We haven't resumed construction yet. We are still waiting for the truckload of soil to begin.
Meanwhile, we have been preparing the site. A bunch of vines from a nearby tree have wrapped themselves around what we've already built so there are lots of vines to chop, and maybe the whole tree because if it keeps growing, the root structure will definitely damage our building...
Saturday everyone got a lesson in proper use of the digital camera...
Maybe when I get back to town, a huge pile of soil will be waiting ...
Today we got some bags of cement and a roll of barbed wire. We had a good roll of it last year but somebody borrowed it and didn't give it back.
We figured out a cool way of doing the mix of soil and cement at the top of the hill (with a mechanical mixer) then passing it down the hill through a 12 meter (36 foot long) piece of the earthbag so that we don't have to make trips up and down the hill with materials.
Leo at the top of the hill
With the help of six helpers from last year, we did a little simulation with some regular earth and the system works fine. Part of the crew
Little had changed since I left. All the kids are about six inches taller. A few people have really cool outdoor bread ovens...and when I came up the hill to my house expecting to see the yard overgrown with vines, it was all pretty clean, with little piles of burning leaves.
My neighbors had taken machetes to it and straighten up for me in the yard. They are the best neighbors in the world.
When we opened up the cabin, there were over 10 separate wasp nests. Lino, one of my neighbors, helped us take them down. He stood on a chair, can of beer in one hand and a cup of gasoline in the other, throwing gas at the nests, and cursing the dead wasps as they fell limp to the floor.
Then he brought us a huge branch of mota from a small crop that he had planted in the rainy season.
The next day we were treated to four papayas and all the grapefruits we could carry from the fruit-heavy trees in his backyard.
Upon arriving in Mexico in the veggie car, I learned a few things
1: the diesel fuel here (at nearly $2 a gallon) is often really dirty or has water in it. i messed up my fuel system and had to empty out the tank
The infamous PEMEX diesel...is it diesel fuel or water???
2: veggie oil, like soy, canola, and corn is as expensive or more expensive here than in the US. One liter is between 9 and 11 pesos (85 cents to $1.05)
Alejandro filling up on new canola oil in Nueva Italia
3: Few restaurants here throw out their oil. In this area anyway, there are very few frying machines, and a lot more open pots where the cooks keep adding oil as it is absorbed by the food
Here on the coast, the cooks in the beachfront fish restaurants do save their oil after they fry fish in it...I am going to collect some and try it out once the car is out of the shop.
Alejandro and I went to a few coconut groves and talked to the encargados (people in charge) who sent us to a lady (La Paisana) in Playa Azul, who told us that there is a big aceitera (oil pressing plant) in Atoyac, Guerrero, a bit north of Acapulco (5-6 hours from here).
That's a trip for sometime next week.
The above is the title of an amazing encylopedia written by Richard Evans Schultes, head of Ethnobotany at Harvard, and Albert Hoffmann, chemist and discoverer of LSD. It has been one of my most treasured books since I found the hardcover version in Spanish in Cuernavaca a few years ago.
So a few days ago Alejandro and I went deep into the desert to camp for a day and find, cut, and eat peyote cactus.
It was my first time eating the cactus in its natural environment. I had eaten it once before in Mexico City, in the hills on the south side of the city beyond Xochimilco, in an area just beginning to suffer from the crazy urban "development."
We had hiked for a while trying to find the path to Cascabel, a small clearing where Ale and Don Luis (a local sage who taught Ale and other friends from Mexico City how to find and cut peyote). We found the path and began walking, until we reached a waist high stone wall. As soon as I opened my mouth to ask Ale a question about the peyote, I looked down, and at the bottom of the shrub was a small, Oreo cookie (pardon the reference to junk food)-sized greenish gray disc, lying flush with the ground. I was sure it was peyote, and hollered to Ale to come look. "Si, es hikuli."
I wanted to cut it right there and then, but he assured me there would be plenty more where we were going. He pulled a branch of the shrub aside, and there was another peyote, about the same size.
We continued walking, and found Cascabel, a small flat clearing with a fire pit and a 12 foot high tree--the only one of its kind that I saw, to give us shade. We pitched a tent and put our sleeping bags in and went to gather firewood--mostly branches and dried whole lechugillas--cactuses which look sort of like aloe vera plants but much tougher and prickly, with a dense root system that when dry makes for good firewood. We came back with our loads of firewood, each eating a button of peyote along with some lemon to cut the strong taste, and went out for more firewood.
While it was still light, we started the fire, and the peyote began to settle in.
more to come...
After a couple of amazing scores in Nashville and Hot Springs, it has been impossible to find WVO (Waste Veggie Oil). Wherever I stopped in Texas, the grease was stored in large, locked bins behind the restaurants with ominous warning stickers saying THIS CONTAINER AND ITS CONTENTS ARE PROPERTY OF BLAH BLAH BLAH WASTE COMPANY. ANYONE CAUGHT TAMPERING WILL BE PROSECUTED BLAH BLAH BLAH. Besides that, it was raining the whole time in Texas and any sort of capers would be messy in addition to dangerous...
Getting into Mexico, I found that everybody I met just keeps cooking and cooking with the oil. At fancier chain restaurants, like the Sanborn's in Queretaro, I was informed that their waste oil is sold to a recycler along with their cardboard and cans, and that they couldn't help me.
I broke down and bought 20 1.5 liter bottles, at a cost of about 95 cents a liter--four times as much as diesel in the US and twice as much as diesel here.
The regular diesel fuel has also been a mess. A lot of gas stations, even though they're run by the same government monopoly PEMEX, mix in water and other junk with their diesel and as a result it runs very poorly.
Since my 2nd tank of PEMEX diesel the car has been slow to accelerate and run up hills, and shoots a lot of smoke.
Now that I am down here on the coast, one of my projects is to find where I can get coconut oil...there are hundreds of thousands of coconut palms here and there must be an oil processing plant somewhere...
Everyone that I've met, from mechanics to gas station attendants to soldiers at the roadblocks have been surprised but enthusiastic and supportive.
Greetings to everyone keeping tabs on me on this weblog.
It's Tuesday afternoon, and I just made it to La Mira, Michoacan, the closest town with internet.
The trip has been going well. After a very long wait in line just past the Mexican border Entering Mexico(where i had to secure a temporary vehicle import permit), I was on my way. It was pretty dark and very rainy, but I drove through till about 4 am and then parked in a gas station parking lot south of Saltillo and slept for a few hours.
The next morning I woke up and drove further south down highway 57, which is a straight line in the wide valley between two massive mountain ranges. I turned off just before Matehuala (state of San Luis Potosi) and drove for about 1.5 hours into the desert, to the town of Estacion Catorce, where I was hoping to meet up with my friend and superadobe partner Alejandro. We had been planning a camping trip in the desert for a long time, and I was hoping it would happen.
We had been trading emails for a few days prior but hadn't been able to speak or confirm by phone, but we found each other anyway. It is pretty easy in small towns in Mexico where there is only one long distance phone station, bus station, etc.
Soon after arriving, we caught a ride 40 minutes deeper into the desert in a pickup truck, and were dropped off at a small village. From there, we hiked into the brush on some small paths, to a small clearing called Cascabel. The desert was full of cactuses of all different kinds, most of which I had never seen before, including the specific one we were seeking: lophophora williamsii, also known as hikuli, or by the police as peyote.
Another WVO score, again at a Chinese buffet. These seem to be the best and most plentiful places to get decent WVO oil in the South.
The all-you-can-eat restaurant is a strange, sick phenomenon, but it's keeping my car on the road!
Malaria
honor the moment in
honoring the vastness of time
the whims of fortune
honor the moment
with open ears
open eyes
and an open heart
smell the moment
taste the moment
connect each moment to the strand of moments
in your life
beginning on earth
at the moment of your birth
but really dipping in and out of bodies
like a dolphin
leaping up out of the water, floating beautiful above the surface
die-ving back out of sight of the naked eye
into the depths of another world
the dolphins flight, a series of moments
in one continuous arc of grace
rising, peaking, falling
and never hesitating
never looking back
or side to side
never worrying about what the other dolphins would say
grace is effortless
concentration
undisturbed by
earthly arrows
immune to mosquitos of form and feeling
the mosquitons spoil
each moment with an itch
so we spend more time scratching
than living
more time covering our scabs with fresh bandages
honor the moment cultivate immunity to the malaria of the spirit.
the malaria that keeps us sick our whole lives
unable to experience joy
ecstasy
growth
as we lie bed-ridden
in jobs and situations
that keep us inside the hospital room
looking out the window
at the children playing outside
malaria is an epidemic
of which nearly all of us are touched
some consumed
some periodically
like a cough
or weekend fever
but each of us
holds within ourselves the cure
each of us can learn
to honor the moment
Today I woke up at dawn in the WalMart parking lot, and promptly took off for Hot Springs. It was a little out of the way, but well worth it.
I stopped at a little diner and struck up a conversation with a Ph.D. student who is doing a combination of archaeology and geology of rock samples that the native americans living in the Ouachita Mountains had traded to tribes all over North America.
We talked about the huge precolumbian cities along the Mississippi and how they had fallen (most likely through disease brought by the Spaniards but spread independently of them) centuries before any Europeans had been deep into the interior of North America.
Hot Springs was neutral territory among different native nations, and they would come and meet and rest in the healing waters. The Spanish explorer deSoto visited the springs in 1540 and it is very likely that either one of his crew (or one of the horses or pigs) brought over microbes which natives from different tribes took from the springs and spread amongst their people.
It's hard to try to reconcile that, or to figure out how that should affect the way we live today.
There are tons of old fancy bathhouses in town, definitely relics from another era. One is still operational. I went to another which is in what looks like a hydrotherapy clinic. They channel the water from the springs into pools and cool it down significantly. It was relaxing after a lousy, uncomfortable sleep.
Yesterday I made my first WVO (Waste Vegetable Oil) score, at a chinese buffet restaurant in Nashville. The oil was clean, a maple-syrup color and consistency. It took me all the way to Little Rock.
Pulling out of a parking lot, I saw a young man driving an Mercedes diesel. At the stop light, I hollered to him to pull over so I could show him the conversion setup. He dug it.
Along the way, while running on WVO, the engine started to stutter. I pulled over and checked the veggie-oil prefilter, and lo and behold, it was clogged. Apparently I hadn't filtered the stuff well enough. I detached the filter, took it into the bathroom at the rest stop and cleaned it out. I put it back in and everything ran fine.
I drove late into the night to Little Rock and spent the night sitting uncomfortably in the drivers seat at a WAL MART parking lot, getting about 4 hours of sleep before a little detour to Hot Springs.
When I tell people what I am doing, I see there eyes light up and at the same time an expression on their face forming like "This is too good to be true." If it were possible we'd be doing it already.
There are pioneers doing non-toxic, earth-friendly architecture, fuels, transportation, health care, etc., as well as ancient methods, but there are too many industrialists who have suppressed these techniques.
It is up to each of us to be models of new technology and new models of self-sufficiency.
We can start small, perhaps just by crocheting a scarf instead of buying one, or sprouting some beans or seeds in a jar in our kitchen instead of buying chemical-sprayed veggies that come from 4000 miles away.
Everything is important.
I woke up around 11:00 in Nashville, very well-rested.
Morning In Nashville: Debra and Michael invited Steven, a friend and carpenter, musician and handy man over to check out the car and hang out. We ended up talking about the diesel engine and superadobe and other architecture for hours, until I pryed myself away to get here and bang out this log before I get lazy. They are taking good care of me here, but I need to get on the road!
I am going to check out a few restaurants in town to check out their grease supplies. The weather seems warm enough that the grease won't be too solid, but I may be wrong, and I still don't have a proper pumping mechanism to make the whole filling up process less of a pain.
The actual mechanics of the veggie oil system are great. The problem so far has been finding grease that I can access and put into my tank. I hope this resolves as I get further south into warmer climates, and the waste oil vats behind each restaurant are filled with liquidy grease.
I hope to get as far as Hot Springs, AR, or maybe even Austin, TX today.
I am so grateful and hope to continuing to meet wonderful people along the way.
Greetings from Nashville, TN.
The trip was uneventful-cold in most places. I used up all the veggie oil in my tank and in the containers I had brought with me, getting me in total about 600 miles into the trip at about 35 miles per gallon, cruising between 65 and 75 mph.
Wal-Mart Country
I needed some rubber gloves,a gas tank cap (I didn't have one on the diesel tank), and a funnel, and decided on a trip to WalMart, the only store that I could see that might have one. I pulled off I-81, and at the bottom of the ramp was a skinny, toothless man in his 50s with jeans and a camo jacket holding a sign sreading "HOMELESS VET, PLEASE HELP." A car with a bumper sticker reading "We Support Our Troops" drove right past...
Inside WalMart. and was blown away at the scale of it...the store was packed with shoppers, each one surrounded by 14 foot high walls of merchandise.
The people that worked there were extremely friendly and helpful. I struck up a conversation with Marie, one of the customer greeters, who was intrigued with the project. When I told her that I was running on veggie oil, she was dumbfounded, and I saw gears began to turn in her head. She directed me to a grease rendering plant 25 miles down the road in Winchester (another story).
In front of me at the checkout was a young man in full combat fatigues, part of the local Natl. Guard Air Force unit in Martinsburg, WV. He had been called into active duty, but hadn't been sent anywhere. I told him about my friend Luis who was sent over to Kuwait, only to get an eviction notice from his landlord because the Army had "lost his paperwork," along with the paperwork of dozens of other soldiers in his unit. I hoped this young man wouldn't die for petroleum, or end up like Luis, or the man at the bottom of the off-ramp.
The Rendering Plant
It was already dark when I got to Winchester, but I figured as I was low on grease, it might be worthwhile. I got some directions, and got lost in a trailer park, but was put back on track by some friendly locals.
I could smell the plant from two miles away. I stopped at the security checkpoint, and explained my mission to the guard, who sent me up the hill. A young man came out and brought me inside of the plant to a supervisor, who, while interested, told me I would have to wait till morning for some sort of approval, and that the grease also had a high animal fat content. It smelled like hell, and I thanked them politely and left.
Signs of Age
It took several hours to get to Nashville. I took a few naps and pee stops along the way. At one stop, after washing my hands I looked into the mirror and noticed two gray hairs.
Welcome In Nashville
Around 5:30 AM I pulled into the driveway of Debra and Michael--friends of my mother's--who had graciously agreed to put me up for the night. They had a small cozy futon with organic sheets, a bottle of water, fresh towels, and some herbal medicine to help me sleep. There are good people everywhere!
A few friends stopped by last night to check the technology, including the dog artist Tillamook Cheddar.
We drank a little champagne (my pay from a New Year's eve musical show) and spun around the block. As the engine warmed up, Mary Jordan hit the switches and we began cruising on pure vegetable oil down Fulton Street. It was a magical moment.
to my mother
to the rest of my family for helping me and supporting me in numerous ways
to my godmother for helping me work out all the metaphysical details of the trip.
to my friends in New York who have contributed with their enthusiasm, support, and love to make this all possible.
to my ancestors and to other spirits who have my back at all times
Thank you!
it's now 6:40 am. i decided to spend another night here rather than leaving in the PM. I'm a little better off for it...more rest, a little more time to spend tightening everything up. It's a lot easier to do certain things from home than from on the road, like make silly entries like this and get travel insurance over the internet.
the prayer calls from the mosque are about the only sounds I heard, along with the occasional bus grinding down Fulton St.
in a few days it will be roosters crowing in the dawn.
The car ready to go in Bed Stuy, Brooklyn
Today I took MetroNorth up to New Haven to meet up with the mechanic Mark Penta (aka Mr. Amazing Genius) and drove back down I-95 through Connecticut and Westchester on pure canola oil.
The joy of breezing past gas stations, knowing that if I do my homework, I will never have to go to one again, except for a quart of oil or to take a leak...
this is what I look like sometimes
Preparations for the trip
So I'm running around all over the city, to the food co-op, mailing off bills and thank you notes, trying to figure out how I can get money together for the pay the mechanic tomorrow, and trying to get a grant application in.
Breathe in, breathe out.
