I have made it out of San Francisco where I lived off and on since January
of 2001. Part of me was sad to leave the city of youth where all types of
young people go to self explore, activate, or make money. I don’t think I
will ever live again in a city with so much young energy which is really…
ok. I mean, I loved it. The endless of options of great exciting things to
do, of really “great” bars, the latest documentaries, excellent food,
interesting people doing even more interesting things, and outdoors sea and
mountain adventures at your fingertips. But for me, it is a city of
transition. That might be because it was a transitional city for me but I
think it goes beyond that. It is a city of self and movement, where people
are doing first thier thing, and when and if that encouters others,
relationships forms. Otherwise, people will flake on their committment to
you to go contemplate the meaning of compassion…. Ok, maybe it is not that
bad. I met people SF that became friends that would go the distance for
others but there is this very strong form of individualism in the area that
seems to work against certain froms of friendships.

In part, the pace of life in SF is quick and full, just as quick as NYC, it
is just mixed in with the outdoors as well as city things. There is a
certain quality of slowless and empty time that is not found in SF. One of
the most noticeable social markers of this is that people tend not to do
things at people’s homes in SF, like dinner and movies. Friends meet
outside. This is in part a function of my age group but I did a little
asking with my older friends epecially ones that have lived in other cities
and they did note that friendships are not as “domestic” in SF as in other
cities.

All in all it is an amazing city especially one to live in when you are
young and wanting to “do.” There is too much too do and learn whether it be
political organizing, ecological and martial arts, music, and the visual
arts. Exploration in the 5 hr radius to the North , South, and West is
endless. I am going to miss the easy access to beautiful outdoors
activieties which are so sparse in the midwest.

As an anthropologist, I have grown accustomed to making the unfamiliar, familiar. And even if it is not talked about, the process is always as much a psychological self journey as it is an academic, intellectual activity. Alive and traveling in a foreign environment, you are given a clean slate to examine your own world and life, whether it be your values, relationships, aspirations, and cavernous beliefs. Last night in Seattle I saw a movie that so captured this cultural process of self-exploration, Lost in Translation my Sophia Coppola. I went to see the movie as soon as I could being a fan of Bill Murray as well as wanting to see the movie of the rare breed of movie makers, female directors and/or writers and in this case, Sophia is both the writer and director. I liked her debut film, The Virgin Suicides although I felt the movie was an “atmospheric classic,” capturing and evoking an errie yet sublime atmosphere but stopping short at being able to capture the inner psychological world of the imprisoned sisters.

In Lost in Translation she was able to also capture the atmosphere of inner psychology and relationships and blend it so well with the visual atmosphere that the movie, though slow, enraptured. Both of the main characters, Charlotte and Bob find themselves in a strange land, disconnected and lost culturally from Japan but especially lost in their personal relationships. Bob is accustomed and almost resigned to his unfullfiled marriage while Charolotte is just coming to grips with the reality of a relationship where her husband says and declares love but words are so far from matching is action and true state of mind.

And that is what is really clever about the movie. The play between imagery, action, and words.
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I am up early this morning, sipping a warm NON-caffeinated beverage. It is not what I want to be drinking because coffee is like soul food but for the first time in years, I think I have really quit the stuff. In the past year, I have sort of quit twice, even mentioning it on my blog before. But I usually always went straight to decaf which has a fair amount of caffeine and eventually always went back I think because I never felt like I really quit because I was still drinking this coffee like liquid everyday.

I have had a whole month with no coffee and only 3 cups of decaf and some of the results have been shocking. My concentration fares no better wtih caffeine…. And if anything my energy is more level and even throughout the day. It even has had the effect of stabilizing food and sugar cravings (by curbing insulin release). All of these things I like although I really do miss the taste like a mad woman, but the impact of caffeine on concentration is not enough to get me back to it right now.

What is harder are the mornings like now. I am still pretty out of it and stuffed up from my wonderful allergies and having a cup of joe would just perk me up instantly. I guess it gets your adrenals to release cortisol which is your fight and flight hormone so yeah, you get this little kick in the ass to “wake up because some shit is going down the houz” when really all you need to do is get online to check your email and read the news. But you are awake to do it! Now I just chill a little longer in the morning and I am ok…

It will be interesting to see how long I last on this regimen. Ultimately I quit because it caused me to sleep poorly which made me need coffee. I felt stuck in this childish catch 22 that I wanted to break. But life in grad school without coffee is not easy. The whole lifestyle here like in so many other places extends out of the black oil. And then of course when the ideas are not flowing or you are having writers block a little bit of the flight or fight hormone might seem like just the thing you need to get you over your hump…

I have not spent this long in Puerto Rico since I was 19 years old. In a lot of ways and despite the muggy heat that leaves a constant thin film on all surfaces, it is a strange treat. I get to spend a lot of time with my mom which can be difficult at times because of her condition but it is something I really value. I may not have the luxury of finances but at least I have the gift of time to be and see and experiences those things that so used to be part of my life. Time is a strange thing of course. I not only came back home but I connected with people and activities from my past in such a way that I feel have made a small but full circle of time, a eternal return to those people and things that I value.

I have been able to travel a fair amount around the island, going to places like the Arecibo Observatory, Casa Pueblo, and one of my all time favorite spots, Culebra. It was interesting to move around the island with such ease, knowing where and how to get around despite relative absence. When asked whether I knew how to get somewhere, I would answer “I think so” not really knowing where to go but instinct always showed me the way. Place embeds.
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Just got back from the world salsa congress held in San Juan for the last week. Tonight was a bonanza farewell show with lots and I means lots of some of the finest and fastest and even strangest salsa dancers from around the world although there was a strong representation from Puerto Rico, New York, and oddly enough Italy. There was some other European groups like the Swedish one but all in all it was mostly strong, supple yet meaty latinos and latinas moving their hips with vibrant rhythm with hands, feet, and partners in synch which just seemed mind boggling to me.

The affair reminded me of any professional “con” although more on the side of hackers and sports conventions than a medical or technology conference. These were dancers that clearly all knew each other and who spent the week rehearsing, having fun, catching up with friends, learning new moves, meeting legends, and supporting each other through the performances. It was they who could really appreciate the depth of complexity and the aesthetics of those moves. The winners were a Puerto Rican male dancer and Venezuelan female dancer who were both strong as steel yet fluid as tears. The contrast of strength with softness led by intense rhythm set them apart from the rest.

But one of the more shocking elements of the evening was this older couple (maybe 40s) who danced with more triwls, liftings, and off the ground swings than any of the younger folks. But the amazing thing was that the woman was a strong though not bulky female of high stature while her partner was a short and overweight stocky man. I could not believe that he could pick up that woman over and over again. Clearly, they danced together for years and it was just like a key being inserted into its lock. Strange to see though.

Anyway, I am tired from watching all that dancing. It is hard not to envy those who can express so much with the sway of the hips…

I got back yesterday from a little jaunt around the island. I spent a couple of days with Jose Maldonado my environmental science teacher from high school and my summer employer for a couple of summers in his excellent tropical ecology camp. He has an awesome house in a town called Vega Alta (around 45 minutes outside of san juan) where he ran the camp. He has the tons of fruit trees, some nice land, and a pack of dalmations, including one that loves to rest her head on your lap even if you standing up.

We were trying to get to Culebra which is one of the most beautiful islands in the Caribbean and I would say the only one you can stay at cheaply because camping is relatively inexpensive (just went up in price, but more on that later). There was a HUGE storm here on Tues so we did not make it to Culebra till Wed late afternoon but it was so worth it even though Micah and I had to get home Friday early.

We snorkeled twice on Thursday and it was by far by best snorkeling experience here in PR. We saw a leather back turtle at 8 am while snorkeling in Flamenoc beach and then later on saw a bunch of squid (they are night creatures so it was surprising) and sting rays along with lots of other cool fish. The snorkeling is not the “best” in the Caribbean but it is truly not bad. Also, there is this one section next to Tamarindo beach that does not allow fishing anymore and since I went five years ago (they started the ban 3 years ago), the fish are a lot larger.

Micah and I were also adopted by two Puerto Rican families who felt sorry that we basically only brought a tent, dry food, towel, and snorkeling gear. And people in Flamenco tend to recreate thier homes when camping so we were like the pauper campers for them. So they fed us, gave us drinks, and made sure we were up at 5 am to catch the early ferry back to Fajardo.

Back in San Juan, I frustratingly discovered that healthhacker.com pointed to an inactive DNS which meant my site was down and I had no mail. After being gone for four days it felt like being locked out of my house and though it is back up, mailing is slowly trickling in. Very frustrating to say the least but at least I had a nice few days before hand.

This weekend I hope to get up a site for budget travel in PR. It is sort of an oxymoron because this is not a cheap place to live or travel but there are cheap ways to get around and eat and have fun so watch out for my page soon!

I have not had a car in a long while and now I am back driving in one of my least favorite places to drive–> PR. I love it here, I hate driving here. Not only do drivers not let you change lanes, they speed up when you switch lanes while drivers stop about 10 feet after the stop sign or intersection to see if you will stop first so that they sneak ahead of you. I feel like these driving patterns are like a mini-windows into a colonial mindset in which people are trying to see what they can get away because they are already in a lousy situation. No one really let’s anyone go, so you have to fight your way through so you find yourself in a catch 22. If you wait till someone lets you go you might be waiting forever, so your lurch forward. Given the tapones (jams) and given the tons of street construction right now, you really might be waiting for a very long time… Wonder if driving patterns would change with if the status changed to independence or statehood??

And then what about the potholes here? Is it lousy engineering or the rain? Whatever the case, your car is in constant danger of getting busted, nice tax dollars at work.

Bitter? No, I mean, 5 hours in a car today just gives one time to think of these things…

Today has been a strange day, which is not unusual in PR which is a land of strange delights. This morning, my mom, sister, Chinny, Micah, and I headed to Caimito to the Zen Center de Puerto Rico where we did a little of that meditation thing. It has been a while since I have done the sitting thing and I was reminded how hard it is just to sit…. and be still…. and listen to the rustling leaves. The head monk, Wanda, gave a nice “charla” (talk) about ego, attachment, and how the self seeks forms of pleasure, to the excess, which helps to keep the self seperate (in that sort of how I experience the world sort of way) from all else and in a state of dis-unity.

Back in San Juan, before heading to the beach, we ran into a horse protest, which was a lot like critical mass because the riders were on the streets, letting other drivers know that horses should be allowed on the streets and that spaces should be created/preserved for horses. That riding is at was at once a form of transportation, a cultural activity, and sport. Given the extreme urbanization and concretization of this little isle, this was a powerful environmental and cultural message wrapped in one, with lots of street manure

At the beach, we were watching a volleyball final as part of the festival for “San Juan” (Noche de San Juan is tomorrow night, the tradition being that you walk into the ocean 7 times backwards for good luck) when we got a phone call from my cousin whose business partner works and lives down here to see if we wanted to go on a helicopter ride. Sure, why not? Start the day with meditation being warned of the excess of pleasure and end the day with those same forms of pleasure that a small class of folk experience as a daily fact

We made it yesterday morning after flying all night via jet blue airlines which has direct TV. Being that the mad next to me snored all night long, I watched cheesy 80s videos on VH1 Classic. Sort of re-living my past as I was flying back to my past.

I think I am somewhat recovered from the all night trip and jet lag but I am still hazy (also I am back to thinning my caffeine consumption, which will leave me dazed and confused for a long time). Tonight I went to see some activist movies sponsored by the Puerto Rico IMC which just recently formed. The videos were great although you could not hear too well due to the colonial architecture of the buidling we were in. Tall as hell ceilings made for bouncy acoustics. The turn out was really large and it was great to see that they have been approved and now they need to get their site up.

All right, not sailing, flying, on Jet Blue to PR–> Red Eye, yuck, at least the salt water will sting at first but soon soothe. So, I am almost out of SF and I have yet to write my long SF rant but at least I got the
karaoke photos up. More narrative is needed, but basically it, ROCKED and of course, karaoke is a strange bird, so it attracted some strange things, whether it was a random couple who had met like 2 hrs earlier and were making OUT like rabbits or the group of Japanese tourists that sang and swayed with us for awhile. It was great fun but I need to really get out of here, so sato will be back soon, blogging from where the sato really roams….