time warp

Last night, our new friend Bruce asked us how long we’ve been in the country. I quickly (and slightly triumphantly) replied, two weeks tomorrow! Greg paused and said, no, I think it’s only been nine or ten days. And he’s right. We arrived in Mendoza two weeks ago this coming Tuesday. Wow. I could have sworn it’s been closer to three weeks or even a month.

I think the time warp is simply because life in Juneau had become pretty predictable—the days were flying by at the end. I knew the rhythms (and the language, for God’s sake!) and had a plan for each day. Here, everyday is a surprise. What verb tense am I going to learn in my class? How will I communicate with someone I sit next to on the bus? Where can I buy a newspaper? Why can’t I learn new words when people tell them to me; why do I need to see them to remember them?

And it’s a beautiful thing, really, this change of pace. I find myself breathing deeply and enjoying moments with my husband. I hear Spanish words I didn’t remember I knew coming out of my mouth. I am slowly remembering the grammar rules for the past imperfect and the ever-torturing subjunctive. I am slowly finding patience with myself...rather than being disappointed with how hard the communication still is. Poco a poco, I tell myself. Slowly, I am starting to believe it.

learning

The accent of the Spanish here is incredibly difficult for me. Maybe because I foolishly thought my language skills would pick up where I left them in Guatemala. Or maybe because Greg can’t speak a word, I feel pressure to be fluent for both of us. Or, really, the accent is like a lisped version of the Spanish I’ve heard before…Castellano, to be more accurate, is the language.

Amid my stumbling, I did manage to secure an apartment for us. What a rush! Conducting business in Spanish, signing a contract for one month, making sure both Greg & I understand the rules of the agreement. Shew! The gentleman who owns the apartment was, of course, very generous to me—spoke very slowly and used simple words. We are both really happy to be out of the hostel world. It’s a good thing, but we aren’t really clubbers and we’re more interested in finding a rhythm and a semblance of a life here than bouncing from one amazing place to the next.

So we’re starting here. We start Spanish classes on Monday. Greg is really looking forward to it, as am I. Somehow, I managed to forget my English-Spanish dictionary, so have a sparkly, new one.

And I taught my first English class on Saturday.—I substituted for a woman who had to be in Buenos Aires for the day. FOUR HOURS! Shew. Thank God for textbooks!

a late-coming addition

and here is greg's blog (se llama, "blogorito")...as always, a compliment to mine: www.barbegazie.com.

includes a picture of our new apartment.

arrival!

well! we made it. we have arrived in mendoza and are basking in the sun. it is the middle/end of winter here, but the short days are sunny and warm. our moods are swinging up and being reminded of balance.

we arrived in santiago, chile last sunday, to quickly learn that the mountain pass over to mendoza was closed--so there was no bus riding that day. we bunked into a hostel that happened to be across the street, chatting with the skiers from Spain and the traveling girls from Germany.

the next day, the pass opened and we crossed without hassle.

here's a funny thing about visiting chile: we had to pay a "reciprocity" fee upon landing. and now, for the LIFE of our passports, we can come to chile without paying again. interesting.

the drive over the andes was nothing short of incredible. i kept trying to think of places it reminded me of, but I couldn’t think of any. It was absolutely outside of my realm of experiences. On the Chilean side, it looked a little like the low scrub brush of eastern Oregon, but with more trees and greener. The steep-steepness of the andes was astounding—and I’m just glad I wasn’t driving our bus (or at all, for that matter. We passed through this ski area that goes right over the road! At the pass, we had to wait around outside to first leave chile and then enter argentina. I think that means that for at least 30 minutes we were literally in no country at all.

The landscape shifted quickly after we entered argentina—less snow immediately and the land we could see was this startling red. The first time I drove south on 95 from Maryland to North Carolina, I was amazed by the red land, but it was nothing like this. The semi-scrub of Eastern Oregon returned, but this time without the trees.

Driving into Mendoza, we spotted a Wal-Mart Supercenter on our left. Wow.

beginning...

(and old post that I am just posting now)

I’m at the airport in Los Angeles. The airport. All around me, languages fly and my white skin makes me a minority. And so it begins. The languages flow over my body, into and around my ears. It feels like a blanket or a set of headphones—all encompassing and oddly comfortable.

The Spanish piques my ear, but I have to focus all of my attention to understand half of it. That is both petrifiying and exciting. I wonder how much I’ll be able to understand five months from now.

I feel sort of numb…like I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing, but I’m not exactly unsure, either.

denver

ah, i've had a glorious last few days.  water-skiing, soaking up the sun, relaxing at the lake.  the last week in watertown has been a salve to my juneau-weary weather sensibilities. my skin has regained a summer hue and my spirits are high.  

i'm not doubting out decision to leave alaska anymore.  

so juneau was a good place.  on a sunny day, there is no better place on the planet.  i made a couple nice friends and was actually sad to say good-bye at work and to rachel & steve.  all the while, i was doubting myself and this move, not sure that bad weather should be a reason to leave some place where g&i had good jobs, nice people, and plenty of snowboarding.  

one week into the sunshine, i'm far more confident. even if things go bust in argentina, its good to be "Down South," as we called the lower 48 in juneau.

here's the low-down on the plan: g & i are headed back to seattle tonight & then we're going to roadtrip to san francisco to check out some schools (& its looking like, see nate!) and see how we like the bay area. and then we leave for argentina on the 16th.  actually, we fly into chile & will bus over the andes. we've connected with a school there to teach some english in exchange for spanish language courses.  we're going to base ourselves out of mendoza for the start.  an up & coming wine region!

more to come as we embark on this adventure!

vamos aprender espanol en argentina

so, it's for real.  greg & i are headed to argentina.  we've quit our jobs, cleaned the apartment, shipped our stuff (literally, a TON; 2,000+ lbs.  wow.), and flown to beautifully humid & sunny sodak.

we're here for a some time with the fam and some long-anticipated water-skiing!!  wahoo! and then we're off to seattle for a couple days and then leave for argentina mid-month.

at which point, i'll change the title of this blog to the oh-so-creative "kate goes to argentina":).

i think we both leave alaska with mixed emotions.  g loved the fishing and the mountains.  i feel incredibly lucky to have seen such remote parts of alaska and value a couple new friendships and had a wonderful snowboarding season.  but its too much rain and i find myself relieved not to have to make it through another summer here.  its not the alaska winter, it's the southeast alaska summer--no reprieve from the rain.

i feel like i'm betraying my midwestern roots by hating the weather so much.  where is my ability to make the most of cruddy weather?  to not be scared indoors?  to tool around outside, ever-optimistic about the weather? 

well friends, betrayal or not, i'm done with this weather.  long live sunny summers!!

cleaning up after ourselves.

I did it. I scrubbed my favorite apartment ever down from floor to ceiling. I think I only cried once. I found corners and dustbunnies I had no idea existed. I swept wood floors more times than I want to admit. I showered without a shower curtain in order to scrub more thoroughly. I crawled under the bed cubby and ran out of paper towels half-way through the windows and mirrors. Oh well, can’t be perfect.

It started on Tuesday, in full force. Sure, before that, Greg had done some work on the floors and cabinents—and, thankfully, all of our stuff was already headed South on Alaska Marine Lines. But seriously. It was up to me to bring home that security deposit, a final lynchpin in our plans. It was like stumbling around a spooky fun house. Everywhere I looked there seemed be a monstrous project. Where to begin? The wood floors? The bathroom? The freezer (what is in that yogurt container?) or fridge?

And just when I’d start to feel like I had it under control, I’d find something else—the junk drawer full of tools, the wood stove I’d completely forgotten would need a thorough clean, soot and all.

At one point, one of the new neighbors from Florida actually offered to help me. I must have looked pathetic. And the next day the other neighbor asked me if cleaning really is a full time job? He meant it as kind chit-chat, but it felt like a scathing attack on my inability to finish this project.

transitions (1st in a brief series).

I resigned from my job the other day. It was surprisingly painful. Shockingly difficult.

And now I wonder if everyone should quit a job here and again—I am amazed by how much more appreciated I feel after I resigned.

Or is that I feel free of this place? No longer burdened by the responsibility of it? The charge to promote this thing I’m not 100% convinced of? To pretend that I feel like we do really good, thorough work? Or that I have done good, thorough work?

It’s a good place, the Association. Good people. Good ideas. Good intentions. In fact, they might be the definition of that over-used word, “good.”

But it’s not for me. It’s too hard for me to be so far away from where we work. Juneau is miles and miles and cultures and cultures away from where and how we, ideally, work. I think I want to be more local than this state-wide organization.

Local. Location. Loca.

I told my co-worker the other day that one of the hardest things about work here over the last year has been how disconnected I feel from the communities where we work. We’re about community engagement, but I’m still not sure how meaningful it is for us to travel to the Bush for 2-3 days and call it community engagement.

It was a funny conversation with my co-worker because she really likes that we go in, deliver a message, and leave. She feels like it keeps her so much cleaner than if she were to launch a community engagement effort out her own backdoor. And I hear her; it certainly is nice to visit a place, talk, and see things happen because you trained someone or reminded someone of how much they really do matter in the life of a kid.

So maybe its not so much that I prefer the messiness to Bridget’s cleanliness; but rather that I want to be in the thick of it—I want to be that person being trained, reminded.

In college, I used to think that I could do this; I could work without knowing the impact of my work. That instinct steered me from direct service into the world of community development—somehow I managed to fool myself into thinking I wasn’t doing direct service because I wasn’t feeding someone or bandaging an arm. But, really, I love getting my hands dirty organizing people into projects, efforts, organizations. I love trying to sort through people’s worldviews and ideas to create a joint effort.

It’s just a different version of direct.

proud of csb

oh!  i just received this quarter's installment of "St. Benedict's" and feel a rush of pride at the ol' alma mater.  the new (is she still new?  i guess, to me, she is) president's introductory letter is all about the importance of wrestling with controversial questions.  and she is careful to assert that st. ben's is the type of place where controversial questions must be asked. she even goes so far as to propose a few guidelines for engaging.  wow!  what a fantastic thing to read.    

i just don't feel like the former prez. would have written an article like that.

i wonder what the vibe is on campus.  or is she dreaming? oh, i hope she's reflecting reality.

its a funny thing, alma maters. why do i feel like i get a vote in how the institution runs?  i feel happy that they ask grads for our input as they go up for the accreditation.  i feel happy to read about my peers who have gotten promotions or kids or hitched.  i feel happy that i went to st. ben's.  

ah, the afterglow!

the wailin' jennys

okay, so its a little gross to admit this, but i think i have become a prototype of what pandora.com must sell to advertisers.  

after several months of enjoying this "music genome project," i realized i kept coming back to songs by the trio, "wailin' jennys."  so, in a moment of interesting weakness, i bought the entire album, "40 days" on my itunes.  it's lovely music, really.  calming and grounding.  and strong women making beautiful harmonies.  i just like them. 

it has been raining since july 4 here.  with an average temperature of 58 degrees.  i keep forgetting it's july.perhaps its the weather that makes the wailin' jennys sounds so good!

they'll be in st. cloud on the 31st and grand rapids on the 1st. 

it's greg. fishing. in the channel

i have been meaning to post this one for a while, but forgot! i was in boston at the time.  i think a particularly funny line is when rachel says "your wife will be so proud!"

me. flying a kite. on north douglas.

check it:

4th of july in juneau.

ah, the 4th of july.  i never quite know what to do with this holiday.  jump for joy? cry?  huddle in a hole? cheer at the parade?  it's just kind of a baffling holiday...a mingling of sadness and joy for all this country is/could be.

in juneau, this holiday is blown way out of proportion because it's one of two days the miner's had off back in the early white days (the other was christmas).  so the festivities started last night with $30,000 worth of fireworks and people jammed up at the pier.  and its hard not to get caught up in the excited and enthusiasm of thousands of my fellow citizens cheering. so i cheered!

and today we're going to go fishing & maybe catch the sand castle contest over on douglas island...and maybe the soapbox derby.  families hanging together, outside. that is good.

meanwhile, at the local blockbuster video store, they are collecting used dvds to send to the troops in iraq.  

happy 4th of july.

pictures!

Ah, pictures.  Gotta love 'em. 

I just learned how to use picasa...how great. 

here are all of them: www.picasaweb.google.com/kate.dugan8/Ireland

enjoy!  for a usually no-photo gal, I sure did snap a lot:).  one of the funny highlights were the street signs that leave little room for imagination.  indeed, we enjoyed the thrill of coasting down a near-shoulderless road after we passed this one.

coming home

it's a funny thing, coming home.  there is a surprising familiarity to this place, this place in alaska i had months ago decided felt too foreign to ever be home.  and yet.  i find myself savoring this sunny day, happily folding laundry, sitting slowly on the steps to read a book in the air that smells of lilacs.  i am surprised to feel an odd sense of contentment here.

where did it come from?  is it only in the going away that i feel it?  does that mean its very real or very false?  or is it just about this moment in time?  

i have oodles of pictures to post to this languished blog.  10 days in ireland were a blast.  one thought is here: www.youngadultcatholics-blog.com (the post called "st. bridget"...that's right, i'm a blogger for young adult catholics.  every other friday.  stay tuned!).  i will post them soon.

for now, greg just arrived home with oodles of crabs from the crabpots on north douglas.  yum!

summer.  its summer. even in juneau, it comes.  i think i forgot.

boston. and john cougar mellencamp.

so i'm in boston for the week and it seems like there should be so much to blog about, so many things.  i mean, this is the metro area where i first started this unyieldy thing in the first place.  i am stunned to realize my lack of nostalgia for this place.  yesterday, i strolled through my old stomping grounds on harvard square and the yard and felt no yearning to return.  i have yet to step foot on the div school, so maybe there...but it's weird.  the lack of emotion i have bound up here.  

i have such mixed emotions about my two years at harvard. i mean, on one hand, i discovered and named a love of american religion.  its a curiosity that carries me through newspaper headlines and makes me nag at greg to hook me up as a religion stringer at the empire.  but it's also this place that, in some ways, ate at my soul. as i slowly gain back some of the weight i lost in this place and find a rhythm that is not rife with stomach aches and stress, i do not miss that part of the person i became here. 

maybe its because the part of harvard that i liked continues to be a real part of my life--work with jen on the book continues, even a real-live thing these days (not just in our fervent emails!) and i use what i learned about religious pluralism in america all the time.  

and it is weird to visit a place where so many of the people i knew here have left, moved on, switched gears.  i had a happy dinner with amy & eric tonight--and even though they still live in the same apartment, all is different (as it should be!).  our conversations were about nonprofit management and the oddities of being late 20-somethings and early 30-somethings; not the paper or book of the week.

as my eyes droop toward sleep, i can't help but think of my wedding song--john cougar mellencamp's "small town." particularly these lyrics: "still care enough to see who's in the big town...but my bed is in a small town. oh, that's good enough for me."

hey california

such a great song by catie curtis! long live pandora!

I'm gonna turn the heat up in the house
I'm gonna get you to lie down with me baby
Let the sun shine underneath the clouds

The ground below us is frozen
And the snow, well it keeps on coming down
I'll build a tunnel to your skin, if you let me in
We'll make a fire right inside the house

Hey California, we're cold as hell
But we got ways to entertain ourselves

In December we pretend that we're moving
We point out places on the map
We look at houses online, we read the L.A. Times
We go out in to the snow and laugh

And when you go to California
They want to know why you'd live back East
When the weather there is cold and the people there are cold
I say the people are why I'll never leave

Hey California, we're cold as hell
But we got ways to entertain ourselves
Hey California, when you watch us freeze
Please don't talk about those lemon trees
Hey California just one more thing
I'm about to get my mind blown by spring

cruise ships return

cruise ships return to juneau--wow.  i forgot what a circus downtown can be when the popcorn is going, the old folks are a hazard to drivers, and all the closed up businesses are open for sales.  

so, anyway.  its a zoo down there. even the smell of sweet sugar lingers on the streets.  everyone is carrying these bright red "the alaska t-shirt store" bags. the tour buses have renewed their route on my running route along basin road.  shew.  and the view from our apartment is markedly different.  gone is the open channel and here is the moving city.  

i wonder where they are getting electricity from.  are they paying the same rates we are?  hope they're paying more:)!

sunny today!  those touristas got a good one!

classroom management

have been meaning to post this for a long time.  

h. has this sign posted above her classroom pencil sharpener. 

makes me laugh every time i look at it. i had it as my desktop background for a while there.