"mascara" en CSI

I better watch out!!!

thank goodness i work in bolivia, not mexico.

eleciones

hoy, la gente de bolivia votan.

the democracy center's reports.

and of course, how it relates to wrestling.

aaa 09: Installment 2

I woke up early in my big king size bed, to ee delivering me hot chocolate and croissant. i begrudgingly worked on the diss proposal for a few hours (methodology is complete), then finally in the afternoon i tore ee away from his musings on the workings of hegemony on the food network and we made our way to the marriott.

there, i briefly met up with the texan, then wandered off to a panel with ee to see riley. riley's paper was quite good, but the young man who followed him was painful to listen to. we skipped out. ee went to the book exhibit and i saw the texan again, and stopped to chat. at which point the lazy-eyed-texan also appeared. an uncomfortable conversation ensued.

time was drawing near for pine's epic honduran resolution vote so i wandered off to the business meeting and found a seat on the side. not long after i realized i was just down the row from the dumpling, and moved over to sit near her. much business was conducted including the official "goodbyes" to old board members performed through song by some old anthro dude with a guitar. the entire (250+) quorum was invited to sing along (to everyone's detriment). eventually, it came time for the big show...the resolution. immediately, an amendment was proposed by charles briggs to explicitly condemn the results of the recent election and call on the US government to not recognize the results. it passed unanimously.

and then things got a little funky. some dude (presumably honduran) read aloud what seemed like a 20 minute long letter from some honduran anthropologists condemning the resolution as among other things, imperialist. it accused some (honduran?) anthropologists of voluntarily leaving the ministry of culture. it suggested honduran anthros were not consulted in writing the resolution. bunny (a 90+ year old anthro) commented we needed to have a plan for implementation. the (presumably honduran) dude again stood up to clarify that he did not write the letter but agreed with it. someone asked rosemary joyce a question, which she did not understand, but setha low (aaa prez) clarified that robert's rules of order stipulate the question could not be restated. alas, we moved on to pine's empassioned (as usual) and frantic (as usual) plea that these honduran anthropologists represented not all honduran anthropologists, and there were plenty more academics in honduras who had been persecuted. she gave a number of examples. finally, a venezuelan woman stood up shouting, crying and suggesting we stand in solidarity, not with honduran anthropologists, but the honduran people.

the question was called and we VOTED to vote. it was confirmed. then we VOTED on the question (being whether to pass or not). it passed the (now iffy) quorum. but this second vote does not mean that the resolution passed. oh no. it simply means that it is now eligible to be put be VOTED on by the entire AAA membership. yes, 3 votes to make this happen. who knows when we'll know for sure.

After all this, I met up with the So Ill kids, Gerry, Yata-Tanaka, & Juancho. we had some tasty food, and came up with brilliant questions for Gerry (the primatologist among us) to ask in cultural sessions. Gems included "Can you explain how this is related to hegemonic ideologies of transnationalism?" and "One word. Intersubjectivity. Think about it." Later bryan suggested throwing in the word "Linkages." after dinner we wandered over to Finn's and drank a few beers with bryan and channell, who was getting on my nerves. Futurama eventually joined us, and she was actually quite pleasant to be around. We eventually wandered back to a king size bed and passed out with plenty of room between us.

a little andean candy

a picture of a luchador wearing a Manfred Reyes mask (Reyes is 2nd in the polls-after Evo-for the upcoming Bolivian Presidential election)

(from Wall Street Journal Photos of the Day)

aaa 09: installment 1

I bring you this message from a luxurious king sized bed off of rittenhouse square, philly's ritzy neighborhood.

it is practically noon and i am still in bed (though I've been working on a paper for 2 hours) wrapped in a fluffy hotel-provided robe, sipping free Ghirardelli hot chocolate. i have been gchatting my companero who is doing something similar (though at least he's showered already) in the next bedroom of our incredible aka suite.

but yesterday was quite a good one. i woke up before the sun rose and picked up ee for our drive to the city of sibling love. we got in, checked into the hotel, parked the car, and had a terrible breakfast of strangely flavored non-fat-frozen-yogurt and awful coffee (at least that's how ee reported on it. i of course, did not partake).

then off to the marriott to register. ee's first panel was right away, and i tagged along. speaker #1 spoke about Bolivian marketwomen's subjectivity within neoliberal formations (sound vaguely familiar?). It wasn't anything new to me, but now I know I need to get in touch with her. Most importantly, she was recovering from the flu and almost passed out during her presentation, so someone else in the room had to finish reading the paper for her. a few more papers and then tonsilitis-infected ee just gave a brief description of his research before commenting on the awful conference theme/session title employing the "End/s of Anthropology"

After the session, I met another audience member who will be on my panel on Saturday, who studies trans activism in Mexico City, along with Susan Paulson, a long-time Bolivianist. ee & i then walked to trader joe's and got some supplies. after dropping the foods off at aka, i went back to the marriott to see spaulson's presentation on humor and the familia galan in La Paz. she was using some disidentification theory which got me excited. and a few other presenters opened my eyes to some new theory i should look at. but most excitingly, when i walked into the room before the presentations began, she shouted out to me "hi nell!" and introduced me to stuart rockefeller, another bolivianist.

i left directly after that panel for e patrick's performance of sweet tea at Penn. there i also ran into jackson5 (with whom i re-exchanged phone numbers) and riley from radical intersections. as i waited for the perf to begin i glanced through the aaa program and found siu gerry's name. a few text messages to my wife later, i was in contact with him, and now have plans to meet up (after 5 years). i saw the perf, drank some free wine, then headed back to center city to meet mcneil for some whiskey. upon arriving in the midst of a torrential downpour, i discovered he was well into his 5th hour of drinking, and some painful karaoke had just begun, so we decided to brave the elements and walk back to aka to drink some free booze with ee. some watermelon vodka and 4 mini-bags of popcorn later he trekked home (to the travelodge) and ee & i passed out in our respective king size beds.

day 1=success.

grasa y la policia

i promised beards, but instead i bring you pishtaco!

la antropologia de las barbas

i know its been a while. and i've got nothing for you right now.

except.

the promise of.....



"toward an anthropology of beards"

lo hice

ok, so that dilemma of the day thing didn't quite happen...

but i'm sitting here eating homemade ice cream (a birthday gift from ee), and am thinking about self-sufficiency. when i learned to knit & crochet this summer i joked that it made me one step closer to completely removing myself from the capitalist system. and not that i ever really intend to go off the grid, but there is something so fulfilling about having control over how exactly you're inserting yourself into commercialist systems. yes, this is just the control freak in me rearing her ugly head.

but i'm quite proud of things i've been doing lately that help me to claim a sense of agency where i didn't before. knitting scarves, crocheting hats, screen printing t shirts, making ice cream, brewing beer, growing veggies, mending shoes. and of course the usual sewing and flyer making.

there's nothing profound here. i suppose my point is there's a certain contentness that comes from making something that i never get from buying. Sure Sharon Zukin may say that we are in an age where shopping is a profoundly social process in which we claim or invent identity. But I'd like to think there is an admittedly smaller, but strong number, that is more in line with Halberstam's notions of queer time and space. we are working under the radar, creating our own identities along avenues that are decidedly anti-consumerist (along with plenty of other anti- s) despite the fact that i covet a $300 coat, and drove a car to school today. little steps i suppose. i'm no saint. but at least i've successfully boycotted whole foods for the last 8 days.

la musica del jc

i saw the black hollies saturday night. in planning to go, i worried that the six years that have passed would be enough to forget faces. that i'd be just another former neighbor like clint shoyman or a passerby like "jk's sidekick." my fears were confirmed when, though jong said he'd put me on the list, the doorman shook his head and looked at me as if to say "honey, i get that trick all the time, and i'm not falling for it." but after coughing up $10 and making my way inside, i was greeted with profuse apologies, and a shocked looking justin angelo yelling "nells bells!"

dj dusty shadows circa 2003

and thus began my nostalgic daydream in which i began to fall in love as we sat listening to a fuzzy ella fitzgerald eminate from the turntable while drinking wine and eating jong's eggplant rolatini. in which i awoke after a night at Guillo's to the sounds of Two Tough Guys, and arose to fully embrace my unemployment. in which the bridge & i would walk to the bar later known as el camino and consume 5 free rail cosmos in an hour, later drawing pictures of our stomachs with crayons depicting two doritos swimming in a pink sea. in which we all developed a strange attraction to biography channel programs on serial killers. in which i didn't have to worry about my name being on the list at maxwell's.

but these warm memories of brisk fall nights fail to capture my true feelings of those times. rhino has philosophized on the hegemony of memory, and this is certain a case for study. those were the worst of times. unemployment and then practically dehumanizing employment, academic disappointment, disagreements that should have indicated failure long before i acknowledged it. but at the same time, perhaps that is what made the good times so good, and the experience as a whole so intense.

those years in the jc were awful years, peppered with close friendships, crazy antics, belonging in unlikely places, sleepless nights, flaming bars, silly notebooks forever lost to the white star gods, and the feeling of truly being in a neighborhood. i suppose that's the last time i really felt like i was home. i haven't been back in almost 2 years, and i'm sure things have changed. i suppose the condos at the end of pavonia are complete, and PJ's somehow functions without the guz. but it still feels like i could defy frost and return home there. like i could walk by 7s and strike up a conversation with any of the smokers. like the high scores on the photohunt machine at uncle joe's might still be dominated by those using the quadrant approach. like the guys at the 7th and erie liquor store would still make quips about knowing how often i'm there. like something called rye coalition still exists. like i could show up at hamilton park and play some ball or take a nice stroll down coles, pausing at 130. indeed, i still remember the first time i pulled up to that apartment, with jk & the fiend holding a parking spot for me. that was the beginning of something definitive in both its complete depravity and its utter transformative qualities.

130 coles

and looking back from here-where i am happy, and get to reminisce with old friends-makes it all worthwhile i suppose. as i said in "Beneath the Surface" (by former JC resident, Scammell) memory is how we cut up the long runon sentence of our lives to derive meaning. it tells us who we were and thus, who we are. it is the way in which we define ourselves. i am no longer that same nells bells that moved onto the futon on coles street, but that will always be part of who i've become.

pina

i had my first shared cup of pineapple of the semester. it wasn't quite ripe, but taste aside, its good to be back.

manana

manana regreso a EEUU.

here is what i'm looking forward to:
vegetables. salad. real healthy food.
good non-yellow mustard.
real vegetarianism
putting toilet paper in the toilet.
not worrying about when the hot water's running out.
not worrying about the shower electrocuting me.
summer.
walking a block without steep uphill climbs
traffic that pays attention to lights
drinking water whenever i want
not worrying about if there's anyone home to let me in at night
cheaper cheese

here is what i will miss:
$1.50 glasses of wine at fancy french restaurants
saltenas
the luchadoras
the chilen@s
ramiro's thoughts about what i should be studying
scarf weather
el sol andino fuerte
the spirit of latin america
a good excuse for not replying to emails
comeraderie among gring@s
random people lying and saying my spanish is good
fresh $0.07 bread
living in SoHo-cachi
fireworks for no reason

i'm sure there's more for both lists. leaving is always a weird feeling. on one hand i want nothing more than to be back in the land of endless hot water, needless neoliberal regementation, and healthcare debates, but its hard to leave too. in a way, i'm very glad the chilen@s are leaving tomorrow too (though i'll miss the other 2). i guess i always just feel there's so much more to be done. i haven't cracked the surface. i don't really understand. i just have to remember that's not a failure, its just an appropriate end to round one.

now, off to buy some cheaply made tourist trap gifts.

P-farm

Total bummer, dude.
Here's why...

time to start learning arabic...

it seems female wrestlers in iraq are the new rage.
and i've only got about 7 minutes of my first luchadora interview transcribed. the work just keeps stacking up.

renewal

“Travel is glamorous only in retrospect.” - Paul Theroux

Most anthropologists (at least young ones) know this. This is the price we pay for the “glamour” of grants to take us to far away places(1) where we are adopted(2) by the natives(3) and given(4) special things to eat(5). We eventually write books that make our lives seem so out of the ordinary(6) and interesting(7). But the truth is, we are lonely like everyone else. We doubt ourselves, and cry at night, and miss loved ones and wonder why we didn’t just become comparative literature majors back when we had the chance.

Most days I look around La Paz and wonder how I'll spend a year here. Not to say that its awful: I actually quite like the weather. There's always something going on. I really like my neighborhood. I could sit in plazas and talk to people for hours. Life is cheap and good food is easy to come by. But its not home. Its a lonely place. And part of it is the language, but I always feel disconnected. Alien. I mean, I should feel out of place. I do not belong here. I am not a resident and not a tourist. I have no place.

But on friday nights, the city seems to open up. Granted, these are among the few nights I've places to go, people to see, things to do. But there's a glow to the city en viernes. A warm, yellow, homey glow. And people laugh, and the music is soothing, and the pisco sours taste like they should.

And tonight, in particular, I discovered some things. I was a little early for my dinner date (I was the 3rd wheel on the date), so i walked arounId sopacachi, and suddenly, unexpectedly, the sky was alight with fireworks. I've never been overly taken by fireworks. Even as a fairly young child I remember being bored with them. As I've grown older, I think this has disappointed a number of my friends. But fireworks at the right time can be magical. Not every night at 10 pm at Disney. Not at sundown on the 4th of july. But when fireworks pop up unexpectedly during otherwise magical moments, everything falls into place.

So eventually, the fireworks faded and I made my way to the Alianza Francesa for dinner. I still arrived ahead of my dates, but got a table and looked over the menu. For some reason I've never really liked french onion soup (on the menu of course, as sopa de cebolla con queso). But after a hearty french-oniony dinner party this winter, I thought I'd give it a go. and it was marvelous. I gobbled it up as I slurped Peru's signature beverage (I had to have one in honor of 28 de julio!).

I walked home content with good friends, food, beverages, and a city that, at this moment at least, felt like it could become home someday.

(1) or our own back yards
(2) or tolerated
(3) or the local residents & institutions
(4) in exchange for money
(5) usually just the bland local cuisine
(6) or alienating
(7) or trying

esta enferm@

so, i've been sick the last few days and therefore doing a lot of reading. mostly from Odd Tribes: Toward a Cultural Analysis of White People (Hartigan 2005) (review here), but today also an as-of-now unpublished paper a friend is writing on post-accord politics in guatemala.

In OT, Hartigan attempts to focus attention on the fact that classism within "whiteness" reaffirms and solidifies the hegemony of whiteness. Though I take issues with some of his approaches (which I fully intend to write about here eventually), he also makes some excellent points. One of which reminded me of a few films made by d'vine around election time.

Hartigan writes (p. 157) about Time reporter Steve Lopez's investigation of Southern whites' reasons for voting for George W. Bush in 2000. "More often than not, when I asked people "Why Bush?" it was as if they had zinc deficiency. The smile would freeze, the eyes would cloud, and all signs of intelligence would fade." Hartigan comments, "This image reproduces the most enduring images of rural poor whites: faded or absent intelligence, stemming from some sort of indelible physical deficiency."

Now, as a disclaimer (#1), i think that d'vine is a fantastic professor, advisor, humanitarian, activist, writer, and person in general. But my point is he is falling into a common trap in which it is ok to disrespect certain types of peoples' opinions because they don't quite jive with the ways in which the upwardly mobile, urban, liberal, well-traveled, lucky ones think. And I'm not condoning the racism and other -isms present in the narratives in his short films. But I also think the particular way they are framed (and perhaps edited) contributes to disrespect. And I think the second film illustrates particularly well the way in which the filmmaker (and presumably viewer) are positioned as morally and intellectually superior to Noe. We are invited to approve of and commend him for his decision. Had he decided differently, we would be invited to judge him disapprovingly.

(disclaimer #2-these videos were not intended to be "neutral" ethnographic accounts, but rather campaign tools, and i'm sure, if dr.vine were to conduct true ethnographic work on such people, the results would be stunning and beyond reproach)

now, back to the texan's article on Maya Guatemala: He explores reasons that many Maya seemingly contradictorily back right aligned political movements. In reviewing literature on similar topics he writes that many authors give important counterpoints to pervasive racist ideas that ignorant Mayas are tricked into aligning themselves with right wing politics.

So my point here is that in some ways this illustrates Hartigan's idea that phenotypically "white" but otherwise degraded individuals and groups are treated in similar ways to racialized "others" in different places. Obviously, all is not the same between rural Southern whites and the Maya of Huehuetenango, but I think the questioning of political affiliation without thick analysis is dangerous.

lucha blog

its weird when you show up in your own google reader.

cuy

i just wanted to point out that i made this comment 3 weeks ago...
(you think you're so clever otto-ok, maybe you are, just behind the times)

suspicions confirmed

mas preguntas

i'm having one of those days. nothing seems right.

who the hell am i to be doing research?
do i really want to do research abroad?
do i really want to do research at all?
how the hell am i going to get any sense of what's going on here in a month?
how the hell am i going to get any sense of what's going on here in a year?
how the hell am i going to write a dissertation proposal?
how the hell am i going to write a dissertation?
do i really like this whole "academia" thing?
am i really cut out to be an anthropologist?
am i ever going to get over my shyness?
am i ever going to get a handle on spanish?

...definitely one of those days that asks questions.

que quieres?

i am convinced of one thing: people who tell me my spanish is good want something from me.

usually money or sex.

shoeshine boys and creepy 35 year old men from cochabamba say "Tu espanol es muy bien"

bullshit.

la lucha

today marks the 4 year anniversary of the day i read this.

that's right, for 4 years i dreamed of the day i might see the "cholas" wrestling. i hoped to see the power of revolution in performance. i anticipated moralization of gender and race. i expected the power of the pollera would be manifest in the ring.

on sunday, i took a little tourist bus to la Ceja en El Alto, paid my 80 Bol, shivered, and watched. my previous hopes were not quite realized. now, don't get me wrong, i am not entirely disappointed. but what i found was more tourist spectacle than local phenomenon (and i wonder if half the local phenomenon is coming to see the crazy gring@s watch the event). and most of women's empowerment seemed to come from demasculinizing men: pulling down their pants, forcing them to wear skirts, etc. Of course, the men retaliated, at times by kissing them (what's that say about sexual violence?).

so the luchadoras are not quite the feminists i had hoped (though, this does not surprise me entirely). but i've also found a lovely little anarchist feminist group. now, i just have to figure out how this all fits together...

lucha manana

look what youtube recommended for me



(and seriously, traditional inca dress? try hacienda era...)

photografias

today i went to Bolivia's Palacio de Gobierno (which, i've been referring to as Evo's house, but he doesn't actually live there) & Plaza Murillo (named after Pedro Domingo Murillo).

(note El Alto in the background)

It was a nice sunny afternoon (as seems to be the norm here) and there were a lot of families out and about, as well as some strangely-clad, dreadlocked traveler types. Many of the women were in polleras, and I'm beginning to think that maybe all this about the pollera is over-emphasizing its importance. Certainly, clothing is always a choice, and expresses certain things about both individuality and collectivity. It is both constituitive of and influenced by identity. Of course. But i'm not sure a pollera has any more significance than my green chucks.

...but back to the plaza. There were lots of shoe-shine boys (who all wear ski masks), young bolivian teens selling books, and ice cream and jello vendors. There were also a few vendedoras selling balloons and inflatable balls. One (wearing a pollera) was fairly near me, and an older german guy kept trying to take her picture with his giant camera. She clearly did not like this. She kept turning away, and pulling her hat down over her face. But this dude in his cargo pants, hiking vest, and stupid hat was persistent. It was kind of making me mad, so I decided I would take his picture. Here it is....



Sure, who the hell am i to be acting as karma, and i'm sure he a) wouldn't care that i took his picture and b) will probably never know, but i thought i'd try to objectify him a bit.

later, i got pooped on by a pigeon. it was green and slimy. and older dutch guy sitting next to me also got hit, and we started a little conversation. but after we both got hit a second time, we decided the spot was too dangerous and both left. but that's supposed to be lucky, right?

Tomorrow I'm off to take some pictures (but hopefully not objectify any more than they want me to) the luchadoras in El Alto. 4 1/2 years in the making....

preguntas

About 7 years ago an acquaintance had an unattributed quote as her away message on AIM.

There are years that ask questions and years that answer.

I wrote it down and googled it to no avail (this was in the days before google was so good at searching books). But yesterday I read it as if for the first time. At the beginning of Chapter 3 (page 21 in my Perrenial Classics 1998 edition) of Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston writes, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”

This thought was my saving grace when I was 22, 23, 24. When I turned 25 the answers started coming almost immediately. But there are always spots along the way that start asking again. I wonder if its maybe days that ask questions now.

There are days that ask questions and days that answer. But some days are so confused, they don’t even know what question to ask.

mantequilla

for anyone who's been keeping up on the butter controversy, it seems to be settled.

it's official. MJ has no place in butter.

the Duff Dog will be happy

el dia de la paz

today was a city-wide holiday. this on the brink of the national bicentenial (sort of-its 200 years since a declaration of independence. which failed, at first). i saw a bit of a parade, and a strange protest i couldn't make sense of. masked young people holding hands in 4 or 5 rows, walking slowly through a plaza.

my only accomplishment was getting a slightly better sense of the city, and i made myself a nice google map. i also set up a time to meet with a friend on friday for beers. oh, and i figured out the hot water in the shower. that is certainly an important accomplishment.

but the lonliness has set in. its always hard to figure out a new place by yourself. especially when people like leap have high expectations of what you'll come back with. and its nothing new. it happened in austria, on the rez (yes, even with bii jih bah around), in lima, in carbondale, even in dc. but the ability to predict it does little to prevent it.

i'm convinced that a partner would change things drastically. i'm certainly more adventurous with a partner. its easier to walk into a bar and strike up a conversation. its easier to explore new areas. sit in a coffee shop without looking conspicuous (well, of course a couple of gringas look a little conspicuous). try new food. go to museums.

and certainly all these things are possible alone. they're just harder. especially for someone shy like me. especially for someone who's not so confident in their spanish like me. in essence, i need a field wife. someone who's up for a little adventure, but are willing to go along with my whims as related to my "research." the husbands of those like furnea, wolf, and turner don't know how good they had it. maybe this is just all whining and without merit, but i think there's something to be said for collaborative research, especially in the beginning. though i am most certainly not advocating people be arbitrarily stuck together based on common interests, and grant makers certainly wouldn't want to pay double for plane tickets and lodging, i think it might open doors more quickly.

in essence i'm jealous of those people like the jag, hgill, & rumagin that have an in.

maybe i should stick with small town karaoke. i've certainly got the background for that. but oh now....i have to go out on a limb to a place where i don't speak well, and try to make something of it. sigh. i hope this gets better (i mean, i know it will, but it didn't get THAT much better in peru)

la ciudad de nuestra senora de la paz

i'm here.

and one of the best parts is (this betrays what a dork i am), i get to go through my google task list and erase all the things i had to do to get here.

otherwise things are a bit overwhelming, and though my spanish is pretty much working, i'm going to have to use el dicionario to decipher the signs that tell me how to get agua caliente for my ducha. i guess its hard not to get a little freaked out the first night in a new place. especially when you're alone. especially when the language isn't quite comfortable. especially when you have high expectations for yourself.

p.s.

happy birthday papa franz!

a message from P-farm

yes, most awesomest man ever (even better than david harvey?)

el rey

merely a link

hee hee hee: michael jackson and the transgendered erotics of voice

aleatoria surtido

#1
this is a picture of the address listed for the bolivian consulate in chicago.



#2

fromedome wrote up something on his trip to peru. and since it makes me miss the land of pisco, i'll post the link.

#3
this is flippin' hilarious

Mexico Builds Border Wall To Keep Out US Assholes

#4

should i live here in la paz?

#5

if you read en espanol, this is also pretty incredible. well, sad, but crazy.

#6

once again, i've been scooped

Mamachas del Ring

Mamachas del Ring -Trailer - English from Betty Park on Vimeo.

(also see The Fighting Cholitas)

so jealous.....

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/06/09/MN09183NV8.DTL

on visas

though he is the only (current or former) head of state of which i have ever been within throwing distance (and if you've ever seen me play softball, that's saying something), I am no Evo apologist. I do not think he is the anointed messiah. i do not see him as the direct spawn of the Pachamama or a reincarnation of Túpac Amaru. I do not think he and Barak Obama share as much in common and some would like.

That said, I also do not think he is one of Chavez's cronies. I generally like the guy. I think he is well-liked and well-equipped to navigate hard times for political leaders. I think he, though controversially, has the nation's best interests in mind, and though those interests are generally skewed in favor of the rural, indigenous, and poor (oh my, what a horrible thing!), he believes (and i do not necessarily disagree) that this is best for his nation as a whole.

But I've got a small bone to pick with him.

So, I've been trying to get a visa for Bolivia. And this is another story entirely, but phone numbers are disconnected, offices are empty (as in, even all the electrical fixtures have been ripped out), and emails go unreturned. Alas, I'm banking on an airport visa--but that's not the point of the story. The point of the story is, I may or may not need certain things to be allowed into the country.

You see, back in January 2007 (2 years after Evo's election), Bolivia started requiring U.S. citizens to have a visa to enter the country. This was done with much rhetoric about "reciprocity" and "Peoples' Diplomacy."

Ok, I'm with you there. The subtext I'm picking up on (and perhaps i'm reading too much into this, or am totally wrong about what i'm reading into it) is "well, yankees, you require all sorts of bullshit from us to visit your country, so if you want to come to ours, expect a hassle as well." And I'm fine with that. Despite the fact that I do rather enjoy the privileges i've been granted by virtue of being born an anglo-american woman with upwardly-mobile, college-educated parents in the United States, I know that the vast majority of the rest of the world is worse off, and my objective is not to rub it in their faces or take advantage of that. what's fair is fair. give me a hassle. i can take it.

My problem is, for a president who is so staunchly anti-neoliberal, his idea of "reciprocity" here supports some underlying principles of neoliberalism*. According to the information I have, in order to enter the country (though i have a feeling none of this will matter when i actually get there), I am required to

1. sign a sworn statement that basically just says who i am, and where i'm going

2. have a passport
ok, so i could deconstruct the class, economic, and time constraints here, but since this is now standard, i certainly do not place the blame on evo for this one, and will bypass complaining on this point.

3. a copy of a hotel reservation or invitation letter from a friend.

so, again, having an address at which you're staying is pretty standard, but i think it deserves a little scrutiny. it requires either social capital or economic capital. and not just any sort of social capital, but the kind in which your "friend" must a) have an address-which may seem picky, but i've been to plenty of places where the streets have no names, b) be literate, and c) have the capability to send you a "letter" either via the internet of by buying a stamp, envelope, paper, and some writing implement to send you this letter.

--now my point here is not to exoticize bolivians to a point at which i imply that none of them have the money to buy an envelope or stamps. but i think its worth keeping in mind that small things we all take for granted, in some contexts, are much bigger deals.

4. round trip ticket or travel itinerary

ok, fair enough. you don't want blanc@s to stay forever, and want proof we'll actually leave

5. bank statement showing "economic solvency"

i'm not sure what sort of balance proves "economic solvency," but i feel like this one needs no explanation.

6. yellow fever vaccination certificate

and here's my personal aversion. i took care of this yesterday, and it cost me a mere $474. There are costs for the "travel nurse consultation" "vaccine administration fee" (helpfully discounted if you receive more than one vaccine in one day), the cost of the actual vaccine, and "documentation fees." now granted, i did get a typhoid vaccine thrown in (for a mere $104 + the discounted $10 administration fee). but my god, that's 1/3 of my budget for the trip. well, 1/4 now that i had to add it on. that's more than i will spend on housing and food combined in bolivia for a month. that's more than i've spent on housing and food combined here in the US for the last month (though admittedly, i am living rent-free at the moment). but to me, and a LOT of people, that's a LOT of money.

7. visa fee of $135

again, fairly self-explanatory. i'll pay it because i have to, and i totally understand the rationale, but i'm not going to do it without questioning the underlying ideology that national borders are real things, and nation-states can impose silly rules and fees for those wanting to traverse imaginary lines....and if i were more in the mood to write today i'd tell a little story about the 4 corners 4 square team, but another day...

so when you add it all up, its

75.00 passport application fee
25.00 passport execution fee
1.36 postage for letter from bolivia (significantly less than $ required for email)
474.00 vaccines, etc.
135.00 visa fee
---------
710.36

just to get in the country. not including the cost of the roundtrip ticket or hotel reservation. and what it all adds up to is, to get in, you've got to have some serious cash, or serious cultural capital.

is that what you had in mind evo?

on an entirely different note, the visit to the travel immunization clinic did yield some interesting images ripe for anthropological examination. i'll leave you to your own defenses on this one though.

*and by neoliberalism, i mean the late-capitalist system of beliefs and associated institutions among which is the notion, specifically, that human value is equivalent to economic value, and citizenship--and sometimes belonging--hinge almost exclusively on the ability to contribute to consumerist networks.

once again, proof that the butter cow and citizenship are (to quote Nancy Fraser) "interimbricated"

(previously discussed in #5 here)

chicago

this place is "comfortable" a friend told me last night. there's something about this city that just fits. its natural. i never feel like i'm squeezing myself into what someone here is supposed to be or do. i never feel like a tourist who has stayed 2 years too long.

and fate has a way or making things happen here. last weekend, i went to meet some dc friends for dinner. i walked into the restaurant and who happened to be sitting at their table but ms. snow. apparently her man-friend went to college with (the other) jk. so, she invited me to a bbq she was throwing for brunjeses. and when i showed up on monday the r____ came along and we had a mini JC reunion. on tuesday i accompanied brunjeses to the film fest in which our JC masterpiece was being shown (note that using the word "our" in no way implies i did more than take trips to the JC salvation army, the police station in the heights, and stand around for a few hours on 5th & coles on a wintery day). as the program ended i got a text from she-ra asking if that was my name she saw in the credits. Yes, people just keep popping up all around. it seems like every time i leave the apartment someone new (but really, old) crosses my path.

which is exciting, in part, because i've been thinking about friends. i seem to be at an interesting moment in life where there are tensions between new friend, old friends, and those that were sort of friends before, and following a period of absence are poised to become better friends. there are the people like ee and otto who are working their ways into my heart, but its an uphill battle. i'm not sure if its because i'm not open to them or if the chemistry just isn't there. there are the oldies like the r___ who seem to grow more distant each day. and though there are times when i want desperately to grasp on and do everything i can to not let the friendship slip. and others when it seems inevitable that this will fade away in time. there are the old friends that i never doubt will always be there, but more and more of them fall out of that category and into a more precarious one. and then there are the new (but old) friends, and the new-new friends. and i have little profound to say about them, except that taken all together, the different kinds of people in my life present a challenge. where does one focus energy? is it more important to keep the people you hold dear or make new friends where you are (whether for the moment or for a good while)? ideally of course, one could maintain all of them, but we know that we have limited resources. some kids must be cut from the team. or at least banished to 2nd string. (and now i commence a my boys-esque thought) but is a history of talent more important than future potential? What is the homerun from 8 seasons ago worth today? And are the well formed double batted swings on deck worth taking a chance on? I guess you never know until you try. And people make the wrong choices all the time. But maybe no amount of comtemplating or planning can ensure a playoff team. Maybe you just open up the call and see who shows up.

ok, enough silly rambling. as if things weren't confusing enough i am now contemplating giving the r____ the painting that i recently rescued from the r___.

cumpleanos

its weird when a widely read blog reminds you that you should probably email your friend a happy birthday message.

musica de la cama

back in my younger days, i occasionally listened to a band called phish. this is not something i always admit to. but i'm feeling forthright today. phish wrote their own songs, they did covers. most of them went on for minutes in multiples of ten. but there was one short simple song i always thought was the nicest (which i believe was an original, but i could be wrong).

its called "Lengthwise"
the lyrics are simply
"when you're here, i sleep lengthwise.
and when you're gone, i sleep diagonal in my bed."

i woke up diagonally this morning, alone in bed. and i thought about the song. i always thought of it as a love song. its sometimes the little things that matter. sure things like planning vacations together or rescheduling appointments can be important. but sometimes its the often-overlooked simple parts of life that make the most difference. and accommodating another person in ways that seem mundane may be far more significant that we imagine.

though i'll never be convinced to switch to crunchy peanut butter

ya, noticia mala

one of the biggest wayna rappers of el alto was fatally hit by a bus, recently.
upside down world's obituary for Abraham Bojorquez

esta official

its been a while, and i only write to say this:
the airplane ticket to bolivia has been purchased.

now who's going to make one of these for me?

futbol americana

this is just appalling. i don't know what else to say.
in fact its turning my otherwise wonderful day bad.

fortunately gelato & booze will soon make me forget this horrendousness.

coca y maiz

i'm taking my comprehensive exam, so you'll have to excuse the previous lack of posting and now shameful excuse for posting.

but i found this rather interesting. I have yet to read In Defense of Food, but maybe one of these days... once i'm done being forced to write about the implications of political economy in the creation, perpetuation, and transformation of selves, social subjects and agency... i'll get around to reading it. and then, perhaps, i will write something real to post here.

in honor of comps

this is how i feel about what i'm working on today (which is the history of bolivian revolutionary action from 1781-2005, how it is embedded in political economy, and its relationship to conceptions of self, social subjectivity, and agency):


from sharesomecandy

baile de la escuela de doctorado

last friday i went to what i am now referring to as grad school prom. Dvine's book, Island of Shame, hit bookstores and his parents threw him a party. and despite his insistence that is was a casual affair, its location on a rooftop overlooking the washington monument suggested otherwise.

so, the department was buzzing all week with "what shall we wear?" in particular, all the HAGGs were trying to coordinate level of dressiness. this led to conversations (in person, via email, & on facebook) about whether dresses, skirts, or pants were best, what shoes were appropriate, and the requisite "how short is too short?" discussion. in the end we decided dresses, heels, and sax's earrings were most appropriate, as well as deciding we were all acting like 15 year olds.

now, at first glance, fancy events at this age might be more easily compared to weddings, what with the congratulatory speeches, fancy food, alcohol, and number of people of older generations present. but to me this felt more like prom because of the presence of people i see every day. these are people i've come to know in a very quotidian way. i've seen these folks racked with nervousness over class presentations, caving under the stress of final papers, frustrated with losses on the futbol field, and on the brink of utter breakdown thinking about comps. in essence i've seen these people at their worst (and they've seen me at mine). we live in a world where "how are you?" is more often met with "uh......still alive" than "good, how are you?" granted, i haven't seen these folks grow up the way i had with those attending high school prom. but i have seen them grow into their academic selves, which from our (privileged) position is perhaps just as important a formation.

and grad school prom is far superior to high school prom. there is no anxiety about dates. no drama in the women's bathroom (like with LM & MH), and there's WINE! lots and lots of free wine. and food. and beautiful views (not quite available in miller park). and an afterparty (that far surpasses the hey hi afterprom activties). rumagin, being the perennial cool kid, got too drunk on rum with his roommates to show up, so otto, jag & i met him at his place later for our usual basement activities.

i guess in a way, the evening provided a new episode in the saga that is my feelings about the people here: and on that night, in my heels and makeup, sitting in the basement on chesapeake, i felt like i was where i was supposed to be, with the people i was supposed to be. despite my aching feet, it felt comfortable. with the end of the year approaching quickly it was the perfect time with the perfect reason for celebration.

and you know its a good night when you lose important things like your wallet and don't even care.

scandal, blo/no style

http://normalcoalbears.com/

adendum

oh my

"women are hard wired to want peace....its i our DNA"

"boys will be boys"

this just gets better and better

aye, television

ok, so i somehow just started watching GREEK on abc family. i'm not sure why i did not surf around after turning the television on to this channel, but i didn't.

and now i just have to rant (i know, i know, its my own fault). but so on the show (which i know absolutely nothing about) there's a women's studies class of all women and one man. the professor asks a question, what 3 female leaders have in common (i've never heard of any of them....shows you what kind of womanist/feminist/queer/political scientist i am...) and the one man answers correctly: they all have a strong record of conflict resolution.

the professor affirms that this is correct then goes on to say "it is their instinct as women that has cultivated their abilities at conflict resolution." i waited for the "Psych!" and fully expected it, especially because the professor was being portrayed by Janine Garofalo. but no....apparently they were serious.

WTF? I guess I'd expect them to at least consult some sort of women's studies textbook. Maybe they did. Maybe it was written in the 1940s.

Makes you wonder what gross inaccuracies are being perpetuated in the art history class scenes.

la raza

i'm probably not as qualified to write about this as i'd like to think, but rumagin, delf & i were talking last week about comedy skits that satirize racial stereotypes, and (no matter their intentions) whether they serve to reinforce and naturalize sterotypes and ghettoization, or whether they destabalize them. i, being one to usually argue for the revolutionary potential of performance argue that comedic representations of stereotypes do destabalize them. perhaps people find them funny because they think they're "rooted in truth" but i think they also find them funny because they realize that they are satire-that they don't represent reality, but an exaggeration. and this tends to call into question how these things are constructed. overly-"ghettoized" language makes us realize that people who might talk in similar ways are themselves engaging in a social performance. satirizing the employment options in low income neighborhoods focuses attention on social inequalities.

of course, people often bring up Chappelle's resignation from his show because he felt people were laughing at him, not with him. and i don't doubt his reasons for feeling that way. but what this argument ignores is that at one point, and presumably for some time, he felt that his performance did have potential to change things. to denaturalize. perhaps to break down and reform popular and ideological notions of race. and maybe it didn't happen as quickly or as completely as he'd have liked. and he certainly had every right to decide what he did. but i think he was more effective than he thought. npr did a series in 2002 addressing these issues, and some other comic did seem to feel effective in dismantling stereotypes, at least to an extent.

but then again, maybe i give audiences too much credit. maybe i assume a critical viewer, where there are none. now, leap would say at this point we need audience reception studies. so, despite the fact that no one ever comments here these days, i know you're out there. so how do you think this stuff is received?

when you watch WacArnold, does it highlight for you the structural inequalities and violences of urban ghettoization, or do you laugh because, oh, those crazy black urban folks....they really do need to get a job.

Chappelle's Show
WacArnold's
comedycentral.com
Charlie Murphy Videos Buy Chappelle's Show DVDs Black Comedy

do you laugh at bon qui qui because it presents critique of racial stereotypes, or because "those people" really do talk funny?

seriously, i'm curious.

iowa

i used to dislike iowa. mostly because i had family in ames, and every thanksgiving and every december 26th, and often on a random july day, i'd be forced into sharing the blue station wagon's backset with my sister for a 6 hour journey across flat land. inevitably we'd arrive and my cousins, who i did actually rather enjoy, would be off with their cool older friends, and i'd be forced to endure "grownup" time with the aunts and uncles.

then in 2003, everything changed. a little documentary called "pats of glory," introduced me to the beauties of iowa's fair history, camping next to carnies, and deep fried...well, everything. i was hooked. and i won't go into too much detail because as rule #2 of the fair states, "what stays at the fair, stays at the fair," but my feelings on the state have only become more and more positive in the last 6 years.

and now, well, it might just be surpassing my love for its neighbor to the east. and its not just because of gay marriage. iowa has a long history of progressivism, which i admire. and this article really sums it up.

my love of iowa may even be surpassing my love of the land of lincoln (and obama--but then again, if i'm closely associating obama with illinois, some recent presidential actions -such as this and this-may be making the state slip in the rankings independent of what iowa's doing). illinois might have to start selling rooster booster to redeem itself.

sloppy & unprofessional

it seems butter carving (or sculpture) may make its debut on the big screen. but seriously....there's a big difference between carving and sculpture, and the blurb conflates the two. get it right!

just a little duff dog eye candy

also, in case you weren't paying attention, fujimori got sentanced to 25 years.

recuerdos y ideas

I wrote this for scammell's most recent piece, about memory. i'm not sure it'll make it into the final piece, but after about a month of reflection, i still kind of like what i said.

as something of an anthropologist i feel like i should frame memory in some sort of anthropological theory. of course, this is in no way indicative of anthropology as a whole, but i think memory is very intimately connected to ideas of truth and history. we are all who we are because of what we've experienced. we have these experiences and we try to break them up into digestible, understandable pieces. we chop experience up into memories in order to endow them with meaning. this is the moment i realized something, or this happened, or this experience is why i feel this way. but in reality, experience is just a long run on sentence of occurrances. and much like history, they depend entirely on perception. there is no single truth. there are as many truths as people who witness or live through an event. and yet, some truths are valued over others. they are reproduced and written down, and thus become fact, "official history." I think we do similar things with memories. We have a vast amount of experience from which to draw, but we choose certain memories from which to make meaning. these memories are a key part of the construction of our identities. they tell us who we were, and thus who we are. we make ourselves through our memories.

i've also been thinking about attraction a lot lately, too, and i think in a way its related. in fact, i think attraction may be the converse of memory in some ways. i have come to the conclusion that (and maybe this is cynical, but that would be rather in line with my usual musings on relationships) we are all attracted to people based on the idea of them. we attribute meaning before the substance, and sometimes forget that's the case.

its the idea that attracts us. the idea of that brooding filmmaker, or that silly footballer. and i think it matters very little how well we know the person. even if the object of attraction is an old friend, someone with whom we collaborate or create, even if we've witnessed them in other relationships or had our own previous relationships with them, its still the idea that attracts us initially. the idea of the good friend that becomes the lover. the idea of carrying over what we have into something else. the idea of the past relationship becoming renewed. we apply cultural narratives to our unique situations to make them meaningful. maybe epic.

perhaps more obviously, even if we've only known the person for a few moments, or simply seen them across a room. the attraction is the idea of them. we make assumptions based on our visual perceptions. As Celia Lury has written, vision and knowledge have become inextricably intertwined in modern Euro-American societies (1998:2). We make assumptions based on the visual. Certain clothing represents interests or values, glasses translate to intelligence, dreadlocks translate to particular recreational practices, a hoodie with 15 mini-buttons translates to some sort of leftist, anti-consumerist, possibly anarchist political position. And because, for the most part, we're using a common script, or what Eco calls “successive transcriptions” (1992:3) the translation is often close to what was intended by the performer. so, this is to say that often the idea of the person is not so far from the reality.

However, the idea is simply the iconic permutation of the real person. Certain aspects of identity may be highlighted while others are ignored or downplayed. And this happens on both ends, the attractor and the attracted. Or perhaps it's aspects of the affair itself that are highlighted or downplayed. Its scandalous nature highlighted, the mundane interactions downplayed. Or the comfort level highlighted, the misunderstandings downplayed.

But this is not to say that attraction is meaningless. Its what happens after the attraction that counts. Its what's built on top of the attraction that lasts. Because eventually (maybe it takes 30 seconds, maybe 4 years) the idea of this person, this encounter or relationship melts away to reveal the truth beneath it. That charasmatic artist becomes a real human with talent, but confidence issues, or the young ambitious politician transforms into a someone too absorbed with the state of affairs in the world, and not absorbed enough with you. But if you're lucky, that quirky bass player slowly transforms into a complex personality that is compatible, comfortable, and real. complete with faults and failings, but with just the right combination of smirks, jokes, surprises, and awkward talks about the future to make you realize its not just the idea of it anymore. there's real substance.

but only if you're lucky.

palabras y nombres

the world was feeling a little out of whack this weekend. maybe because i spent too much time at school. maybe because i cleaned our giant white board with harsh chemicals and the fumes were getting to me. i'm sure it had something to do with certain friendship weirdnesses, but things are feeling back in order again (nothing a little pineapple can't fix). i also think part of the fix has been the way i've been addressed by a number of people. "darlings" are always nice, as are "hello, love". "hey lady" or "baby" from certain folks. "nellochka!" is always nice. I even enjoy "haynes!" coming through on g chat.

last week, when mama H was visiting, i was actually thinking about being called "haynes." My mother calls my father that. My mom's coworkers call her Haynes. But i've never been called Haynes. Not even back in my team sports days. It was always "nellerz." The closest i've come is "Hell Nanes" thanks to the epic farter and rave demon. So maybe this is silly and crazy, but being called haynes actually make me like e.d.a. much better. funny how little things like discourse change minds and moods.

i suppose voloshinov was right

para serge

this blog needs more pictures.

las estrellas

i've mentioned this before, but i don't read my horoscope much. however, it seems like on the odd occasions when i do happen to check it out, it always seems far too appropriate.

today's:

You would be wise today to remember that your imagined scenario isn't the only one possible. This isn't to say you are wrong in any of your perceptions or even in your conclusions. But there are multiple paths diverging from several points along your way, even if they aren't obvious to you right now. Keep in mind that the Taurus Moon is currently in your 7th House of Environment, giving you the impression that reality is more rigid than it actually is. New solutions will become apparent as soon as tomorrow.

so, perhaps i worry too much. i get too caught up in things, and my control freak comes out. sometimes i need to remember that a deep breath can work wonders.

i still don't regret it though.

world theater day

i actually randomly stumbled upon this by someone who is not technically a perf stud (though really, had life circumstances been different, i can totally see rumagin being quite a perf stud in a number of ways), but i think it speaks to a number of ideas i've held for a long time.

i remember first telling people i was double majoring in theater and anthropology. everyone thought this was crazy because a) the only worse than theater for finding work is anthropology and b) what could the two possibly have in common with each other.

and agosto boal on this World Theater Day, states it all quite clearly. but to sum up, we are all actors. life is spectacle. it is what you do with your action and spectacle that makes or unmakes (sometimes both) the world. so today i remember dwight and will consciously work to create social justice through activism, art, and academics.

hablamos

the beginning of this week was kind of rough emotionally (not for any good reason), but there's something about seeing one of my favorite old students (the wave on NM ave. did the trick) on national television to make me feel better. that kid who sits in the back of human mirror is also on there, but i don't have as much affection for him as i do for bryce.

but really, a number of things have changed. first, the weather is warming up, and though its rainy, and still getting quite cold at night, the world smells like spring, and that's enough for me. second, i spent 45 minutes this morning talking to ee about how language used on online dating websites is strikingly neoliberal (the body as machine, flexibly accumulating attributes, commodifying desires) and at one point, i had to chuckle to myself. this is exactly what i always thought was missing in the dale. the sort of spontaneous, organic anthropological discussions that make me feel like a grad student. and as annoyed as i get about how little i get done in the cubes, its really because so much of this happens. i mean, sure, there's plenty of gossiping, complaining, arguing, and plain ridiculousness, but those moments when we get into deep discussions and challenge each other, and i can actually feel my opinions changing or narrowing, or being refined...those are the moments i know i'm in the right place.

to top it all off, the film is still in a precarious position, but is at least coming together a little, i've gotten some work done on my paper for montreal, and there's free lunch tomorrow. plus our first futbol practice. so, while i've been complaining that my friends just aren't cutting it, i'm really proud to be part of a community. and one that (maybe its egotistical, but) i feel like i've had a hand in creating.

so tonight, instead of sitting in the library discussing david harvey, otto, the jag, ee, rumagin, and otto's friend alva & i went to ee's place, sat in his basement office drinking wine and discussed everything from postmodernism to ways in which sea monster on iphone reflects shifting forms of fragmented identity. i guess being a nerd isn't so bad. for the moment at least.

mis chicos

oh my.
a new season of my boys in impending.

this does not bode well for my ability to defend my television viewing habits.

a casa

there's always something about changing the time zone on my computer's clock that feels meaningful. the watch gets pushed ahead or pulled back usually when the time announcement comes over the airplane's intercom as we land. the cell phone clock changes automatically when driving from one time zone to another. but often, i consciously avoid changing the clock on my little laptop. when i moved to the dale, it took me a full month to admit i no longer lived in EST and pull it back an hour. and now, i find myself hesitating to push it the other way. to admit that i am back on the east coast to stay for a while. that i live here. that i live here.

yes, this is where my stacks of books and old canvases are. this is where my snow boots sit next to my old green converses on the shelf of my closet. where the Vegetarian Epicure my mother gave me rests atop the fridge, and my chola puppet and carebear share a seat by the window. but after a year and a half, it still doesn't feel like home. i've met some wonderful people that have opened me up to new ideas, and i've certainly had my share of fun. but it still doesn't fit. i really want to like this place. i try to like it. some nights everything falls into place and the people and timing and weather and architecture all come alive and i forget the reasons i've concocted that i should think this place is wonderful and i can just feel it. but then an hour passes, and the magic is gone, and its back to consciously concentrating on the small pieces of this city that i connect to. the pieces that remind me of other places, usually.

and so, i come back here from a week in a place i love, and everything is dulled. it rains, but without ferocity. i see familiar faces, but i have to prepare myself to smile for them. i find myself in a foul mood, and not even the things that usually snap me out of it will work.

and i don't mean for this to be too self-pitying or depressing. my life is quite nice and i have people here who care about me and believe in me. i'm getting to do what i really love, for the most part, and in a place that nurtures the things i find important in life. but i'm just not sure this will ever be home. maybe i've been misinterpreting robert frost all along. maybe its not that you can't go home again, because places change. perhaps its because once you've experienced something like home, its just impossible to find again.

but i did just reset my computer's clock.