Final Project Outline and Invitation

The following is the project outline and the invitations I sent out for participation in the project:

Dear Friends,

For my final project I have decided to create a film about Santa Fe and the exchange program. The audience will be directed toward the urban planning department and its students at the University of Utah to encourage future participation in the program.

Instead of hearing me speak about my experience (which would be very boring), I feel that it would be much, much more valuable to the audience to hear from citizens from Santa Fe. So I am asking for your help in participating with this video.

I would like to schedule a time in the next week to meet with you and ask you a series of questions that will be used in the video. You may not be an expert in the areas that I am covering, but that does not matter. What matters for this project are the opinions and thoughts from everyone.

As for language, you all know that my Spanish is very limited, so I will be asking the questions in English. However, you are more than welcome to answer the questions in either Spanish or English. It will be no problem for me to add subtitles for this film.

The location of the interview will be up to you. I would like to have each set of interviews done in different places to add some variety to the film. I am happy to arrive at whatever destination and time is most convenient for you.

I have attached a list of questions that I will be asking for the film. Please look them over and start thinking about the responses you might give.

You are; of course, welcome to not answer all of them if you feel that they are too personal.

Please let me know what day and time will work best for you. I would like to start filming on Monday if possible and have everything done by Friday.

Thank you in advance for your help on this project. I am confident that through each of you, the people in Utah will be able to see why I have fallen in love with your city and your country.

Sincerely,

Nate Currey

Questions for the interviews:

· How has the history of Santa Fe helped shape its development?

· What are successes Santa Fe has had in planning throughout its history?

· What are mistakes that have been made with planning in Santa Fe?

· I will ask questions about specific projects going on in Santa Fe (if you do not know about them it is no problem):

- Redevelopment of the flood plain area

- Redevelopment of the rail yards

- Redevelopment of the docks

- North to South tree-lined avenues

- Regional municipal cooperation (Santa Fe – Parana)

- New Dock/Autopista to Parana

· What is your view of the rivers surrounding the area (Parana/Salado)?

- How can the water in the region be turned into an asset for:

§ Tourism?

§ Transportation?

§ Recreation?

· What are the barriers/dividing lines in the built environment of the city?

· How has your generation helped to shape Argentina/Santa Fe?

· How much did you learn about Argentina’s history in school?

· How has the military dictatorship affected attitudes in the country today?

· How has the military dictatorship affected your generation?

· Have your family or friends been affected by government kidnappings during the military rule?

· How do you think the period of military rule has affected current politics in Argentina/Santa Fe?

· How much power do you feel citizens of Argentina have over their government?

- Federal?

- Municipal?

· What do you love about Argentina?

· What do you love about Santa Fe?

· What are your hopes/dreams about Argentina’s future?

· What are your hopes/dreams about Santa Fe’s future?

· Why should planning students in Utah come to Santa Fe?

· If you could say one thing to students in the USA what would it be?

crucible of events

Sometimes it’s all just a little too much.

Too much to process . . .

Too much to feel . . .

Too much to experience . . .

. . . to take it all in at once.

This has been my experience so far in Argentina. For now, it is so difficult to express my thoughts in way that would do my emotions justice.

It is one of those kinds of experiences.

After 5 weeks in the country I have finally determined what my final projects will be. Along with the art project that I am working on (see last blog post), I will be interviewing an array of beautiful people, both old and young, men and women, students and professionals, straight and gay about their perspectives on life in Santa Fe and Argentina as a whole.

I hope to capture the joy and the pain, the victory and defeat and the overall attitude about what makes Argentina this incredible place that I have fallen so deeply in love with.

I would be curious to know what questions you would ask the people down here. Send me an email with your thoughts and I might include them in the film.

If you have not signed up on Facebook yet, my pictures are all uploaded there of the trip thus far. I hope you enjoy.

More soon . . .

Expectations

“Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.”

-Miriam Beard

Expectations can be a bitch.

I like going to movies having heard from all of my friends that it wasn’t very good. This has a tendency to lower my expectations and normally I am pleasantly surprised. When I have high expectations though, my chances for disappointment are increased substantially.

In life, when we experience new things, generally there are expectations attached. Sometimes we aren’t sure what to expect, nevertheless, we hope for the best.

Traveling to a new place is loaded with expectations. Normally they are high or we wouldn’t be traveling there. Different places come with different expectations. I would not expect to have the same experiences in Paris as I would in Mexico City. For me, some places come with high expectations (New York City), others, relatively low ones (Cleveland).

Sorry Ohio.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect heading down to a new continent. I tried to keep an open mind and low expectations. I have not been disappointed.

Santiago, Chile and the coastal towns of Vina del Mar and Valparaiso were magical. The climate and topography are South America’s equivalent of the bay area in the U.S. With the Andes as the backdrop, Santiago is breathtakingly beautiful on a clear day (which was one out five due to pollution while I was there). The people were kind, attractive and more than willing to help a couple of American guys out that generally looked lost and bewildered most of the time.

This is also the heart of wine country for Chile and if you know anything about wine, Chile has really come into her own on the world stage. There is a sophistication about the Chileans that was a welcoming surprise for me. After all, Chile is the country that produced one of my favorite poets, Pablo Neruda, who’s home I was proud to visit.

When the Chileans learned that I was going to spend two months in Argentina to study, there was an instant expression of sibling rivalry. When I arrived in Santa Fe, I discovered quickly that the rivalry goes both ways.

The bulk of my time in South America will be here in Argentina, so I have a feeling that my opinions in the end will be biased a bit toward this land. But Chile will always have a special place in my heart for the experiences that I had, the people that I met, and for a brilliant travel companion that succumbed to the high level of expectations in his own mind. (I love you buddy.)

I have quickly and easily slipped into a comfort level here in Santa Fe that has allowed me to befriend the youths of the city, my professors and their associates and most importantly the urban fabric and rhythms that create the atmosphere of a city that is gently waking to discover her true beauty and potential.

Much, much more to come . . .

People and Airports

Airports are amazing. They are the perfect crucible for mankind. Each person may have a different destination, yet each must go through the same communal process of the airport.

There is no doubt where you have landed if you go through the Salt Lake Airport on a Tuesday. There are LDS missionaries everywhere. It has been over 11 years since I departed from the Salt Lake airport to head to Eastern Europe on my mission. My parents drove out from Colorado to wait with me at the gate. In our post-terrorist airport culture, visitors at the gate are no longer allowed. Instead the missionaries were huddled around the phone banks each with their own calling card saying their farewells to their loved ones before they embarked on their two-year adventure.

I caught up with a gaggle of missionaries in Atlanta that were heading to Sweden. I remember the kindness of many that stopped me when I was waiting at JFK to head east, so I saddled up next to the group and said hello. The whole group was relieved to have someone friendly talking to them. Most admitted that they had never been outside of Utah so Atlanta was really intimidating to them.

We chatted for a half-hour about what the LDS Church was like in Scandinavia (which was just across the Baltic Sea from my mission). I explained to them that I was heading down to Argentina for two months to study with the University of Utah. Seeing an opportunity, one of the more adventurous Elders asked me if I knew much about the LDS Church. They were all astounded when I told them where I served my mission.

I don’t really fit the profile of a returned missionary anymore. I have earrings, facial hair and clearly I wasn’t wearing any temple garments anymore. Politely, they did not pry, nor did I offer an explanation, but we did have a sincere and meaningful exchange about what to expect their first few months in the field.

One elder asked me for advice on being a good missionary (in which I found both honor and irony). I told the group the only advice I ever give missionaries these days; love the people, the culture and the country (ies) where you are serving. I explained that while it was key to study the language and the scriptures each day, it was just as important to study the culture, the history and the dynamics of the communities where they will be.

People seek for a common bond, and by knowing (even a little) about the place where a person is from binds their heart to you one conversation at a time.

I sat by a lovely older white woman that grew up in apartheid South Africa on the plane to Atlanta. I asked her a few key questions: How was life in Capetown? Had she been to Durban? What did she think of their newly elected president Jacob Zuma? Instantly she knew that I could relate to where she was from even though I have never visited that vast continent. She almost had me in tears twice as she described her first-hand experiences in Cape Town through the transition out of apartheid. She told stories that were incredibly personal and powerfully moving. (South Africa just bumped way up on the list of places to visit).

The plane ride would have been very different if I hadn’t known anything about South Africa.

As I related this story to the group of missionaries at the Atlanta airport, they got the point. And while I did not conform to their expectations of what a returned missionary should be, they (and I) were grateful for their conversation.

As I stood up to leave, one of the elders asked me if there was anything they could do for me.

I just grinned, asked them to keep me in their prayers and told them that they would be in mine.

A Transition

The semester is over. No more ethics, no more stats. No time for relaxing though.

I’ve written a lot the past four months and explored areas of ethical life that I didn’t even realize existed.

The jury is still out whether or not my personal ethics have changed. I really don’t think so. I do know that I am much more aware of issues that affect our lives everyday, and that to me, is a successful semester.

Now, I embark on a new chapter and another new adventure in my life. Most of you know that one of my greatest passions is traveling. The opportunity to spend two months in Argentina was just too good to pass up.

I leave with an open mind and a grateful heart. I am already falling in love with that country, her history and her people. There is generosity of spirit and life in Argentina and I am anxious to harvest all of the knowledge and wisdom that I can during my two-month stay.

And so this serves as a transition chapter for my blog. I will be updating this frequently while I am away.

I finish with the prayer for travelers that my parish prayed with me this past Sunday:

O God, our heavenly Father whose glory fills the whole creation, and whose presence we find wherever we go: Preserve those who travel; surround them with your loving care; protect them from every danger; and bring them in safety to their journey’s end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

It is my hope that I can somehow capture my experiences in word, pictures and video and share them with all of you. This will be my first crack at a travel blog.

I hope you enjoy . . .

. . . and for now, a very warm adieu.

Incredulous

Whenever I attend the public meetings in the city and county building, I sit in the far corner so I have a view of both those officiating the meetings and the public attendees. I walked out of the meeting tonight feeling embarrassed for my future profession and quite honestly a little incensed at how the board treated one of the applicants.

I think that there is a very nuanced ethical dilemma that creeps into some of the applications presented at these meetings. While the majority are fairly cut and dry cases, there are those that really test the notion of the letter versus the spirit of the law.

I sat there and watched the faces of the applicants as their cases were approved or denied tonight and I couldn’t help but recognize that there are real people’s lives that are affected by these decisions. Their emotions were palpable at times.

The board members did not look at the public once during their votes. (Even if it was in their favor).

There was a complete disconnect.

In my mind this is unacceptable. Zoning, planning, adjustments, master plans are all tools that are designed to enhance the community and its citizen’s lives. They are not to be used against them. Those that do should be ashamed and sent to the next village down the road.

If everyone owned a piece of property that was perfectly equal in size the rules would be easy to apply. In the real world though, the zoning rules just don’t make sense for certain outliers.

It is the duty of the planning staff to understand this and to make thoughtful (and dare I say wise) recommendations. They failed. During the meeting, the planning staff behaved like petulant adolescents, gossiping and mocking both the board members and some members of the public. Their body language indicated their displeasure with being there and after each of their cases were decided they ungraciously exited the meeting.

Am I being harsh? Definitely. I expect any organization, be it public or private, to have pride, passion and professionalism in what they do. This was clearly absent from this event.

The members of the board of adjustment and the planning staff of Salt Lake City are walking a very fine line when they portray they are doing the public a favor simply by showing up.

It may be time to hit reset and clean house.

Heavenly Diplomacy

I have never boiled an egg in my life. It doesn’t strike me as overly complicated; I just haven’t had the occasion to do so. I am not exactly sure how colored eggs became intertwined with Easter, but I’m glad they are. Amazement always struck every Easter morning that the Easter Bunny knew exactly which eggs I had dyed and that they all ended up in my Easter basket.

My idea of Easter back then was fairly simple. A kid can’t go wrong when he’s surrounded by good food and lots of family that loves him. It was always a special day.

As an adult, Easter’s meaning and tradition has changed. For the better part of this decade I had been on a self-imposed “time-out” from God. There was some serious negotiating that needed to be done between us. There was never any open hostility, but I had effectively recalled my ambassador. Thankfully, God never recalls His.

I have to admit that God’s diplomacy is pretty dang effective. To date, I have been the one to make all of the concessions (no surprise there) and I have pretty much given up on my list of demands.

God doesn’t use strong-arm tactics in his negotiating. There are those that masquerade as part of His team that have tried to convince me otherwise. But the older I get, the more I have come to understand that God’s message is simple.

Which is why this Easter morning I am hopeful. It is the ultimate day of thanksgiving and joy. It is the symbolic embodiment of God’s message to us all:

That He gives of His love freely to ALL, no conditions. (Even if I haven’t boiled an egg).

Don't Be Afraid

To my beautiful little sister,

I’ve just spent the past week with you. This is the first time you’ve hosted me. Thank you.

After some terrifyingly honest and revealing discussions, I have one thing to say:

Don’t be afraid.

Fear is a powerful and dreadful emotion. One that is ever pervasive, and as you’ve discovered, will control every aspect of your life.

Don’t be afraid to be alone.

Don’t be afraid to unleash your potential.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

Don’t be afraid to admit you don’t know.

I know that you can get through this. It’s going to be hard, but with every step forward you will relinquish your fear little by little.

I have been where you are.

Please don’t be as stubborn as I was.

You are my best friend. I am honored to be your brother and blessed to have you as my sister.

You are better than this. We both know it.

Don’t be afraid.

Love, your big bro,
Nathaniel

The Lost One

Great-Grandma Walton,

I just visited you in your new care-facility. I spent 45 minutes with you. You wont remember though.

At 93, I doubt I’ll remember much either.

I enjoyed our visit very much. Most of your sentences made sense. Some had nothing to do with anything. But that’s all part of the fun.

There are very few details of your life that you can recall. The stories are gone. I doubt you remember your hometown in Kentucky, or how many kids that you have. You weren’t sure who Great-Grandpa Walton was. He’s the man, whose picture is hanging on the wall in your room and your husband of over 60 years.

But no bother.

All that matters now is that you are happy, that you are safe, and that you are not forgotten in your new home.

Your personality still shines through the incoherence though. Your laugh, your southern drawl and those beautifully kind eyes that you can’t see out of anymore are all still there.

It was hard to see you. It was wonderful to see you.

While it’s a challenge to focus on much anymore, please know that you are loved by so many, including me.

I hope you are warm. I hope you are well cared for. I hope you don’t keep trying to escape the building.

You don’t know me anymore . . .

. . . but I know you.

And who knows? Next time I’m in town I may take you up on your offer and we’ll run away together.

It’s never too late for an adventure with a strange man that loves you.

Love,
Nathaniel

Mobility Issues