December visions

Five minute Free Right - Photo style

Experimentations in the Era of Amor pt 3

Experimentations in the Era of Amor

Opportune moments on the number 12

The first thing I noticed were these strange shaped pumpkins. I’d seen the women schlep her articles from the bench on Westwood and Weyburn onto the seat in the middle of the bus, then scrimmage back out the door to grab a second pumpkin.

I was in the middle of a conversation with Nivardo, when after snuggling herself into the seat with all her bags and two pumpkins she stood up and looked around the bus, then said, “Does anyone here have a camera? Can someone take a picture of me with my pumpkin?”

People looked around, in bus rider shock, amused that this older women who seemed someone nutty and normal simultaneously had had the audacity to request her fellow bus riders immortalize her beloved pumpkins with a simple canon snap.

Since it had been my first night as office photographer for the Spanish and Portuguese department blog, I happened to be traveling with my camera, at which moment I responded to the riders request with a withdrawal of my camera from it’s case. People on the bus looked around and laughed in unison and I proceeded to quickly capture the woman and her large fall fruit. As I took the picture, she posed and said, “It’s so beautiful! I planted it myself” After taking a few shots, she thanked me and asked that I send her the pictures.

I assumed this women, who I learned later is named Mama Santini, would give me an email address. The age of digital photography may or may not impress this pumpkin mama, who handed me a handwritten note with her home address and phone number. She thanked me again, and situated herself back in her seat, snuggled up with her beloved pumpkin, awaiting the development of her image.

Hot Air Balloon Ride on a Saturday Morning

Hot Air Balloon Ride on a Saturday Morning

For Zeyana

The Thorn

Sharp rays of sunlight rain down like liquid turmeric. I merely recall the yellow light that permeates the streetscape. I recline on the left side of a bed, mid street and wonder why it is that my classmate is sleeping in my bed. It fails to appear as odd to me that I am snoozing in Arushan public. As I continue to sprawl out under the sun, more of my classmates crawl into the wooden bed, and even though it has been built for two, each and every one of the 14 Fulbright students snuggles up beside me on the mattress and falls asleep.

When I woke up I really had to pee. We were only two hours into our trip from Arusha to Dar es Salaam. It was 9 a.m. and I had been asleep since we left. The idea of “mining for medicine” (as the relieving of oneself is cleverly called in Swahili) in a field of low-lying Acacias that scarcely concealed our foreign flesh did not seem all that appealing, although my options were limited.

Across the roadway a group of farmers watched as we travelers descended the bus with bunches of toilet paper in left palms, looking for a proper spot to cop a squat.

The dry earth cracked underfoot as I walked inland, away from the motorway. I passed my fellow Swahili students and procured a ditch in which to mine medicine. After mining, I fastened my jeans and upon raising my head I came face to face with a vicious branch of Acacia thorns, inches from my vision. Had I arisen any quicker I would have poked an eye out on that ferocious botany.

I treaded through the razor blade branches, gratified that I was wearing pants and a sweater, as to protect my skins from the fierce foliage. Just as I was home free, about to reach the road I felt a stab in my right calf. Initially I assumed I had been stung by a wasp. As I glanced down at the back of my leg I saw I had been stuck by a branch of needles. I plucked the thick 4 inch thorn from my jeans, surprised that it was in so deep and that it had managed to penetrate the jean fabric. I tossed the spike into the bush , and made my way back to the bus. When I got back to the bus I worried about the fact that my leg felt like it was on fire, and as I examined the skin, I gasped at the fact that there was still part of a thorn stuck deep in there.

At noon we stopped off at a restaurant along the highway. As I drank stoney tangawizi and ate a samosa, I could only think about how I was to remove the wooden needle lodged in my leg, even though I had been unable to do so after mainly painful squeezing attempts. Following our departure from the rest stop, I tried to distract myself with the scenery. As the mountain ranges faded into fields of coconut palms, we slowly reached the coast. Any time our bus made the slightest stop, women and men would flood our windows selling enticing sacks of oranges and sour sops, apples, cashew nuts, juices and sodas.

At one petrol station a group of young men awoke me from my slumber by sticking a pair of Makonde carvings through my open window. Even though I assured them I was uninterested in making any purchases, they insisted on providing me with a good price. They illustrated pairs of handmade leather sandals, coconut shell earrings and seed necklaces. The longer their merchandise hung in my face, the more desirable it became. Although, just as I was thinking of taking a second glance at a particular pair of beaded shoes, the driver returned and we sped off before I could even say kwa heri.

By the time we reached Dar es Salaam it was 4pm and the warm coastal winds flooded through the open windows. Our vehicle crawled through the wide avenues, crowded between early evening traffic. Vendors walked the curbs and pathways between the slow moving cars to display their wears: apples, oranges, coconuts, bananas, ice creams, cokes and fantas, flags, bath towels, bottles of water, car scents, cashews and roasted peanuts...

Upon arriving at our hotel in Mikocheni, I hurried to my room to attempt to dislodge the foreign object from my flesh. After numerous unsuccessful attempts I showed the swollen spot to my classmate who happened to be a former marine. He then ordered me to lay face down on the bed in the middle of the apart hotel while he procured proper tools to disinfect and pull the Acacia thorn out.

When he returned other classmates joined in watching while I poked holes in the bedding with my fingernails, digging deeper into the blankets in response to each shot of new pain.

When it appeared that the thorn would never come out, Hugh offered to kindly cut it out of me. Instead of being the patient of some botched hotel surgery, I opted to give my leg over to other hands. At which point Erin took a look and tried her best but was also unsuccessful. As my classmates poured in and crowded around the bed, everyone offered their opinions – some said it would come out naturally, others suggested I go to the emergency room, while others swore that a bath of vinegar would pop the thorn right out.

I finally got up from my bed and decided that I would try to get ready for my first night in Dar es Salaam. As I got dressed my classmates piled up on the bed while others sat on the couch, which wasn’t as vibrant as the yellowed hues from my dream, but all of a sudden the images that swirled in my subconscious during previous sleep had returned in a hot flash and how I had wished that I had dreamt about the thorn instead.

In the end I spent two days going to doctors who provided me with conflicting information, received a tetanus shot and a week later I managed to squeeze the 1.5 inch thorn from my leg and now, a month.5 later, the wound is almost healed!

The moral of this story is that you should try to avoid peeing on or near thorns. But when you gotta go, you…

Culver City Slut

She pulled out a can of whipped cream and shook it with her left hand, 12 o.z. glass in the other.   Two parts Stoli Vanilla one part Kahlua, coke and cream on top.  What, precisely about this libation equated neighborhood slutation?  Perhaps it was the white head, that only lasted seconds between the tipple presentation that was then tossed in a stainless steal shaker, blending the brown liquid with the white, until a creamy tan fluid, over ice and topped with a cherry was handed to me barside.  I exchanged seven dollars for this service, and imbibed.

Who knows if this was really the cocktail of promiscuous champions, though the magical concoction certainly ignited my taste buds while planted on a stool at the The Backstage.  

 

As I eyed the drink menu at this neighborhood dive, I began to conjure up the many strange names of freaky cocktails.   While this city slut drink was specific to Culver, I wondered if other vicinity bodegas paid homage to their sex workers by naming drinks after them?    What a kind way to respect the street-walking underworld.

 

The first time I ever heard of one of these erotically entitled drinks was while living in a commune in Berkeley. It was my second year in Community College and I was living at Stebbins Co-op, which housed 60 students, mostly from Cal.  It was one massive house near UC Berkeley with three main floors and a basement.  As per co-op ritual, every semester we had a party called “Room-to-Room”  in which each room created it’s own drink so that people walked, or stumbled,  from room to room trying different mind-altering fluids.   I occupied the very last room on the top floor, so by the time my housemates fumbled to my room, they could barely swallow.   This was also quite entertaining because I was sober, serving a virgin cocktail, which disappointed the bulk of my drunken comrades.

 

That night one of my housemates asked if I was a fan of “sex on the beach”.  He handed me a pinkish liquid and incited me to dip my tongue in the sweet stinging potion.  It’s one of those drinks that sounds tasty in theory, but put together create an awkward flavor. The mixture of vodka, peach schnapps, cranberry and orange juice looks cute, although its taste dismatches it’s appearance, which is probably reflective of actual sex on a beach, which, depending on how you work it out, could be really disastrous. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’ve spent a lot of time on coastlines, but sand gets up in every crevice and, well, you get the picture.

 

There are some incredibly freaky drinks out there, depending on which bars one frequents.   You have the classic “Blow Job” which is vodka, Kahlua and Bailey’s in a shot glass, topped with whipped cream, which you must consume without using your hands.  Granted I find that a little discriminatory, as hands are quite useful.  But hey, in the land of the tongue-less, the one tongue-mouth is blow-job Queing.

 

We’ve all had the fuzzy navel, slippery nipple, and pink panties, although I recently discovered some new drink erotica.  Take the LEG SPREADER #2 for example ( I don’t know what’s in #1).  It consists of Midori, Malibu, Pineapple Juice, and 7 up which is served over ice.  I haven’t actually seen this drink, so I don’t know how it spreads legs…

 

 Oh wait, I think I know…

 

Some of these drinks will really sneak up on you, so watch out. One time I was in Rio at Lapa, where on the weekends the streets are filled with young people spilling out of the many little bars that play reggae, funk (Brazilian Hip Hop), Samba, and Rock.  For those who wish not to shell out too many Reais at a real establishment, one can cop devilish potions at the many drink stalls where vendors serve cocktails over ice or blended.  Extension chords spider every which way, providing illumination to the little stands and power to the over-worked blenders.  You can get a proper sized drink for a buck or two, or you can get a super sized compound for a wee bit more. 

 

One night I was showing some friends from UCLA around, when I decided to try a drink that looked like a strawberry milkshake.  It contained condensed milk, strawberries and Rum.  The cup was about 12 onces, of which about 8 of those oz. was Rum.  When I tried it, the alcohol was barely noticeable, and I was hungry at the same time, and so since it contained fruit and milk I thought why not sip it up real quick and have another?  This I did a few times and what happened after that is a whole other story…

 

I also found a recipe for a cocktail entitled PANTY DROPPER, which like its leg spreading counterpart, contains vodka, Malibu and pineapple juice, though this one adds peach schnapps and orange juice.  I guess you should wear pants while drinking this?

 

Because all of these drinks seem to be woman-centric or misogynistic, we cannot forget about the men beyond their blow jobs, with a drink suitable named Sweaty Balls.  This perspiring drink calls for Gin, Apricot Brandy, Dry Bermouth, and lemon juice.  Please shake well, with two hands.

 

Our final co-gender drink is entitled The Ultimate Climax which has Amaretto, club soda, coconut cream, raspberry liquer, and sweet & sour mix.

 

One of the exciting aspects about obtaining these drinks, is the process of ordering them.  You’re leaning over a bar, legs brushed up against some stranger, shouting at the bar tender who has to read your lips since the deafening tunes prevent easy listening for your cocktail requests.  You shout, “Hey, can I have sex on the beach?”   “Or how’s the blow job, today?”  What do you think is better, “Sweaty balls or The Ultimate Climax?”   Decisions Decisions. 

To the woman who destroyed a Brazilian Apartment single-handedly

(The lines are all taken from messages people have written me over the past five months)

Cassandra,

please don't feel stalked

you were memorable for your Portuguese

I've got a shaved head

I looked over my shoulder and recognized you as that

interesting lady from craigslist

want to grab a scoop of Persian ice cream?

 

thank’s for that awesome peeing story

I'm hoping I can cajole you to meet me

your Swahili is very good

funny thing is that we know one another

 

your post is so interesting and artistic

but, what’s up with the anger?

are you a new lesbian, hun?

don't be in a big hurry

to slap a label on your ass

& define yourself

the most beautiful miracle is to let life happen

 

care to have a verbal poetic challenge?

 

Cassie

I thought you forgot about me

you are so sweet

I just think you are an incredible young woman

but stay out of the handicapped stalls

 

I am a sucker for red heads

let me cook you some plátanos

rice y gandules con chuletas

calamares

beans with fried chicken

beef stew with peppers, onions, corn, peas, and carrots

over white rice

 

hi Ashura

hii ni picha yangu

I am a vegan empath and you flatter me

what got you interested in African studies?

Interested in meeting up in Mauritius?

Mozambique?

that picture of you with a black top and green bead necklace

speaks of radiant energy and beauty

are you as much of a dreamer as I think you are?

stars in the eyes?

 

eu li seu post no Craiglist e adorei!

voce é uma garota inteligentíssima!

 

Te amo tanto com mais tempo

 

ENGLISH - WE SPEAK ENGLISH IN THIS COUNTRY, FOOL!

 

do you know Prof. **** *******? 

I had an affair with her…

you speak her language

 

Madame

I noticed that some women's standard's

are higher than the Chrysler building

the last time we spoke

I think I was in a strange place spiritually

thus I could not call you because

I WOULD HAVE WANTED TO MEET

seduce you into having wild sex

because I had been so lonely

but I am much better

 

you made my sides split

when you said

that the only sport you were into

was Tonsil hockey

maybe we could play together sometime?

 

Love

I do enjoy a good pee tale

that was the best shit I ever read

you sound fascinating

really romantic and sensitive

would u like to try a pregnant girl?

BF will not be there

 

you amaze me

something  gorgeous about those hair & eyes

we have even worked together

never would I've imagined that you were into chicks

I have never dated a vampire

but I have been in several polygamous relationships

with woman and man

is that you're natural hair color on that picture?

are you in the mood for some fun?

 

I'm aware you ladies

regardless of your ages

will NEVER have to wake up one "Grey-haired" morning

so long as Beauty Shops survive the coming financial crisis

 

I'm glad that you had a ball in Ghana

I am in love with India

you look like a kind of person

that my friends from Spain, Argentina, USA, Mexico, Venezuela, etc...

will like to meet

 

I think you're terrific

one of the most authentic

people I have seen on here

spend a cool night with me

medical herbs

and some mind-altering drinks

u ever did 3sum?

 

by the way...

as per our first meeting,

Oscar Wilde said,

"Too much rouge and not enough

clothes are a sign of desperation in a woman."

I disagree!

I like that look!

though, I anticipate we will both be wearing jeans

at our first meet and greet

 

You are a very interesting gal

you move and you shake

I’ve been looking for you

I also boycott Wal-Mart

 

if I were your type I'd be all over you

Unfortunately I'm not

I'm too old for you babe (39)

 

chronological age is a strange creepy thing

 

Soy de Guatemala

¿quién eres? 

 

I am an Egypt Muslim woman

In the Qu’ran it says that men should not sleep with other men

It says nothing of other women

Though I don't drink

I watch others imbibe

 

Darling

neglecting the illumination was probably not the best of ideas...

that's one of the things that keep the roaches at bay, you know ;)

 

you broke me into a million tiny pieces

with your poem

a friend of mine wrote a book called "Believing Cassandra"

 

teach me everything you know

expectations and anticipations

are the surest way to disappointment

the best way to nurture the spirit

is to go to what may inspire you

 

you seem like a hoot

two weeks in West Africa

sound like a better use of spring break

than shouting poetry on a street corner

 

I don’t know anyone who has been attacked

by a lion or struck by lightning

so let’s get together

 

words are beautiful but

flawed representations of a person's reality and

therein lies the kernel of objectification

you're not offended

are you?

 

 

well I have to say you are adorable

I'm free

shall we meet somewhere near you?

The world is a scary place

thanks for your verbal dexterity

and creative urinary responses

 

I wish I didn't have to drive back so we could get a little drunk together…

 

spend a few days away from all the bullshit

secluded only with what inspires you

go to the depth and stay away for the action

stay away from the action

 

It is a porte-manteau

namorado + marido

yes a Carnaval

but only a representation of a carnaval

a boyfriend you live with

 

I just read your ad

am amazed at how much

you chose to share

you seem remarkably down-to-earth

I hope I'm right in assuming

that nobody with a plan to send unsuspecting guys

to a bogus dating website would work so hard

 

I'm sorry I've been such a stranger

I promise not to be a strange for too long

 

Love

"As a mestiza I have no country

my homeland cast me out

yet all countries are mine

because I am every woman's sister or potential lover" Anzaldua

 

you have explored the world more than I have

am very much impressed towards you

my apologies that this is in English

I don’t understand you

but cute is cute in any country

I’d like to be your friend

do you like sailing?

 

I saw you at the intersection of Westwood and Santa Monica

and felt like saying "Tudo bom" to listen if "tudo bem" would be the response

 If that were the case I would have said

"¿Te gustaría un cafecito?"

I didn't say anything

because at such a random moment

it may have seemed uncanny

you convey an air of experience

open-mindedness

tolerance

and wisdom

 

meet me somewhere

and screw the hell out of me

or just be my friend

I work in Culver City

so the screw me

be my friend part

is quite local indeed

 

Call me at 213.621.2761

 

umenyamaza kweli!

natumaini mambo yote yako sawa!

 

can't believe you haven't been snatched up yet?

could it be that you are a bit selective?

are you lesbian?

 

I am in Iraq and looking for a girl to sleep with my man

you're a great storyteller

conjured up very vivid imagery

bravo

unfortunately we had to meet this way

 

you are beautiful inside and out

I wish I were closer to you

but I am all the way in Oklahoma

so I wish u the best of luck

I've never had a girlfriend either

 

hi do you need any more Spanish lessons?

I can teach you

I really like you

 

traveler,

that was a poignant story

you wrote about your friend

if you have no plans for tonight

drive to Anaheim and meet

some fun and cute girls from Brazil

 

I didn't mean that we'd meet at Peet's

with any intentions to go onto a make-out session

but tell me

Cassandra

what are you looking for?

would you like a playmate? 

soul mate? 

friend? 

lover?

 

you don't have to reply back,

I just want you to know I think you're adorable.

your story is fascinating

I doubt seriously 

anything romantic could happen between us

but I am certain that we could enjoy each other’s company

on occasion

so, if you need a ride

or something

let me know

 

hello there gorgeous

I just love fair skin with red hair

I would love to play

let's have a contest

you say it Portuguese and I translate it to Italian

 

you're a hot woman.

I’d do ya in a heartbeat...

I mean...ahem(clearing throat)...

I’d enjoy having a drink with you and discussing photography

 

you deserve a prince charming

on a white horse

or whatever to show up and yadda yadda yadda

but until that guy shows up

why not practice on my old ass?

 

I have a teen daughter

I respect a woman who speaks her mind

I’m a man

is this a problem for you?

 

hello Stranger!

when do I get to meet you?

Between the two of us

we could probably publish a book...

some kind of "Dummies" guide for

"economically challenged" apartment living?

 

awesome Pamplona story

but a better ending would've been

if one of those bulls had rammed into the Port-a-potty

sending you and everything else flying skyward in a heap

 

Thank God there are people like you

you seem to be really well rounded

me

I’m still a little rough around the edges