The case of the mysteriously felled tree

This photo needs explanation beyond the translation. The sign hanging from the side of the truck says the following: "Greenpeace extracted a Brazil-Nut tree from an area that had been impounded by the federal government." It's a scathing accusation, hung on the truck that was transporting said tree (trunk) from Castelo de Sonhos to points south. And the thing is, it's absolutely true, if bizarre. Two weeks ago, the world-renowned environmental organization Greenpeace entered a sustainable-development settlement on the margins of the Br-163 outside Castelo, and dragged out a 52 ft. long castanheira trunk, a species protected by Brazilian law against being cut. Greenpeace claims that they had government permission to remove the trunk, and that in fact the tree had already been cut down and partially burned by a rancher (this is unconfirmed). The population of Castelo, already very critical of Greenpeace's activities, didn't let the team leave the town with the trunk. Greenpeace was planning to transport the log to a "exposition illuminating the problems of deforestation" in São Paulo, but were compelled to abandon the tree when they were surrounded by nearly 300 Castelo residents. The climate was tense, but the situation ended peacefully.

When writing about the Br-163, Greenpeace functionaries often make sweeping accusations, blaming all roadside residents (ranchers, smallholder farmers, sustainable development projects, etc.) of the area for the accelerating destruction of the rainforest. As a result, the 300 protesters who forced Greenpeace to abandon the tree-trunk represented a cross-section of Castelo society, all of whom were mystified as to why an environmentalist organization would come to Castelo and remove a tree. No one missed the situation's irony.

...More updates (camels?) from SW Algeria

Thank you, Jeremy, for posting my last update! I will likely have to revert to that method of posting again. For today, at least, my internet connection seems unusually cooperative. I learned from a friend, Bill, who works for Human Rights Watch on Western Sahara, that a link to our blog was sent out as a google news update to the recipients of a Western Sahara news alert. Yikes! Hopefully it goes without saying that what you find written here is indended as a log of my observations, not a news source. What I am experiencing now will take many months, maybe a lifetime, to sort out. Luckily, Bill (or Billy as our Arabic instructor used to call him) is coming for his first visit to the camps in a couple of weeks and it happens to be his job to write up reports on a dime!

I am finding both my Hassaniya lessons as well as my part-time work at an English school here extremely rewarding. I wish only that I had more time to balance out my language work with the important business of socializing. Even in my brief time here, I have had a difficult time negotiating my dual expectations to 1) get a handle on the language and 2) be a responsible, if temporary, member of society here. I am still living with my friend Alice's host family and find myself very busy trying to keep up with all of the family commitments I have inherited through her despite/because of the fact that I cannot effectively speak the language. Every time I try to steal away to study, I feel like I am neglecting some social responsibility (who did I forget to visit? did I stay long enough?). At the same time, I know that I have to learn Hassaniya in order to get to know anybody. I have been keeping all this in mind as I've looked for a host family of my own. On Halloween, I will be moving in with a family, which seems to be very sensitive to the challenge of balancing family and study. My primary host's name is Haha. Appropriately, she has a great sense of humor and two small boys who are already pulling pranks on me.

One of the biggest surprises so far in my trip is how many breaks I have been given because I am married. I have found myself unexpectedly exempted from some of the interpersonal concern and social commentary that surroud unmarried women's behavior and comportment. Married woman have a code of their own, which I am coming to learn. For instance, I am not allowed to make myself beautiful with henna or jewels while my husband is absent. (I am still getting used to the idea of being approachable by other women without consistent access to bathing water, let alone beautiful.) Many women live apart from their husbands (many of whom work in Spain), so our distance does not strike anyone as particularly odd. Naturally, everyone I meet is eager to meet Jeremy and some have suggested we slaughter a camel when he comes. After attending a huge wedding where a dozen animals lost their lives (and after which I was ill for a few days from eating one poor goat's head), I politely declined the offer.

Letter Excerpts from the Camps

Maddy wrote the following to Jeremy recently, and encouraged him to post pieces of the letter to the blog, as her internet connection in the camps is close to non-existent:

"My trip into the camps has been guided by something beyond myself, which is not to say it has been easy. My plane was hours late and my luggage got lost again on the flight down here and I didn't arrive into the camps until 5 am on Wednesday. Fortunately, the principal of the English school in Smara was kind enough to drive to the airport (an hour away), wait for me, and drive me back to crash in the school for a couple of hours. Waking up Wednesday was like waking up into another life. I don't know how else to describe it. I tried to live my same life for the first couple of hours, continuing to advance a go-get-em graduate student attitude, letting my mind do all the work. But by mid-day, I knew I could not do it alone (not "it" like the fieldwork, but "it" like the day itself). I had to ask for help. I know that might sound crazy, but it was at that moment that simple. In retrospect and after talking to a new friend, Alice, I am realizing its not crazy but the reality of living in this incredibly difficult place. You cannot lead with your head alone here. I think that will make sense to you after a few days here. I had gone to the guest house and there was not a soul there at first and the place was even more run down. No locks on the doors, etc. I didn't know where I was going to stay.

"So looking for a place to start, on Thursday, I went to FEB 27 (another camp) to meet Alice, a grad student from Cambridge, whose name I had heard from the Glycines center in Algiers. I had no idea what her story was though. It turns out, Alice is an anthropologist working with Marilyn Strathern! She insisted right then and there that I move in with her until I find a host family of my own, arguing that me being around could help us both out in our fieldwork because it is very difficult for women to move around alone here, etc. She has spent just short of 6 months here working on language and has 15 months left thanks to the generous UK educational system. I have spent the last couple of nights with her host family, which has already given me a Hassaniya name (Nisreen, a kind of rose). They live close to the family with which I stayed last time. I will be spending the day over there today, and possibly moving back in later. I have had many (too many) offers for tutors. One had heard about me and actually showed up at the house last night to introduce himself. He has taught Hassaniya for several years in Mauritania and is fluent in both English and French so it would be a good match. I will start lessons on Tuesday.

"In the meantime, I am working at a huge wedding tomorrow and possibly going for a ride into the desert to the so-called liberated Western Sahara, on Monday. Neither of these things would have been conceivable to me as possibilities during my last trip. From that very first day I felt like this was a totally different place than the one I visited a year ago. For better and for worse, I have been treated differently this time--as a temporary resident in Alice's footsteps and not a visitor. That is an incredible honor, but also a lot of responsibility to have already. So, for example, people are feeding me what they eat, some of which makes me gag like camel lard, and sheep intestines. Some folks cannot understand why I don't already speak Hassaniya, which is really hard, but I am definitely feeling motivated to learn it."

"The Ghosts are Arriving"

The banner at left hung from the rafters at a 300-person strong rally in Santarém this week calling for the government to repeal its cancellation of 99 recently-created agrarian reform projects in Western Pará. Accused of being "ghosts," of not really existing at all, scores of families from the region's farming settlements traveled to Santarém and camped out until their leaders could negotiate a deal with the government. This banner--saying that the ghosts would arrive--hung from one of the buses that left Castelo on Monday to make the very long journey to Santarém on the unpaved Br-163. The agrarian reform settlements were canceled by the government in August when some of the 99 projects in the region were found to be fronts for illegal lumber operations. The farmers in the photo insist that their agrarian reform projects (e.g. the PDS Brasília in Castelo) are not in bed with the lumber mafias, and that the government's wholesale cancellation of all 99 settlements was a hasty move. "The responsible parties for deforestation and violence are not the small family farmers, who were brought here by the government in the first place," one settler said. "We're being accused of that, but in fact it's the lumber people and the ranchers who are working against the law, and often against us!" The 300 settlers stayed in Santarém all week, and left for their homes this morning, after receiving word that INCRA and the federal watchdog ministry (MPF) had reached an agreement guaranteeing the future of the agrarian reform settlements. Another farmer: "Now they see we're real, not ghosts...I hope I can get back to work now!"

Workin' on the Br-163

Here's Jeremy, busy interviewing one of the most charismatic labor leaders along the Br-163 a few weeks ago. "Alenquer" goes by the name of the city where he was born, some 900 km north of Castelo de Sonhos, where he currently lives. He was the architect of the roadblock that gained regional and national media attention, and he has recently accompanied more than 100 landless workers from Castelo on a journey to Santarém for a regional social movements meeting. Their task over the next few days is to decide how to respond to the cancellation of agrarian reform projects in Western Pará, as their settlements have been accused of lacking environmental approval and thereby contributing to rampant deforestation along the Br-163. In this photo, Alenquer is describing (for the video camera) how the Castelo roadblock was organized: 60-90 people worked in shifts at the blockade, with teams assigned to security, cooking, camp cleaning, and public relations. In a few days, we'll know whether or not the roadblock--which in large part resulted in this crucial meeting in Santarém--had any effect in calling government attention to the fact that poor rural settlers are paying the price for the actions of highly-capitalized lumber and ranching interests.

More camp photos...

This photo shows the outside of a typical bodega in the camps. Western Sahara used to be a Spanish colony (Spanish Sahara) and Spanish remains a common second language after Arabic. "Victoria y Exito" refers to a widespread sentiment among the Saharawi in Tindouf that the only "victory" for Western Sahara is Morocco's total exit from their territory. This outcome appears increasingly unlikely as the negotiations at the UN seem to be veering in the direction of a U.S.-backed proposal that would make Western Sahara an autonomous, but still Moroccan, province.

This picture shows a sun-set view of another camp, 27 February, so named to commemorate the inaugural of the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic, which was forged on February 27, 1976. SADR, Western Sahara's government in exile, administers the refugee camps at Tindouf.

Pictures from the camps

I am off for Tindouf tomorrow night and will send word as soon as I am settled in Smara camp. In the meantime, here are some pictures as promised. The first photo shows the main road into Smara camp and several residents walking along it. Quite unlike Jeremy's field site in the middle of the abundant Amazon, here we see a pristine, paved road in the middle of sand. It is striking driving into the camps on it, surrounded by what feels like nothing. In fact, the desert is not nothing at all. It is land that people know well. The women in white are wearing mulafa, long clothes wrapped around the body and head to keep out the sun and sand. Men frequently tie cloth around their heads for the same reason. It is the beginning of the cooler season in the Sahara: the high temperatures still top 90 degrees, but it can dip down into the 50s and even below at night.

For my Dad

As our grade-school teachers always implored, "If you have a question, ask, because you are probably not alone." So, thank you, Dad, for requesting some geographical and historical orientation about Algeria and Western Sahara (and my project). In a few days I will be flying to Tindouf, shown here in westernmost Algeria at the desert borderlands of Morocco, Western Sahara (W. Sah. on this map), and Mauritania (south of W. Sah.).

If you have been confused about what country Tindouf is actually located in, it is for good reason. Tindouf has historically been an important site along the trans-Saharan caravan and has been "ruled" in turn by Saharawi (Western Saharan) tribes, the Moroccan King, the French, and finally the Algerians. When the King of Morocco invaded the territory of Western Sahara in 1975, a war began between Morocco and Western Sahara that left thousands of Saharawi refugees homeless. They fled the war-torn Western Sahara for Tindouf, by then part of the independent state of Algeria. Morocco still "rules" Western Sahara and thousands of refugees remain in Tindouf, where they have been provided protection by Algeria and aid by the UN. Technically, the war between Western Sahara and Morocco ended in 1991, but the UN peacekeeping and diplomatic channels designated to assist in the decolonization of Western Sahara have proven ineffective.

If you headed due West for a couple hundred miles from Tindouf, you would end up in the capital of the Moroccan-occupied Western Sahara, Layouune. If you headed further West a hundred miles or so, you would end up in the Canary Islands off the coast of Western Sahara, where Maddy, her Mom, and her husband will be spending Christmas (and where there is also a considerable Saharawi refugee population). Unfortunately, you can't actually get to Layouune from Tindouf because of a vast sand wall, built by Morocco during the war to insulate its colony from the Saharawi war effort, then based out of Tindouf. Since my access to internet in Tindouf will be unreliable, I will post a few pictures from the refugee camps in Tindouf over the next few days, so you can put a visual with the place name.

Eid Mubarek!

Today in Algiers is the beginning of Eid al-Fitr, the 3-day holiday that marks the end of the month of Ramadan. The timing of the holiday depends on the sighting of the moon, and as a result, it varies around the world. The whole city has been bustling over the past few days buying foodstuffs, gifts and decorations for the holiday. Today, the streets are silent; the stores, closed. Yesterday, at the height of the pre-holiday rush (similar to that before Christmas, it is said), a few friends from the Glycines and I went to the Kasbah, or the old city. Built in the Ottoman era in the mid-1700s, the Kasbah is a maze of narrow roads and pathways underneath tall stone buildings built one on top of the other. The Kasbah is extremely overcrowded and perched on the hillside next to the sea. In this sense, it is mildly reminiscent of a Rio favela. But, unlike most favelas in Brasil, the structures are centuries old, four stories high and growing up rather than out. Here are a couple of pictures from the rooftop of one building, the home of many, many families. In the first, you can see the historically “harem” (off-limits, protected) interior courtyard characteristic of Ottoman architecture, where women are thought to have stayed. Today this is not the case. Many Algerian women do wear the hijab (head scarf) when they leave the house, but their scarfs tend to be markers of the latest fashions, depending on their prints and labels, rather than an indication of static traditions. In the second photo, taken from the same spot, you can see the rooftops of neighboring buildings and the sea in the background.

Peace in the countryside

I snapped this photo last week, when the federal government came to town to negotiate the ending of the Br-163 blockade. The logo of the Agrarian Reform Agency, here shown on the door of a truck, is telling: a dove and a heart-warming slogan, "Peace on earth, peace in the countryside." In the 1990s alone, over 600 people died in the Amazonian countryside, victims of a low-intensity war in which more highly-capitalized southern Brazilians are expropriating land settled by poor colonists and indigenous groups.

bel Alger...

This is a photo I took last Fall from the roof-top deck of the student hostel where I am currently living in Algiers (Le centre des Glycines, room 28). It is a stunning city. During my first trip, I was taken aback by the city's physical beauty (imagine Paris' most charming features in a hilly densely packed sea-side city). But since the beginning of this trip, I have found myself struck more by what the current architectural facades reveal. Between the world-shaking War of Independence and the recent civil war ending in 2002, this city has lived through unfathomable trauma that I am only able to pick up in whiffs and hints. If it weren't for the omnipresent police militaire, you might not know the city's legacy from a stroll down the boulevard. P.S. I have not yet received my second duffel containing my power adapter, but am able to post this having made the acquaintance of a fellow Mac enthusiast here at Glycines. Florence, who is here on work from the European Commission, lent me her outlet-appropriate power charger. Also staying at le centre des Glycines are: several interns at various European various embassies here--all very interesting; a fellow UC student working on his PhD in history at Irvine; and a friend of mine from Arabic Camp in Wisconsin is due to arrive any day.

News from Algiers

It's Jeremy here, in Castelo de Sonhos. I am thrilled to report that the internet gods cooperated a bit with Maddy and me today, and we were able to chat online. She arrived in Algiers safe and sound on Thursday evening, though without any of her luggage. Maddy writes:

"I have arrived safely in Algiers where I will remain until I retrieve my luggage, which has gone missing in transit. Luckily, I have incredibly generous contacts here who have welcomed me into their homes and shuttled me back and forth to the airport. Now I am staying in the student hosel/research center where I stayed briefly during my last visit."

It's ramadan right now, which surprisingly means MORE food than you can imagine, after sundown. Again, Maddy says, " at dinner we had fish, chicken, and beef; two kinds of stew; two kinds of couscous; and lots of fruits and vegetables." Man, that certainly beats the rice and beans routine here in Castelo!

We can't wait to hear more from Algeria...the place where Maddy is staying has wireless internet. As soon as her luggage arrives (and she can recharge her computer), I'm sure Maddy will be in touch herself.

Roadblock

I'm taking advantage of the unusual quick connection from Castelo to post this photo of last week's roadblock. The sem terra eventually disbanded the blockade when the government promised them food rations and buses to travel 950 km to Santarém next week to attend a large public meeting. Traffic is free to pass, for now.

Off to Algeria

I am off to Algiers on Wednesday and should arrive at the camps which are the site of my study (in the Sahara) by late Friday. I won't have consistent access to internet there, so I thought I'd post my itinerary for the next few months. I'll be in the camps working at an English school by day and studying Arabic by night until December 16th when I fly back to Algiers. It will be Ramadan when I arrive on Friday, so I am hoping that my first post from the camps will contain some lively stories about the festivities!

At the roadblock, Castelo

It's Jeremy here, back in the "Castle of Dreams," some 900 km south of Santarém on the unpaved Br-163. I arrived here on Saturday morning, and was lucky to have been able to get to Douglas and Cris's house (my hosts). Since September 20th, a group of agrarian reform clients (sem terra, or "landless workers") have been operating a roadblock at a crucial wooden bridge located 3 km north of Castelo, on the Br-163. They are protesting a recent federal court decision to suspend the operations of land reform settlements in Western Pará, as it was decided that the settlements are accelerating deforestation and illegal land occupation in the region. The settlers are trying to call attention to their plight: they've waited for four years for their settlement to be legalized; have received many promises of land and techincal support from the government; they've been involved in low-grade warfare with ranchers and lumber companies who run over their land with impunity and are the real accelerators of deforestation in the region. Now, it seems, they might lose all they've worked for and/or been promised.

When my bus arrived at the roadblock at 7 am on Saturday, I got down and began socializing with the protestors, many of whom are my firends. Within 20 minutes, someone had gotten a motorcycle ready to give me a lift into the center of Castelo. My companions on the bus had to wait another 5 hours at the roadblock, as the protesters only open the road for traffic at noon and midnight. If I had a fast enough connection, I'd attach the photo of a sem terra protester, Matheus, lighting a set of tires ablaze at the roadblock. Last week, before I arrived, a group of lumber-folks and ranchers tried to take over the roadblock by force and liberate traffic on the Br-163. Matheus made sure some of them took 2nd-degree burns away with them, and the roadblock continues.

This photo was taken at Cris' birthday party. She is wearing a brand-new dress from Jeremy and me. The look on my face is betraying something like "She actually likes it?!" Later that evening I decided it must have been our luck and not our fashion judgment that was to thank for the success when "the tourist gringo/a" was made the butt of another revelers' joke. He remarked (as per Jeremy's precise and ever-patient translation): "No matter where they go, those gringos always stick to the same American dress!" I took this as encouragement to ditch the lightweight REI pants.

Here Tainá and I are having some early morning snuggles. Taken before Tainá is sure she's ready to meet the day or the camera, this photo was stolen by Jeremy before morning café in Cris and Douglas' house (just look at my eyes!). Soon, the little one would be running circles around all of us and hamming it up for the camera.

A few more pictures (con't)

Here are Jeremy, Douglas, and Maranhão--two friends from Castelo--at a land reform meeting in Novo Progresso in late August.

A few more pictures

With the ease of a fast connection, I thought I'd post a few more photos from Brazil. This is a photo of our Santarém hosts, Steve and Áurea, at a father's day party.

Back in Davis

The Fall Quarter is winding up here in Davis, where I finally arrived on Monday mid-day. It was a lonely trip home, but I was met by cooler tempertatures and good friends once I arrived back in California. The back-to-school buzz is unmistakable on UCD's prisitne grounds (what different woods these are from the Amazon!). Although for the first time since I was 5 years old, I am not part of the gang heading back to classes this fall, it is heartening to be in familiar surroundings, breathing fresh air, and bumping into old friends on the street corner. As I became increasingly sleep-deprived on my journey home, I began to have some reservations about going back to the joys and comforts of home before being jolted, once again, into a challenging non-home situation. But, already I can see that those concerns were unfounded. In every respect this short time in California has exceeded my expectations. I feel incredibly supported in this small town and, I am coming to see, I feel a sort of community I haven't had since my early childhood in southwest Minneapolis. I am continuing to follow the news out of Algeria with extreme interest. I was recently informed of the possibility that my fellowship could be canceled due to security concerns (despite the fact that the primary security threats in Algeria are located in the northeast and I will be in the southwest). I am scheduled to leave on October 2nd. With the help of my Davis support, I am trying to practice positive thinking through this very frustrating situation, which is largely out of my control. Of course, your positive thoughts are welcome too! In just a moment, I will be taking off for San Francisco to catch up with Katie and some friends. I will say hello to your city for you, Jeremy! Love to all.

Everybody's traveling

Maddy's gone for California, and tomorrow morning Jeremy heads back south along the Br-163. So this post is our first while each of us is in a different part of the world. Much more of that to come, until we are reunited in the Canary Islands on Christmas Day. For now, boa viagem a todos e a todas.

Marriage celebration update: Memorial Day Weekend 2008!

As we mentioned in our very first post, one of our hopes for this blog is to keep you all informed about our upcoming wedding celebration. We have really enjoyed planning the event over the past six weeks. Here are the plans so far:

Saturday, May 24th, 2008 @ 6:30 P.M.
Sudwerk Brewery, Davis, California
www.sudwerk.com (I think they are currently updating their site)

Since this is Memorial Day Weekend, Sunday and Monday are left open for us all to play in the valley. Save the date!

Pop tarts.

Eat your heart out, MoMA. Macs are so cool!

At the dunes.

Here's Maddy (click on the thumbnail to get a closer look) at the Lençóis Maranhenses on Tuesday. It's kinda grainy, but then again, so was the desert! Get it? Grainy!

...and we're not burned to a crisp

After a couple days on the Maranhão coast, we’re proud to announce the following: 1) we’re having a great time; 2) we haven’t yet overdosed on fresh fish oils; and 3) we have, by some minor miracle Jeremy thinks, avoided getting sunburned. The picture at left is of the Lençóis Maranhenses, in the national park on the Maranhão coast of the same name. The gullies and valleys between these dunes collect rainwater from December through May, then dry up in the subsequent months. We visited on Tuesday, and went for a swim in several of the shallow lakes. One never goes dry, and has a few billion (maybe more?) tiny fish in it. We’ve also walked through old-town São Luis, and can’t decide if it’s charmingly rustic or desperately run-down (or both). Downtown, we found some wonderfully purple liquor (aguardiente da mandioca), but decided that the risk of potential blindness wasn’t worth it. At our hotel (right on the beach), we’ve put a hurting on the gorgonzola pasta and cuxá rice, not to mention the caipirinhas and…oh, yeah, the fish. And more fish. We’ll be heading back to Santarém tomorrow night. We’ll write at least one more post from there before Maddy leaves Brazil on Sunday for her 5-flight, 6-city voyage home to California.

Off to São Luis!

We are still recovering from a massive Lebanese meal last night at Santarém's premier (and only) Arab cuisine restaurant. It took over an hour to prepare and multiple waiters to serve the feast of swarma, falafal, kaftas, hommus, tabouli, and pita. It is a good thing that all we have on schedule for the day is packing for our upcoming trip to the beach. We are flying to São Luis (pictured, right) early tomorrow morning and will be staying until Friday night. Fun!

Another hammock picture

It might seem like all we do is lie around, but we'll have you know that some hard-hitting social science research, about the history and possible futures for the communities and forests along the unpaved Br-163 federal highway, is being conducted too! In fact, hammocks are a necessity for such research! We promise! Diógenes Leal, noted cinematographer from Belém, sums of the significance of the hammock this way: “Everything happens in a hammock—from before we are born through the arc of our life, til our friends carry us to the bone yard—It all happens in a hammock.”

That big pan in the background is actually a huge batea, or gold miner's pan. The idea is: run muddy water into the batea, then sift the water out, leaving the gold at the bottom of the pan. This one requires 2-3 miners.

Ah, systemas naturaes

So, no, this isn't really a picture of the tarantula we slept with a few nights ago. The one with whom we did share a room at Bosque Santa Lúcia was much much cuter. We named him Tito.

We're back from the forest, where the nights are dark and the monkeys (howlers) sound like a dozen diesel 18-wheelers stuck in neutral, revving their engines.

We spent a delightful evening and day in the forest, walking on old trails and swinging in hammocks at Steve & Áurea's reception area (really a little house with wood samples, animal skeletons, and the like in it). We were unaware of this when we arrived on Monday, but later learned that we had the honor of being the first folks to spend the night out at the Bosque. Since receiving power a couple months ago, the convenience of electric lights (and a computer or two) grant solace to the camper: flashlights were at the ready, too, in case our new spidery friend got too close. Thanks, Steve & Áurea! Thanks Tito, hope to see you again soon!

Festa, festa

Our weekend has been chock-full of festivities. Friday was Independence Day here in Brasil. We headed across the street to a neighbor's house for a lively lunch but saved most of our partying energy for a birthday brunch for Áurea this morning. Yesterday, we headed down to the waterfront where we listened to live music and discussed our fear and excitement at receiving a real paycheck. Will our present priority to earn (however meagerly) in order to do good work (however obscurely) someday give way to a way of living that prioritizes work only to earn?

Now we are watching Brasil take on Team USA in soccer. Brasil trounced Algeria a couple of weeks ago--and with its B-team, at that--to Maddy's disappointment. Our eyes have been on the news coming out of Algeria and the U.S. Embassy there. In the meantime, we will likely take off for a night retreat in the woods tomorrow evening. Steve's small forest post on the outskirts of town recently received electricity, so we're hoping to do some quiet thinking and writing into the wee hours (and when the sun sets at 6:00, that means, like, 9:30).

No Room in the Inn

It has been an eventful and steamy few days in Santarem. Jeremy has been busy working on a field report, synthesizing the past few weeks for his advisor, as Maddy has begun gravitating northeastward towards Algeria in her thoughts and even dreams. Together, we have managed to work up quite a bit of excitement about her launch. We’ve also begun quietly preparing for our three months apart before our reunion on Christmas Day in the Canary Islands. On Tuesday, we volunteered with the Brazilian chapter of Operation Smile, which is in town performing free cleft-lip and palate surgeries all week (no, we did not operate on any kids). Over two hundred kids showed up on Tuesday, but only 60 were chosen for surgery. We were on photography assignment, documenting the hectic and joyful reception of the kids’ and their families. On Wednesday, we had hoped to beat the heat with a night at the air-conditioned and massive Amazon Park Hotel, pictured but not quite captured here. The Park is a vast concrete complex that resembles a deserted colony in outer space. Though we found no signs of extraterrestrial life, we did find the place utterly deserted (as Jeremy has every other time he has come to enjoy the Park’s pool or wide beer selection over the past 7 years). Built in the 1970s as a contribution to the “inevitable integration of the Amazon into the Brazilian nation,” the 300-room hotel hasn’t operated at even half-capacity since its opening celebration. Nowadays, it is probably sells no more then 10 rooms on a good night. But, when we arrived and attempted to check in, the receptionist told us that the hotel was full. Without skipping a beat, Jeremy asked, “Full of what? People?” It turns out there was a conference that had bought out 35 rooms or so, leaving us out of luck. Overfull, by Park standards! Fortunately, we were able to use the pool and bar before heading back into town. Other memorable activities: Maddy went to the salon with our host, Áurea, where she had her hair coiffed and nails elaborately designed. Oh, and Jeremy has nearly memorized all the lines to the film "Fargo," but he still hasn't mastered the accent.

"Because of you"

When unable to communicate in substantive conversation with her Castelo hosts, Maddy frequently took requests to sing various American songs, whose meanings were already known to the audiences (apparently you don't have to be any good to be dubbed in Portuguese). One of the most frequent requests: Kelly Clarkson's ever popular "Because of you." At the 27th birthday party of Cris, Maddy and Jeremy's cast-n-reel move on the dance floor won more laughter than applause, but no one was laughing at our stellar work as gauchos on the BBQ. A note on how to create a slow burning blaze to roast your pig's head the Brazilian way: 1) Take 1-2 rolls of unused toilet paper. 2) Douse them in cooking oil. Light. 3) Add small flammable things. 4) Add charcoal gradually over the course of an hour. For best results, fire-tenders should drink several cold beers whiling completing step 4.

Up to no good.

Here we are clowning around with Tainá, no doubt teaching her some off-color phrase or expression in English. She's a smart little cookie, as by the end of our visit in Castelo she was mimicking our talk well enough that her parents were beginning to openly doubt their choosing us to be Tainá's godparents. They were just kidding, of course. After all, those cigarettes on the table don't belong to anyone you see in the picture...in fact, this might be a portrait of the only three people in Castelo de Sonhos who don't smoke. Anyway, besides the good times, this picture also shows some gray skies, made grayer by the lingering smoke of forest fires in the area.

Does he look like a spy from Greenpeace to you?

We arrived back in Santarém early this morning after a more annoying than harrowing 36-hour voyage North. The road was not in such bad shape despite some bad whether. The greater delay was an overturned 16-wheeler loaded up with wood, broken and stuck in the middle of the road. We watched as a tractor cleared the scene, and we considered the recent report we had watched on Globo (the national TV network) about how Western Pará leads the nation in illegal lumber extractions. In this part of the Amazonian forest, "greenpeace" is one of the worst insults you can have hurled at you; most of the trucks feature bumper stickers saying "Greenpeace out of the Amazon, Amazonia is owned by the Brazilians!" Though Jeremy had never been openly accused of working for "them," we seemed to garner more suspicion walking down the streets of Castelo as a couple. More than once, muscle-bound cow-jerks rode by in pick-ups or motorcycles with the casual greeting, "E aí, Greenpeace!?!" Since they didn't stop to discuss environmental and development policy with us, we could only laugh at the accusations, and continue whistling along.

The Internet comes back to Castelo!

Sorry we've been out of touch for so long! Castelo de Sonhos has been without Internet (and occasionally without phones!) since we arrived over two weeks ago. Now it's back, but not reliable enough for posting any photos of our exploits here in the middle of the Amazonian forest.

Some of the highlights: we became the godparents to Tainá, the two year old daughter of Douglas & Cristiane, two of Jeremy's closest friends in Castelo. We got our first taste of Brazilian rodeos, too: no cattle-roping, but plenty of hot-dogs and turns on rickety, rusted amusement rides. Since arriving here, we've eaten both pig and cow tongue; the latter is definitely tastier, though pig flesh is much more appealing to the eye.

A few days ago, we caught a bus for Novo Progresso ("New Progress"), the closest town to Castelo de Sonhos. It took us seven hours to travel 90 miles, and the problem wasn't traffic jams. We made the trip to attend an important government meeting about land reform and sustainable development in the region: basically, the Brazilian government is proposing to privatize all federal lands in the Amazon in order to combat deforestation and illegal land markets. We're skeptical.

We've spent a fair amount of time getting aquainted with the local flora and fauna, too. A good friend, Irineu, owns a 5 acre farm just outside of Castelo where his family raises chickens and manages fruit trees (açai, lime, mango, papaya, etc.). Irineu's latest project is beekeeping. Last Saturday, his son Renato took us on a short walk to see the bees: Jeremy was wearing protective gear and filming the scene up-close, while Maddy stayed back several yards as the boxes were opened. Suffice it to say, each of us ended up with wounds. Several bees got caught in Maddy's hair, while others managed to infiltrate Jeremy's bee suit and repeatedly sting him. The next morning, his face was swollen such that he couldn't open his right eye. Ah, well, that's the jungle. And questionable judgement.

We're heading back to Santarém from Castelo de Sonhos tomorrow. We should be back to regular posting by Saturday, depending on the state of the highway back north. Tchau.

The treacherous road, Br-163

By the time most of you read this we will be traveling on a bus along the famed Br-163, the mostly unpaved highway which starts south from Santarém, through the Amazon rainforest, and ends at the agricultural mecca of Cuiabá. The road is notorious for not being much of a road at all: potholes, mudslicks, quicksand, and felled trees make for awful slow-going for most traffic. The road is almost completely impassable from February through June, during the wettest months in western Pará state.

We'll be heading south to Castelo de Sonhos, a very small gold-mining settlement that was founded along the Br-163 shortly after the army built it in the mid-1970s. Hopefully our bus won't suffer a fate similar to this car, which lost both of its passenger-side tires to a deep pothole 15 km south of Santarém. The irate driver was quick to point out the irony of the locale where he had been stranded (after all, he only had one spare, and had to wait for a tire service to come to his aid). The dangerous potholes are located within a kilometer of the ranch of the most powerful federal politician in the area, and only a handful of kilometers from the barracks of the army division whose sole job it is to care for the road. The kicker is that this fella's car was not the only one that had dropped two shoes on the same pothole (we spotted two other cars on the same day!), but his was the only one that rolled to a stop without any cover from the tropical sun.

We'll post some of the highlights from our trip south along the Br-163 when we get to Castelo de Sonhos. For now, we've got to run around Santarém and get things together for the trip. You know, emergency supplies and tire jacks, that sorta thing.

Os rios da Amazônia

Here we see the famed "Encontro das Águas," the meeting of the waters, just north of Santarém. The brown/café colored water is of the Amazon River, and the darker, almost bluish water is of the Tapajós River. Each river carries more water along its banks than the Mississippi. In the distance, you can see the roofs of the houses of fisherfolk who use handmade nets to pull good eats out of the rivers. The boat in the foreground is heading from Santarém to another town only 40 km away (via water); the journey will take three hours.

At the Encontro, the Amazon and Tapajós get all mixed up and run parallel to each other for several miles. We hiked up to the vista point from which we snapped this photo hoping to see pink river dolphins below, but none were to be seen. We also were hoping for ice cream and/or beer at the top of the three-story climb, but all the concession stands were closed. Rotten luck.

We'll be off on a 2-day bus trip tomorrow, south from Santarém through places with names like Rurópolis, Itaituba, Trairão (named after a fish!), Moraes, Novo Progresso, and Castelo de Sonhos. We'll have less internet access while in Castelo for the next 2.5 weeks, but we'll be sure to get a post or two in.

Swingin'

So this is life in the jungle! Maddy is reading a recently published book (by our friend and host Steven Alexander) while lounging in the rede (hammock). Since arriving in Santarém on Thursday, we've taken the time to rest and rejuvenate a bit after the whirlwind summer. Soon we'll be off to Castelo de Sonhos ("Castle of Dreams"), a small community 600 miles south of Santarém where Jeremy is basing his research. The highlights so far: castanha (brazil nut) ice cream; fried pirarucu fish balls; a ceiba tree in the forest; Fox News via satellite; cold showers and even colder beers; a new municipal tree-house in Santarém; a yummy pay-by-the-pound restaurant; and Lucca, Steve and Áurea's 6-year old German shepherd.

Proof of New England Can-doism

Whoever said (was it Frost?) that New Englanders were un-neighborly was just plain wrong. We learned as much on our way back to New York from St. Albans, Vermont, just a few days ago. We had decided to drive up to Vermont at the last minute on Sunday, 8/5/07, the day after our wildly successful engagement party in Queens. The idea was to investigate whether or not Tim and Jen's (Jeremy's uncle and aunt) house on Lake Champlain might be a good venue for our June '08 wedding. We dropped off Kassi at JFK at 6:30 am on Monday (8/6/07), then braved the seven-hours worth of rainy traffic for a quick overnight at the lake. Anyway, back to New England charm and cordiality: Jen informed us how easy it is to get married in the great state of Vermont (e.g., no need for blood tests, witnesses, priestly meetings, or even IDs), so on the way back to JFK to catch a flight bound for Brazil, we stopped in the village of Ferrisbugh, VT (pop. 2,800) to sate our curiosity. The town clerk, a balding man named Chet who had lived in Ferrisburgh his whole life, was more than happy to ring up the Justice of the Peace (a charming woman named Jean Richardson), whom he wrangled from her morning gardening to come over and marry us.

Twenty-five minutes and thirty-five dollars later, we were married on the steps of the Ferrisburgh Union Hall, built in 1762 as the common church for all of the village's congregations. We each said "I do" from the same spot from which Frederick Douglass in 1843 exhorted Ferrisburghers to take up the abolitionist cause. When the two-minute ceremony was over, we walked across the town green under 200-year old maples planted for the area's Revolutionary War dead. We said our goodbyes to Ferrisburgh, got back in the car, and kept going south through the Catskills and the Hudson Valley. On a pit stop, Maddy engaged tradition and used her lipstick to announce to those on the interstate that we were "Just Married!" Though we've no still photographs of the event, we do have one of the car's windshield, and we did record the ceremony with Jeremy's new digital camcorder; we owe Jean and Chet many thanks for this indulgence!. Truth is, they were more than happy--maybe even a bit giddy--to have been shaken from their Tuesday routines to marry us, crazy whirling kids, passing through, always on our way, taken aback by the simple charm of the town and the plain directness of its people.

The marriage certificate Jeremy is filling out in the photo is proof positive that we are not making any of this up. The state of Vermont considers us married, and as the saying goes, "What the state of Vermont hath drawn together, let not man (nor New Hampshire) put asunder." To be clear, however: we are hoping to have, as planned, a wedding celebration somewhere in the United States in late June (probably 6/28/2008). That event will be an opportunity for us to exchange our vows (which we are writing now) and for friends and family to meet and enjoy one another's company.

Love to all,
Maddy & Jeremy

- Welcome - Bem Vindos - Bienvenue - Bienvenidos -

Hello friends and family and sketchy on-lookers! If you've found your way to our blog, we hope you'll make the trip often to find out about our first weeks and months as a married couple in Brazil, Algeria, Spain, and the United States. We look forward to sharing photos and stories here, so that when we get back to the U.S. for our wedding celebration in late June 2008 we won't have to repeat ourselves too much! So, dears, please take advantage of the "Post Comment" function to ask direct questions or comment on a particular blog entry. We look forward to seeing you all soon! Oh, and yes, you read correctly. We are married. And to each other.

Love you all!

- Maddy & Jeremy