(Tlatelolco- Plaza of the three cultures in D.F.)

Imagine suddenly being in a land where the postman serenades (not propositions) you, and you escape into a pub from the wet chill, accidentally order a heaping piece of chocolate cake and “white” fair-trade coffee, which you eat in front of the fireplace where Pink Floyd began. Cheers! Welcome to Cambridge. I’m staying with Emily in her quaint 800 year old college, where Silvia Plath lived. The poetry and history is blatantly present, as it was in Mexico, but so so different. It reminds me what a young country the U.S. is, and how much we have to learn and change (if the debates last night weren’t enough of a reminder).

I keep having, “I’m not in Mexico anymore” moments- though the instinct for constant comparison is wearing off, as is my horror at the GBP. I need to balance my natural penny-pinching with a realization that travel inherently involves a near constant spending of money. Because of this, I feel an urgency to justify the extreme privilege of my life right now with a lot of work and budgeting. Especially meeting all of Emily’s brilliant and specialized peers here makes me feel a bit insecure about my own intelligence and lonely about what can sound like a bizarre and flighty year when described to the classy folk here over a pint. But in the end, there’s nothing I’d rather be doing, or a way to be learning so much about violence against women, and also about myself.

At the Red Bull Pub the other night, I realized with joy that the Vagina Monologues is never really that far away. The very act of talking about what I’m up to inevitably leads me into dynamic conversations about peoples' impressions and experiences. I met Danika, from New Delhi who saw it there twice and passionately ranted over pear cider about how much it moved her and about what she learned about female circumcision while on a dig in Egypt. I also met Katie, who along with an enthusiastic sky-diving conversation told me that Cambridge also has a V-Season every-year and who promised to put me in touch with her friend who organizes the womens group, which has a representative in every college.

After my little rest from jet lag, hopefully a few interviews, and a beautiful breath of home in the form of one of my oldest friends, I’m off to Brighton for a few days. The woman who is getting her PHD in Medical Anthropology, studies Breast Cancer in rural Spain, and organized the VMs there, invited me to go to a breast cancer walking through the “rolling beautiful hills of rural England”. I couldn’t say no to the opportunity, and hope to learn more about the Zaragoza production while I am there.

In London I am going to interview leaders in PozFem, as especially with the New V-Day developments in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, I want to learn more about the connection between violence against women and the spread of HIV/AIDS. And I am getting ridiculously excited about this upcoming V-Day European Organizer conference, where I hope to learn much and make contacts who will inform my next few months. Though I will meet and talk to Eve, I won’t be allowed to interview her. Though this was initially disappointing, just being in the presence of this world-shaking goddess is going to be mind-opening.