Haiti by Day and Night

The honeymoon phase is over, the intestinal worms have moved in and hospital stays are a little more frequent as dehydration rears its ugly head more often than it should. After a five day hike through the Haitian mountains, heavy pack loaded, I am more than ever enamoured by the people of Haiti. Although it is no secret that many, if not all, depend on the business of charcoal - that is deforestation in the name of survival, trees still do exist here and there. It is no longer the lush tropic it once was and erosion is now on the forefront of this nations' greatest problem. A dish of Rice and Beans is the staple, seasoned by imported bouillon cubes and families use charcoal as fuel for their fires day in and day out. Dust blows and cacti grow with malice. With bare bones, these people have put what really matters first. Family and friends. Even with houses made from mud, sticks and old weather-beaten tarps, resiliency shines. The days are peppered with soccer games and hair braiding. Women sit and cook, squatting over these little piles of burning charcoal and babies run naked in the streets, feet calloused and uninhibited by the sharp gravel. Laugher prevails. Anse-a-Pitre by night. Men ride their motorcycles up and down the only paved road in town, vying for the loudest muffler. Shadows run long by light of the full moon and wafts of fried plantain fill my nostrils. It is a happening village. Young people clamour around street food vendors and cell phone stands in the gutters. I hear more laughter and squint to see the smiles of white shining teeth in the dark. I read Thoreau while sleeping in my tent under thundercloud skies that never quite reach me. It strikes a chord in relation to a life I have once lived in the West, (or still do?) and what I see here: "An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion. Our life is like a [wonton] Confederacy,(18) made up of petty states, with its boundary forever fluctuating, so that even a local man cannot tell you how it is bounded at any moment. The nation itself, with all its so-called internal improvements, which, by the way are all external and superficial, is just such an unwieldy and overgrown establishment, cluttered with furniture and tripped up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and heedless expense, by want of calculation and a worthy aim, as the million households in the land; and the only cure for it, as for them, is in a rigid economy, a stern and more than Spartan (19) simplicity of life and elevation of purpose."

Welcome to Paradise?

As I bear the beating sun and soak up a wealth of knowledge from our ancestors about living with the earth in harmony, I am integrating into the Haitian life with ease. What can I say? Haiti and it's people are the definition of resilience. They live with smiles and laughter as the days pass. Myself and the other participants in the Permaculture Design Course at Sadhana Forest in Anses-a-Pitre are welcomed as valued members of the community and interact in Creole, French and Spanish with the locals who are quickly becoming good friends. The day I reached the border a swell of young men on motos greeted us with smiles. Until now, I am constantly reminded of their kindness and positivity. We play music, dive in fresh water caves with no apparent bottom. We cook for each other using rocket stoves and fresh local produce (lots of mango and papaya!). We chew fresh sugar cane from the fields and walk about the town saying hello to every single person we pass. They in turn greet us with love in their hearts. I am especially captured by the naked babies who run after us with the most lovely smiles for a quick hug. The ocean is 10 minutes away as well as the border to the Dominican Republic who's stark contrast to Haiti provides me this tiny internet cafe where I can update the world via dirt bag style. I feel safe and at home here. In Haiti, I am reminded how simplicity can bring the utmost of joy.

Today is just as important as any other day

As it stands, the vagabond in me has risen to the surface and continues on her merry way, dirty dirt-bag feet a walkin'. It is the day before my journey. I have in fact been wandering for some time now, unable to tear myself away from the cabin in the woods - yes, the crooked cabin in the woods. My ma has been living on Vancouver Island and I decided to make a pit stop for a few weeks while gathering a list of contributers for the summer edition zine from the kitchens of pinch and dash. This place is magical. Quick lil' bunnies and graceful deer visit my back yard daily. Now in and about Vancouver, I am drawn to the pockets of communities and health-enriching organic veg movement. It may be my perception after living in Asia for the last 4 years with a quick 3 year stop in Mexico before that, but Canada has changed. Before I can take in all the reverse culture shock and the growing comfort of sleeping on friends' floors, couches and in cars, I must hasten off to Haiti to begin road trippin it once again. Maybe I'll have a few hours to soak up the sun on Miami beach first?

What a Wonder

Over the course of a year, studio recordings, mixing sessions, website designing, a whole bunch of ukulele playing and cooking up a storm almost everyday have invaded my day to day. (Thank you Josh for doing the dishes!)

I have co-authored two cookzines and am currently working on another and most recently finally, I have launched my debut album to the world. What an experience. While making "Saving Earthworms from Sun Scorched Death", I have learned so much in the process and now I can share this work with you.

When so much happens in the real world, it is hard to share it all with you here. No matter how busy I get, I do still have time to contemplate little things. Sometimes when the wind blows, I get an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. This just happened. A feeling from my far away, a long gone past. I can't quite place it but I feel like I've known it from before. Maybe its that same recycled wind from years back and it's come back again. Somehow my body, my cells have an innate sense of recognition. It just knows. But my mind can't comprehend such things. As soon as I try to identify its source, the wind is gone.

So then I stand at the bus stop and in front of me stands a tree. Tall and unwaivering under the constant perssure that surrounds it. What a wonder for a tree to be there amisdt the concrete and the cars. It stands strong and doesn't complain about the constant CO2 it must transform into oxygen. It stands solid and still grows deep underneath the concrete that engulfs it. This is a beautiful reminder of how life continues no matter the shit it must handle and that truely, life is too deep to be disturbed by its ever changing surface.

Please support my album and get yourself a digital download today! Get your copy HERE.

A weekend of climbing Ice in the frozen valley of Unaksan

I've been participating in Ice Climbing school hosted by the magnificent Peter Jensen of Sanirang Alpine Networks. Peter has numerous mountaineering experience and holds certifications with both the Korean Alpine Federation and the American Mountaineering Guides Association so you are sure to be well taken care of. This school was a four week endeavour and I leaned French techniques, technical body styles and proper safety. Peter shared his knowledge of many historical facts of the Corean Alpine Club, and how Ice Climbing used to be. Tools and techniques have advanced since those first summit attempts back in the times of George Mallory and Sir Edmund Hillary.

Being a rock climber for the last five years, I had entered new territory. At first I found the actual climbing part to be relatively easy as the transfer of skills from rock to ice was quite smooth. That was until I began how to walk on less than horizontal ice. Wow! This was definitely the hard part. With no rope to secure you from one slip - sliding down the curvaceous frozen fall that continued down the valley, I had to trust the crampons and the Ice axe that would ultimately offer me the protection I needed. Despite rising before dawn and frozen toes for 12 hours each day out, I was ecstatic with joy. To be outside and climbing a frozen waterfall that in just 2 months time will have morphed to flowing water was a marvel. I'm hooked. Even though the school has finished and the participants have "graduated", I am going again next weekend! Sanirang is a great teacher and super fun to hang with.Lots of laughter prevailed the bitter cold!

Saving Earthworms from Sun Scorched Death, the album!

So... I've started a new project. I am making my own album. Cheerful, Uke-infused, Indie Folk. There is no guitar on the album as the ukulele is omnipresent. The uke has a sound of its own and sets a bright tone that blends well with the lyrics. Harmonies ring throughout, peppered with an odd sprinkling of piano, bass guitar, trombone and violin in one track or another. I used to listen to a lot of punk rock when I was younger and I still enjoy a heavy dose of Bad Religion or Choke from time to time. Some of these attitudes linger in the lyrics of my music, albeit with a twist of positivity. Within the uke-infused melodies, I tend to insert social commentary. My music is riddled with my observations of human behaviour and the choices we make collectivley as a human populace. If Suzanne Vega, Tracey Bonham, Ani Difranco and I were to have tea, I’m sure some music making would go down. It’s feel good music.

I expect to release it in the beginning of March. The unofficial date is March 10th, my best friend Daphne’s birthday! You can buy singles online at mustachefable.bandcamp.com, or the full meal deal on CD Baby (just search Mustache Fable: Saving Earthworms from Sun Scorched Death)

It all starts with IndieGOGO. IndieGOGO is a fundraising platform to raise money for something you are passionate about. And, as you might guess, I am passionate! About pretty much everything. Espcially climbing, food and music! My lovely friend Wonny Bunny Kim (who just so happens to be a wonderful graphic designer and self professed chocolate lover), will be designing the album cover.

Visit the Campaign HERE.

So, I've been working night and day in the Studio, close beside Geoff Nostrant of Black Swan Audio to mix and master the delicacies of each track. Visit my bandcamp site to hear the first songs released on the album.

And spending so much time on the computer, I have also uploaded samples of each song that will appear on the album. Visit my soundcloud site to hear the almost mixed and mastered previews of the other tracks that will be my Debut full length Album!

Ah... only a few weeks left until the CD release party!!

The test

So my blog isn't really a blog I guess so much as it is a quarterly update on my life. I need time to pack all the interesting things into one post so I don't keep you bored with the day to day, although some of the best short stories out there focus on little details of a monotonous life and make it seem remarkable - like stories written by Miranda July. I recommend her collection called "No One Belongs Here More Than You"
I have a hard time these days writing about the things that I am doing, because I just want to do them. And then when I do, things happen surely. Like this recent event that has taught me a great deal about the way in which a person can react to a seemingly bad situation. The story goes like this…

The night of Carly’s birthday was just beginning. Us close friends had gathered to share a drink or two and celebrate the life of a beautiful soul. After all, birthdays are a great reason to come together and cherish the friends you have chosen to surround yourself with in this particular moment in your life. And isn’t that an amazing thing – the fact that we can choose our friends. We gathered at Dos Tacos for some Mexican feasting coupled with Tequila shots for the road. We walked along the busy streets crowded with kebab vendors and all-night uni students while once and a while circumnavigating the pools of vomit with bits of half chewed ramien. We lingered a little too long at club FF and then when the dance floor cleared and the lights turned on at 6AM, we noticed our bag missing. Missing or stolen that is. What to do now but call the police and cross our fingers that the ubiquitous Korean CCTV was indeed working its omnipresent magic. For our bad luck, it wasn’t. Long story short, as the long night turned into midday, we went home empty handed. I cancelled credit cards, changed passwords, cried a little then finally slept. The ensuing four days were a bit of a struggle to stay positive. Although, once I accepted that everything was gone, I seemed to be at peace with these inner workings of the universe. Hmmm. I was sure that this Karma had sought its retribution on the wrong lady. I try and live my life with integrity, honesty, patience, compassion and kindness. In fact, it is hard not to. Even though we all slip from time to time, this was my test. Stay cool. Learn from this.
Four days later, sitting in an orientation for the winter camp I was about to dive head first into, my good friend Theresa whispered, mid-lecture, that someone was calling her from my phone. The phone that was stolen. Passing her phone to me, I excused myself in a fervor of possible happiness and stumbled into the hallway to talk to the person on the other end. An older Korean man had been the one that found my bag – and that of my friend Eli. (it was all attached together when it went missing). Oh how grateful I was to learn that he without a doubt had my phone and the rest of the cargo and could meet me that day to return it.
After a long, pointless orientation and a long haul on the subway, I had this old man in an embrace. Oh thank you sir for finding me and returning everything as you found it. Nothing was gone, nothing was stolen. What happened then? Was it a school boy prank – take the foreigner's bag and drop it off 3 blocks away? Did someone get a fright when they saw the police and ditch it in a nearby alleyway? Who knows – but I had passed this test; this test of sticking to my beliefs and not losing control. This test of integrity, honesty, patience, compassion and kindness. When shit hits the fan so to speak, can you summon your will to be the good person you know you are inside?