Affection

One of the main customs I have had to dive right into is the kissing on both cheeks every time you meet someone or meet up with/say goodbye to a friend. It was surprisingly really easy to get used to. I actually like how it instantly means you feel closer to a person when you meet them because there isn't the polite distance of shaking hands between you. When we went out with Pedro and Pablo to the bar in Vigo, we met another American with our program. Naturally, I shook hands with him. Pablo and Berta thought this was so strange and funny that we would do that and then mandated that "You're in Spain, you have to kiss!" In general the culture is here is much more physically affectionate. People stroll down the main street in the evening arm in arm (between friends, or family members). There is a lot more PDA as well…I have decided that if I were a photographer I would shoot my first series here on bus departure make-out sessions. Last night there were three young couples around us kissing like this was their final goodbye forever because one of them was getting on a bus to go back to school for the week.

Galicia

Galicia is a the region in Spain right above Portugal in the northwest corner of Spain. This region has an incredibly dense history and intricately woven cultural fabric. I learn new stuff about it everyday and will continue to post insights as they come. I won't bother restating what's already online, so if you want to read more by someone smarter than me, click here. Gallego is the regional language here, although everyone speaks Spanish as well. It is a mix of Spanish and Portuguese. The languages are very similar-so much so that I don't understand how children keep them separate when they learn them. The government has mandated that schools use both in class. Public documents and signage come in both which makes for a bit of a confusing time for us sometimes. The kids in my class often speak to me in gallego, and my teacher has to continually remind the, "Por favor, speak Spanish to her."There is a series of advertisements made by a grocery chain here that are on youtube. Here is one (click here) and if you watch them on youtube, you can click on others in the series on the right hand side of the page. These are in gallego so I don't understand it all, but they have been explained to us by several Spaniards. They are a celebration of all things that make Galicians unique (much like a video in the south would focus on the use of y'all, grits, front porches, hunting, etc.). Some of the points they poke on: -Galicians are super laid back and answer everything with "Bueno…" (meaning good, well, yeah…) -They are so laid back you never know if they're coming or going -They always state the obvious (where the little granny says "You fell down.") -They always answer a question with a question -One saying they always use is "Malo sera"--kind of like a "Don't worry, it could be worse." And of course they end with the battle cry "Vivamos como galegos!" (Let's live like Galicians!)

We have been inundated with their hospitality. Most of the time when we ask where something is, they say, "Bueno, just walk with me," and totally change their direction to just escort us there. The generosity of families like my director's and the Morales Iglesias has made all the difference here. People are always patient with our fumbling through our Spanish. Many times when we thank someone for some act of kindness or their help with something they say, "Well, if I were in a new country, I'd want someone to do the same for me." Mastery of the golden rule. This means one of the biggest things I will take away from here will be that if I ever meet a new foreigner in the states again I will have a much better idea of how I can help them.

Vigo In terms of geography, Galicia is one of the most beautiful, mystical places I've ever been. Vigo (the nearby big city) is on the bay and is pretty industrial with a large industry centered about shipping/ship building (I think?). Our first few days were spent there enjoying being able to see the Atlantic flash through cracks in buildings as you stroll the streets. The drive from Vigo to Ourense (whole post on Ourense coming soon) goes through rural areas in the mountains. Because of all of the rain here, everything is lusciously green. It's sort of like Oregon greenness meets Alabama ruralness combined with some of Colorado mountains and rivers. It is called the Land of Rivers. It rained a lot of the fist two weeks, which is normal for here, but we have had almost a whole week of sun. The first time we saw sun after so much rain, I almost wept. We have made every effort to be outside this week to take advantage of the light. Everytime we talk to people about how we're new here and will be here through May they say, "Uff (a super common expression), el invierno aqua!" (Ah, the Winter here!). I can't lie to you, this strikes fear in me every time. I'm hoping it's over-exhaggerated because I don't do cold weather well! My main hope is that I can see the rain with their eyes here because they say, "La lluvia es rate" (The rain is art)--and I like art.

The regions of Spain all have very distinct cultural elements. Therefore, much of what I have seen is mores "Galician" and not necessarily "Spanish." When I venture out into Spain, I'll report back on those differences.

Day by Day

Of course it has been great to know I'm getting something I've dreamed of for so long, but I'd be lying if I over-romanticized all of this for you. These days have been HARD. It has taken immense perseverance and really hasn't been exactly what I expected. Now that I have rested and taken time to breathe a little, I feel much better. I like to think of myself as a pretty laid back person (at lease relative to Americans), but I can't tell you how many times a day a Spaniard tells me "Cálmate," "No te preocupes," "tranquila" (be calm, don't worry, be tranquil). As much as I hate running errands in the states to big chain stores, I would give good money right now to get to drive my own car and go to a Target. We have missed many buses, thrown money down the drain trying to make up for these mistakes, etc. There are little things like in the grocery store, I didn't know you have to weigh your produce and put your own sticker on it--which meant I held up the whole line while the lady walked me over to show me how to do it. Francis Mayes always seems to have to the words I want to say: "Splendid to arrive alone in a foreign country and feel the assault of difference. Here they are all along, busy with living; they don't talk or look like me. The rhythm of their day is entirely different; I am foreign. " Lots of thoughts on "homesickness" (rather, "familiar-sickness" as a friend put it) coming soon. I am intrigued by this topic and how every culture has a special word for it.

As most of you know, this past July I had blood clots in my lungs and found out I have a blood syndrome that makes my blood too sticky. Therefore I have to be on anticoagulant medicine my whole life. It is tricky to get your INR level right with the medicine. It was fine when I left the states but about two weeks into my time here I felt really weird for a day or two last weekend. I went to the doctor last Monday and my blood level was extremely high. It felt like my veins were going to explode. This meant that I walked away from the doctor, found a park bench and cried my eyes out. As if people don't stare at us enough, an obviously American girl, boohooing on a bench definitely meant I looked weird. It has been a bit weighty be in a new country with a new medical issue to tend to, but I'm feeling better for the moment and just trying to stay warm and avoid pneumonia again. Like the Spaniards keep telling me, "Poco a poco"--little by little. Day by day.

Morales Iglesias

One of the biggest blessings in Spain has been getting to hang out with this family here that I mentioned earlier (picked us up at airport, took care of luggage, etc.). Pedro, the sibling in the family that I met this past spring in Alabama was home for a weekend and invited to us meet his friends. One difference here is that childhood friend groups tend to stay in touch moreso than in the states. There you have your childhood friends, your college friends, your post-college friends, etc. But here, it seems like whole families are friends with other families and the kids, even though their ages may vary, are all friends as well. If you attend a university in your city, you live with your parents, and if not, you return home most weekends. Most people live at home until they're married or move to another city for their job. This means families are very close. Makes me miss my family! The scene we walked into felt a bit like a movie: all of his friends sitting around in this super-fancy parlor playing poker, smoking, drinking liquor, all dressed very stylishly. Katie and I laughed about how we felt like we were in Oceans 11 or some posh scene. We got to have some conversations outside on the porch where my lack of confidence with Spanish caught up with me and meant I was a lost/naive in a few of the guys' dry sense of humor. We went out to the bar their group always goes to when they're all back in town reunioning where we met some more of their friends including a graphic designer. We asked one guy what we should do to look more Spanish (I've given up trying to look like I fit in). He responded: "Smoke, drink, and the last I won't tell you, just use your imagination." I love the honesty. Pedro and Pablo are both very musical so we went back to their house with their friends and had a little impromptu concert with them sharing some songs and Katie and I doing our best to attempt some in return. One of my favorite moments so far. I had to learn new notes though. They kept saying this song is "do, re, fa, do" or some sort of sequence with the notes being called by the chord progression do, re, me, fa, so, la, ti, instead of the a, b, c, d, e, f, g that we use in the states. Very interesting.

The next morning we got to eat the traditional long family lunch on Sunday afternoons with them. Delicious portions of a chicken broth based soup, shrimp, sausage, bread, cheese, this fruit dessert we've had a lot that I don't even know the fruit name in English (here it's a membrillo?). Followed by some creme de oruja (kind of like Galician Bailey's that is one of the best things I've ever tasted). I was so impressed by how the siblings had such a system down for clearing the table of one course, refreshing the table with the new one, and serving each other without having to be asked or told. There was no griping over who had to take the dishes get the next round of food, serve the other person, etc. It seemed so natural and like a joy to be able to get somebody something they needed. This was a pleasure to see. Afterward, we lounged in the living room--I love watching how families interact, especially this one of 6 kids because I have rarely been around such a large family. I don't know if it was the Spanish-ness, or just the nature of being a big family, but I absolutely love the way they were so affectionate with each other. There was so many little gestures like back rubbing, a sporadic hug or kiss on the cheek, one playing with the others shoe, etc. And of course the usual sibling banter giving each other a hard time. Poor Cristina, the baby. They kept giving her a hard time wanting her to practice her English with us. We are excited to get to know Galicia through the lives of this family. (Morales, if you're reading this, I hope this isn't embarrassing…I am just so blessed to see how those in your family love each other that I feel this huge desire to explain this to my friends back home).

Time to Go

"It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. LEAVE. You will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed." -Donald Miller "I had the urge to examine my life in another culture and move beyond what I knew." Francis Mayes

"The world cracks open to those willing to take a risk." -F. Mayes

From childhood I have been intrigued by the densely cultured European continent. From learning about Mozart in class,  to gloating over international design catalogues awarding European designers, to watching Under the Tuscan Sun, I am perpetually gripped by a yearning to go to Europe. I studied in Italy for a summer and fell in love with traveling through Europe. I minored in Spanish in college so decided to make Spain my destination for attempting to actually live abroad (I am quickly learning that there is a big difference in living abroad and traveling on "trips" but more on that later). This year I was accepted to teach English in Spain in an elementary school with a  program that is managed by the Spanish government. After being accepted, the program places you in a school. I was placed in Galicia, a region in the northwest corner of Spain. Many more blog posts specifically on my region/city to come--practicalities now. Thankfully, a good friend from college, Katie Norton, and I were placed about 45 minutes apart so we are able to live together which has made all the difference in the world. If you want to follow our adventures for the next 8 months, you've hit the jackpot.

The idea of sitting down to re-cap the last three weeks overwhelms me. So I won't try. I have to let go of the idea that I will be able to relay every detail of this time in Spain and be okay with moreso conveying the sense of this place and the larger themes of my time here. I never would have imagined that my first post would come after three solid weeks here but rather more immediately. However, I feel much pressure to put thought into these posts and haven't had much time for thoughts these days. But now I can breathe a little more as I have just moved into my new apartment.

In terms of getting to Spain, I will try to give you the staccato version: Found out our flight from Birmingham was delayed. Changed flight to an earlier one. Newly assigned flight is then delayed. Original flight leaves before the one we're now assigned that should have left earlier (=ironic, where's Alanys Morresett when you need her?). Arrive in Atlanta (even more ironic that we could have driven to Atlanta in the 5 hours we waited in Birmingham). We have obviously missed our connector flight to Madrid. Are re-assigned to a flight to Paris. We literally RUN through the airport in Atlanta making it so much at the last moment that they are fully boarded and make standby passengers get off to give us our seats. This plane is delayed on the tarmac so in Paris we miss our layover to Madrid. After a long wait in the beautifully modern feeling Charles de Gaulle airport we get a direct flight to Vigo, Spain. At that point I am absolutely delirious, having not slept in about 35-40 hours and all Spain means to me is a bed. We arrive late at night and, shocker!, no suitcases. We are fumbling through our immediate immersion into Spanish trying to tell the patient lady in the airport that our luggage isn't there. Then is was like Christmas, birthday, and the joy of spring all rolled together when two girls (Maro and Marta) come through the door and ask if we're Robin and Katie. Sigh of relief. They are the two sisters Pedro, a guy I met for like 4 hours in the states this past spring. He is working in Italy but sent his sweet brother (Pablo) to get us, but we weren't there with delayed planes,  so his two gracious sisters came to our rescue. They took over the luggage claim and stayed in touch with the airport all week for us trying to locate our bags as Spanish is really a challenge on the phone! They took us to our hotel and then to an idyllic restaurant in the same plaza where we had an assortment of cheese and hams--welcome to Spain.

Our first day was spent getting a phone (none of you would be jealous of my 19 euro phone that functions like it's 1990). After many unsolicited questions to strangers we figured out how to take the bus to the station and catch one to Ponteareas and another town a little further to look for an apartment. Pablo called and said he was driving through Ponteareas on his way back to Vigo and would give us a ride. What a treat. He and Berta, his girlfriend are absolute delights. We had some coffee and great conversations. The coffee here is amazing. It's half milk, half espresso (I guess our lattes?, but way cheaper), and I'm addicted. We reunioned with some of the other language assistants that night in Vigo which is always fun when you have people all together from California to Wales.

Strike

That night as we went to bed we kept hearing what sounded like bombs going off. I ran downstairs to inquire as to whether or not we should be scared. The man assured me it was just the strikers getting started with chargers that just make noise but don't do any harm. Before leaving, we had been warned through an email that there would be a strike on the next day but we were more under the impression that it was a transportation strike. When we woke up and strolled from the hotel to find breakfast, EVERYTHING was closed. Turns out this was a "general strike." After fearing that I'd be fasting for the day, we found a hotel that had their grate half way open in front of the front door. We ducked our way in and asked if we could puuhhhlease eat there. They walked us to the back and said we could but all they had was croissants they were getting from the guest buffet. Good enough. No suitcases meant we had nothing to wear so we headed to the main street. Once again, nothing was open. But then, could it be?! Zara looked like it might be open. We asked if they were and they informed us that we could come in but that they would be closing the grate soon because they wanted to look closed when the strike manifestation marched by. Every girls dream: being trapped in Zara, only you and two friends, with the assurance that the airline company will cover your costs. Pablo told us that we'd be looking like hippis soon without our suitcases, so thankfully these purchases avoided that. We put our purchases in our purses and ditched the store bags because we figured it wasn't a good idea to have to cross through the strike manifestation with bags of newly purchased items. I'm not quite sure of the details of the strike, but I know it was a response to some newly passed labor laws that aren't in favor of employees. Need to do some research! When we got to our hotel, it so happened that the strike march ended at our hotel so from our top story room we were able to see everything.

The next few days were spent with my oh-so-generous, and immensely hospitable school director, Carmen and her family. They live in the mountains outside of Ponteareas and we spent four nights there while looking for an apartment, learning lots about Spain, and eating very well. Lucky for us she is a great chef! We got to try pulpo (octopus, Galicia's main dish), mussels, fish (rapante), regional wine, and other traditional dishes/desserts. We were so grateful for this time not in a hotel in a beautiful setting.

Me with pulpo

My director's house

We found an apartment in Ponteareas, but were only there a few nights as we quickly realized that it would be really hard to live there and get anywhere easily. There were not as many buses that passed through there as we thought, and the bus didn't even come for Katie on Friday so she missed school. At our orientation after three days in Ponteareas our teachers told us it would be way easier to live in Ourense and ride with teachers from there to our schools. We were grateful to be able to get out of our apartment contract and head to Ourense. It is a much bigger city with a beautiful "old town" center. We were in the hotel there several days and just moved into our apartment last Thursday. So after 19 days of living out of a suitcase and doing no laundry we finally have a place.

Tick Tock

I wear a watch now. I am usually anti-time-knowing. Too much of my energy is spent on feeling like I'm behind that I hate having a constant reminder that I'm working against the clock. Due to a recent medical condition, I now have to wear one to remind me to walk around every hour to prevent blood clotting in my legs. This seems like it would be a nuisance, but I'm grateful that it makes me have to take a break, a breather, every hour instead of becoming absolutely absorbed in my computer. I am now becoming more and more aware of how much of my life is spent staring at a screen a foot and a half from my face--my universe now appears to stop less that two feet from my gaze. What a tragedy that this is the seemingly forced path of humanity in this current era. At the risk of sounding like the pretentious American saying, "Well, in so-and-so place, they...", but I'm going to proceed anyway. I was recently listening to a podcast of one of my favorite travelers, Rick Steves, conversing with my favorite travel writer, Frances Mayes. They got on the subject of how Italians, and many other European nations don't treat time with the same mindset/attitude that we do State-side. Mayes was sharing about how in all of her time in Italy she has never had the sense that the Italians fight time the way we do. They simply "pass" time and don't worry about it. Whereas I always feel behind, like the clock is beating me down, and I'll never be able to match it. This notion is even apparent in our language. We use economic terms to indicate how we use time: we spend time, waste time, invest time. Instead of just passing time, heedless of it's ticking hands. I'd like to do that--take time, guiltlessly.

One last G'boro post...

I wrote this one day for the PieLab website and the Greensboro Watchman later printed it in the weekly paper:It's a covetous circumstance to love being where you are. How deeply appreciative I am to be able to enjoy my little town location of Greensboro, Alabama. Any of the main roads that lead you here all build the sense of deep awe because for lack of any words to do justice, they're just dang beautiful. Rolling green hills, vast pastures, cows dotting the fields, creeks winding, and if you catch it at the right time of day, you might even see sun beams streaking the sky. The American South: one of the best destinations people overlook.

I'd like to take you on my stroll yesterday with me: Right outside my door, the street is covered with wisteria-invasive plant as it may be-it's still gorgeous and smells of sweet southern spring. My little seven year old neighbor walks across the street to smell them with me and expresses her desire that the flowers should turn into grapes. Moving on I get to Main Street where it is quiet, as Sabbath is seemingly more evident without the distractions of a city. Highway 69 has its usual thru traffic traveling, especially with beach-goers this time of year. There is a sort of unspoken rule here, and just about in any southern town, that you wave to any and every passerby, meaning that on this walk, I get my arm workout as well. Birds are chirping and bees buzzing. I've always loved how luciously green the south is. I've heard westerners say that it almost gives them a sense of claustrophobia, but not me. Those tree canopied roads give me a sense of mystery that incites adventure! The magnolia tree I pass is about to explode in its intoxicatingly fragrant white flowers that will fill the air with an even sweeter heaviness. With the heavy air and flora filled aromas, sometimes I think the air might just drip sugar. That has always been one of the first things to hit me when stepping off of a plane in Atlanta: a wall of heavy, wet, sweet smelling air that announces my arrival back on southern soil. By summer this air will no longer be as romantic, as we will have to change clothes three times a day to stay dry and take a nap each afternoon just to regain what the heat took out of you that morning. That combined with a dozen of re-applications of bug spray throughout the day means your shower is well worth it at night. Continuing on my walk I notice that the recycling bins behind the Episcopal church are still in much use. This local effort is highly commended and is impressive to see a church with "ecology as part of theology." Some of the houses I pass still retain their glorious heritage from when they were built and some are going through renovations to restore them as well. It is exciting to see part of history being restored to continue serving their built purposes.

This walk has allowed time to think and meditate--one of the things I love about Greensboro. It gives me the time and space to create and develop with the bonus of being surrounded by great people who spur inspiration into fruition. I will be researching the deeper meanings of "feweristics" soon as a friend mentioned this concept to me this weekend. I immediately attached it into the context of Greensboro. Here, there are fewer choices for shopping, eating, entertainment which means less paralysis of analysis. Some would call it boring, but I think it is liberating. There are fewer distractions, fewer time wasting activities, fewer obligations. And that's the way I like it. That's part of what makes Greensboro good.

Greensboro: an invaluable experience.

I could write books on all I/we learned in Greensboro with my time at PieLab. So I'll spare you. I'm sure the lessons will shine through in other posts as they relate to things I do as I pursue whatever comes next (which I just found out is Ponteareas, Galicia, Spain!, but more on that later). A quick little sketch of at least a few lessons...

Road trip

This blog post is long overdue--a testimony to the fullness of the past few months that the blog has taken a side burner. More on that later, but now for a post I've had on my tuexduex list for a while (I really recommend this latter site for keeping up with life). This past April, two friends and I from PieLab went on a road trip into the Eastern United States. What began with a desire to make it to Charlottesville, VA to see their community design center, led us to plan a week long trip stopping at places all along the way. It was initially just for fun, but turned into an incredibly informative trip that was fun for sure, but more research gathering than anticipated--a welcome surprise.

After driving through the hills of northern Alabama (I am always amazed by the varying topography and landscape of the state), we arrived in Chattanooga, TN to crash in a very generous host's house in a revitalized part of town. She worked near there at a place called CreateHere that graciously allowed us to sit in on their Monday morning meeting and stay afterwards to probe for information, ideas, and direction for our own endeavors. We left completely enamored with the work they do (I won't even try to explain, just visit the site). What I gained mostly from them was the power to be had in collaboration among disciplines, especially when business/venture capitalists get involved. It was very obvious the group was made of people just "loving on their city", as they phrased it. I was very impressed with their attention to the hollistic nature of society and thereby considering all aspects from economics, to culture, safety, business, civic engagement, education and so on. They stressed to us to start with core values, not initiatives and to first figure out a place's assets and then turn them into tools (asset-based development). One abstract map they offered that I found interesting was that creativity>innovation>economy (sustained economic development/long-term local wealth). They re-iterated much of what we have been discussing here: that changes can be sparked by an outside catalyst, but must be adopted by longterm efforts from within a place. And once again, education, education, education. A city's success seems to boil down to the commitment it has to its education system. Education>wealth>health. Education>economy based on professionals>they create jobs. Education>knowledgable electorate>good elected officials>good government>better city>more education. The circle of cities.

Departing for Asheville, we encountered closed interstates--a welcome detour as we loved wandering through mountain paths, crookneck roads we had to slow to 10 miles an hour around, and for much of it, followed a river backdropped by spring vegetation and livestock any romantic era artist would have drooled over. The small towns seemed to have appalachian charm and had us asking the questions that each city prompted: "What is that keeps people here?", "What makes this place work?", "What lends this place its identity?"

Asheville was rainy, meaning we couldn't meander the city we'd heard heralded before going. We plopped down in a chocolate shop/cafe where I tried honey-lavender hot chocolate which at first sounded like the oddest combination, but as hoped, proved to be divinely delicious. Dinner was at a chic Indian restaurant that was a treat for the palate, but so spicy my ears were stopped up and nose dripping.

Unexpected stops popped up throughout the voyage that actually made the trip more than some of the intentional destinations. One being in Black Mountain, NC. As we were studying the map for our route the next morning, we were delighted to find that we would be driving right through this little town. Black Mountain was home to the renowned Black Mountain College where many modernists and progressives in the teens and twenties of the past century pushed the boundaries of art, design, theater, and communal living. We drove to the school's location, now turned boys' summer camp, tucked away on a hillside with a pond in front of it. I tried to imagine what it would have been like filled with young, creative minds, engaging in the rapidly developing dialogue of art, design, and architecture--in a place that offered them the time and space to create. What was more engaging for us was the stop we made at the town's visitor center where a sweet, decades-weathered lady offered us looks into the center's literature on the college. We immediately started pulling out scraps of receipts/paper from our purses to jot down quotes that electrified the illuminous ideas these great thinkers offered:

"Democracy is more than a form of government; it is primarily a mode of associated living, of conjoint communicated experience...the widening of the area of shared concerns, and the liberation of a great diversity of personal capacities." -John Dewey, Democracy and Education, 1916 (see last blog post to know how elated I was to find the continuity of this quote with what I learned at the Dave Matthews conference and all this year at PieLab)

"Qualities of character considered just as much as intellectual abilities in which development of critical thought, creative ability and social adjustment are more respected than mere acquisition of knowledge and skill." -Josef Albers

Next stop, Raleigh. We didn't get to spend much time there, but saw the beautiful campus of NC State, couch surfed with an out of work architect now turning to cool guerilla architecture projects, and ate some delicious Lebanese food for dinner before relaxing with a drink at a local bar hosting a sitar player. Our goal in each place was to go cheap on two meals a day and eat well for the third--and hopefully find a coffee shop to start each day.

A jewel of a town we stumbled upon was Edenton, NC on the water (bay?). It felt much like a thriving Greensboro on water, had Greensboro, not slipped from prominence as a flourishing city. It had a wonderfully charming, walkable, quaint main street that led right up to a waterfront park. All storefronts seems full and the houses radiating from the town center were stately southern homes that were well-groomed. Finally tried some tasty North Carolina bar-b-que.

In route to Charlottesville we stopped in Williamsburg. I felt like a dorky tourist, but tried to not look the part (not having kids in colonial garb with me and no map in hand helped). I casually strolled the mall contemplating how this location was a great compliment to the other cities we had seen. In each of them I pondered what makes them work today, but in this one rather, I questioned what made this city work? Why design it this way? Why put that building there? What was the priority for this public space? How did the city plan promote or destroy social equity (probably not their concern)? Did this church really seek the spiritual growth of its congregation or merely serve cultural objectives? And oh yeah, that makes sense that each shop just had a picture of its goods/trade instead of words because the majority couldn't read.

I love Charlottesville, Virginia. It was honestly just the final destination solely for seeing its community design center (which was incredible as well). I've never before given two thoughts to Charlottesville, but how I was wrong! The closer we trekked toward Charlottesville, the hills heightened to mountains and the woods thickened to forest. We drove down the hill off the exit and down into its historic, yet modern, downtown. The weather was perfect. As our host told us, people re-fall in love with Charlottesville every spring when the cold breaks and you can actually enjoy the pedestrian mall. I was immediately captivated by it. So much so that after wandering for a few hours, I planted myself in the middle of it to make sure to record what I saw: The weather is perfect today--a good day for my new pink sundress and sandals. The mall is so nicely arranged and designed. The sun peaks through the leaf gaps  and the clusters of trees provide welcome shade. There is a wide range of people-college kids, preps, punks, different races, homeless, seemingly high falutins, artsy folk, and corporate businessmen. There are delicious looking restaurants with cafe tables in the middle of the brick paved walkway. Several bookstores--most of them second hand which is even better! It feels local. I can stroll and and feel like I fit. There are businesses and studios. Old and new facades. It almost feels very European in the sense that there are old buildings with modern dwellers appropriating certain parts of the architecture but covering other parts with modern angularity. Not too many gift stores but enough to provide interesting perusals. People running and biking. So nice, so livable. Gosh, this sun and weather! Intoxicating! People seem active, outdoorsy, educated. There was a steel drum band playing for a while. Culture. Accessible culture. Culture that is found in the fabric of the street--everyday life--not in fancy venues or costly overplanned events. Music, art, fashion, conversation, cuisine, architecture-all elements being combined in a beautiful way to make sense of a city. And its all at a human scale, a human pace.

Deliberative Democracy and I love Alabama

I just returned from a conference I attended for three days where I heard more words that I was unfamiliar with since I traveled to Italy. The conference was put on by the David Matthews Center and the Kettering Foundation and was structured around asking the question: "How do we strengthen citizen engagement and community problem solving?" The people there were mostly from a field totally unrelated to mine that is heavy on the jargon which meant I was lost for some of it. The main words were "deliberative dialogue to lead to decision making." I learned an immense amount in those few days that I'm eager to further explore. As the time passed I started seeing how their field is actually really related to my field of graphic design if I make it. Some of it was heavy on the political/social justice side of things but peppered throughout were these moments where someone would say words I could latch onto like "storytelling," "sense of place," "community building," "sustainability," "inter disciplinary," "cross cultural," and "designing change."

The reason for my attendance was because a friend who helped coordinate it, Lydia Atkins, invited Amanda (PieLab) and I to come share about some of our experiences at PieLab. Several of the workshops were round table discussions; we were specifically part of the session titled "Stranger in a Strange Land" in order to talk about what it is like to come into a community as an outsider and build trust/influence, engage, etc. A lot of the attendees were very interesting and sounded like they were doing great stuff. Then some of them just sounded like they had these fancy ideas and theories but didn't really know how to enact it. PieLab started making more and more sense to me while I was there and I realized, "These people are trying to figure out ways to do what we're doing." And it's simple: pie. Pie brings people into a neutral space to converse. Conversing leads to discovering your community's values, forming opinions that lead to decisions. Those decisions lead to actions. And those actions lead to a community living out its values in a hopefully positive way. We're here to foster that conversation and culture so that it can move in a positive direction. A lot of people don't like the word "change" but as my professor/now friend pointed out, "Change will happen no matter what so why not push it in a positive direction?" It was interesting as well that  so many of the "how do we get people together?" answers kept coming back to food. People come together in more equality when they gather around prepared meals and meals are often one of the strongest cultural ties we have the the ones that are most often passed down through generations with the most longevity.

Some random tidbits from my time there: David Matthew (not to be confused with the 1990s rocker) pointed out that my generation will not live in the middle class homes that our parents lived in, but rather a few steps down and in neighborhoods they probably wouldn't have. This means that more and more people who are unlike each other will come in increasing contact and have to make decisions with them. We will live near people who make there living "by the sweat of their brow, not the use of their mind." This puts the urgency on cultivating the ability within society to have dialogues around issues that we will have to resolve/decide on/enact. And we can't come to a table with complete equity until we understand the various factors that shape our mindsets and worldview (race, religion, sex, ethnicity, family structure, age, etc.). Furthermore, to understand peoples' social identity structures, we must also understand their story's.

-All communities are looking for ways to "save their communities" and make them the best place for all people there to live, flourish, and function because all people want a better quality of life.

-We must continue to travel and personally engage because more and more because our universe is increasingly stopping in front of our faces (at our computers) and will narrow our tangible experiences.

Part of my time in Greensboro has been spent soul searching over how change really happens in a community and if you can be of good use to a community while there for a short term or if you have to be there long term to see any results. I have come to see both sides. I do think short term things can do some good but long term things will see the most results, if people don't lost steam. One of the long term ways to really shape a community is to really invest in its education system. Without educated individuals you breed indifference and prevent community members from having the most effective civic engagement and equality. The gap between educated middle/upper class and uneducated lower class is growing in this nation (and many others including China). There somehow has to be major investments in building better education systems so we can have community members who can formulate valid opinions, pursue the community's well-being, and financially invest back into it. This probably isn't news to anyone but me, as I am a growing 23 year old, but I'm noticing how a community seems to be only as strong as its education system is because education feeds civic engagement. Democratic freedom must come with taught responsibility. Organizing/Dialogue/Action lead to community change.

The icing on the cake of this conference was that it was in Point Clear, Alabama at the Grand Hotel. I have had a renewed love for Alabama over this past year and it only deepened this week. The hotel was absolutely glorious and the bay beautiful. The walks I got to take in the morning alongside the bay and quaint houses with gnarly oaks out front covered in Spanish moss made me want to explode in gratitude for such a splendid creation. It also made me realize, "Wow, taking a break, thinking, walking, resting, is quite nice. I work too hard/too much." It's amazing how refreshed I was after taking a one hour walk to not think about the to-do list I had to get back to. The hotel was built in the early 1800s and is chock-full of history. We spent an afternoon in Fairhope exploring its cute stores and artsy streets. I think every traveler asks itself in a new place, "Could I live here?" and I very well think I could. The conference meals consisted of several seafood dishes that made me proud of our Southern cuisine. Two Alabama storytellers were invited to do some telling of stories one night; two photographs shared how they capture Alabama through a view-finder; and a Mardi Gras brass band orchestrated a night of toe-tapping and dancing. I swelled with pride to be an Alabamian as our culture-makers were brought in for the works. Sweet home.

Black Belt 100 Lenses

Saturday night PieLab hosted the opening party of its first photography exhibition. It was our biggest turnout to anything yet which was a humbling thing to be a part of. It's so cool to think about how Main Street at night is empty but then there's one little store front with the lights on, cars out front, and community happening. The show consisted of photographs taken by Hale County youth through a Black Belt 100 Lenses project and was curated by one of the YouthBuild students. It was a great way to bring the community together and some Tuscaloosa people down to gather around art, food and music. It was a potluck with music by an incredibly fun and talented band, Sparrow and the Ghost. The photographs are a interesting viewpoint to pull you into the stories behind the photographers. Each student is given a camera and is asked to go into their community and take photographs. In the end, you have an array of photos taken that capture the spirit of a place by the youth that have grown up there. I found several to be strikingly beautiful and then to consider that they were taken by completely untrained photographers is even more astounding. Some seemed to have a natural sense of composition, balance, and contrast.

Through these doors...

I love this phrase above a closed store/gas station near Greensboro, Alabama. One of the greatest things about being here is being surrounded by so much local vernacular inspiration.

Apron!

Lil' apron I made for working in PieLab.

12 Bar Blues

(excuse the photo...taken on my phone)

Saturday night we hosted PieLab's second Open Mic Night with a packed house and delicious spread of potluck goodies. I couldn't quit grinning the whole night at how great it was to see so many people coming together over music and at how much amazing talent we had in here. There was a whole slue of folks to entertain us for the night: a local 18 year old, Aaron, with his guitar, Jeff with magic tricks and dancing, Mrs. Burroughs sharing about her heritage, and for the majority of the night, Miko, Kevin, and Beau jamming some 12 bar blues. After they jammed a while, two other locals, Jamie and John Allen got up to play some country which led to some more blues. That got 'em all going! Kevin about exploded in amazement of John Allen's blues skills and you'd have thought they were about to have a revival right there because of the hoopin' and hollerin'. This led to all of them rocking out together with Willie on the bucket (drums...). Awesome. Hilarious. Just perfect. People crossing barriers, coming together, sharing talent, and finding stuff in common.

Beau came in on Friday as well to check out the scene and he ended up giving me some blues lessons. I now have a huge blister on my thumb and feel like I've got a lot to learn! He was patient while I fumbled around and kept making me feel like I was actually good when it was really just going back and forth between two notes that I wasn't even catching on to. All that strumming through the years meant that I never learned to pick. He even got his hair done for the night and told me if he was going to bathe for this then I was going to have to play with him. I appreciated the persistence. You never know what's gonna happen down here...and that's why I love it.

In honor of El Dia de San Valentin

During dinner with my dear Chilean and Turkish friends this weekend, we were discussing their countries' versions of "knight in shining armor." I love Chile's saying: "a tu media naranja".... "your half of the orange." How lovely.

Old doors, windows, and spoons

Friday morning we got a tour of the abandoned Greensboro Hotel. Inside was a treasure chest of salvageable goods! If only we could have taken them! There were old doors, windows, sewing machines, boyscout paraphernalia, nostalgic chairs, and beautifully textured wood. We were able to get some old wood, a cupboard, table, and huge rusted milk container. Combined with a trip to the flea market, we were able to get a trove of things to use in PieLab. Project one: spoon coat rack.

Sweet Home Alabama

Everyone who has ever waited too long to call an old friend to catch up feels the apprehension before calling of knowing you have to start the updates to catch the other person up from the last time you talked. And every blogger who has lapsed in writing, feels the pressure to give a detailed update on all of the happenings since the last post. Well I will spare you the lengthy update and try to pick up where I left off. The quick detes: I left Greensboro this past August to get a "real" job in Nashville. I got there and decided it actually wasn't the life I wanted even though I actually did enjoy my brief job that was a three month temporary job of putting a company's new brand on all of their materials. I found myself always missing Greensboro and eager to get back to a place where I felt more in my element. The blog posts stopped in Nashville because of a) doing nothing blog worthy (except the time my roomies and I picked up Burmese refugees at the airport coming to America for the first time), and b) I became entrapped in work trying to balance a 9-5 with freelance...eek. Learned a lot about the value of rest and how necessary it is to producing effective work and maintaining a balanced life. Lessons learned on this theme will probably also continue to be a theme of this blog. There is much to be said for small towns: a beauty at living a slower pace (well, at least relatively), a value in knowing your neighbors and the people in your town, the refreshing walk to work, the time to actually cook dinner, the ability to live more simply with less distractions, and time to "incubate" as a young designer. It was refreshing to get out of Alabama for little stint to realize how much good stuff is going on here. Definitely an under-rated state. Glad to be back in such a great place and start exploring.

Tomorrow beings the start of week four back in Greensboro. I am working with Amanda on a grant to hold small business incubator workshops while also continuing to build a functioning, sustainable PieLab. It has now moved to Main Street in a beautiful space the designers built out this fall. We have a long way to go, but are learning a lot and getting our feet on the ground. There have been several discussions over the past week about how we will move forward, how we will continue to develop the verbage used to describe ourselves, and how we will begin to set up a client system to where we can start absorbing the commissions that are now flowing in.

More to come...

Greensboro Pie

This is our official favorite pie. We made it for Betsy's last day before she heads off to MIT grad school. It's a lemon crostata crust, with a layer of goat cheese, fresh figs, and orange blossom honey. I can't even tell you how good it is.

Upside Down Pineapple Cake Pie

We've been trying to do some experimenting. Johnny Parker, a local, says he only likes Pineapple Upside Down Cake dessert so we decided it could totally be made into a pie...pretty much Amanda's masterminding. Delicious!

Onion, black bean, and cheese pie