San Jose, The mouth of the beast!!
We're in San Jose again awaiting our flight tomorrow. I always get soo emotional when I return form abroad. I miss everyone a bunch, and really am ready to come home, but I get these pangs of longing to stay out here. A wanderlust if you will. I just need to keep in mind that Peru awaits on the horizon. Only four months away, I need a job fast!!
On the busride over here I kept running spoken word poetry about my journey here with my travel mates. It was such strong and beautiful poetry, if only I hadn't stowed my journal under the bus you would get a sampling of the contents of my head. Well, I'll try my best:
Children begging at the invisible line between Nicaragua and Costa Rica as I shade my tear stung eyes behind a facade of $80 sunglasses,
I took a breath and strode up the steps of a bus that would carry me back to the promised land while they can only imagine the freedom that I take for granted.
I'm seated next to a loud overweight straight white American male. He keeps going on about his business exploits in Costa Rica, how great it is that labour is cheap, there are no taxes to pay, and oh did you hear about the Venezuelan president slandering Bush? He tells me he wore his USA t-shirt all the following day, praying he wouldn't be mugged or shot.
I hear your cries Costa Rica, but my countrymen are too afraid to listen. I hear your cries Nicaragua, but your oppressors see no truth.
I hear your cries Latin America, with your open veins, your land raped and pilaged, your culture dying on the vine, bloodsucking leeches in the form of Multinationals suckling the wounds, starved for cheap labour, land and the almighty Dollar.
...and here I am. Facing re-entry. Back into the Belly of the Beast I go, flailing wildly and grateful, emotions twisted and confused, yet somehow still left with a deeper sense of who I was, who I am, who I long to be...
I return in the form of a cancer, to corrode and corrupt with poetry, art and music, peeling back the film of the media over everyones eyes for all to see the truth, to cause chaos where chaos is due, to throw a mortal wrench into the works of a system long passed due for a breakdown... I promise not to believe the lie so many Americans swallow every day.
I hear your cries Latin America,
One mouth with a billion tongues.
Well, it isn't exact to what was in my head, but you get the picture.
(see you tomorrow Amy.)
Jen, OUT!
On the busride over here I kept running spoken word poetry about my journey here with my travel mates. It was such strong and beautiful poetry, if only I hadn't stowed my journal under the bus you would get a sampling of the contents of my head. Well, I'll try my best:
Children begging at the invisible line between Nicaragua and Costa Rica as I shade my tear stung eyes behind a facade of $80 sunglasses,
I took a breath and strode up the steps of a bus that would carry me back to the promised land while they can only imagine the freedom that I take for granted.
I'm seated next to a loud overweight straight white American male. He keeps going on about his business exploits in Costa Rica, how great it is that labour is cheap, there are no taxes to pay, and oh did you hear about the Venezuelan president slandering Bush? He tells me he wore his USA t-shirt all the following day, praying he wouldn't be mugged or shot.
I hear your cries Costa Rica, but my countrymen are too afraid to listen. I hear your cries Nicaragua, but your oppressors see no truth.
I hear your cries Latin America, with your open veins, your land raped and pilaged, your culture dying on the vine, bloodsucking leeches in the form of Multinationals suckling the wounds, starved for cheap labour, land and the almighty Dollar.
...and here I am. Facing re-entry. Back into the Belly of the Beast I go, flailing wildly and grateful, emotions twisted and confused, yet somehow still left with a deeper sense of who I was, who I am, who I long to be...
I return in the form of a cancer, to corrode and corrupt with poetry, art and music, peeling back the film of the media over everyones eyes for all to see the truth, to cause chaos where chaos is due, to throw a mortal wrench into the works of a system long passed due for a breakdown... I promise not to believe the lie so many Americans swallow every day.
I hear your cries Latin America,
One mouth with a billion tongues.
Well, it isn't exact to what was in my head, but you get the picture.
(see you tomorrow Amy.)
Jen, OUT!