Zarnesti Libearty Bear Sanctuary

How do you describe life defining moments? Have you ever had to stop and try to process an event, a conversation, a meeting or a vision that made you feel like you needed to do something? Or that made you feel like it happened at exactly the right place and the right time for you to change something about your life or about your outlook on life? I can only think of those are life defining moments, and although I can't say that I have had plenty of those in my life, I can say that, for me, those have been shattering and shocking. But necessary.

I am not hard to please, and I am not hard to offend. I pride myself in being open minded and flexible with arguments and opinions. Some people define that as being weak and fickle - although I disagree, I have come to terms with the fact that to some, that is a reality. However, the following are some of the many facts that are true to me: 

* Animals feel

* Zoos are glorified cages

* Culture is not supposed to be studied like a specimen; it is supposed to be experienced. 

These are facts that I feel do not need an explanation or evidence. To me, to my own perspective, they are truth. If I am ever met with an opposition to these facts, I wouldn't care to contest it, because really nothing anyone could ever say or do would ever make me feel or think other wise.

Recently, we visited the Libearty Bear Sanctuary in Zarnesti, Romania. We were nervous about going, since we know very well that not all sanctuaries are what they claim to be. A lot of these places are nothing less than torturous prisons, which sole purpose is to amuse and entertain the tourists: Chained up elephants, caged bears and lions who have never felt grass under their feet; all of these animals are terrorized, tortured and tamed for fucking entertainment. And these places exist everywhere. 

Thankfully, the Libearty Bear Sanctuary was not one of these places. We were walked into a small cabin first, where they played a video of how and why this Sanctuary was made. Of course, the main purpose of this place was to rescue bears who were kept as touristic attractions; some were kept by private owners, others by circuses and others by zoos. The founder, Cristina Lapis, got the place started after a bear she was trying to rescue, Maya, mutilated herself out of stress for being caged. I immediately got emotional watching the video. They showed shots of cubs playfully nibbling at their keepers, who smiled and even pet the cubs on occasion; while Lapis' voice explained how these bears have never known the freedom of the mountains and the forest, and how they will never learn how to survive in the wild on their own.

"These animals do not need human selfish love" 

That shook me. It shook me for truth hurts. 

This Sanctuary actually exists to give back to the bears the opportunity of a life stolen from them; a life that belongs to them and that they have every right to enjoy as fellow beings of this planet. The sanctuary is made of 160 acres of oak and forest, and although it is fenced in - these bears truly do not have a better chance at their deserved life. They explain to you the story of most of these bears and how they came to the sanctuary; I learned about Max, a bear who was blinded and drugged in order to keep him tame and 'nice' so that people could take pictures with him; I learned about Mona, who is easily distinguishable for her arms which hang down in a semi-circle since she was born and raised to ride a bike in circus shows. As I heard about these stories, my heart kept aching and I felt shame, and pain as much as I felt absolute gratitude for this place to exist for them.

There have been so many times when I have caught myself thinking "This is just the way of the world, and there is nothing I can do to change it". When I am questioned by society and its expectations; when I see hatred towards humanity from humanity; when I read the news, when I hear the news. What can I do? When I hear of another shooting, another mass murder, another national threat, I ask myself, what I can I do? And I have never known what to do other than move on - move on because this is just the way the world works. And it's devastating, and heart breaking - to have been so used to violence and hate, to dehumanize, to literally accept it as a reality. And of course, if we are able to dehumanize one another, how could we possibly respect other species of this planet? One a smaller scale, visiting the sanctuary was one of those moments where I knew I needed to do something. Anything to help. I have always thought that there is nothing I can possibly do - helping in anything takes money, and money I do not always have for 'charity'. But I truly felt like this is exactly where my money needs to go; to help the people who are sacrificing so much in order to provide these animals with the life that was taken from them for absolute selfish and cruel reasons. It was strange really, because I am not often moved, and not often am I moved with such intensity. It is so easy to acknowledge, and just hope for the best - it is harder to do something. And sure - there is no guarantee that my money will not be pocketed or kept for other reasons, but I can vouch for the Libearty Sanctuary. Not only have they rescued bears, but they've also taken in baby does who have been neglected by their mothers, a goat, a horse, and a some wolves, plus the dogs - probably some cats too. As long as they're able to feed them and house them, they'll keep taking them.

I don't really know how, if ever, things could change. I would really hope so. I would like to be able to do something - not just for the bears, but for all of the beings who deserve a chance to life. Our own species included.

If anyone is interested in helping: www.ampbears.ro/en

Letters: To Granada

Years ago, while learning about Mexican history and the Mexican revolution, I remember also learning about them: los gachipines, los conquistadores, los Españoles. There is no denying it - there would be no Mexican history without the coming and the conquest of the Spaniards. Or at least, there would not be a me as there is now. However, I had no real concept of this as a child, and the idea of the Spanish simply scared me and upset me. 

Why did they do that to us? 

When come on, child, which history isn't tainted by that same question? And without the Spanish conquest there would have been some other conquests, or some other revolutions or revolutionaries, or maybe not. Who knows? But that is not the point. The point is, I have never really been much of a fan of Spain. Not necessarily because they came and pillaged and plundered (trust me, I'm not bitter!), but simply because there was never a reason to be fascinated by it. 

And I am - if I were to follow my family tree and define myself through that - mostly Spaniard. But even that meant very little to me. Maybe it was because, culturally speaking, we are similar in many ways (I mean we speak the same language and all), that I was never really curious to learn more about them. I guess I never found them appealing or exotic. 

So why did we choose Spain to go and live there for a while?

Well, mostly to get out of Asia and to be in Europe. There were plenty of options but Spain offered the cheapest and arguably the most comfortable lifestyle (siestas? tapas anyone? sangria!?). I did not go to Spain expecting to fall in love with the country, or to be challenged really or to be surprised in any way. I went to Spain expecting to relax, to be comfortable and to save some money. So, we that in mind, we set ourselves up in the Moorish city of Granada, in South Spain. 


Now, for those who know me personally, already know how things ended up in Spain. But this is not about that - I do not want to write about why we left sooner than planned. I want to write about the things I've taken from our stay there. And I want to remind myself, once again about those little things that I am finding myself missing as I look back. 

Granada: 

We chose you because of the mountains, because of the mountains, because of the mountains. I didn't need any other reason to choose you - the mountains that was all. I saw you and I saw your mountains and read some of your history. And as it turns out - we chose you for so much more. We chose you because you did not seem Spanish at all at first sight: your streets are filled with bazaar style shops, North African restaurants and Moorish architecture. You seemed so exotic without trying too hard. And you are not a city that tries hard to do... well, much of anything. You simply are, and that is enough for anyone to fall in love at first sight. 

You are not the type to demand attention, but you're not the type to go unnoticed. With something like the Alhambra at your core and the Sierra Nevada at your back - how could you not inspire? 

You are the city of stray cats and gypsies. The city where the homeless are always accompanied by tail-wagging dogs, and where the hippies beg for wine and pot money. You lure the expats, the pensioners, the students and the dreamers. You take them all without judgement. You are the city of dancers, of guitar players, of flamenco, of street performers and street artists. 

The whole tapas thing - I never really got it. I mean, everyone raved about them constantly. "OMG, I love the tapas". And even when I would ask what the big deal about these tapas were and people would explain, I still couldn't comprehend how a side dish could be considered one of the Spain's lures. We tried some tapas in Barcelona, and as the waiter came and set the plate down, I had to ask myself "Is this it?" 

But you did them differently. It was a completely different thing, the whole tapas experience in Granada. It was an adventure really - all throughout the city, upon the hill of Albaicin and scattered along Elvira street, and even further out from the city; the search for the best tapas in Granada. From meat stew dishes, to pumpkin soups, from small paella plates, fried aubergine, burgers, kebabs, to endless surprising possibilities. How could anyone get tired of free food? The amount of weekends that we spent in search for new tapas and new restaurants never left us wanting or unsatisfied (well... except for the Raz Cafe... but when you had nothing else to compare it to, it really wasn't that bad). 

There were countless of evenings spent tunneling through the streets of Albaicin, hunting for cats, tapas, sunsets and stories. There at the top of the hill there is a park, and from there there's the view you are most famed for - the one that made us choose you. Stoners park, we appropriately named it. There were dogs there, and children playing badminton; there were groups of musicians and jugglers; on a warm day you could see some people bathing in the main fountain; there were poets and singers, plenty of guitars, and once we heard a trumpet; there were painters and writers. And before us all, the Alhambra embraced by the snowy Sierra Nevada. It was almost like a movie, so incredibly unreal. This was the place where everyone came to just be, to just enjoy the afternoon, the evening, or just life. Where no one cared about how they smelled or what they smelled of; where people felt free to do as they pleased. I had never really seen anything like that so shamelessly public. But why would happiness need to be shamed? 

You were not easy to love. But that was not because of you, I just couldn't understand; I was so used to being stressed and to expect stress. Mellow unnerved me and it made me feel like I wasn't doing what I was supposed to be doing. If there is something that years in the States and working in Asia has given to me, is the ingrained notion that life is supposed to be work; that unless there is progress of some sort, be it monetary or professional or what have you, then you are not living appropriately. Unaware, I thought a successful life meant stress. But that's not the way the Spaniards work. And that, in itself was stressful at first. 

But now I can say, wholeheartedly, that some of my most fulfilling experiences are thanks to Granada, and thanks to the Spaniards (I never in my life would have ever admitted to that, because viva la revolucion and all). And they were not necessarily the most exciting, no. They were simply those moments where I learned that I can find happiness in a park, and where I learned to rid myself completely and entirely of every single care in the world, if only for a little bit. Where I learned the value of a good siesta. Where I learned that life is not about successes or profits. 

It's about the mountains, and about the tapas, and about good people, and about good talks, and about moments of now, and nothing other than now. 

I do love you, Granada. Dearly. And all the cats.

Back to the Homeland

I never thought I would ever find myself immersed in blogs and travel sites researching things to do in Mexico City. I never thought that I'd have to look for the best ways to get to certain destinations, or look for itineraries on hikes or day trips to the Pueblos Magicos on the outskirts of the city. I never thought that I would ever approach Mexico City like every other country I have gone to and explored in the last four years.

For this was home. These are the types of things that you just know. The hardcore Mexican in me wanted very badly to scream out and say "Just go home and do what you do at home and don't make it like another one of your destinations - because it's home!"

The concept and the meaning of home has been progressively and methodically changing. First it was meaningless, really, it was just a place where I lived - nothing more, nothing less. It wasn't until the first time I left that it started to hold any significant value. Most of my memories of that first year in Texas are of how badly I wanted to go back home.

"I don't belong here. I don't want to belong here. I want to go back to Mexico."  

It truly is pathetic, and cliche - but I really didn't even realize how much I loved Mexico until after I had left. Suddenly I was proud of everything that I was never aware of before, everything that just was. I was of a culture filled with good people, good food, good football and everything else you could think of was good, or better. Of course, Mexico was only as good as Katy, Texas was bad - and I hated Katy for the at least the first six or seven years that I lived there.

That was almost ten years ago. I have been away from Mexico for the last 12 years, maybe a bit more. I have gone back as a temporary guest, always, and I have been learning to accept that for what it is. This does not mean that I no longer see Mexico as my home, but that my perception of home has simply changed. For you see, I no longer feel like I belong in Mexico, not really. I am, however, Mexican, and I will always represent myself as such, proudly. 

So what is Mexico to me now?

Mexico is my foundation. It is my teacher and my nurturer. A strong sense of culture and tradition that I could never take for granted.  I fell in love with mountains first in Mexico; with the volcanoes and their story. Mexico is my family, my predetermined and chosen one. Mexico has always, and will always be, the place for mercados with the best quesadillas, pambazos, aguas frescas, spices and fresh fruit; it will always be the place of chaos and traffic; the valley within the mountains; where everyone is a 'blondie'. Where I have never, nor will I ever know Montezuma's revenge, I only know flavors, the colors and the textures of a culture that is still, in my eyes, fascinating and absolutely magnificent. In my own, very much biased opinion, Mexico is the best country in the world. 

To me, of course. 

And with the passing of time (away from it) I am learning to see it as so much more than that. I am learning to see it for both it's touristic selling points; it's exotic destinations and for it's flaws as well. 

It is a home that is becoming more and more exotic the more I am away. Through the eyes of someone who obsesses over researching the most magical and beautiful places a country has to offer, Mexico becomes a paradise. A paradise that I had never known before; A place of high mountains and challenging hikes; a diverse paradise where all kinds of ecosystems exist from the bluest of the beaches in Oaxaca to the tropical forests and reserves of Chihuahua. And that's not even close to making it justice. That's not even worthy of an introductory passage or a status update. 

I have always known Mexico to be beautiful. But I really didn't understand just how magnificent it is. I never really appreciated what home is.

See home the way you'd approach a weekend away destination. Every other weekend. Surprise yourself.