Bubbles of Guilt....burbujas culpable?

Me gusta la mente
que est abajo de mi sombrero
Pero a veces yo pienso
“Quiero mas dinero!”
El viaje de la fortuna,
tiene muchas vias
A veces- el vino perfecto
Otras veces– las uvas son agrias.

I like the mind
that is under my hat
But sometimes I think
“I want more money!”
The journey of fortune
has many ways,
Sometimes- the perfect wine
Others- the grapes are sour.

*there are most likely a few mistakes above. my spanish is suffering. i speak like 2 sentences of spanish now. and i don't even care....

I am a big fan of blowing bubbles at festive events. I am actually a master bubble-blower, and I wow people at festivals and parties with my skills, which includes blowing bubbles inside of bubbles, smoke-filled bubbles, and occasionally, my bubbles actually dance to the beat of the music. I joke you not. But this only happens in the right circumstances.... not everyday. And I have not done a square bubble, but I saw on youtube that it is possible. I don't have the patience for it at the moment.

Anyhow, for a long time, it was my dream to have a bubble gun. I got one at the ghetto mall in Philly; it cost 5$ at Five Below, a large 5 dollar and under store with mostly junk. I don't go there anymore. The gun didn't work. Then I found one that did work in Rome- I bought it from one of those guys on the street, in front of the most beautiful fountain in the world (true- most beautiful fountain in the world... I could barely look at it). Anyhow, as mentioned in this blog's postings back in May or June 2009, I was SO happy I got a functioning bubble gun. I think it was 5 euro. And I lost it shortly thereafter. So, I got a little one in Queens... it worked. I liked it. Nice and portable. But I don't know where it is at the moment.

So, tonight I will be going to a party at Freedom, the bar I dj'ed at lastnight. Then at one or so, we are going to take a boat to the 3-day party, at a really special place on the lake (accessible only by boat). A few years ago, I went to parties there. I rocked it, picked up hulahooping, danced to breakbeats on vinyl played by these French people (who sadly enough were hijacked down in Brasil and some of them were shot dead), and I partied with some people who are still in my life. I am excited to return. Anyhow, back to bubbles... I knew I would need some for these next few days, so I went up the hill to town. I found the a bubble gun... for $2.50 or so... I got it... and it works! Really well! It makes a loud space-gun sound, which I have mixed feelings about.

I also picked up some other bubbles at a different store. They are the same ones I bought in both Italy and Croatia. And now they are here in Guatemala. I like these specific ones because they are small enough to carry around and the top stays on tight. The bottles themselves have a unique design, are made in China, and I assume, that the factory just puts on labels with different languages on them depending on where they are being sent to.

So this got me wondering- what is it like for the people over in China who work at this factory that assembles my preferred choice of bubbles? So much stuff is manufactured in China, because of low labor costs, and as a consumer, I enjoy the cheap fruits of that cheap labor. Anyone can speculate on how widely the working conditions and wages range in a places like China, or Hong Kong, or Indonesia, but in the end I wonder- do most of the people who work in factories, such as my preferred bubble-making factory, like their life? Do they slave away miserably, wishing their lives were different, or do they go to work and accept it as what is necessary order to enjoy the other parts of their life? And what is their idea of enjoying life? Sometimes I wonder about this, and I think of Charlie from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, when he gets a candy bar for his birthday, and shares it with his family (the creepy, sort of gross old people who lay bed). Sometimes I feel bad that I buy products from countries that don't protect their people's rights to make a fair and safe living. I feel helpless in the situation though, as I do with all global issues. And yes- you can argue that there are socially responsible companies from which products can be purchased. To which I respond that I can only afford some of these things. And I would then present you a 2-folded counter-argument; if I were to reach a position where I could afford all socially-responsible products, One- Many people who can afford socially or environmentally-responsible products are in that position because they exploit others, somehow. That's business. (Or they live in California, which is a less-exploitive business environment and is definitely not the norm). And Two- Even if I could afford to buy only socially-responsible products, the overwhelming majority will still not enjoy the same privileges.

If injustice is just a fact of life, then what part do I play in it? The part that's more fortunate than many but not as fortunate as some? I am ok with that. More than ok.... I live in a garden of the great life (.com!) But in this garden, compassion does not escape me. Nor does guilt.

Sundays to Relax... A Great Last Day In New York

There are few things better than going to the Turkish bathouse with my two best guy friends. Tumie and I met Saylor in the city, and we went to the Turkish Russian bathouse. I have been going here lately since first going with a past suitor. (I used to occaionally go to the gym in Park City that had the same facilities... I am an expert relaxer).

The entry fee is 30$, and you can stay all day. There are a few saunas of different level, a few steam rooms with eucalptus-scented steam, a freezing cold pool, and a sundeck to hang out at. It is co-ed, and not creepy like one would maybe think. There is food and good fresh juices. I got a Fantasy Island- pinapple, orange, apple and strawberry, seaweed salad, and then when my appetite returned I got mushroom barley soup. Sundays are not just to relax, Sundays are also the day to hemmorhage money. So, the three of us split of jar of Dead Sea mud, and I got a 20 minute neck and shoulder massage. It was from this Asian-looking, Russian-sounding guy that most of my girlfriends would not get a massage from. I, on the contrary, don't give a fuck. It was good. And interesting, when he pounded my ass (surprise!), with his hands, and then pounded the rest of my back.... (Hey- I though this was a neck and shoulder massage!) All in all, I am glad I did it, since it was 25$ and I really needed something. I carry all these heavy bags all over the place and no one gives me massages. I know, french cries and Whineken are calling my name.

So, we ended the evening with thaifood.... oh, my favorite! Thai iced-tea, vegan duck pad thai as an app to share, and then, my all-time favorite... Prik King (with pork). Then in the cab on my way to the Chinatown bus, I caught this huge fireworks display happening over the river. East River, I guess? It was the finale, so it was grand. It ended, I got on the bus back to Philly, where Bad Patrick and I watched my new inappropriate dvd and ate pizza. Black cherry soda was involved. Sundays to relax, Sundays to piss money, and Sundays to feast! I cannot think of a better way to bring my East Coast summer to a close. Spring time....watch out.