Surviving the North 2.0

The further north awaited.
Monterrey.
First, there was the rain. It started as soon as we stepped outside the airport and only really stopped the day before we went back to the airport.
Rain, what a welcome change to the dry heat in Guadalajara! Somehow it also insprired me to go thrift shopping for dresses dress, you know, for beaches to come.
But first I had to find that 2nd-hand store on the other side of town, and as usually, it started with a failure.
The bus just passed me at the station, no stopping.
My mistake!
The use of public transport needs confidence, so a hesitant wave isn't enough, when it takes stepping on the street and holding your hand out as to touch the vehicle.  On the way back from the shop, not even my most engaging behaviour resulted in any of the busses stopping. I tried different points along the road, waving even more eagerly and eventually wondered, what secret piece of 'bus code' I'd missed. Bus no. 214 went by me multiple times, the one I knew was right, but eventually I just caught a random bus that said 'centro' in the long list of destinations written on it's windshield, repeatedly thanking the driver for stopping. Luckily, I was taken right into downtown. So anyways, just add 3 dresses to the things accomplished, plus a successful return home. That was Saturday.
No rain.
But Sunday was a different story.

Lauren said, we should go canyoning in the "hidrofobia canyon". It would be a lot of fun, she said. Little did she, or the rest of our group, know what an adventure it would be, not even our guides. What we knew: getting up at 4:30am, drive somewhere with 6 people in the car for an hour, then another 1,5-2hrs along a bumpy road to the start, or better the start of the hike (1h), spend 8hrs in the water and then drive back, probably getting home by 10pm. Afterwards I wondered, maybe it's better that it's not so accessible, no paved roads to carry hundreds of tourists to the canyon. Maybe it's better that it's long and tough and that you really have to work for it, instead of having an easy ride in a theme park. Maybe it's gotta be demanding, we thought, but also agreed we'd probably not do it again.
The weather was bad, ok, so it was extremely cold and despite the wet suites nobody wanted to get wet. It was like: jump, swim, off to the nearest rock, and omg! Lauren's face screaming "this needs to be over soon!", like I would have at the dentist... When everyone was avoiding the water, I thought, so that's why they call it hydrophobia.
But it was beautiful! We had awesome guides and a funny group, we were in a beautiful forest and hiking amongst a virgin territory, the river overgrown with ferns and bushes, we even saw a coati climing along a branch. The jumps were exciting, the first one involved holding onto a rope before, and the second one was on a round slope. It was scary thinking of all the ways your body would need repair should you slip, but I'd done it before and knew, if you start having these thoughts, you're not gonna jump. But we all did it, even the last one from it's highest point, without seeing where we'd land before running of the slope, stepping forward and falling about 7mts down. That's where problems began, because the cold wasn't gonna be the end of it.
Our guide Javier jumped last and dislocated his shoulder when hitting the water. Our other guide pulled him out of the water and that's basically all that could be done for him. He couldn't go on and we, not even all 11 of us, couldn't get him down without any ropes. In the middle of the canyon on a huge rock, Javier was heaved onto a large trunk and into a survival-blanket-sleeping-bag. We left him water, food and the emergency GPS-thingy, and walked off hoping there were no bears in the area. I felt horrible just leaving him behind, and Maik said: "Now he's an orange caterpillar, but tomorrow he'll be a butterfly!"
We hiked and jumped and swam and were in a hurry to get help for Javier, but it felt endless. Nobody wanted to move too fast but we did what we could. When the rain began, we didn't mind, the first thunder was a bit scary, but after the first lightning we started walking faster. Still it took another 4hrs to go I believe, climbing over slippery rocks and through the thicket along the river. I slipped and fell, my knee hurt while walking and I was super tired, but the worst was the wet suit rubbing my skin raw, because it was probably no made for walking in it a lot. Which we did. And I complained about, largely, I admit.
But I was greatful when we woke up in our beds the next morning and we were still in one piece. Well, Alan had a terrible rash on his legs from poison ivy and had to see a doctor. Lauren and Maik felt their backs, my shoulders ached, but then Javier had to spent the night in the canyon, luckily in company of colleagues, who had hiked all the way up to help him. The helicopter could only come the next day because of the thunderstorm, but it couldn't get Javier on the spot, so he actually had to hike at least 3hrs down the canyon, poor guy!!! But in the end, he kinda became the butterfly. And kept calling the adventure our "tourture" (OT: Alan)


Soundtrack
Lykke Li: I Follow Rivers
Imagine Dragons: Thunder
R. Kelly: I Believe I Can Fly
Gloria Gaynor: I Will Survive (jajaja)

PS: After the usual difficulties and having to download an extra app, here's a map of our travel route, incl. the exact spot of Salvador's casa (work away)!

surviving the North 1.0

Saturday morning. Rain. I wake up and I need to pee, but someone's in the shower. Oh no, wait, that's also the rain outside. It was hot on Tuesday, sweat running down our bodies just from walking through the living room. Brings back memories from Thailand. Only this is Monterrey, northern Mexico. And after days of hot humidity, now it's cold again, and Lauren, Alan, Maik and I are about to leave to a pool party. While we have 17°C and rain...
But whatever! At least we're alive and kicking (and not sick like some members of my family, as I heard on the telephone with my parents this morning). Being well is not a given, only something that we are mostly used to, and that awareness was brought back to me quite regularly recently.

Memories pop up from our time at the finca near Guadalajara, the second work away place Maik and I managed to help at. And completely different this time, a wealthier old man trying to keep his dream of a family residence alive, whereas in Chiapas it was a poorer young family in the process of building a future for themselves. Also this time, it was a mixed experience. During the two weeks we spent with Salvador at the huge house in the middle of dried out lands and on the edge of the canyon, I hopped from this emotion to that, circling around decisions in how to feel about anything, like the eagles over the fields. Do I like this place, these people?

We know from the description in work-away.com that there won't be too many tasks for the volunteers, instead it's a remote and tranquil place. But the days flew by like the parrots over the canyon every evening, and we spent hours of watering the green oasis that was the finca. It takes around an hour per person for all the gardens (if you are 4 people), and combined with the daily shower everyone needed in that world of heat and dust, we were using a huge amount of water. There were three water tanks as a temporary storage between the source and the house, luckily we never ran on empty.
I spent a lot of time with the two puppies from the finca: Rambo, an already tall German shepherd, and Mofeta, an adorable stray dog that had been adopted. Since Salvador was gone often and nobody was really taking care of them, I took that task upon myself. Though my intention to train them quickly turned into a lesson of teaching for myself, to not lose confidence after numerous bites and scratches during playful moments. Or not to lose patience and endure Rambo's barking at the horse and try to lure him away instead of screaming (not that it helped, anyways). Education is never a one way street. So the dogs and I would walk over the fields around the house, and to the dam to play with the water and chase frogs; for me there's hardly anything as joyful to watch as young dogs roaming free and playing their favourite games.
Furthermore, a lot of meals needed to be cooked and laundry needed to be washed by hand, something to clean up here, some plants to take care of there, siesta! As we had breakfast around 9.30am and a long afternoon rest from 2 to 5pm, when it was simply to hot to do anything else, I guess we were busy enough to not feel bad about being so lazy. And we made good use of the time in between tasks, making macramé bracelets, doing fitness on the roof, writing, sketching, even playing music or watch a movie on a tablet once (no TV, only solar electricity). And we hang out, chatted, my absolute favourite! Talking.

At first, when Maik and I arrived at the place, there was another German/ Italian couple working there and they preferred being independent on social occasions, like breakfast for example. They said, they had worked enough and let us do all the watering and feeding the animals on a "free" day, which I didn't mind but made me feel like we were colleagues rather than ... maybe potential friends. Nothing to criticise for most people, I suppose, but my hippie heart ached and I longed for more social, caring people. But as often before, just when I had decided to go with the flow and just be more solitary, two French girls arrived and changed things for the better. Adé and Lulu brought such positive and genuinely caring energies without seeming to sacrifice their own fun, they became my teachers and I was their student. Lesson: why be negative, when you can be positive? For example, do I want to criticise Salvador for all things not being perfect here or rather be grateful for what he's been giving us?
Well, on the last day we got to talk to him and hopefully he'll be able to follow through some of the many suggestions Maik and I gave him. At least that conversation helped me making peace with my urge for perfection, to make everything better, more effective etc.

A week after we arrived, the other couple finally left and Salvador went on holiday, so the girls and us danced on the table like the mice after the cat leaves the house. Our game nights were a lot of fun, as were the black stories and card games we played while waiting at the spring for our water containers to be filled up. Almost every day we watched the sunset on the terrace like others watch the news on TV, and some days I even made it to the sunrise, just turn the chair around. I loved the quiet mornings, with a coffee cup and maybe my journal, letting my thoughts awake with the birds and bees, no schedule, no rush, only some worries dressed up as ever repeating questions.

And then there were the scorpions. For the first time I was genuinely concerned to encounter a specific animal, as their poison may not always be deadly, but it's truly painful and can knock you flat for a couple of days. Besides, we were in the middle of nowhere and it took already half an hour just to drive to the next paved road. So to avoid the scorpions, we were told, at night you shouldn't touch walls without looking and watch your steps, maybe your shoes. Clothes and beds on the other hand were usually safe, as were food and most places during the day. But guess what, on our first dayin the afternoon, as I'm sitting outside on a bench cuddling Mofeta, I notice a scorpion. On my lap! No mames, wey! I can't move, so Salvador saves me, he just brushes it off. After that, we encounter some more, though only at night, and yet trying to catch them with a plastic bottle was another adventure. Easier when they stopped and played dead, so you could scoop them up, and harder when they changed to attack-mode. For my mom's sake (she's the most regular reader of this blog - hallo Mutsch!), I shouldn't mention that we always wore flip-flops. Even when we worked on the fields, but at least I double-checked when turning a stone around. Once I almost stepped in one in the bathroom, avoiding a dark spot last second. And when I pushed around a piece of furniture, I rightfully expected one hiding underneath it, it was the first one I caught. And guess what, neither Maik nor I ever got stung by a scorpion. We had lots of scratches, burns and mean little cactus spikes, our skins looked like battlefields, but that was fine in the end.
I loved being outside so much, working and getting my hands dirty. Being out there in the nature with hardly a distraction other than the occasional check for new messages online leaves a convenient space to deal with myself. My ever restless, curious, self-doubtful self.

Written meditation
(sitting on the roof terrace in the morning - original version - not pretty)

I feel... the warm sun on my skin.
I feel hungry, my stomach growling.
I feel the wind on my face, blowing up my hair.
I feel my back, but there's no pain from last night's fitness.
I feel impatient to get on with the day.
I hear the birds singing, a lot of them and in many different voices.
I hear the water dripping in the laundry area, and sometimes footsteps in the yard.
I hear the traffic in the far away road to Guadalajara, and maybe even an airplane.*
I hear my stomach demand food and a bee or fly around here.
I hear a dog breathing**, now there are more of them.
I smell nothing as my nose is blocked and I breathe through my mouth.
I taste the coffee still, though the last sip is a while ago.
I taste spit, though my throat seems a little clogged this morning.
I just sit in the warm sun and breathe, not trying to interpret, to judge, to plan, to do anything but breathe. Not trying to try. Just being. My impatience and curiosity interfer, and also my appetite demands attention.
Just 5 more minutes.
Just breathing.
A sneeze. Goosebumps. Another sip of cold coffee.
The sun is getting really warm on my face.
Are the 5 minutes over yet?
I'm so easily distracted.
Hard to think of nothing, my mind wants to be occupied. Easier to follow a meditation voice. I could talk to myself - but that's weird. Except that I'm already doing it.
Rambo the dog shows up - face lick - meditation over.

* Yeah that sounds pretty stupid.
** I really meant barking. Don't know what was in the coffee!