tucson to me.

Tucson to me like a boiling pot of soup made from a recipe - A yummy mixture of both familiar and not-so-familiar ingredients.

I live in a small studio, one of ten small houses facing a courtyard of rocks, abandoned furniture, dry aloe plants, and rusty grills. It reminds me of Irvine Meadows West, the trailer park community I lived in during the latter years of undergrad. I was trailer #B2, one of many unique trailers that surrounded a grassy courtyard with a community garden and picnic benches.



Here, I am casetta #2.

They call these small rows of studios and 1-bedrooms, Casettas, a fancy Italian – turned – Tusconian - Spanish word for small house or cottage. Unlike the diverse range of trailers, they are not unique on the outside, having previously been a community for quarantined tuberculosis patients in the 1930’s. They remind me of the cookie-cutter government houses in South Africa. But similar to the inside of trailers, these casetta residents have uniquely transformed small spaces into very unique and cozy homes (I've been quite a successful voyeur these past couple of days). And Instead of a community garden and benches, there is a community laundry mat and plenty of doorsteps to sit on and story swap.


After empting out my pod yesterday I took a break in the shade with #9, a tatted chef who works at an exclusive clubhouse in town. Then #5 walked by with a Chemistry Orientation packet in hand and we got to talking about the millions of orientations U of A has lined up for us. Then #3 cut us off and offered us sugar cookies straight from the baking sheet. Quite suddenly, as if the cookie aroma overcame the heat, #8, a young nurse in the Southside (which she refers to as the ghetto), and #4 a substitute teacher who is very fond of everything Japanese joined us in the shade. We were a great group, odd numbers with even numbers, sitting on concrete stoops, plastic pots, and step stools all agreeing how priceless the shade could be.

Besides the extensive heat and crunchy-sounding gray rocks, I could have been in Irvine Meadows West all over again. Or, besides sharing a common language and sugar cookies, from one desert to another, I could have been in South Africa all over again.