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ART !! I have always considered myself an artist/crafter. I've tried most types of art; the list is much more lengthy than the time spent on some of my "'artistic pursuits." Quite often, some, such as jewelry making, lasted about 4 hours. But oh, the hours spent looking for the perfect fabric for sewing, the perfect supplies for making wreaths or wooden necklaces (hey - it was the 80's), the perfect beads for a bracelet, or the exact shade of paint (especially for walls).
My lengthy list of pursuits includes: drawing, painting, painting walls, jewelry-making, batik, photography, sewing, ballet, piano, guitar, tap-dancing (ha, ha), baton twirling, candle-making, macrame, knitting (1-hour and I was done), and interior design (the wallpaper borders are burned in our memory).
So here I am in a foreign country - time to take up an artistic endeavor once again. Really, sewing, piano and photography are the only two I stuck with over the years. I shuffled through my art memories and decided drawing and painting should be resurrected after soooo many years. Conveniently, my piano teacher in Uruguay also teaches ART.
Kris is the most patient person on Earth, legitimized by the fact that she can soldier through teaching me piano and still have all her wits about her! We started with drawing and ended up with acrylics for painting.
Since my primary love is photography, it seems I do best when photographing my subject, then using the image as a my inspiration for a painting. Oddly enough, my favorite is one of the first paintings I did was CATFISH - my portrait of Sophie and a fish (see above photos.)
I studied painting and drawing in college, but that's been a long time. I'm classifying myself as a beginner. So much to learn - stay tuned...
My lengthy list of pursuits includes: drawing, painting, painting walls, jewelry-making, batik, photography, sewing, ballet, piano, guitar, tap-dancing (ha, ha), baton twirling, candle-making, macrame, knitting (1-hour and I was done), and interior design (the wallpaper borders are burned in our memory).
So here I am in a foreign country - time to take up an artistic endeavor once again. Really, sewing, piano and photography are the only two I stuck with over the years. I shuffled through my art memories and decided drawing and painting should be resurrected after soooo many years. Conveniently, my piano teacher in Uruguay also teaches ART.
Kris is the most patient person on Earth, legitimized by the fact that she can soldier through teaching me piano and still have all her wits about her! We started with drawing and ended up with acrylics for painting.
Since my primary love is photography, it seems I do best when photographing my subject, then using the image as a my inspiration for a painting. Oddly enough, my favorite is one of the first paintings I did was CATFISH - my portrait of Sophie and a fish (see above photos.)
I studied painting and drawing in college, but that's been a long time. I'm classifying myself as a beginner. So much to learn - stay tuned...
Little optical illusion - my glasses on top of the drawing of my glasses!
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Once again, we were honored to be invited to a Doma Racional (Horse Whisperer) training session at our friends' ranch. Doma Racional is a way of taming horses with patience, respect, and acknowledgment of the horse's mental state and body language.
The trainer, Marcelo Gonzalez, has an amazing gift and talent working with horses. To watch Marcelo take a horse from wild to saddled and ridden in just over an hour is something to experience. And all with a gentle touch and understanding of the magnificent animal standing before him. I can never see this enough and I always shed a tear because the connection between man and horse is so beautiful.
In the photos above, there is a sequence. The photos show the untamed horse coming into the corral, then the gentle procession of taming, until the horse accepts a saddle and rider.
The trainer, Marcelo Gonzalez, has an amazing gift and talent working with horses. To watch Marcelo take a horse from wild to saddled and ridden in just over an hour is something to experience. And all with a gentle touch and understanding of the magnificent animal standing before him. I can never see this enough and I always shed a tear because the connection between man and horse is so beautiful.
In the photos above, there is a sequence. The photos show the untamed horse coming into the corral, then the gentle procession of taming, until the horse accepts a saddle and rider.
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Well, I fell in the kitchen. Apparently Sophie Kat decided to cross my path at exactly the wrong moment. (I will forever be superstitious about gray and white long-haired cats!) I tried to stop myself and ended up doing a bit of a dance going forward, causing a much harder fall from the momentum. Geez!
First thing I did was try to move my hip - scared I broke it. The hip was sore, but I could lift it up and move my leg. Then I realized my arm was pointing crookedly out to my side and would not move. I had dislocated my shoulder and literally could not get up.
What happens next is a three and one-half hour nightmare!
We don't have ambulance service out here in the campo; our neighbor called the police. The police came, but the only option was to get me on a stretcher and put me in the truck bed of their pickup. It didn't seem an ideal option, as the roads are very bumpy and I was in extreme pain. There was lots of conversation and it was decided to call the Camionera (like state troopers in the U.S.). They came, but would have to put me in the back of their pickup, as well.
Next, my Canadian friend in the nearby village was called. She and her husband came over and made some phone calls, somehow getting a rogue ambulance to come out and get me.
All in all, I was on the floor for 3 & 1/2 hours in pain. One of the policeman sat on the floor by my side, holding my hand the entire time, trying to keep me calm. I later learned it was his FIRST day as a policeman and that his name was Ángel (of course it was)!
The ambulance came with just a driver, no attendants. My friend rode with me holding my arm stable, as best she could as we sped over bumpy roads for a 35 minute ride to the hospital ER. My husband followed us; I can't imagine what he was feeling.
I ended up having surgery the following morning and received excellent care during my 3 day stay at the hospital. It was a learning curve, as hospital stays in Uruguay are a bit different. First of all, you need to bring your own soap, washcloth, towel, Kleenex, and nightclothes.
Second, the cultural belief (It makes sense!) in Uruguay seems to be that if given the opportunity, you would rather a family member or friend take care of you. It's customary for a family member or friend to stay overnight with you and during the day to take care of your needs, if possible.
Here’s my story with that. A close friend was visiting me at the hospital after my surgery. Nature called and I was not allowed to get out of bed yet, so I rang for the nurse to assist me with a bedpan. One arm was immobilized and the other hand was hooked to an IV. When the time came to dry off, the nurse handed the toilet paper to my friend. Both of our eyes grew as big as saucers, but my friend just carried on and wiped. Now that’s a friend! Yes, it does make sense you would rather a friend than a stranger take care of your needs; it’s just a different take on things! The moral of this story, if you visit a friend in hospital, be prepared to be a very “close” friend! Thank you, my CLOSE friend!
Also, no mere words can express my thanks to my Canadian friend, who stayed by my side for hours, arranged for an ambulance (and rode with me), and translated even while I screamed as they tried to put my shoulder back in place.
First thing I did was try to move my hip - scared I broke it. The hip was sore, but I could lift it up and move my leg. Then I realized my arm was pointing crookedly out to my side and would not move. I had dislocated my shoulder and literally could not get up.
What happens next is a three and one-half hour nightmare!
We don't have ambulance service out here in the campo; our neighbor called the police. The police came, but the only option was to get me on a stretcher and put me in the truck bed of their pickup. It didn't seem an ideal option, as the roads are very bumpy and I was in extreme pain. There was lots of conversation and it was decided to call the Camionera (like state troopers in the U.S.). They came, but would have to put me in the back of their pickup, as well.
Next, my Canadian friend in the nearby village was called. She and her husband came over and made some phone calls, somehow getting a rogue ambulance to come out and get me.
All in all, I was on the floor for 3 & 1/2 hours in pain. One of the policeman sat on the floor by my side, holding my hand the entire time, trying to keep me calm. I later learned it was his FIRST day as a policeman and that his name was Ángel (of course it was)!
The ambulance came with just a driver, no attendants. My friend rode with me holding my arm stable, as best she could as we sped over bumpy roads for a 35 minute ride to the hospital ER. My husband followed us; I can't imagine what he was feeling.
I ended up having surgery the following morning and received excellent care during my 3 day stay at the hospital. It was a learning curve, as hospital stays in Uruguay are a bit different. First of all, you need to bring your own soap, washcloth, towel, Kleenex, and nightclothes.
Second, the cultural belief (It makes sense!) in Uruguay seems to be that if given the opportunity, you would rather a family member or friend take care of you. It's customary for a family member or friend to stay overnight with you and during the day to take care of your needs, if possible.
Here’s my story with that. A close friend was visiting me at the hospital after my surgery. Nature called and I was not allowed to get out of bed yet, so I rang for the nurse to assist me with a bedpan. One arm was immobilized and the other hand was hooked to an IV. When the time came to dry off, the nurse handed the toilet paper to my friend. Both of our eyes grew as big as saucers, but my friend just carried on and wiped. Now that’s a friend! Yes, it does make sense you would rather a friend than a stranger take care of your needs; it’s just a different take on things! The moral of this story, if you visit a friend in hospital, be prepared to be a very “close” friend! Thank you, my CLOSE friend!
Also, no mere words can express my thanks to my Canadian friend, who stayed by my side for hours, arranged for an ambulance (and rode with me), and translated even while I screamed as they tried to put my shoulder back in place.
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"I was 32 when I started cooking; up until then, I just ate." - Julia Child
I adore food, cooking, and coffee - served in very big cups. Growing up in the Deep South as a spoiled brat, I only learned to cook the "fun stuff." Of course, that meant desserts!
I compiled a family cookbook when I was in my 30's, but I really didn't know how to cook. (I typed that book on a TYPEWRITER!)
The family joke back then was, "Aunt Pam cooks a great salad." The review came from my adorable 10 year old nephew and his experience with my culinary skills.
I adore food, cooking, and coffee - served in very big cups. Growing up in the Deep South as a spoiled brat, I only learned to cook the "fun stuff." Of course, that meant desserts!
I compiled a family cookbook when I was in my 30's, but I really didn't know how to cook. (I typed that book on a TYPEWRITER!)
The family joke back then was, "Aunt Pam cooks a great salad." The review came from my adorable 10 year old nephew and his experience with my culinary skills.
When I hit the big 4-0, I realized that maybe it was time to learn to cook. Two good friends and lots of family were the lab rats to my trial runs of recipes. As long as I kept the wine flowing, there were few complaints about the food. Shortly after, I compiled another family cookbook; this one was titled, "Pam Actually Cooks." Emphasis on ACTUALLY.
Years later, I cook 2 meals a day, experiment with recipes, and play with food. I even organized many of my tried and true recipes this winter (June, July, and August in Uruguay). I also went through those two family cookbooks written years ago, added newer recipes from years since, and created a website: MissCookbook.com.
Please visit the site, have fun with the recipes, and put some love in that spoon! I can't guarantee that every recipe will be perfect, but it's all shared with joy and love.
Years later, I cook 2 meals a day, experiment with recipes, and play with food. I even organized many of my tried and true recipes this winter (June, July, and August in Uruguay). I also went through those two family cookbooks written years ago, added newer recipes from years since, and created a website: MissCookbook.com.
Please visit the site, have fun with the recipes, and put some love in that spoon! I can't guarantee that every recipe will be perfect, but it's all shared with joy and love.
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Major Strasser: "What is your nationality?"
Rick: "I'm a drunkard." Casablanca - Rick (Humphrey Bogart)
In the United States, there seems to be a new debate over the political correctness of the term, “American.” I'm not on the politically correct/or not bandwagon. However, this is a dilemma for international travelers who hail from the good ole U.S.A. - There is no exact term to describe our nationality to others, such as Canada – Canadian; Germany – German; Chile – Chilean.
For example, while in Uruguay, if asked my nationality and I respond, "American," the questioner may be puzzled. Rightfully so. Technically someone from Uruguay (or any other North American, Central American, or South American country) could be considered “American” too. The term, "American," can actually be used for 55 different countries in North, Central, and South America.
Usually, because of my English, the Uruguyan will continue with, "Oh, North America? What country?"
I must say, “I'm from the United States." I don't have another term to point out my exact nationality. Over time, I've found it's much easier to answer with, "I'm from Texas." Everyone nods and smiles, thinking of the familiar cowboys, horses, and cattle that made Texas famous.
United States - United Statesian?? U.S.ian?? Those two just don’t sound right. Any ideas?
Rick: "I'm a drunkard." Casablanca - Rick (Humphrey Bogart)
In the United States, there seems to be a new debate over the political correctness of the term, “American.” I'm not on the politically correct/or not bandwagon. However, this is a dilemma for international travelers who hail from the good ole U.S.A. - There is no exact term to describe our nationality to others, such as Canada – Canadian; Germany – German; Chile – Chilean.
For example, while in Uruguay, if asked my nationality and I respond, "American," the questioner may be puzzled. Rightfully so. Technically someone from Uruguay (or any other North American, Central American, or South American country) could be considered “American” too. The term, "American," can actually be used for 55 different countries in North, Central, and South America.
Usually, because of my English, the Uruguyan will continue with, "Oh, North America? What country?"
I must say, “I'm from the United States." I don't have another term to point out my exact nationality. Over time, I've found it's much easier to answer with, "I'm from Texas." Everyone nods and smiles, thinking of the familiar cowboys, horses, and cattle that made Texas famous.
United States - United Statesian?? U.S.ian?? Those two just don’t sound right. Any ideas?
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"Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around." Vanilla Sky - Sophia (Penelope Cruz)
Well, it's been quite a few months since writing my last post. My hair has grown waaaay past my shoulders. Our house is finally finished and we are all moved in. I've made some new friends and miss my old ones terribly.
My family has endured several happy and some not so happy milestones. Where have I been?
I've been busy - moving into a new house, decorating, sewing, cooking up a storm, and entertaining.
I've been gazing at stars and walking in the sun.
I've been dancing at the local village Zumba class and relaxing at the yoga class.
I've been visiting beaches and listening to birds sing.
I've been lazy - sitting on Facebook for much too long, stroking my puppies' fur and listening to their hearts beat pure love.
I've been sitting on the porch, watching neighborhood kids frolic and listening to cows and sheep.
I've been taking naps, lying in the sunlight which shines on the sofa.
All in all, it's been a fantastic few months.
Well, it's been quite a few months since writing my last post. My hair has grown waaaay past my shoulders. Our house is finally finished and we are all moved in. I've made some new friends and miss my old ones terribly.
My family has endured several happy and some not so happy milestones. Where have I been?
I've been busy - moving into a new house, decorating, sewing, cooking up a storm, and entertaining.
I've been gazing at stars and walking in the sun.
I've been dancing at the local village Zumba class and relaxing at the yoga class.
I've been visiting beaches and listening to birds sing.
I've been lazy - sitting on Facebook for much too long, stroking my puppies' fur and listening to their hearts beat pure love.
I've been sitting on the porch, watching neighborhood kids frolic and listening to cows and sheep.
I've been taking naps, lying in the sunlight which shines on the sofa.
All in all, it's been a fantastic few months.
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"Holy Mackerel!" - Arsenic and Old Lace - Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant)
In my quest to learn Spanish AND to get in shape, I joined the village yoga class. I still go to Zumba class, but I can't learn Spanish there. Everyone gasps for breath instead of talking.
My Yoga teacher however, never stops talking. Her voice is soothing and slow; maybe she knows I'm struggling to understand Spanish while pushing myself into weird shapes.
This morning was cold in UY. Did I take socks to class? NO! Yoga teacher was so sweet - wrapping my frozen feet in my jacket one minute and pushing them over my head the next. She kept trying to throw in English words, and I think I heard something like, "Relax your boobies" at one point. Hmmmm...maybe I need to keep working on the Spanish.
In my quest to learn Spanish AND to get in shape, I joined the village yoga class. I still go to Zumba class, but I can't learn Spanish there. Everyone gasps for breath instead of talking.
My Yoga teacher however, never stops talking. Her voice is soothing and slow; maybe she knows I'm struggling to understand Spanish while pushing myself into weird shapes.
This morning was cold in UY. Did I take socks to class? NO! Yoga teacher was so sweet - wrapping my frozen feet in my jacket one minute and pushing them over my head the next. She kept trying to throw in English words, and I think I heard something like, "Relax your boobies" at one point. Hmmmm...maybe I need to keep working on the Spanish.
Welcome Sign in the Village
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"Oh! I wouldn't do that. I really wouldn't." - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory - Willy (Gene Wilder)
(I am the one about to fall backwards laughing in the above photo!)
My Dutch friend persuaded me to go to a Zumba class in the nearby village. Those of you who know that I am allergic to exercise are falling out laughing right about now.
Our teacher, complete with belly button rings, was actually delightful. However, in one weird moment when she ripped off her t-shirt while dancing, I thought that was a dance move and I was supposed to copy it! Thankfully, she had on a sports bra. After quickly looking at the others in class, I realized I did not have to shed my clothes. Whew!
I survived Zumba, but our truck did not. Coming home in my exhausted state of mind, I misjudged the distance between the truck and our gate. Crunch. One new truck door will be ordered soon by a very patient husband. He is a saint!
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"Boy, I got vision and the rest of the world wears bifocals." - Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid - Butch (Paul Newman)
One short year ago I packed up everything I thought I would need in three suitcases and headed off to the Houston airport to begin a new adventure in Uruguay. Never in my wildest imagination could I envision the next 12 months. Stress, love, tears, friendship, death, joy, terror, growth, self-doubt, enlightenment, heartache, and finally fulfillment have marked the past year.
Always a bit of a drama queen (I admit it!), even my most dramatic moments could not compare with the emotions filling the past year. I might be a tad too old for this!
Pros: new and wonderful friends, old friends and family who still love me, an amazing view from our front porch, a front porch (!!), a 25 minute drive to the beach, opportunities for compassion, generosity of strangers, freedom, and building a dream home
Cons: language difficulties, doubting every decision, being cheated by others, driving amongst the motorcycles, missing family and friends with every piece of my heart, building a dream home in a foreign country
It has been one heck of a year. Would I do it again? Probably. However, if there is one thing I have learned during the past year, it's that life takes us where we belong. There is no hindsight.
One short year ago I packed up everything I thought I would need in three suitcases and headed off to the Houston airport to begin a new adventure in Uruguay. Never in my wildest imagination could I envision the next 12 months. Stress, love, tears, friendship, death, joy, terror, growth, self-doubt, enlightenment, heartache, and finally fulfillment have marked the past year.
Always a bit of a drama queen (I admit it!), even my most dramatic moments could not compare with the emotions filling the past year. I might be a tad too old for this!
Pros: new and wonderful friends, old friends and family who still love me, an amazing view from our front porch, a front porch (!!), a 25 minute drive to the beach, opportunities for compassion, generosity of strangers, freedom, and building a dream home
Cons: language difficulties, doubting every decision, being cheated by others, driving amongst the motorcycles, missing family and friends with every piece of my heart, building a dream home in a foreign country
It has been one heck of a year. Would I do it again? Probably. However, if there is one thing I have learned during the past year, it's that life takes us where we belong. There is no hindsight.
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"Meat first, THEN soccer!" - Kicking and Screaming - Umberto (Joseph Sicari)
When in Rome…or South America…
It's FIFA World Cup Soccer time and the games are in Brazil. All of the world (excluding the United States) goes crazy this time of year, rooting for their country's soccer team. Although married to a German and having dated a weekend soccer player in Houston, my excitement level for soccer was right up there with stepping in dog poo.
This time it's different. Everyone in Uruguay is excited - and it lasts for weeks! I have found myself watching game after game.
La Celeste is the Uruguayan soccer team - ranked 7th in the world. The day of Uruguay's first game, last Saturday, I went into town to buy groceries and building supplies. Flags were flying everywhere, on cars, motorbikes, horses, and even people. In the air was a contagious - firecracker - 4th of July - feeling. Streets, sidewalks, and shops were all crowded with everyone buying the equivalent of "tailgate party supplies." In Tienda Inglesa (sort of a Target-type store) the employees wore blue wigs, giant Cat in the Hat things, and La Celeste jerseys. There are even Lay's potato chip bags dedicated to the Uruguayan team. I caved and bought an Uruguayan car flag - which caused my husband to keel over in laughter.
Sadly, Uruguay lost their first game to Costa Rica. Another match today though against England and soccer's newest fan will be right in front of the telly, watching and cheering for La Celeste.
When in Rome…or South America…
It's FIFA World Cup Soccer time and the games are in Brazil. All of the world (excluding the United States) goes crazy this time of year, rooting for their country's soccer team. Although married to a German and having dated a weekend soccer player in Houston, my excitement level for soccer was right up there with stepping in dog poo.
This time it's different. Everyone in Uruguay is excited - and it lasts for weeks! I have found myself watching game after game.
La Celeste is the Uruguayan soccer team - ranked 7th in the world. The day of Uruguay's first game, last Saturday, I went into town to buy groceries and building supplies. Flags were flying everywhere, on cars, motorbikes, horses, and even people. In the air was a contagious - firecracker - 4th of July - feeling. Streets, sidewalks, and shops were all crowded with everyone buying the equivalent of "tailgate party supplies." In Tienda Inglesa (sort of a Target-type store) the employees wore blue wigs, giant Cat in the Hat things, and La Celeste jerseys. There are even Lay's potato chip bags dedicated to the Uruguayan team. I caved and bought an Uruguayan car flag - which caused my husband to keel over in laughter.
Sadly, Uruguay lost their first game to Costa Rica. Another match today though against England and soccer's newest fan will be right in front of the telly, watching and cheering for La Celeste.
