Carnivor

We file like ants
into the tunnels
of the underworld
We push into
its orifices
like beans
cramming into
the mouth
of a starving child
We feed the belly
of the city with
constant movement
Electric exhaust
and oily railings
sticky with dirt
and microscopic bits
of dead human flesh
A slight of hand
empties pockets
A pen inscribes
its master's name
An old man gingerly
takes an offered seat
An alarm sounds
and like a tasty morsel
they are gulped down
into the bellows of the city.

Las Chincas

La plaga
Me molesta
Me comen
Beben el sangre mio
Siguan con cicatrizes
que pican
Marcas rojas
las engordan
Respiran calor

Rastrean en mi cama
en el piel de mis mejillas
mientras duermo
Mordan el division
de mi pecho
Blancita, delicada
Son mis manchas

Current Time: 21:00 hours

This Friday will officially mark a total of 5 weeks living in Santiago, Chile. When I first arrived I immediately set out to find jobs and after dropping off thirty resumes I was warmly welcomed into the city with countless interviews and as they call pruebas or a 2-5 day tryout. Due the the amazing response I have been able to be picky with my job situation, which came as quite a nice surprise seeing as how I wasn't expecting to find much. I recently quit one of my three jobs and am now working at Como Agua Para Chocolate http://www.comoaguaparachocolate.cl/ and also in Dublin http://www.dublinbellavista.com/. Both restaurants are on Calle Constitucion in the very nice Barrio Bellavista. However, I plan on quitting Dublin because the tips are horrible and I have other job opportunities waiting. One of these is at the sister restaurant to Como Agua Para Chocolate called La Perla del Pacifico (Like the Black Pearl...minus Jack Sparrow and Kiara Knightly) http://www.parquearauco.cl/restaurantes-cafe/la-perla-del-pacifico-2.html. The second job opportunity is more up my alley, although nothing is certain as of yet, I hopefully will start teaching English!!
I am living within a half hour walk from work with easy access to the Metro if Im running late or not wanting to deal with the rush hour crowds (poem soon to come). My address in 0335 Mujica (next line) Ñuñoa, Santiago CHILE. I live in a little apartment separate from the main house that is absolutamente perfecto. I live with eleven other people including La Nathalie Chardon—who I played water polo with in highschool-- and although this may sound hectic we are all quite busy with school and work and we are rarely ever all together. Nat and I have been lucky to be spending lots of time together due to a very uncomfortable infestation of las chinchas in my room (poem soon to come).
My Spanish has mejorando as they say and I frequently dream in Spanish.. Yeah!! I have come to learn many things about the Chilean language--which my friends--is not Spanish by any means. Modismo is more than half of the language and isn't used in any other Spanish speaking country, but Im picking it up rapidly.
On tueday evenings I frequent a kahuim or reuinion with a group of poets and musicians and during the week I have been attending Yoga classes http://www.yogaluka.cl/contenido/providencia-sala-yogapekes-juan-willians-noon-643-metro-manuel-montt-8946017. Chileans are very warm and welcoming people and I have made many friends here in Santiago.
In the next few of weeks I look forward to a Chilean wedding, a poetry reading, Halloween and Nat's Birthday.
I hope all is well back home and just want Mama Carmen to know that Im thinking about her and love her and Im glad her operation went well. Sending out lots of love and kisses to all my friends and family.
Se echo de menos mucho!
Un beso!
Ps. Dont let the bedbugs bite!!

Journal Entry Arequipa, Peru: Sept. 23, 2009

Soy gringa con cuella blancita
huele del sangre del humanos antiguos
civilizaciones muertos y destryos
Pero No!

Los viven viven
en la tierra de pachamama

Los comen comen
la oja de coca

Los toman toman
la chicha hecho de mais

Los siguan siguan
el mapa de las estrellas

Los sirven sirven
las montanas que respiran

Son Incas

Copacabana y la Isla del Sol

In Boliva after our three day trek across the Salar de Uyuni, I continued my journey solita after Nathalie and Adam came down with a rather unpleasant and mysterious stomach flu. I took a bus to La Paz and used the city as a home base for the rest of my Bolivian adventures. Fortunately I met up with Nat and Adam for one more evening in Copacabana, a beach town on the Bolivian side of the majestic Lake Titicaca.
A group of six of us decided to investigate a rumor about a music festival on la Isla del Sol. We began our adventure by catching a collectivo, what could be compared to as a taxi van, from the main plaza and crossed the lake to beautiful Copacabana. After meeting a lovely Bolivian Cholita and her daughter we went down to the beach were we haggled for a boat to take us to the island. Several hours later when we arrived we spent many hours searching for an open room, due to the rumor all the hostels were booked. Luckily we were able to rent a spare bedroom from a local elderly couple living off the main square. That evening as we feasted on a typical Bolivian meal of vegetable soup, fried chicken and rice, none other than Nathalie and Adam waltzed through the door! After many hugs and laughter we followed our ears to the chicito music festival and spent the night drinking beers next to a bonfire on the beach.
Unfortunately, my stay there was cut short by the same mysterious stomach illness that plagued my American friends earlier. However doubled over in pain, I allowed an odd Pringles can in the corner of the room ignite my curiosity. With a pop I uncovered a treasure I am sure was not intended to be found by tourists: a delicate headdress made of the most beautiful iridescent bright green feathers. The next morning our hostel Cholita cared for me with a mate tea concoction to put my tummy at ease before heading off back to La Paz.

Colca Canyon

Here is an excerpt from my journal that I wrote while on an epic trek through the Colca Canyon in Peru:

The crunch of rock
beneath our feet
rings in our ears
Skin, long hidden
from daylight
reaches out to
the rays of sun
A donkey grunts
A cow cries out
A faint twitter
and not the sound
of voice
of motor
of car
or television
not the humming
of machinery
Just the wind
tickling the leaves
the sound of the river
running at the base
of our mountain
crickets singing
and a soft snore
rises from
the duende's hut