Sunday, July 19, 2015

Returning with a Poem



Luckily, I don't believe in consistency. I could keep a blog and not keep a blog. I can actively live for months or years at a time and not reflect once online; if that's what I feel like, so be it. Or that day could come again when I recall this blog and the joy that it brought me, and then I'll make another post.

BLACK HOLE WOMB

When way gives way to a black Siberia,
Though it’s equally dark with eyes cast open
As eclipsed behind clenched lids, keep gazing
Out into that raging, static night.

You’re at the ends of the timberline. Vastness 
Paralyzes your step. Trapped by the open
Plains of stillness, what do you feel?
You could retreat to your furnished truths
Or move beyond the edge
Into the barrens.

What do you decide
To hear when all is silent?

Yes, it’s gentler:
Crevice of bent elbow covering
Your view, your angst. But what
Is in blackness?

Follow the gesture of un-trodden night,
Feel the perhaps colors
Hidden past the treeless shroud.

When you dare study the void, walk
With beastly nothing, then from behind
The unseen horizon,
Up will fire a single trail of light
Winding above tundra,

A flash transforming sky to rosy willow.
Its branches shimmer.
Falling life, misty sweet,
Flickers that whisper down
Show you home in the not quite morning.


Wednesday, December 12, 2012

No Quiet on the Home Front

How can I ever bring myself from the dreams I experienced in Spain back to the present day, almost exactly two years since I departed? What have I captured over the past two years? Has my adventurous spirit dissipated or have the beautiful Spanish lessons persisted in my heart? When I look back on my last years at the university and my time as a graduate, it still feels a bit surreal. Allow me to unroll my adventures linearly and play it out like a piano, these American etudes and nocturnes. Let me show you the next stop, la próxima parada.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

The Lost Blog Dec. 9 to 20: For Gampa

I was walking along the sea floor yesterday when I came upon a weathered chest gently nestled between two algae-covered boulders. This chest fell out of the bright sky one winter morning and plummeted down to the bottom of the ocean blue. While gazing through the murky water, something about this sunken trunk appeared familiar to me; I had to bring it back to the surface. Inside there was a scroll covered in millions of unrecognizable markings. In an attempt to discern any of these discolored dots and lines and pictures, I sat down and took a good hard look at what lay before me. As it turned out, this scroll was simply my thoughts from the final blog that I never posted. Oops. By now, I'm sure that I have lost you all, so I suppose these last thoughts on Spain are strictly for me then.

Again, this is for me. I had to finish this. For all I care, you can feel free to sit this one out.


Plaza Mayor in Valladolid Equipped with Christmas Cheer 

All the Reindeer are Equals in Spain
Spanish Grammar Class
Oral Expression Class
I knew that my last days in Europe were fast approaching; the cold weather told me, Christmas decorations hung over me, and the calendar posted on my wall relentlessly cascaded on top of me like Niagara Falls. These past three and half months had been like a wonderful terminal illness to me; I had lived as if I could be dead at a moment’s notice, so I found myself truly living in a dream state. 

Poker Night with some international students (Nicogrande followed)

Winner: Camilo. Loser: Nicogrande

Great Group of Guys

I tutored María in English while I lived in Valladolid. Her dad payed me by letting me play his piano.

I taught English to the Sanchez family too.


What are these pictures to me now but pure nostalgia? Indeed, this sentimental mood finds it’s way back into the frontline periodically, like a sweet and kind sickness that I allow to linger back in just so that I can take a moment to dream again. Somehow these dreams don’t manifest into anything, and I still surround myself with mediocrity even though I know that this is the only chance at life that I have. I still find myself curious about this, but some day I need to transcend the “curiosity” phase and tightly grip onto the “I don’t give a fuck, just live the dream” phase. These days, I seem to drag my feet in hopes that my slow, swishy footfalls will bring me back to the striding footprints I created in Valladolid.


I got a small gig at a café in Valladolid. 
A good chunk of students came, my teacher Iván came, 
and he brought his girlfriend.

Earlier on this same night, Iván (Art History teacher) took Nicogrande and me to see a temporary Goya exhibit that was being displayed in Valladolid. He brought his absolutely stunningly beautiful and kind girlfriend along. Iván is the man. 

This was my favorite night in Valladolid.


Nicogrande came up and played with me.

Later on that same night. This was the night before graduation in Valladolid, 
so naturallly a lot of students went out to the bars and celebrated together.

 Running a Train

This guy played my guitar earlier in the night at the café and broke my G string! Great guy though...




José, the owner of Saboreaté, the café that I played at. 

Last Glimpses of Valladolid





Last Walk Past Plaza de Santa Cruz

Dexter's Laboratory grafitti that I walked by everyday on my way to and from school.
Grafitti on my way from home to Plaza Mayor
Filled with Social Protest Grafitti 




In just a few days, my prized lifestyle would wither back down to a state of ordinary. I would be returning to California to come home to Sacramento, a city I know all too well; a city I love, but whose familiar taste is far too ordinary to me. It was as if my experiences were narcotics and there were mere drops of amphetamine remaining, just enough to keep me high for a few more days before sobering up over a long flight across the Atlantic. During the last night in a place that I had learned to call “home,” I decided that I would experience one last adventure before turning myself in at the airport in Madrid to sit in a capsule that would lug me all too quickly to a place I was not ready to face. 



Graduation

Alfredo, my Spanish Culture teacher

Iván was a wonderful man. He taught us Spanish Art History and was a great friend to Nicogrande and me.

Iván and Kristen
Juan and me


Iván, Vanessa, and Agustín


Saori of Japan

Yuki of Japan


Cal Poly in Spain Group

Beatriz (back) taught Grammar and Raquel (front) taught Oral Expression


Shogo (left) and Fernando (right)


Kevin, Fernando, and Nicogrande






























Final Contemporary El Greco

Search for Glory

His Illumination Revealed





Graduation Photos cont.


The Japanese



Shogo looks like a model and Monique looks like a creep (back right).

All of the men in the language program


Last night in Valladolid

Last Night in Valladolid





While browsing through various bus routes online, I decided that I would buy a ticket to San Sebastián and Bilbao, two cities in the north of Spain that I had yet to visit. After graduation on Friday, Juan and I tidied up our room for the last time, ate our last meal with our Spanish parents, and played cards with Carmen for the first and last time. Somehow, she was a playing card sensation, and Juan, Pepe and I lost miserably.

Tomorrow morning Juan and I would take a city bus to the bus station; I would head north, and he, Madrid. Juan would meet two other gentlemen from our program, Kevin from Cal Poly and Patrick from Wisconsin, and they would experience Madrid one more time. Saying goodbye to Carmen the next morning was like saying goodbye to close family; I hated saying it. No part of me was ready to abandon the excitement of living with a Spanish family, but somehow I knew that I would see her again some day.


La familia


As I stood in line at the bus station to buy tickets with Juan, I spoke to him about the Velázquez and Goya masterpieces at the Prado, Picasso’s Guernica at the Reina Sofia, Parque de Buen Retiro, and enough memories of Madrid that soon I grew nostalgic. After a few short minutes, I found myself standing face to face with the ticket vendor woman, and without hesitation I smiled, “One ticket for Madrid!”

Last Adventure: Madrid Revisited




Love Cam!



I Found Shelter



¡Qué bigote!

Thugs Waiting to go in the Prado

Wanted
 Crime: hunting children in the park
Wanted
Crime: Having an ugly mustache on a friday night
Extremely Dangerous


Our friend, Jan, from Thailand. She shared the same hostel room as us. Quite possibly the nicest Thai girl I have ever shared a hostel room with in Madrid...ever



It's Christmas time in Spain-land!

Origin of all the roads in Spain (0 km)



Spongebob Wondering Through a Sea of Humans

Alyssa and I thought this was a statue when we first came to Madrid.
Then I saw him move, and it freaked me out.

This is a light show going on in the Plaza Mayor in Madrid. It was really incredible. All of the light on the buildings is coming from the outside. There was music that accompanied the show. 
During this scene, it looked like there were silhoettes dancing by all the windows.
It was really impressive.

More of the light show. It probably lasted about five minutes.

What would a walk by the Palacio Real be if I didn't see people getting married?

Dalí painting at the Reina Sofía. "The Enigma of Hitler"

This painting is literally called, "The Grand Masterbateur"

Courtyard at Reina Sofía

Front Entrance from Above

This was part of the temporary exhibits (man not included with paintings)

Stuck Inside a Museum with the December Sunshine Blues
Real Madrid vs Sevilla FC!!!


A bocadillo and world class football. What more does a boy need?

I <3 Bocadillos

Half-time Bocadillos!

Becoming Bocadillo Brothers is the next step after you have already become Blood Brothers.

Real Madrid Wins!!


On my way back to the Golden State, I noticed myself smiling at absolutely everyone, for absolutely no reason at all. Although I loved the life I built in Spain, the thought of seeing all the kind souls that I call friends and family made me feel radiant. One of the airline hostesses pulled me aside and told me that I was glowing and it was benefiting everyone around me. That was the best compliment I have ever received. What a beautiful trip I've had.


Prop plane from SF to Sacramento


La familia. My brand new niece, Leilah.


Finally Home

In loving memory of my hero, Michael "Gampa" Sotcan
January 9th 1942—July 14th 2011
Gampa Somewhere Over Yonder

World War II guys are my heroes
But anyone who loves to love is all right with me
I’m 69 years old
My body has been sold
But my soul is forever free

Can’t you hear the movie reels rolling?
This destiny is fine but is it really mine?
I’m 69 years old
My story ain’t been told
And death is as patient as a freight line

Words on my tongue fight to escape
Golden fragments floating in my head
You all gather around me
But my lips, empty
Thoughts of love sink back like lead

My eyelids drifting to the bottom of an ocean
My heart driven beyond your bright skin
Your love has kept me going
But death’s bells are crowing
If I could, I’d do it all again

Thank you Boy. Thank you for caring
Tell them all what I need to say
Tell them I’m doing fine
They are all so kind
Maybe the end is just a new day