach informs me that at around 200 billionths of an Ampere, the electricity isn't enough to trigger neural impulses so it won't hurt, but my cells will still feel it. Carefully, he clips wires to each of the needles and tapes them in place before turning up the various dials. "144 cycles per second is the tested optimum for muscle tears," he assures me.
You don't feel the electricity all at once as in electrocutions, but I assure you, I feel it. A heavy weight seems to seep into me like dark food coloring in a glass of water. The change in electric gradient across the membranes of my cells seeps lower into my shoulder. Lying on my back, my shoulder is propped up on a pillow with another cushion under my hand, above my stomach. At first I have to battle the urge to move my arm. My forearm twitches. But slowly the pain in my bicep and pectoral muscles decreases and I feel my shoulder has rotated back, ever so slightly.
When he left the room he told me he'd be back to make sure I was ok and that if I needed help to call out, as the walls are quite thin. It worries me that he had to instruct me on what to do in case I need help. As I said, the feeling of the electricity doesn't come all at once so initial discomfort with the needles and the position of my arm gives way slowly to a fear of the heavy weight seeping into my shoulder. It doesn't hurt, but it also doesn't feel very good and it's unlike anything I've ever felt, which makes me nervously hopeful.
After 20 minutes, I'm more than anxious to get the needles out of me. My arm feels like it's made of sand. I hear the timer go off, informing the doctor of my anxiety, but he's talking to Carla about some business matters and I feel like screaming. But he comes in sweet and smiling and when I tell him my shoulder feels heavy, he clasps his hands in delight that the entirely too Mystery-Science-Theater-esque therapy is working.
Once the needles are out, my head spins as I sit up slowly, but my shoulder movement is back to normal. (Normal, of course, is a relative term here. Swelling and scar tissue have reduced the movement of my dominant arm severely.) My body continues to buzz for about an hour afterward until I fall asleep and have an anxiety-ridden nap--the kind you have with a 105 degree fever.
Strangely, I can't wait to go back the day after tomorrow.
quinta-feira, 27 de agosto de 2009
Aimful Wanderer
Impetuous
Nomad
Dreaming
In
Advance
Blindlessly
Roaming
Astounded
Zealously
Integrating
Lands
Happening
Onto
Many
Escapades
Isolated
Sometimes
Organically
Reaching
Eternity
Growing
Old
Never
Nomad
Dreaming
In
Advance
Blindlessly
Roaming
Astounded
Zealously
Integrating
Lands
Happening
Onto
Many
Escapades
Isolated
Sometimes
Organically
Reaching
Eternity
Growing
Old
Never
terça-feira, 2 de dezembro de 2008
The adventure of the money
It has been raining where I live for 16 days straight, although it finally looks like sun.
Coming from Oregon, you’d think I’d be used to the rain. And in a way, I am, but as Meagan pointed out yesterday: when it rains in Oregon, it could rain all day and you wouldn’t even care because it’s barely even drizzling. But here, when it’s raining, it’s dropping buckets.
Last week was the hardest. At first I didn’t mind because I’d rented a car with my parents. But when I was stuck in the house without a car, I began to mind a whole lot more.
I couldn’t rent movies, because it was raining. I couldn’t buy food, because it was raining. And also I’d run out of money, more on that later. Eventually we’d give up and go out to drench ourselves in quest of food, then coop ourselves up inside the house again.
It has now flooded outside my house. Luckily there’s no standing water inside the house, although everything is moldy: my backpack, Thiago’s guitar bag, my EARRINGS, our shoes, etc. There’s random water all over the place, all the food and paper is moist, and the clothes we washed last week still haven’t been taken in because they’re still damp. But the worst part is going in and out of the house.
In the driveway there’s standing water that hits my knees when I pedal through it on top of the bicycle. So to get in and out of the house, we’ve been walking through the wilderness, to cross the ditch at a place where it’s not as deep, but equally smelly and with equal potential for snakes.
This rain sucked, but at least there’s lots of fruit growing. Sometimes even when it was raining I’d venture outside to climb the cashew trees and fill myself up on various berries and fruits. After the rain stopped, even the cat (Pirate Mew Mew of the Seven Seas) has been following me out on these little adventures.
Coming from Oregon, you’d think I’d be used to the rain. And in a way, I am, but as Meagan pointed out yesterday: when it rains in Oregon, it could rain all day and you wouldn’t even care because it’s barely even drizzling. But here, when it’s raining, it’s dropping buckets.
Last week was the hardest. At first I didn’t mind because I’d rented a car with my parents. But when I was stuck in the house without a car, I began to mind a whole lot more.
I couldn’t rent movies, because it was raining. I couldn’t buy food, because it was raining. And also I’d run out of money, more on that later. Eventually we’d give up and go out to drench ourselves in quest of food, then coop ourselves up inside the house again.
It has now flooded outside my house. Luckily there’s no standing water inside the house, although everything is moldy: my backpack, Thiago’s guitar bag, my EARRINGS, our shoes, etc. There’s random water all over the place, all the food and paper is moist, and the clothes we washed last week still haven’t been taken in because they’re still damp. But the worst part is going in and out of the house.
In the driveway there’s standing water that hits my knees when I pedal through it on top of the bicycle. So to get in and out of the house, we’ve been walking through the wilderness, to cross the ditch at a place where it’s not as deep, but equally smelly and with equal potential for snakes.
This rain sucked, but at least there’s lots of fruit growing. Sometimes even when it was raining I’d venture outside to climb the cashew trees and fill myself up on various berries and fruits. After the rain stopped, even the cat (Pirate Mew Mew of the Seven Seas) has been following me out on these little adventures.
The adventure of the parents
Something I’ve been looking forward to since my arrival in Brazil was having my parents, Chuck and Tish, come visit me in my Brazilian home. They finally came a couple weeks ago, which means I now have nothing else to look forward to, and suddenly my departure is looming imminently close.
My parents arrived in Porto Seguro, the closest airport, but also about an 8 hour bus trip away. So Thiago and I tried to rent a car in Texeira de Freitas, the closest city to my house in Caravelas. We arrived in Texeira at about noon and walked and taxied around in the high sun to 4 different car rental places, to no avail. Apparently to rent a car I needed proof that I live here (which I don’t have, since my bills don’t come in my name), a check for R$2,000 in a Brazilian bank account that’s existed for more than 2 years, and a special license from Salvador (a day’s trip and US$50 away), which would take 6 weeks to arrive. I already had an international driver’s license, issued by AAA, but apparently it’s valid in all countries except Brazil.
Seriously bummed out and worried about taking my parents on the bus, Thiago and I continued via bus to Porto Seguro. Once there, renting a car was easier than eating and a car was thrust upon us. Amazingly, I managed to get out of the parking lot without killing the engine, since I’m not very experienced in stick shifts. To make up for it, I killed it in the middle of the road and had various Brazilians yelling at me to “Learn to drive!” I cried back, “I’m trying, if you could just stop yelling at me!” Thiago and I took turns driving around town to get some practice in and stayed the night at a cheap hotel.
The next day we took the scenic drive in to Trancoso to get a nice hotel for my parents. We successfully picked out the Aldeia do Sol (Sun Village), and drove back to pick up my parents in Porto Seguro (Porto and Trancoso are about an hour drive away). On our way to the airport, we picked up a sun hat for my mom and a Brazilian style speedo for my dad, but that was never to be seen again.
The hotel in Trancoso was really excellent. It was the last of a series of nice hotels on the beach, and hardly anybody was there. We spent a couple days lounging on the beach and by the pool, and paying way too much for mediocre quality food. We explored Trancoso, Arraial D’Ajuda and Porto Seguro and bought gifts for people at home. One morning we hiked the hillside by the hotel (the red clay cliffs are called trancosos) and after a long walk through the forest, ended up back in town, without any money to even buy ice cream. Another highlight was taking my parents to pick out gifts from the hippies selling jewelry.
From Trancoso we traveled on to Caravelas. The nice hotel was booked for a wedding between a judge from Salvador and some chick from Caravelas. So my parents stayed at a simple hotel on the beach, which was fine for as long as the weather remained nice. Luckily I got them checked into someplace nicer just in time for the rain. It started raining 16 days ago, while they were still here, and hasn’t stopped since. More on that to come.
Despite the rain, I think my parents really enjoyed the trip. We didn’t get to go snorkeling, doing crosswords and sharing books. From Caravelas we returned to spend a couple days in Porto Seguro. The highlight of that trip was probably seeing the Indian Museum in Coroa Vermelha, just North of Porto Seguro. Our hotel had a sauna, but we waited for 2 hours to get burgers from the bar.
Thiago and my parents got along surprisingly well, which was good. Thiago was really nervous, but made a good impression and took good care of all of us (as per the usual).
Until the next installment,
~Helen
My parents arrived in Porto Seguro, the closest airport, but also about an 8 hour bus trip away. So Thiago and I tried to rent a car in Texeira de Freitas, the closest city to my house in Caravelas. We arrived in Texeira at about noon and walked and taxied around in the high sun to 4 different car rental places, to no avail. Apparently to rent a car I needed proof that I live here (which I don’t have, since my bills don’t come in my name), a check for R$2,000 in a Brazilian bank account that’s existed for more than 2 years, and a special license from Salvador (a day’s trip and US$50 away), which would take 6 weeks to arrive. I already had an international driver’s license, issued by AAA, but apparently it’s valid in all countries except Brazil.
Seriously bummed out and worried about taking my parents on the bus, Thiago and I continued via bus to Porto Seguro. Once there, renting a car was easier than eating and a car was thrust upon us. Amazingly, I managed to get out of the parking lot without killing the engine, since I’m not very experienced in stick shifts. To make up for it, I killed it in the middle of the road and had various Brazilians yelling at me to “Learn to drive!” I cried back, “I’m trying, if you could just stop yelling at me!” Thiago and I took turns driving around town to get some practice in and stayed the night at a cheap hotel.
The next day we took the scenic drive in to Trancoso to get a nice hotel for my parents. We successfully picked out the Aldeia do Sol (Sun Village), and drove back to pick up my parents in Porto Seguro (Porto and Trancoso are about an hour drive away). On our way to the airport, we picked up a sun hat for my mom and a Brazilian style speedo for my dad, but that was never to be seen again.
The hotel in Trancoso was really excellent. It was the last of a series of nice hotels on the beach, and hardly anybody was there. We spent a couple days lounging on the beach and by the pool, and paying way too much for mediocre quality food. We explored Trancoso, Arraial D’Ajuda and Porto Seguro and bought gifts for people at home. One morning we hiked the hillside by the hotel (the red clay cliffs are called trancosos) and after a long walk through the forest, ended up back in town, without any money to even buy ice cream. Another highlight was taking my parents to pick out gifts from the hippies selling jewelry.
From Trancoso we traveled on to Caravelas. The nice hotel was booked for a wedding between a judge from Salvador and some chick from Caravelas. So my parents stayed at a simple hotel on the beach, which was fine for as long as the weather remained nice. Luckily I got them checked into someplace nicer just in time for the rain. It started raining 16 days ago, while they were still here, and hasn’t stopped since. More on that to come.
Despite the rain, I think my parents really enjoyed the trip. We didn’t get to go snorkeling, doing crosswords and sharing books. From Caravelas we returned to spend a couple days in Porto Seguro. The highlight of that trip was probably seeing the Indian Museum in Coroa Vermelha, just North of Porto Seguro. Our hotel had a sauna, but we waited for 2 hours to get burgers from the bar.
Thiago and my parents got along surprisingly well, which was good. Thiago was really nervous, but made a good impression and took good care of all of us (as per the usual).
Until the next installment,
~Helen
terça-feira, 4 de novembro de 2008
Excuse the delay.
Written today! Which means this is the end of posting old emails, and the beginning of posting actual blog entries!
Hello again.
I realize that most of you are probably living your lives feeling unfulfilled without the latest news from your friend Helen. I apologize sincerely. But the truth is, life has once again become pretty mundane.
Work is work, just another job. Of course, this job mostly entails sitting on the beach or along the riverside, waiting for fishermen, then touching lots of dead fish and taking funny pictures. But periodic fights with my boss and an overall desire for action have left me feeling unsatisfied. I've come to realize that my research is just some silly project that has been pawned off on me because they didn't know what else to do with me. Of course, I had written methods and even gotten funding for another project, but that has most unfortunately long since been forgotten.
November marks the end of data collection and the official start of data analysis. After only a couple days playing around with my data, I feel I have already analyzed most of what there is to analyze. Hopefully something productive will come out of this, but in the mean time I still have plenty of free time to play with my animals and read for fun while lazing in the hammock.
The most exciting event for me recently was the Halloween party Thiago and I had at our house. Though extremely stressful, the party was a huge success. For days we were being congratulated around town for what was surely a party to be remembered in the tiny fishing community in which we live. We rented speakers, which were promptly burned due to plugging a 110V device into a 220V socket. Luckily, that was the DJ's fault and not ours. Also luckily, we arranged some smaller speakers and continued to party. For me, the highlight of the party was the vaca atolada (stuck cow) which is a stew made of beef and manioc. We got the local restaurant owner to make it for us (the only restaurant in the neighborhood) and everybody loved it, including Vagabundo who by the end of the night had eaten so much that he couldn't even stand up. Vagabundo LOVED the party, since he is very social. Favela, my other dog (a pincher with a broken leg) did not enjoy the party as much, and spent most of the time hidden in a dark corner.
I now have only 48 days until I leave Brazil. That reality is a pretty crazy one. I do really love my town, and I generally enjoy my existence here, but I'm extremely ready to return. However, I have no real plans after New Year's. I may move to Europe (Italy, Portugal, the Netherlands, Switzerland, or elsewhere), I may stay in Eugene, I may move to Canada, who really knows! Feel free to give suggestions.
I hope all is well with everybody at home or around the globe.
Hello again.
I realize that most of you are probably living your lives feeling unfulfilled without the latest news from your friend Helen. I apologize sincerely. But the truth is, life has once again become pretty mundane.
Work is work, just another job. Of course, this job mostly entails sitting on the beach or along the riverside, waiting for fishermen, then touching lots of dead fish and taking funny pictures. But periodic fights with my boss and an overall desire for action have left me feeling unsatisfied. I've come to realize that my research is just some silly project that has been pawned off on me because they didn't know what else to do with me. Of course, I had written methods and even gotten funding for another project, but that has most unfortunately long since been forgotten.
November marks the end of data collection and the official start of data analysis. After only a couple days playing around with my data, I feel I have already analyzed most of what there is to analyze. Hopefully something productive will come out of this, but in the mean time I still have plenty of free time to play with my animals and read for fun while lazing in the hammock.
The most exciting event for me recently was the Halloween party Thiago and I had at our house. Though extremely stressful, the party was a huge success. For days we were being congratulated around town for what was surely a party to be remembered in the tiny fishing community in which we live. We rented speakers, which were promptly burned due to plugging a 110V device into a 220V socket. Luckily, that was the DJ's fault and not ours. Also luckily, we arranged some smaller speakers and continued to party. For me, the highlight of the party was the vaca atolada (stuck cow) which is a stew made of beef and manioc. We got the local restaurant owner to make it for us (the only restaurant in the neighborhood) and everybody loved it, including Vagabundo who by the end of the night had eaten so much that he couldn't even stand up. Vagabundo LOVED the party, since he is very social. Favela, my other dog (a pincher with a broken leg) did not enjoy the party as much, and spent most of the time hidden in a dark corner.
I now have only 48 days until I leave Brazil. That reality is a pretty crazy one. I do really love my town, and I generally enjoy my existence here, but I'm extremely ready to return. However, I have no real plans after New Year's. I may move to Europe (Italy, Portugal, the Netherlands, Switzerland, or elsewhere), I may stay in Eugene, I may move to Canada, who really knows! Feel free to give suggestions.
I hope all is well with everybody at home or around the globe.
Written September 19, 2008
Hello all. It's been a long time.
Work has been busy lately. So far I've identified 7 species of sharks, 3 of which were not in the record and 4 species of sting ray, 2 of which were not already recorded. So I guess that's good. Lately I've been busy putting together power point presentations to show the fishermen my work and plead with them to bring me animal heads or let me open up the sharks. The first meeting went really well (keep in mind I spoke for like 40 minutes, entirely in Portuguese!) and we have another meeting today. The downside? I think I have bronchitis, it's hard to talk and even breathe. I really want to go back to the good ol' U.S. and see an American doctor! But I power through.
I've ended up with two dogs and SIX CATS for the time being. I really want to give the cats away, but haven't found a home for any of them yet. It's only been like 3 days, though, and I have high hopes.
It's local election time in Brazil. Unfortunately, this means that every 5 minutes somebody passes by with an annoying add blaring from their cars. Politicians pay like $400 for one day for people to do this. They also pay people to support them. Yes, they buy votes. It seems that about 30% of the population is running for some sort of office. It's really obnoxious, but for a monthly salary 10 times the minimum wage, I can see why people want an office. One of the candidates for mayor has been taken to court 17 times, moving around southern Bahia and getting elected for various offices in various cities. He's not even from Caravelas. I hate the situation, but I can only hope the other guy wins!
My boyfriend, Thiago, and I have put together a reggae band! We've played 3 shows already. He plays guitar, I sing occasionally and dance, and we have a drummer too. I want to get some other percussion instruments (like a tambourine!) so I can play along with every song. It's been really fun and now we're famous in our neighborhood and in all of Caravelas. We're like a famous couple and whenever I go out without Thiago people ask about him. Whenever Thiago goes out without me, people ask where I am.
So, Brazil is still good. Mostly my days consist of drinking various juices, eating fried manioc on the beach and reading Agatha Christie novels that my mom sends me. Yes, it's a hard life.
Love and best wishes to all,
~Helen
Hello all. It's been a long time.
Work has been busy lately. So far I've identified 7 species of sharks, 3 of which were not in the record and 4 species of sting ray, 2 of which were not already recorded. So I guess that's good. Lately I've been busy putting together power point presentations to show the fishermen my work and plead with them to bring me animal heads or let me open up the sharks. The first meeting went really well (keep in mind I spoke for like 40 minutes, entirely in Portuguese!) and we have another meeting today. The downside? I think I have bronchitis, it's hard to talk and even breathe. I really want to go back to the good ol' U.S. and see an American doctor! But I power through.
I've ended up with two dogs and SIX CATS for the time being. I really want to give the cats away, but haven't found a home for any of them yet. It's only been like 3 days, though, and I have high hopes.
It's local election time in Brazil. Unfortunately, this means that every 5 minutes somebody passes by with an annoying add blaring from their cars. Politicians pay like $400 for one day for people to do this. They also pay people to support them. Yes, they buy votes. It seems that about 30% of the population is running for some sort of office. It's really obnoxious, but for a monthly salary 10 times the minimum wage, I can see why people want an office. One of the candidates for mayor has been taken to court 17 times, moving around southern Bahia and getting elected for various offices in various cities. He's not even from Caravelas. I hate the situation, but I can only hope the other guy wins!
My boyfriend, Thiago, and I have put together a reggae band! We've played 3 shows already. He plays guitar, I sing occasionally and dance, and we have a drummer too. I want to get some other percussion instruments (like a tambourine!) so I can play along with every song. It's been really fun and now we're famous in our neighborhood and in all of Caravelas. We're like a famous couple and whenever I go out without Thiago people ask about him. Whenever Thiago goes out without me, people ask where I am.
So, Brazil is still good. Mostly my days consist of drinking various juices, eating fried manioc on the beach and reading Agatha Christie novels that my mom sends me. Yes, it's a hard life.
Love and best wishes to all,
~Helen
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