This is a sprint, not a marathon... but there actually is a marathon...

Brief schedule of my remaining time here:

March 24-29: London, England with school
April 2-7: Wonderful friend Chantal is visiting
April 8-10: Wonderful friend Vanessa visits Malaga (por fin!)
April 10: Malaga Half Marathon (wish me luck!)
April 14-24: Geneva/Zurich/Munich/Vienna with Dad
April 28-May 2: Long weekend, hopefully traveling (and Cordoba Cruces for backup plan)
May 6-8: Lagos, Portugal with superfast bff Haley
May 10: Cordoba for Patios
May 13-15: Jen visits Malaga (por fin!)
May 20-22: Cordoba feria!
May: 27-29: Last weekend before everyone leaves!
June 1-4: Possible trip to Santiago with superfast bff Haley
June and July: Italy.  'Nough said.
August 1: USA

Now in Technicolor

Barely more than two months left.  If I were really counting, it would be less than 9 weeks of school, divided by a week-long spring break.  As the end becomes more and more palpable, and options-for-later need to become solid plans-right-now, feelings about "the end" and my daily experiences seem to get more vivid and meaningful as well.

There are days where I feel like I'm going to scream at the next creepy old man who so much as mutters an "hola guapa" when I pass.  And I just want to go home.  Then there are the days where I wish the church bells would never stop ringing, and I never want to leave.

There are days where all I want is to be able to go to the bank without having to worry about endless lines or system failures, and I just want to go home.  Then there are the days where I indulge all my senses and revel in the bright colors, sounds and smells of the central market, and I never want to leave.

There are days when I tire of slow internet, ego-centric cruise tourists, inconsiderate drunks outside my window, bad service, late hours, and too many siestas.  Those days I could hop on the next flight home and never look back.

Then there are the days where I can't pull my eyes away from the cityscape lined with castles and cathedrals, I linger at the sounds of street musicians and flamenco singers, dig my toes even more into the sand of the Mediterranean beach, and overwhelm my nostrils with the smoke of grilling sardines.  Those are the days that the idea of leaving this place and ending this phase of my life seems almost too hard to bare.

Being pulled on a daily basis in such extremes can leave me feeling a bit scattered and listless at moments.  In many ways though, it is such a confirmation of everything I love and for which I'm grateful: where I'm from and where I've been.  Which then also leaves me so excited for what lies ahead, and the challenges and gratitudes I have yet to uncover.

Semana Blanca Part 2: What I actually did

Now that you know the people...

My first night at SDT was quite of blur of learning names by candlelight, eating flowers in my fresh-from-the-garden salad, brushing my teeth with the milky way above, and having slightly awkward conversations about veganism.  After that, things just took off from there, and my week was filled with new things and interesting people, all of which I will hardly ever forget.

Day two (after arrival): Woken up by the didgeridoo, which I can only assume was played by Mr. J.  Composted for the first couple hours with Ms. K and Mr. Ma in the gardens, then with Ms. A in the nursery after break.  In the afternoon I took a stroll around the property which confessed of years of many projects big and small, some successful, some unfinished, and some suffering from a bit of neglect.  That night I helped Mr. A make dinner and witness him throw nettle soup and leftover porridge together with some spices to make an interesting lentil curry.  Nothing, nothing, goes to waste.

Ahh!  A proper welcome

Day three: We started with a communal “flash weeding” and working of one of the vegetable patches.  I enjoyed this time immensely as it meant that most all the volunteers were in the same area working on the same thing.  It gave me a chance to talk with Ms. F and Ms. C and learn more about each of them.  In the afternoon Sra. P gave me and some other guests a thorough tour of the property and I had the opportunity to learn more about the workings and rationale for the solar oven, cooker, compost and dry toilets, and why exactly the fireplace really isn’t that warm (apparently because it’s actually quite efficient: quite the paradox).  The night finished with the Jam Session in another house in the village which could only be described as the most “hippy” thing I did all week: pick up any instrument – from the didgeridoo, to the triangle, to the kazoo – and play it, continuously, for a very long time.

Day four: What was supposed to be a rather quite journey with Ms. A to the Almeria nursery to pick up deadly date palms turned into an all morning excursion of nearly running out of gas, getting lost, and then wandering the botanical gardens with one of the most helpful Spanish women I’ve ever met.  In the afternoon I helped unload the plants from the full van to various parts of the property before heading off to yoga at the Sorbas community center.  I should have known better, for all my other time witnessing yoga in Spain that it would probably leave a lot to be desired, but it gave me a chance to see a corner of Sorbas and a breathtaking sunset over the valley.  Finally, after cleaning up the dinner dishes as fast as humanly possible (my chore for the day), I took my first speed shower, managed to keep my hair dry, and rushed into bed before the residual heat wore off.

Day five: Another communal work day, this time cleaning up a SDT property up the hill a bit.  It was obvious that this must have become SDT’s secret closet of junk, and I was surprised to find out that the property was actually in use by the staff.  On the way back I picked prickly pear fruit for use in that night’s dinner which turned out interesting, to say the least (my Chumba sauce was great – I was more skeptical over the potato-spaghetti type creation, and the reappearance of curried porridge that ended up on everyone’s plates).  The night ended with an interested and tense conversation about racial jokes and stereotypes between me, Ms. F, and Mr. Ma in the kitchen.  Even in a place like SDT, radically different opinions do exist.

Day six: Spent the morning on house clean up (sharing the chore with Sra. P, don’t know how I, or anyone else, could have possibly done it by themselves).  I washed the towels in the retrofitted washing machine, churning it with the bicycle pedals attached to the back.  After lunch I picked flowers around the property and arranged them in recycled jars to welcome the guests that would be arriving for the weekend’s permaculture course, then picked more prickly pear fruit for Sra. A’s bread and jam session the next day.  After failing at making vegan cookies for the course (I’m convinced just one or two eggs and a bit more of the rationed sugar would have solved everything, not to mention a calibrated oven) I attempted to wash my hair and realized how easy it actually was to end up with dreads in a place like this – between the natural oils and the hard water, I was halfway there in less than a week.

Day seven: Took my time getting out of bed, and enjoyed the special crepes prepared for the volunteers and the guests.  I peeled the basket full of prickly pear from the day before and joined Sra. A and her one other student for her course.  I was a little bummed when she combined the fruit and butternut squash to create a singular jam, but was pleasantly please with the results and eager that I got to take one with me for the road.  I had to catch my cab to Sorbas before that day’s late lunch, but had the opportunity to say goodbye to most of the people that left the biggest impression on me.  Well, all but Mr. A, whom I assume was caught up screwing wheels from the chair to his pottery wheel project.

Mailboxes for Los Molinos

I made all my bus connections by the grace of God and the help of a few kind people and arrived at home less than 5 hours after leaving SDT that afternoon.  Without even checking my email first, I jumped into the shower for the most rewarding 15 minutes of the last week. 

I’m so happy I spent my week at SDT and will go back (during a warmer season) if I have the opportunity later.  I liked people and was niether bothered by the rustic-ness of the property nor the toilets.  I would whole-heartedly recommend anyone to participate and witness the good things and people that are hidden away in the Los Molinos pueblo.

Admittedly, I have mixed feelings about the project and what is actually being accomplished at SDT: at moments it felt like a wash of big ideas but less drive.  Piles of junk that were clearly intended for something, someday just seemed to result in more trash that wasn’t being counted for what it really was.  Nestle products weren’t allowed, but iPods and laptops were abound.  Yes, we all must pick our battles, but the message should stay consistent. 

Gotta go? Compost toilet

If SDT is meant to demonstrate to others how to live sustainably, I suppose it did.  But I can’t say it did so in a way desirable to most.  I personally believe that individuals and families can live in a sustainable manner that doesn’t involve cold showers or refraining from meat.  Undeniable it takes a lot of hard work and change of habits, and all people will draw the line of change in different places most comfortable for them.  But I can honestly say that being slightly out of my comfort zone last week made it all the more obvious how rewarding it could be.  Just as long as I never eat curried leftover porridge again.

Semana Blanca Part 1: The people that crossed my path

Last Sunday I began my long road journey to a pueblo of a pueblo in another part of Andalucía.  Two buses, one taxi, and nearly 8 hours later I walked down a dark path, "torch" in hand (thinking what-the-eff have I gotten myself into), and knocked at the blue door of Sunseed Desert Technology.

But I would first like to describe my experience through some of the people I met during my week.  In a small effort to make it anonymous, I’ve stuck with initials. 

Ms. K (British): One of the staff members and the leader of the garden and the first SDT face I saw when I arrived.  I worked with Ms. K the first day turning compost piles in the garden.  I instantly gained respect for her as she shamelessly pored gallons of stale urine on the compost piles.  Her haircut gave away her past head of dreads, which one could picture around her sweet face and falling down her heavy woolen jacket easily.

Ms. A (Kiwi): Another staff member whom I worked with from day one, in charge of the dry lands and nursery.  We started with compost piles on the first day (she didn't seem quite as adept as Ms. K, but her effort was just as genuine) and by Wednesday we were driving through Almería to botanical gardens and nurseries researching endangered and protected plant species for the project.  I liked Ms. A a lot, and I think part of our connection had to be my fondness for her home country.

Mr. J (Brit): Project manager whom I probably knew the least after all was said and done.  The first night standing in the kitchen we had a conversation about responsible meat eating, of which he doesn't participate - of the meat-eating part.  The dialogue came to an end when his opinion was such that if one is willing to kill an animal, one should be willing to kill themselves.  I disagree, to say the least.  But disagreements we're few, and so were interactions as he usually took on solo or technical projects during the volunteer hours.  What few we did have didn't always leave me with the best taste in my mouth, but it was hardly lasting either.  But he did play the didgeridoo, and that made him pretty cool.

Ms. G (Wales): Trustee from the British end of the project whom I crossed paths with for only the first 24 hours before she left again on a two day bus trip to return to the UK.  I understand that travel-by-land is usually greener than air travel.  But, two days??  I commend her because it certainly would not be worth it to me.  I'd rather plant the extra trees (but I'm hardly doing that either...)

Ms. C and Mr. F (Canadian and Irish):  A cute young couple that was staying at SDT for two months while traveling around the south of Spain before settling back in Belfast.  They each spend three years in Korea teaching, which gave them a lot of street cred from my p.o.v.  Mr. F was intensely working on this bridge made of caña (like bamboo) and when Ms. C wasn't sewing pillows for the community, she generally was too.  

Sra. P (Castilla Leon, Spain): One of two Spaniards on the project with a beautiful dark mohawk finishing with three long dreads.  On Wednesday we went to yoga in Sorbas together, which was one of the few moments we spent together.  She hardly had any time between running around and organizing projects, grants, fundraising, and everything else that nobody else did.

Mr. M (Landcaster, England): Friend of Ms. K that was visiting for most the time I was there.  He was soft-spoken and extremely intelligent, worldly, and traveled.  

Mrs. E and Mr. D (Australians):  I met Mr. and Mrs. Aussie a couple days into my stay and was instantly working with David hauling date palms across the property and going to yoga with Mrs. E later that night.  The two were both engineers looking to move to Europe and find work.  They had been at SDT 3 weeks and were staying 2 more before moving on to France.  At the end I shared a cab with them and we discussed our (what seemed like) similar views about SDT and the project.  I enjoyed their company and wished so much that I had actually gotten to know them better.

Sra. A (Valencia, Spain): I first met Sra. A Tuesday morning and was already helping her to cut and prepare the copious amounts of cabbage from the gardens for sauerkraut.  Like Sra P, Sra A. usually spoke Spanish with me, taking every opportunity to not speak English when not completely necessary (eg., the other staff/volunteers that came usually knowing little-to-no Spanish).  She and I got along especially well, and I would generally volunteer to help her with her kitchen/preserving duties.  On the last days, I was scaling hills picking then pealing Chumba fruit (or what I've always known as Prickly Pear) and we were making jams and breads in my last moments on the project.  She was definitely one of the hardest people to leave in the end.

Mr. B (French Tunisian):  I first met Mr B my second day into the project and instantly liked him; He was young and smart.  Then after a couple more days of his smart(ass-ness) and telling me what he thought I should do/methods I should use/what would be better, I got my share of him just before he disappeared without telling anyone Thursday morning.  Everyone was much kinder to his strange disappearance than I would have been, but I think many were just as relieved.  But he did make some damn good mojopicon salsa - and left before giving me the recipe.  Damn him again.

Mr. Ma (Romanian): One of the few people closest to my age at the project, and it would often be obvious.  I was often left working with Mr. Ma, in the compost or with the sauerkraut as he generally took duties that weren't particularly (physically) challenging.  Probably says more about me than him, but thought my theory was made obvious when he revealed that he wanted to change from being a full-time to a part-time volunteer to have more free time.  I guess I can relate to that - even being a part-time volunteer, I didn't feel like I had as much free time as I was promised.

Ms. F (German): My only other roommate in our 6-bed women's dorm.  She was a smart girl from southern Germany, studying in Vienna.  Her personal project was researching natural/organic cosmetics and household cleansers.  The first afternoon, in an effort to also huddle around the dull fire flame in the dinning room, I read her books and helped her to discover the powers of baking soda and vinegar (if only she had moved in with my family years ago).  Other days we bonded over licking leftovers in the warm kitchen, making tea, and then in the morning complaining about having to go to the bathroom all night, but refusing to venture out into the cold.

Mr. A (Brit): Oh A.  I probably ended up getting to know Mr. A the most as I would generally volunteer to help with dinner prep and A was generally helping with dinner as he was most experienced with cooking for big groups (from his many years of cooking Mexican food at music festivals).  He had been in and out of southern Spain and SDT for years and had now committed to making it home for as long as possible after being shorted out of UK child support and could no longer share in taking care of his two young children.  The first night I met A, he was wearing a hat that disguised most of his age, as I originally thought he was no older than his 20s.  The next day, without the hat I barely recognized him (wait - did I meet him?) but did recognize the youthful personality that exuded him.