Catching up...again

First of all, an apology for my absence since I've been in Mexico. It's hard to believe I've been here almost three weeks and I've only posted...twice. Maybe it's because my time here has been much more productive, and research success is somehow less worthy of note than research frustration. (And undoubtedly less interesting for non-historians!) Or maybe it's just that I've been busy working. Whatever the case, it is clearly time for an update.

A photo that has nothing to do with this post,
 but I included it just because photos are nice. This is a
mural at the cultural museum in Coyoacán.

It's hard to believe that I only have ten days left of my summer research trip. After this, it's off to BC for the month of August, where I plan to swing in my hammock, gorge myself on fresh peaches, laze in the sun...and write a 1,500 word paper abstract and a 10 page research proposal. Sigh. Real vacation time seems always to be a fleeting hope for the academic.

So far, my time in Mexico has been divided between the Archivo General de la Nacion (AGN) and the archive of the Secretario de Relaciones Exteriores (SRE) - the latter being far more productive than the first. However, this week I will return to the AGN to finally confront the secret police archives, armed with a long list of organizations to look up, as they won't allow you to search by people. Yes, it seems they do everything in their power to make access difficult. That said, I'm hopeful that something will turn up. My last step will be - ojalá - a return trip to UNAM, where I hope to finally gain access to the personal papers of the Guatemalan novelist and political exile, Luís Cardoza y Aragón. The collection appears to be enormous (I've been able to look through a finding guide), but since they won't allow me to photograph any of the documents, I'll only be able to get a vague idea of the collection, at best. That said, the purpose of these last six weeks of research has been to gauge what sources exist for my project. A year from now, I'll return for an extended trip and revisit all of these archives and more. In this sense, the trip has been a success. There seems to be an abundance of material available in Mexico, which makes up for the wild goose chase that took place in Guatemala.

The view from the top of the Monumento de la Revolción,
where Rachel and I enjoyed a cup of coffee last weekend.

On a personal note, I've found my time here and in Guatemala to be incredibly fulfilling. In both cases, I was lucky enough to find fellow historiodoras from the New York area to keep me company: the two Rachels. It's been such a comfort to have another person not only to explore and to share meals with, but also to reflect on our research, to strategize, and to bounce ideas around. It's always been my experience that friendships formed away from home develop and solidify more quickly than those at home, as you rely on each other for the support that you would otherwise seek elsewhere. That has surely been the case here, and I'm so grateful to have made two wonderful friends who will not only be close by when I return to school in the fall, but who will be my peers and my colleagues for many, many years to come.

I suppose that's all for now, but I promise to write at least one more post before I go. Hasta luego.

Confronting the Reality of Child Migration

I had a tough start to my day today, when I came face-to-face with the "unaccompanied minors crisis" firsthand at the breakfast table. But maybe I should preface my story by telling you a little about where I'm staying.

The Casa de los Amigos is a Quaker guesthouse that funds various peace and social justice projects in Mexico City. There is space for about 50 people here, with rooms ranging from 12-bed dormitories to a private apartment. Because of the nature of the organization, it's generally full of students, volunteers, researchers, and human rights workers. The Casa also provides shelter for migrants and refugees who pass through Mexico City, often on their way to the United States. Which brings me to this morning...

'La Bestia'

Breakfasts at the Casa are always a highlight of the day, when different guests and neighbors get together to share a meal. This morning I arrived early to breakfast, finding one of the volunteers sitting at the table with a boy who appeared to be about 12 years old. The boy was very quiet and timid, and after a few minutes it became clear to me that he was a migrant, probably making his way north. I asked him where he was from and he told me that he was from the Petén, Guatemala's large jungle region. He spoke into his plate and clearly didn't want to talk. I got the distinct impression that he was traumatized, so I let him be. I later asked one of the volunteers about the boy and was told that he arrived late last night, after already having been on the road for 3 months. He's 14 years old and has been traveling on the notorious train - known as 'The Beast' -  that carries migrants from Central America north, to the U.S. border. And as I suspected, he has been badly traumatized by what he's seen and experienced along the way. I asked what the Casa's policy is for giving money to such guests, concerned that the boy will have nothing to eat once he leaves us. They informed me that another organization called Sin Fronteras was coming to pick him up and that if I made a donation, they would make sure it went towards taking care of our young friend.

If he makes it, this boy will be just another one of the over 50,000 children who have already arrived, unaccompanied, at the U.S. border this year. While Congress scrambles to find the fastest way to ship them back where they came from - mainly Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador - their home countries continue to be plagued by poverty, gang violence, and a drug war that is sponsored and fueled mainly by the United States. (Canada may not be at the forefront of the drug war, but the demand for cocaine certainly isn't helping the situation). If the U.S. government wants to solve this latest immigration crisis, perhaps it is time to take a long, hard look at the many reasons why parents would risk their children's lives to send them on such a dangerous journey, thousands of miles across Mexico and into the United States.

If you want some further reading on the current immigration crisis, check out this article by the L.A. Times and this one, courtesy of Latino Rebels.

And a follow up: http://www.motherjones.com/mojo/2014/07/mexico-central-american-migrants-train-beast

Update: Our young Guatemalan friend is looking distinctly more upbeat today. He even gave me a little smile. It's amazing what a couple nights in a real bed, three square meals a day, and being in the company of people who care about you will do for a person. I don't know how long he's going to stay, but I hope it's long enough to fortify him for what promises to be a difficult road ahead.

I'm Still Alive!

It's now been over a week since my last post, and I apologize for falling off the radar. Last time I wrote was just after leaving Xela - was that really just a week ago? So much has happened since then, but I'll have to give you the nutshell version.

My trip to Guatemala ended with a last-minute interview, set up by Sergio's lovely sister, Rita. It was a mad dash back to Guatemala City from Antigua for a 10 am appointment, which wouldn't have been difficult if it weren't for a combination of protests, traffic, and police roadblocks. After about 15 minutes of frantic phone calls with my taxi driver, Luis - 80% of which I couldn't understand - we finally found each other and I managed to make it to my interview with no time to spare. My interview subject was one of the few remaining members of the October Revolution in 1944, a man by the name of Antonio Móbil, who also happens to be a historian. Although he couldn't tell me too much about my specific topic, we had a nice chat and he gave me a couple books - and some great contact e-mails! It was a nice way to end my trip.

Much like Guatemala, my arrival in Mexico City was blissfully uneventful. I arrived just before sunset and checked into my accommodations for the month: Casa de los Amigos, a Quaker guesthouse in the center of the city that welcomes all sorts of travelers, researchers, and volunteer workers. So far, my stay here has been delightful and the company at breakfast always interesting. 

In my experience, things rarely go smoothly in Mexico for long and it was only a day before chaos set in. I arrived on Tuesday evening and decided to take Wednesday to settle in. My plan was to head to the Archivo General de la Nación (AGN) on Thursday, stay there as long as necessary, and then move on to a very important collection that I heard was located at the main university in Mexico, UNAM. Wednesday rolled around and I was told that UNAM was going to shut down after Friday...for three weeks. On Thursday morning, I scrambled to get out of UNAM first thing in the morning. Once there, I found the Fondo Reservado and politely asked if they had the collection I was looking for, which I hadn't been able to locate in their online database. Fortunately for me, I was in the right place. Unfortunately, I needed to register for my credentials before they would let me look at the documents. The archivist informed me that I would need a copy of my passport, a set of ID photos, and my address in Mexico City. Off I went to find a copy shop and a place to have my photos taken, which turned out to be surprisingly easy. After a couple hours, I took everything to the archivist, only to realize that I had missed one key word in the previous instructions: "proof". As in, proof of address. To my utter confusion, the archivist kept insisting I would need a light bill or a water bill, despite the fact that he knew I was a foreigner and staying in a hotel. Frustrated, I made my way home without having looked at a single document - though he did let me browse in the finding guide for a couple hours. When I arrived back at the Casa, the manager was very familiar with my tale and happily loaned me an electricity bill. The next morning, armed with everything I could possibly need, I went back to UNAM. This time the archivist was very impressed with my preparedness and happily took all my paperwork. Then she promptly informed me that it would be roughly THREE DAYS to process my credentials. Three days with a three week vacation in between. At this point, I'm hoping to get a couple days browsing the collection so that I'll at least know what's there for when I'm able to go back. Fortunately I didn't need my credentials to use the Hemeroteca, so I spent the rest of Friday looking through periodicals. At least I did something productive.

After two days of navigating Mexican bureaucracy, the weekend arrived and I joined a friend from the Casa for a Couchsurfing trip to Teotihuacán. I climbed some pyramids, met some lovely people, and was surprised to get a rather impressive sunburn after having grown so accustomed to the wet, dreary weather of Mexico City. 

Monday rolled around and I am happy to say, I was finally able to hold real documents in my hands after so many weeks of chasing my tail. I met up with a friend from the DPDF workshop, who was kind enough to hold my hand during my first trip to the AGN. To my surprise, I found all sorts of material during a lengthy search of the AGN database. A day later, I have some decent research under my belt and am getting ready to delve into some secret police records. It feels good to finally be making progress after so much frustration. I can't say it's been in vain though, since  the last three weeks have allowed me to work on one quality that I've always been lacking: patience.

A Long Overdue Return

On Thursday I finally made the trip I've been meaning to take for over three years now. When I left Xela (pronounced shay-la)* in April 2009, I thought I'd be back in no more than two years. I'm sorry to say, it took me five.

It's hard for me to put into words what this place means to me. My time spent here was my first experience outside Canada and the US and, not surprisingly, it had a big impact. The thing about Xela is that it's not beautiful, like Antigua, and it doesn't have the perfect climate, like Lago Atitlán. There's just something about Xela. It's a small city of a little over 200,000 inhabitants, located high in the Altiplano, at over 2,300 meters above sea level. The days are pleasantly warm, but the cold nights can be a shock to those who arrive unprepared. Xela is the indigenous capital of Guatemala, with over 60% of its population identifying as Maya. The Mayan population is highly visible, with women wearing their colorful traje (indigenous clothing) all over the city. On Friday, the day after I arrived, the central park was full of men in traje as well - a rare sight ever since indigenous men were targeted by the military during the civil war. You hear the Mayan population as well, speaking Quiche in the markets and on the buses. Xela is the heart of Guatemala, the central hub of the indigenous highlands. For this reason, it is the base for most of the country's NGO's and is thus home to a large and fluid population of volunteer workers, social workers, and human rights workers. It is the main hub for Guatemala's more socially-minded tourists, and a fascinating place to go if you want to get a sense of what really goes on in this country.

I've dreamed of going back to Xela ever since I left, though a small part of me always feared that the magic would somehow be gone. To my relief, it wasn't. The moment I stepped out the door of my hostel (the same place where I lived for three months so long ago) and breathed the (mildly contaminated) mountain air, I felt somehow more alive. The park was buzzing on a Thursday night and I happily wandered for an hour, stopping at various points to see the places that were so familiar to me. To my delight, I even ran into an old friend within moments of stepping out the door. Some things never change.

Most of my friends have left Xela over the last five years, but there are three people there who I wanted to catch up with. I can happily say they are all doing well, working jobs that make them happy, even if they're struggling to get by. I spent two days catching up, sharing meals, drinking coffee, and taking walks in the park. To my delight, I also ran into someone unexpected: a Mexican friend who lived in Hostal Don Diego with me five years ago and returned to Xela for an exhibition of his art. Not only is he enjoying some success as an artist, but he's also three years clean and sober - and happy. Parting with him this morning over breakfast was the perfect end to my short visit.

Like the last time, I'm already plotting my return. Unlike the last time, I swear that it won't take me another five years to get back. I've made that promise to at least two people and I plan to keep it. Xelita linda, nos vemos pronto.


*aka Quetzaltenango, for those of you trying to locate it on a map

Some Parting Thoughts

After almost six years, I can finally say I've made my peace with Guatemala City. When I first arrived here in October 2008, I flew into the city, passed one moderately nervous night, and took the first bus out the next morning. I spent the next six months avoiding this place that has always made me so anxious. It was with a good dose of apprehension that I arrived here twelve days ago, but I’m happy to say that I’ve grown far more comfortable than I ever thought I would.

A lot of that has to do with where I’m staying. I was told that zone 2 is actually quite pleasant, and it is. The streets are clean, it’s quiet, and the neighborhood has everything I need. It’s walking distance from the Plaza Mayor and offers a variety of good food and coffee, great coffee. What more could I ask for? My comfort here also has a lot to do with my accommodations. I realized at some point during my grant application for the summer that I could budget for an actual hotel – a hotel! – as opposed to the hostels that I’ve grown so accustomed to. However, the thought of being locked up in a nice quiet room, all by myself in Guatemala City had very little appeal. Instead, I was lucky enough to find La Coperacha: a lovely little hostel in zone 2 that’s just busy enough to prevent me from ever being lonely, but quiet enough that I was able to sleep like a baby the whole time I was here. The great thing about La Coperacha is the people. The staff are friendly and infinitely helpful, the other guests have been sociable and interesting, and there’s a whole little community of neighbors who pass their days and their evenings here, watching the World Cup and sharing the occasional meal. I can’t imagine what my time here would have been without Lucien, Tony, William, and everyone else who has kept me company over the last week and a half.

As for the city itself, it’s not so bad. I’m not saying that it isn’t dangerous, because it is; but like anywhere else, a little common sense goes a long way. Looking out over the city, much of it appears run-down and even ugly, but if you narrow your focus there is beauty to be found. Maybe it’s the one old colonial building, with its peeling paint and wrought iron gates, or maybe it’s the street art that can be found everywhere here. Maybe it’s the flowering trees that line the sidewalks, or the smiling children playing with their mother on the bus. The point is, you just have to look.

The last time I was in Guatemala I traveled far and wide. I saw the jungle, the desert, the mountains and both coasts, but you can’t really know Guatemala without knowing Guate. Even then it’s hard to really know this place at all, but that’s for another post… For now, just know that I’m leaving the city having relinquished the fear that it inspired in me for so long. Adios Guate, y hasta pronto.

Fijese que...

I have a new favorite Spanish phrase. It's a phrase that is particularly Guatemalan and especially pertinent when it comes to research. "Fijese que..." translates roughly to "Well, you see..." but what it really means is: "so you're pretty much screwed." I've heard this term many times in the last few days. For example, fijese que...the documents aren't here; fijese que...the documents are lost; fijese que...the power is out and you can't access any of the files. That last one pretty much sums up my day today. The second one was yesterday.

I finally got into the Foreign Ministry, only to be told that all the documents I'm looking for were lost a few years ago. "And what a shame," says the archivist, "because they're really important!" No kidding. Oh well. Not terribly surprising. So I contacted CIRMA, another archive in Antigua, about 40 minutes away. To my delight, they were willing to let me in on a day's notice. So off I went to Antigua this morning, all ready to take a look at the Arbenz papers.* I rolled in just as they opened at 9:30 am, only to be told that the power went out last night and hadn't come back on. Just my luck, it was only that one block that was affected. The rest of the city was functioning just fine. So, I left my number and waited for a call to say the power had come back on. It never came. Don't feel too sorry for me though; there are worse things one can do than kill a day in Antigua.

For the record, my other favorite Spanish phrase is "ojalá," which essentially means "god willing." As in, ojalá, the power will come back on tomorrow and I can go back to Antigua. Ojalá, I won't leave Guatemala empty-handed. But even if I do, it was totally worth it.

*Jacobo Arbenz was the president of Guatemala who was overthrown by a CIA-sponsored coup in 1954.

Why yes, I am doing research

It’s Monday today. I’ve now been here a little over a week and thus it seems a good time to update everyone on what I’ve been up to so far. Oh, and maybe I should tell you about work stuff, just so you don’t think I’ve been slacking off this whole time.

I came to Guate in order to visit the country's main archive: The Archivo General de Centroamerica (AGCA). I finally made it there on Wednesday, after spending my first two days with Sergio’s family, trying to track down info on his grandfather.* Luckily, before I left the US, I was able to look at a finding guide for the AGCA's Foreign Ministry records. I was given the finding guide as a set of photos by another – very generous – historian. But you see, the guide was a little bit mysterious. It was divided into three parts, with all the documents listed in the first two parts ending around 1945 – the exact starting point of my project. The third part, however, had no dates at all. And it just happened to have two main folders that were of interest to me: one on Guatemalans abroad and another on foreigners in Guatemala. So, I headed to the AGCA armed with my photos. I told the very kind, helpful archivists that I would like to look at the documents identified in Part III of the finding guide … and was promptly informed that they were not at the AGCA. One hour in the archive and it was apparent that there was nothing there for me. Time to regroup.

The archivists suggested that the documents might be at the Foreign Ministry itself, so I spent Thursday online, trying to locate information on a possible archive at the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores. Coming up empty, I began digging around in another archival database that might be of use: The National Police Archive (NPA). Now, when I came down here I had no intention of looking into the National Police Archive, which was kind of a ridiculous oversight on my part, I must admit. The NPA was discovered by accident back in 2005, after an earthquake led officials to inspect a number of old buildings in zone 6. Much to their surprise, they found a cache of documents dating back to the late nineteenth century. 80 million documents, to be exact, which was the largest such cache ever discovered. What followed was a massive international effort to preserve and digitize the documents, many of which were at risk of rotting away to nothing. Since then, the NPA has proved invaluable in efforts to prosecute former members of the Guatemalan military and high-level government officials for crimes against humanity committed during the country’s thirty-six year civil war. I’ve been following these developments for a few years now, but it never occurred to me that there might be something of use to me in the NPA – until the other day. The University of Texas has been at the forefront of the NPA project, and hosts a database of the 12 million documents that have now been digitized. So far, I’ve been able to dig up records on a few of the individuals I'm tracing, but none of the ones I want have yet been digitized. My intention in searching the database was to see if it was worth taking a trip to zone 6. It turns out, however, that I can put in a request and they will digitize the records I need within three months, which means that I don't need to brave zone 6. Back to the Foreign Ministry archives…

After much digging online, it was in no way apparent that there was an archive at the Foreign Ministry or that they would let me in if there was one. So, on Friday morning I found myself at the front desk of the Guatemalan Foreign Ministry, asking to see their archive. To my surprise, they pointed me down a hallway and told me to hang a left and head up the stairs. Could it really be so easy? Not likely. When I reached the desk upstairs, I informed the archivists what I was looking for and they immediately asked if I would like to read the Historia General de Guatemala. I politely declined and they handed me a book of laws related to the foreign ministry in 1945. Slightly puzzled, I took the book and found myself a quiet place to read. And then the archivist brought me another book…and another. I decided to humor them and flipped through the books they gave me, which yielded a couple new names for my list of exiles. When I was done, I gave back the books and asked if I could now see their documents, to which they responded with a somewhat perplexed expression. “This is the archive?” I asked. No. This was the library. The archive was downstairs and I would need a pass to get in. Back to the front desk I went. Again, I told them I would like to visit the archive and this time, rather than sending me to the library, they told that I would – of course – need a pass to access the archive. Of course. I handed them the copy of my passport and they informed me that, unlike the AGCA, a copy would not suffice. So I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to go back…after the weekend.

So is the joy of archival research. I’m just happy that I’m still moving forward at this point – that there is still the possibility that I’ll find the documents I’m looking for. My concern on Friday was that they wouldn’t let me in or, worse, that they wouldn’t have the documents. And they might not. But at least there’s still the chance that I’ll find what I need. If so, I’ll spend the rest of my time in Guate at the Foreign Ministry. If not, I’ll have to regroup and a find a way to make the most of my time here, which probably means heading to Antigua, where I will (hopefully) be able to access the personal papers of former president Jacobo Arbenz and his wife, Maria Vilanova. We’ll see.

*To my dismay, it seems as though any records he left were likely burned to avoid being taken by the military.

La Familia (a day late)

Day 3 in Guate and I still haven’t made it to the archives. To be fair, they were closed on Sunday, so it’s only been two days that I was able to go. This isn’t to say that my time here hasn’t been productive, because it has. However, the ‘work’ I’ve been doing really makes me love what I do. Now let me tell you about my friend Sergio.

I won’t go into details here, out of respect for Sergio’s privacy and because there is enough to write a book. I keep joking that there’s enough to write a dissertation, but it’s actually going to be my second book. Suffice it to say, Sergio’s family is muy complicada. They really lived the Cold War in many ways, and thus he is the walking, talking (…and talking… and talking) incarnation of my research. My project is about exiles from around Latin America who ended up in Mexico City in the early years of the Cold War, and Sergio’s grandfather was among them. Sergio himself just happened to be in town during the first couple days of my visit and not only did he keep me company, he put me in touch with his family so that I could begin my research by tracking down his abuelo. And when I say he “put me in touch with his family,” I mean that I know have an amazing Guatemalan family here in the city. They are absolutely delightful and I cannot thank them enough for welcoming me over these last couple days.

Looking out over the Israeli Cemetery

After meeting everyone at dinner yesterday, today they let me accompany them to the municipal cemetery, where they were going to visit their father’s grave. (Sergio Sr.) Those of you who know me well know that I love cemeteries, so this was a treat. I never would have ventured there on my own, so I am grateful that they took me with them. After we paid a visit to Papi, we took a little tour of the cemetery, which was beautiful. The monuments vary in scale and age, with some old and overgrown and others shiny and new. The Gallo Beer family has a crypt that looks like King Tut’s tomb and the family of Colonel Castillo Armas, the leader of the coup that ended the Guatemalan Spring in 1954, is buried in a crypt that is painted a bright, azure blue. The most beautiful part, however, is the Israeli Cemetery, the final resting place of Guatemala’s Jewish population. It’s clean and well-tended, walled-off from the rest of the grounds, with colorful flowers and palm trees towering overhead. Before I headed out for the morning, a friend asked me to compare it to Xela’s cemetery. What I can say is that they’re both beautiful in their own ways. In Xela, the angels that watch over the graves have all been beheaded, supposedly as a gang rite. It gives the grounds a strange, haunted sort of beauty that isn’t really present in Guate. Here the angels still have their heads, but the whole place is framed by towering palm trees that give it a tropical feel. I suspect things would have taken on a different tone if we’d made our way to the paredon, the firing wall where prisoners were executed by the military during the Civil War. Understandably, my guide wasn’t exactly eager to take us there. History in this country is still very present.

Sergio leaves tomorrow and I won’t see him again before I go, but I hope to meet up with his family again while I’m here. In fact, his sister wants me to talk to their aunt, the last child of their grandfather who remains in Guatemala City. She just so happens to be headed for Xela sometime next week and has kindly offered me a ride. Not only do I get to avoid a lengthy bus ride into the mountains, but I get to spend the trip recounting the family history with the one person who knows more than anyone else. So no, I didn’t make it to the archive today. But it was a perfect, productive day.

(Southern) California Dreaming

I think I can safely say that Southern California feels very little like the north. Both parts of the state experience mild weather year round, but the crisp mornings in SF feel nothing like the warm ones in the south. The light breeze off the ocean in SoCal is somewhat more pleasant than the cool winds of San Francisco. The green landscapes of the north give way at some point in between to the desert scenery of the south. To the extent that San Francisco looked and felt like Vancouver in many ways, SoCal is much more reminiscent of the Okanagan Valley that I call home. Okay, so we don’t have the stunning coastal views, but if I turned my back towards the ocean and looked out over the scrub brush hills, I could easily pretend that I was home. Home plus palm trees and bougainvillea as far as the eye can see, that is.

I went to Southern California to spend some quality time with my other half before heading off to do summer research. Joe grew up in Orange County, and has a very large and close-knit family there. While I’ve yet to meet any of his 300 cousins, I was happy to spend some more time with his immediate family – and to indulge in more of his mom’s amazing cooking! Our first morning there, we went with his parents to the Asian market, where his mom showed me the right cut of pork to make my favorite Vietnamese dishes. While we were there they bought the biggest jackfruit I’ve ever seen. (Okay, so I admit that I haven't seen many jackfruits, but everyone in the store remarked on its size on our way out.) Part of the reason for the epic jackfruit was so that I could try it for the first time, so when both Joe’s sister and her husband claimed they wouldn’t go near the stuff, I was worried. Fortunately for me, Joe’s dad is a master at selecting fruit and he picked a particularly delicious specimen. Contrary to what I had been led to believe, the jackfruit was pretty good.

Our second day in SoCal, Joe and I took a mini-road trip down the Pacific Coast Highway. We drove up to Malibu, which really wasn’t anything more than some nice houses and a (presumably) beautiful stretch of coastline that was mainly blocked by buildings. We drove up into the hills to look at some of the houses, only to find that rich californieros are masters of privacy. We were thwarted at almost every step by large fences and well-trimmed hedges. Oh well. Down the highway we went, towards Santa Monica, where we did a quick walk down the pier before heading to Café Pinxto for some delicious tapas and sangria. Oh, and hazelnut-crusted chocolate pate with rum-vanilla ice cream. From there, we headed back to Orange County for another round of mom’s cooking – this time my favorite Vietnamese dish: Banh Xeo, or Vietnamese crepes.

On our third and final day, we got back in the car – this time with Joe’s sister and brother-in-law, and headed south towards San Diego. We stopped off at a little park to take a scenic walk overlooking the coastline, which was absolutely perfect. From there we went into San Diego for ramen at a place called Underbelly’s. If you’re ever in the area, I highly recommend it. The ramen was fantastic, but the fatty pork belly and brisket buns that we started out with were to die for. After walking off our late lunch/early dinner for a bit, we wandered over to a placed called Extraordinary Desserts, where I was promptly overwhelmed with the options in front of me – literally in front of me, in a giant display case. Blood Orange Ricotta torte, mini-raspberry mousse cakes, and this amazing praline-encrusted chocolate cake layered with ganache and blackberry sauce…the list goes on. After much consternation, I settled on a rather decadent looking fruit tart, a deep-fried croissant filled with custard, and a tiramisu torte. Luckily for me, my hosts saw my excitement and let me choose for everyone. Have I mentioned that Joe’s sister and brother-in-law are quickly becoming two of my favorite people? Ready to lapse into a sugar coma, we headed back to the car and made our way home, after another successful day of touring and eating.

The next morning, Joe and I both made our way to LAX for our departing flights, he back to PA and me to Guatemala. After a (thankfully) uneventful journey, here I sit at my guesthouse in Guatemala City, settling in and getting ready for my first trip to the archives tomorrow. But first, I’ll head out for a family dinner with my dear friend and classmate Sergio, who just happens to be here visiting family this week. The travel gods have smiled upon me.

The view from Torrey Pines state park

The San Fran Post

When I left you last I had just wrapped up four days of SSRC workshops and an afternoon of research at UC Berkeley’s Bancroft Library, where I was able to delve into their collection of prints from Mexico’s Taller de Gráfica Popular. I’m now comfortably settled into my home for the next ten days: La Coperacha guesthouse in Guatemala City. In the time between, I spent a lovely four days exploring California.

My host and guide in San Fran was my roommate Elena, a doctoral student in Stony Brook’s Philosophy department and a San Francisco native. Upon completing my workshop Sunday afternoon, I caught a train into the city and Elena whisked me off to the Muir woods, to see California’s famous Redwoods. What an incredible place! Our time there was limited, but it was enough to get a sense of the park and the enormity of those trees. As a plant lover, I was enchanted. I can’t wait to go back and spend an entire day wandering the trails. We followed up our afternoon in the woods with Burmese food in Elena’s neighborhood of Inner Richmond. It was my first experience with Burmese cuisine and it didn’t disappoint. With full bellies, we headed home to watch Game of Thrones, two episodes left me deeply unsettled. (I might add that the season didn’t wrap up before I left, so I’m now stuck in Guatemala with spotty wifi, cursing the fact that I probably won’t be able to watch tonight’s finale for at least six weeks.)

My host, with our feast of
 fresh oysters

Our second day of touring took us all over San Francisco, starting with a dim sum breakfast before we headed to the Esplanade. We started with a waterfront market, where we indulged in fresh oysters and good coffee. From there, we wandered into the Italian neighborhood of North Bay, which it turns out was the haunt of the Beats way back when. Next time I’ll make it to the Beat museum, but this time I had to be satisfied with a quick stop at the gift shop. After North Bay was Chinatown, and I must admit that it wasn’t high on my list, having seen many other Chinatowns before. I expected that it would be more or less the same as New York’s Chinatown, or even Vancouver’s, but San Francisco’s Chinatown – the first in North America – was colorful and full of interesting architecture. I soon realized that I could easily spend all day there, so we beat a hasty retreat so as not to miss out on everything else we had planned.

As it turns out, my favorite neighborhood was the last one we made it to that day: The Haight. Of all the touristy things one can do in SF, the only request I made of Elena was that we make a pilgrimage to Haight-Ashbury. I can’t help it. I’m a historian of the 60s. I was surprised – and happy – to find that the neighborhood retained some of its hippy past, with psychedelic murals, smokeshops, and a wide assortment of colorful characters wandering the streets. Elena assured me that, contrary to the types to be found on street corners, gentrification is in full force there. Much more than the traces of hippy days gone by, however, what I loved about this area was the architecture. Allow me to pause here for a moment to say that my favorite thing about cities is architecture – but I’ve recently realized that what I mean by that is residential architecture. Skyscrapers and famous buildings are interesting too, no doubt, but my favorite thing to do in a new city is wander around its different neighborhoods looking at houses. And San Francisco did not disappoint. The houses in the Haight were absolutely gorgeous, with bold colors and ornate detailing. Some were trimmed in gold (a distinctly SF feature, in my experience) and some featured turrets or intricate gates around their front doors. In fact, I think I can be so bold as to say that, at least in terms of architecture, San Francisco is my favorite city thus far.

At the end of the day, Elena asked me what I thought of the city. Aside from fawning over the houses, I told her that in a certain way, it felt like home. It felt like Vancouver – cool, crisp, and distinctly west coast. It was nice to be back on the right side of the continent for a little while.

Post-DPDF Debrief

So it seems the latest phase of my travels is almost complete, having now wrapped up my DPDF workshop in Berkeley, CA. A quick primer for those who wonder what the hell I'm talking about: DPDF stands for Doctoral Pre-Dissertation Fellowship and it is a summer research grant funded by the Social Sciences Research Council (SSRC). The program funds six weeks of summer research, which is bracketed by workshops in the spring and fall. Each workshop consists of twelve fellows and two faculty members whose work shares a common theme, and who come together to discuss and give feedback on each others' dissertation projects. My workshop consisted of twelve doctoral students from history, sociology, anthropology, and political science, all working broadly on the topic of migration.

After three days of intensive workshopping, I'm happy to say that a) I survived and b) it was a fantastic experience. The beauty of the DPDF is that it provides graduate students with the opportunity to work with others outside their own circles, be they institutional circles, geographic circles, or disciplinary ones. I had the pleasure of reading about projects that ranged from refugee camps in Nepal to the resettlement of German Jews who were exiled in Shanghai after the Second World War. All told, the workshop was an enormous success. Not only did we all receive great feedback from each other and our workshop leaders, Nancy Green and Roger Waldinger, but they managed to pull together a group of people and projects that were diverse and yet surprisingly cohesive. Perhaps just as enlightening as the workshops themselves were some of the conversations that happened outside the conference room - over lunch, over drinks, and even in the hallways during random moments. I consider myself lucky to have met such a great group of people, and particularly the amazing women with whom I shared a space over the last few days. (One is even a soap maker - imagine my surprise and delight!)

Berkeley mural

During my stay in Berkeley, I was also able to enjoy the first of many summer reunions that I have lined up, this time with my friend Shayna (who features prominently in many of the older posts on this blog). Shayna and I met during another summer workshop that I did three years ago in Oaxaca, Mexico, and it's somehow been two years since we last saw each other, when I stayed with her during the kickoff to my 2012 cross-country roadtrip. And oh how things can change in two years! The last time I saw Shayna I was about to start a PhD program and she was five months pregnant. Needless to say, her accomplishments over these last two years put mine to shame. It was so nice to finally meet her mom and her ridiculously charming daughter, and to see how happy Shayna is with motherhood. We've vowed not to let two years go by before we see each other again and I, for one, am happy to have any excuse to return to the Bay area for another visit.

I've now vacated Berkeley to spend a couple days in San Francisco, though I did take the train back out for some research yesterday. Today will be a full day of touring (and tasting!) the city with my host and soon-to-be-former roommate, Elena. I'll be sure to fill you all in after I arrive at my next destination: Southern California.

Epic Summer Travels, 2014

It's been almost exactly two years since my last post, which means it's been almost two years since my last adventure - my last BIG adventure that is. The last couple years have been filled with minor journeys, taking me back to New Orleans and North Carolina, to Southern California and north to Toronto.

The next five months will see me covering more miles than I ever have. I already completed the first leg of my trip, to Chicago for the Latin American Studies Association's annual congress. For years now, I've had this idea that Chicago would be my city, and it didn't disappoint. Thanks to the generosity (and stamina!) of good friends, I covered a lot of ground. I was even treated to a personal tour of Humboldt Park, the city's Puerto Rican neighborhood, which has been the site of incredible urban renewal and community development projects in recent years. My guides were the indomitable Margaret Power and her dear friend, José López, whose brother Oscar has been a person of great interest to me in my research over the last few years. Oscar is a Vietnam War veteran who's currently serving out a 70+ year prison sentence for his involvement with a Puerto Rican liberation organization during the 1970s. He is currently the longest-serving political prisoner in the United States. (You can sign a petition to free Oscar Lopez here.)

I'm back in Hershey now, finishing up some work before heading to an SSRC workshop in Berkeley, where I will workshop my dissertation project with a group of other graduate students from different programs and disciplines. After the workshop, I'll be visiting the Bancroft Library to look at their collection of prints from Mexico's Taller Gráfico Popular (TGP), a political print-making workshop that has been in operation since the 1930s. I'll follow up my time at the TGP with a personal tour of SF, which I have been promised will involve a Redwood forest and some of the best Peruvian food to be found in the US. After that, it's on to a quick, 3-day jaunt in SoCal before heading off for my six-week research trip: two weeks in Guatemala and four weeks in Mexico City, which promise to be full of good food and good friends, some old and others new. I'll be in BC for most of August, catching up with family and friends, and witnessing the marriage of my best friend. I can't wait. You can catch me in Germany in September, if you happen to be in Cologne or Berlin during the first half of the month. Otherwise, I'll be much easier to track down by October. I'm pretty sure I'll be happy not to pack my suitcase for a while when it's all said and done.

Speaking of suitcases, I have one to pack. A rather large backpack, if you really want to know. So I'll leave you all for now, but I promise I'll write again soon.