OOJ: Guillermo Ochoa

very few things or people can hold my attention for 90 minutes, but one who succeeds at doing this is Guillermo Francisco Ochoa, goalie for the Mexican national team in this year's World Cup in Brazil, who has definitely established himself as the star and savior of the Mexican team this year (no thanks to you, Rafa). this 28-yr-old native of Guadalajara (where i lived for a few months!) debuted with Club América a few years ago and spent his last year playing for a French team and is now a free agent. Ochoa punched out, hugged, and blocked countless goal attempts while looking cool as an otter pop straight from the cooler. Mexico sadly hit the end of their World Cup run today after two successful penalty shots by the Netherlands, but hopefully Ochoa's performance this summer will bring him more opportunities in the international arena.  

POD: Antonio Machado

it's been forever since my last Poem/Poet of the Day (POD). here are a few lines by Antonio Machado, a Spanish poet (1875-1939). i "found" the first few lines in Helen Oyeyemi's novel, Boy, Snow, Bird, and looked up the rest; i think i've found my next tattoo. they were later incorporated into a song by Joan Manuel Serrat, a Spanish singer, in 1969, whose music is pretty sixties-fabulous. so you get a song too today- buy one, get one!

Caminante son tus huellas
El camino nada más;
caminante no hay camino
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace camino
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino
sino estelas sobre el mar.

Traveller, the path is your tracks
And nothing more.
Traveller, there is no path
The path is made by walking.
By walking you make a path
And turning, you look back
At a way you will never tread again
Traveller, there is no road
Only wakes in the sea.

Edible OOJ

deep-fried ritz/taro sandwiches, danshui, taiwan

these days, when i travel, i could care less about seeing "the sights". all i want to do is eat local food and see inspiring art (preferably not housed in museums). in taiwan, you seemingly can't go wrong with eating (nor art). its street food is famously stomach happy-making. here on the left is a pic of my favorite find: slightly sweet taro paste sandwiched between 2 ritz crackers, and then- of course, because it's street food- deep fried. 

clockwise from top left corner: squids on sticks, ready to be deep fried; fried
tiny bird eggs; crispy noodles; a stand selling tubes of fried dough with
ice cream jammed through it; various tropical fruits

surprisingly, my stomach has had a hard time adjusting back to my U.S. food routine of turkey sandwiches and granola/yogurt. it's a shame you can't record a taste or smell memory the way you can take a photo of something visual.

3:30 a.m.

Ximen district, Taipei, Taiwan

typically, i am mad at the world if i find myself still awake when i want to be sleeping. i also know i'm supposed to be trying to sleep all night in order to readjust back to MST after 9 days in taiwan. this morning, however, a part of me perversely enjoys being up when everyone else around me is asleep- the downstairs family is finally quiet, their TV silenced; no honking cars outside; i can't even hear the zoo animals from their caged homes 3 blocks down the road. when i'm alone in my apartment at night, i can pretend i am no longer in ABQ, but anywhere in the world. 

the transition back to the U.S. has not been easy, as if i'd been living on the moon for months. i'm heartsick for taipei and wondering why i still live in the U.S., a place where i've rarely felt i belonged, and where Americans have often spoken to me and about me as if i didn't belong. tomorrow i plan to go to the gym (i ate constantly while in taiwan), but i will tread lightly when i enter this large, loud room of sweaty Americans. i will carry myself carefully, no longer desiring to force myself into their world in order to prove that i, too, am American, just like them. though i am U.S.-born, i am starting to accept that i am a foreigner after all, a suspicion that i have fought all my life, but am now relieved to embrace as reality. as a foreigner, i will hold myself inwards and simply observe the people around me, like a watchful child in an unsafe place, eyes and ears big, body made small.