Hello world!

I am an avid reader of blogs and have often told myself I should start my own.  So finally after a year of saying I would do it, I finally have one on The Afterword, and separate one which I started when trying to figure out exactly what Chrissy meant by signing up on wordpress.  (This post here will is a slightly edited version of the post I wrote on the other blog, found at jvoor.wordpress.com.)  Chrissy, thanks for motivating me to actually become a part of the blogsphere, rather than just a lurker! I am not sure exactly what this blog (or the other blog) will focus on.  Probably a bit of everything: writing, and poetry obviously mixed in with my other interests, birds, feminist studies, gender, sexuality, Mexico, anthropology, the Choptank River, life after Bucknell…I guess I will figure it out as I go along.

I have been home now for about two weeks.  Previously I was in Mexico working on an anthropology project in the indigenous village of Zinacantan, located in the state of Chiapas. I wrote a lot while I was there, over 400 pages in fieldjournals, about 300,000 words!!  Now I am trying to write an article from all of the information I gathered. I am also trying to write some poetry based on my experiences there and also the experience of coming home.

It is strange to be home–culture shock overload. I miss all the friends I made while I was there. I wish I could talk with them.  I miss speaking Tzotzil and Spanish. I miss the village: the dusty streets, the sheep, the women weaving, the kids running after me to play, tortillas con sal, the mountains and the mist that fell over them in the morning.

Sometimes I feel like my heart is full of fractured pieces of countries and cultures, all the places I carry inside of me. England and America, the two countries I belong to.  Spain and Mexico, the countries I have fallen in love with.  Traveling is a wonderful experience, particularly the way I have been able to do it; I have lived in many different countries and have immersed myself in their cultures.  The hard part is leaving places.  Right now I hurt from the leaving.


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