Collected journal entries for March

3. march

Things got interesting this morning. I was going to mix some chemicals and start processing some of the rolls of film that I have shot here this past month and was looking for the measuring beaker. Finally located it behind a chair in our bedroom, wrapped in a black sock for protection when packing it in our suitcase in Toronto. When I pulled the sock off the beaker something fell from it and onto the chair below; a handsome Black Widow spider. Keeping my eye firmly on the beast I called Kári, our nature-loving, science-curious son and he brought a glass and promptly caged the animal. After admiring it with a mix of admiration, fear and humility the widow met its fate; my Puma sneaker, the deadliest weapon in our arsenal, having already slaughtered a scorpion few days ago. While I revelled in gratitude over having barely escaped an instantaneous death by paralysis Kári read up on the fearful venomous animal and shared some enlightening facts; the spider rarely bites, even when threatened and if they do bite they rarely cause serious reactions in humans, let alone death, even if left untreated.

It´s hard not to associate my reaction to this animal to other mythologized threats. When we told our friends and family of our plan to spend four months in Mexico some voiced their concern with comments on the dangers that would await us in this violent country of drug gangs and lawlessness. Would it be safe to bring our children here? I wonder what, of the following scenarios, is the most likely; running into trouble with a drug gang in Mexico, being hit by a car in Toronto, or beaten to a pulp on the town in Reykjavík?

Orri

4. march

Poor Flóki is running a high fever and is sleeping upstairs, Þórdís reading beside him. Me and Flóki had planned to go into town and check out the graphic arts workshop that I passed on my walk there last week, bring sketchbooks and things to draw/paint with and have an „art day.“ Instead, me and Þorri went into the city and are now sitting at the Instituto de Artes Gráficas de Oaxaca looking at graffiti books and books on protest art. Have promised to buy him a spraycan before we head back.

At the end of the day Þorri insists on taking a taxi collectivo; beat-up Nissan cars that drive specific routes with as many as 7 passengers – plus driver - squeezed inside the 5-person vehicle. His reasons; “because it´s so warm and cosy.” Þorri is so much calmer when you´re alone with him, talks less and contemplates. On the way he remarks, out of the blue; “some things you can only do well if you don´t think about them.” A bit baffled I inquire about what he means and he explains that when he consciously thinks about drawing, focusing on doing it well, his drawings never come out good. But when he doesn´t think about it his drawings are “crazy cool.” In the stuffed car we take turns naming things in life which his theory applies to; photographing, running down the stairs, breathing… In the evening I fall asleep full of gratitude for having a 6 year old that can point to profound things without trying.

Orri

5. mars

Á föstudaginn fórum við í Oaxaca og kauptum spreybrúsa og mat og tókum mynd af grís með kórónu. Það á að vera umslag fyrir The Rocking Pigs.

Þegar ég hugsa um að teikna þá er teikningin vond. Mér langar ekki að skrifa.

Þorri

6.mars.

Ég byrja þessa sögu á því að braka í tám, fingrum og hné, pínku í hálsi. Ég horfi út um gluggann frá stofuglugganum á meðan ég sit í sófanum úr húsinu mínu hér í Mexíkó.

Ég sé svínabúk með ljótt andlit af norn með of langt nef eins og í teiknimyndum, til dæmis nornirnar í Ronju. Nú sé ég þær.

Það er síðdegi og sólin er að leggjast niður. Það er soldill vindur en bleikt og gult sólarlag. Fyrir einum degi síðan sáum við svörtu ekkjuna og daginn áður sáum við sporðdreka.

Flóki

6. mars

Þrír dagar síðan við sáum the black widow og hún dó. Og við sáum sporðdreka og í dag er hundur með okkur og það eru löggur að leita að einhverju?

Þorri

Sunday, March 6th

Again sitting in the rocking chair on the veranda. Chet Baker sounds from the house and lends the air a sense of melancholy. I always think of Þorri when I listen to him. The background sound is not as romantic, it is the washing machine. Actually, even it sounds romantic at this point, especially since now the wind is picking up a bit and the trees rustle a little, adding their soft sounds to the cacophony. Sometimes I feel as if we are living a life of leisure described in an English novel set in the 1920’s or 30’s. I am an educated English woman living in the colonies, India or Africa. Drinking iced tea and reading literature, my biggest worry being whether the cook was able to find marmalade in town or if the scorpions will continue to come into the house.

On the other hand, the atmosphere here is something completely different. After the boys went to sleep last night the five of us got into a pretty heated discussion on politics. It makes me happy that Eyja, Kári and Vasilis are all socially conscious and critical of the consumer driven society we live in in. They each approach it a bit differently. I recognize myself in a lot of what Eyja says about our responsibility to try to make the world a better place to live in, in whichever small way we can. Kári focuses on environmental issues and nature. He thinks of our existence in the universe on a large scale and feels that we humans don’t deserve anything but extinction if we cannot change our relationship to the earth. Vasilis is an idealist in so many ways and sometimes feels frustrated and alone, incapable of starting a revolution. One of my great grandfathers was a conservative business man who believed capitalism was the best way to run society, but he used to say that if young people were not radical there was something wrong with them. I feel the same way and worry when young people are not concerned with politics and changing the world.

Þórdís

March 7th

Eyja has been getting inspired by a vegan cookbook that she brought with her and since Kári and I had just recently watched the documentary Cowspiracy before coming here we are willing to eat meat only once in a blue moon. Even Vasilis says he is fine without the meat, but we have been buying approximately one organic (?) chicken a week since we came. We buy it at the small store that Eugenia’s mom runs and even though we are seven people it lasts us for more than one meal. We usually make a soup from it or put it on tortillas/tacos with a lot of other toppings. I am happy that most of our shopping is directly with farmers at the market. We have only been three times to the supermarket in the month that we have been here and then it is mainly to buy milk, cereal and some sanitary products. Bread, beans, rice, vegetables, fruit etc. can all be bought locally and we much prefer that to supporting Walmart.

Þórdís

Mars 8. 2016

Ég sit hér með pabba mínum að reyna að skrifa, var að enda við að missa blýantinn minn og þarf að fara að finna hann. Pabbi þurfti að hjálpa mér uppúr brunninum og svo kom ég upp og settist á stingublóm. Þegar ég skrifa þetta orð skríður lítil fluga sem svo reyndi að bíta mig en ég næ í rósmarín og hún flýgur í burt. Núna var ein á nefinu á mér. Nú veit ég ekki hvað ég á að skrifa enda búinn með blaðsíðu.

Flóki

March 13th

The house is

a Mary Poppins bag,

filled only with spiders.

(Vasilis)

Mars 13. 2016 San Pablo Etla

Í gær fórum við pabbi og ég í markaðinn og í sýningu af styttum gerðum fyrir 3 þúsund árum síðan, sem indjánar sem sagt frumbyggjar bjuggu til og höggva út í steina. Og þegar það var búið fórum við á kaffihús. Við gerðum það reyndar 3 sinnum í fyrradag. Það var rosalega skemmtilegt en ekki það skemmtilegasta. Ég mun segja frá því núna. Áður en ég byrja Það sskkeemmmmtttilleeeggaassttaa braka ég mér í fingrum, svo klóra ég mér í biti af móskító og þá get ég byrjað. Við vorum að skoða grafíti bækur og Basquiat skrifaði „Mind the Crap“. Núna veit ég ekki hvað ég á að skrifa enda búinn að skrifa eina blaðsíðu og þarf ekki að gera meir. ENDIR! …

Flóki

March 14th.

Running away from the Atlas boy.

Hanging the laundry

ready to complain,

and a not older than seven year old

Mexican Atlas boy

Walks by (thankfully the fence stayed between us),

carrying stones,

almost as heavy as his thoughts.

It shut me up;

tomorrow I will go on a date

with all the red towels,

as far away from his stones as possible.

Vasilis

15. mars

After breakfast and Spanish class me, Þorri and Flóki went on a walk to the mountains to do some writing. The sun was strong and the walk relatively long so by the time we found a nice place to sit down at we were all sweaty and tired. Now we’re all sitting on a rock, writing in our diaries. I like being with the boys in nature, they’re learning to navigate the forest and I can feel that they’re much more comfortable with nature than when we first came here.

Kári

March 16

Not inspired to write today. Read Brautigan, did some water colouring and cooked. Had an art and Icelandic “class” with the boys before noon and then took a walk to look at an animal that Flóki and Kári had come across on their walk earlier in the day. It looked like an opossum. Just before dinner I caught Flóki teaching his brother some moves in American football and was touched by their warm interaction. Flóki was very encouraging and Þorri unusually quiet and attentive; really eager to impress his athletic brother. We had tacos and I am so impressed by the Mexican use of more expensive ingredients like meat. The other day when Eugenia came over and taught us how to make tacos Dorados we only used half a chicken for twelve people. The chicken is boiled and then shredded to pieces and mixed with a sauce of tomatoes, onions, spices, almonds, raisins, etc. Then there are black beans, guacamole, salsa, cheese and salad and at the end of the feast we have only used very little meat and very little money on a delicious dinner. A whole breast of chicken for one person probably seems rather ridiculous to most people around here. There is so much love and work put into the various salsas and moles and that becomes the main thing.

Þórdís

March 18th

In love with

“Taxi Colectivo” here,

today I sat in the same car,

with a granny fossil,

a guy with a tear tattoo on his right cheek,

two Icelanders,

and the driver who was a walkie-talkie

hieroglyph translator.

Vasilis

19.mars

I went to a pre-Hispanic art museum in Oaxaca yesterday. Some of the artefacts there were thousands of years old. I was surprised to see how precise and complex these stone carvings and sculptures were, given that they had no metal to shape the stones. I tried to imagine how life would have been in those times; death was normal, uncertainty casual and a complex religion connected the people to a spiritual realm. I think freedom existed in a very different form back then, but it is hard to imagine something I know so little about.

Kári

March 19 th

The fact we don’t understand Spanish very well is constantly causing small misunderstandings and awkward moments. A while ago Eugenia and Fidel told us that we were invited to a big family fiesta, a boda. We were told there would be around 200 people there and when we asked if we should bring something with us, beer or food or anything, they said that would not be necessary. So we went empty handed and rather casually dressed to the party. When we arrived, Orri, the boys and I immediately noticed that this was no ordinary fiesta. People were dressed in their best clothes and the outdoor tent was decorated with white flowers. “Sí, está una boda! A wedding!” Eugenia said happily when we asked nervously what type of a party this was. Before long the ceremony started and a young couple appeared, looking happy and excited, the bride seven months pregnant and wearing a white wedding dress. They stood in front of the guests and a serious looking state official gave what felt like a never ending speech. Just as the ceremony ended and the newlyweds were hugging and kissing their closest relatives Eyja and Vasilis appeared, casually dressed and sweaty from the trip to town where Vasilis had just got a tattoo of a cactus on his right foot and was now wearing a very fashionable cut off sock and sandals. The two couples walked right into the arms of one another and seemed equally surprised. Eyja and Vasilis’s surprise of walking into a wedding and the Mexican couple’s surprise of seeing these rather rough looking gringos at their party. They all managed to put on smiles and greeted one another politely. Two pigs were roasted for the occasion and there were cervezas and mescal for everyone. A loud brass band with about fifteen members appeared and that’s when the party started. We all soon got over the initial awkwardness and had a great time. Flóki and Þorri ran around with the kids and the poultry, played football and laughed with the kids. Eyja was not as pleased as her brothers with all the birds running around and ended up leaving early after a close encounter with a chicken. Aside from the incident with the chicken it was a great party which I would not want to have missed.

Þórdís

Mánudagur 21.mars

Í dag fann pabbi minn tönnina mína í Taxi Collectivo. Fyrir tveimur dögum fórum við í brúðkaup og ég eignaðist vin og bjó til flaututungumál með honum. Ég datt í fótbolta og það kom oddar út úr skinninu mínu nema ég fékk ekki víti.

Þorri

Monday, March 21

This morning Eyja and I went for a brisk walk. It is such a lovely way to begin the day. We get up around 7:30 so it is still not too warm and we wake up on our way up the hill. It is great to have Eyja for myself and talk about whatever comes to mind. At around 9 we have showered and are ready for the ten minute Spanish lesson of the day. Today it was Kári’s turn to be the teacher and he went over the colours. Now it is still early, maybe 10:30 and I am sitting in the garden. Orri went into town to get some films, Eyja is teaching the boys storytelling, Vasilis is sitting by the dining room table doing some watercolours and Kári has just finished taking out the trash, as today is garbage day.

Yesterday I read a book that I found both unusual and touching. It is called Redlands by Philip Brookman who skillfully combines photographs and fiction. The main character grew up in Mexico and the U.S. and his girlfriend is from parents that are Mexican immigrants. To me it was interesting how her immigrant background gave her a stronger sense of self and belonging, while he was a bit lost and searching for an identity. As a young couple they move to the lower east side of Manhattan, one block from where Orri and I lived, so the book spanned familiar areas for me. The photographs are really strong, but moreover the characters ring so true. Here is a quote I kept coming back to because I find it so beautiful and true. It is the Mexican mother talking:

”I raised three daughters moving back and forth across the border, following the sun for work. It did not matter what side of the line we were on, as long as we had beans and rice to feed our kids. You know, these fingers must have touched every single bean the girls ate at home for all those years; it’s something special, raising kids like that. You have to provide everything for them until they can do it for themselves. I’ve thought about it a lot and I have to say, when you touch every bean your family eats, it seems like such a long process but it’s not really. They’re grown now and that’s like a blessing, it gives you a real appreciation of the earth and how hard she works to sustain us.”

Þórdís

March 22

Kári og pabbi eru farnir hátt, hátt upp í fjöllin í tvær nætur. Kannski munu þeir sjá pumu (svartan hlébarða). Það voru tveir menn sem voru með sprengju á sér og sprendgu sprengjuna og margir dóu og vinur hans Vasilis og vinur hennar Eyju voru þarna.

Þorri

March 22 2016

What should I write?

Now I know what to write. This morning in Belgium in the airport there were two guys who did a bombing. 40 or many people died. Otherwise I am having a mas o menos life.

Flóki

Mars 23. 2016

Mér finnst erfitt að skrifa útaf því að?

Ég kann það ekki

Mér finnst það ekki gaman

Ég er með penna sem virkar ekki.

Ég þarf að gera á íslensku

Flóki

22-24.Mars

A five hour walk from our house up the mountains brought us here. A small cabin in the woods, with no electricity, no water (except that in the lake below), two rusty bases for beds and a funny smell. But the view is nice.

A long ten minutes away there’s another cabin that Oscar (our guide) showed us. There we met a group of workers that were cutting down trees in the area. I didn’t understand a lot of the conversation but they mostly joked around and after greeting us they asked if we had seen a puma on our way. Apparently they live in this part of the forest. Now me, Orri and Oscar are back in our cabin, sitting outside by the fire, enjoying the view and listening to nature, pondering.

Last night me and dad decided that we wanted to sleep outside, rather than in the smelly cabin. We asked Oscar if it would be possible but he said that it would probably be too cold. So we slipped into our long Johns, put some wood on the fire and gave it a try. Both of us woke up several times during the night due to cold but then we just tossed a few logs over the fire and in a minute it got warm again. This morning I woke up to birds singing and the sun shining. After breakfast we went to the tallest peak to see the view before heading home.

Looking back on our trip my favourite part was probably the night. There was something nice about it, even though I didn’t get the best sleep because of the hard ground and cold air. For most of human existence people have been sleeping under the night sky, gazing at the stars and keeping warm by the fire. Maybe it was this back to earth bullshit that gave me the nice feeling. Maybe it were the changes in the soundscape of the forest, from evening to night to morning. Or maybe it was just the light from the full moon, probably it was a combinations of all those things. Anyway, I liked it.

Kári