Since no picture I take looks like anything, here's a video instead:
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
I Thank God For My Life, And The Stars And Stripes
Along came a spider (A Haiku)
Walk into the room...
Holy crap- tarantula!
Shit. Ohshitohshit.
I am not a sissy girl. Bugs don't freak me out. In college I was the one my friends called into their rooms to kill the spiders. But, tarantulas are where I draw the line. Tarantulas are not bugs. They're not spiders. They're MONSTERS.
Now, when I think about it, it's probably a funny story. I had just cleaned my pila (literally climbed inside my pila and scrubbed it) and I was disgustingly sweaty. Trying to take advantage of the running water, which usually only lasts for an hour or so in the afternoon, I quickly jumped into the shower straight out of the pila. Thus, when I got out I had no towel and no clothes to put on (yet another beautiful thing about living alone...). So, i dripped dripped dripped nakedly through my house into my room, went to reach for my towel, and came face to face (almost touched) a huge, furry, fanged MONSTER.
After a good, long string of curse words in both english and spanish, I promptly did the only thing I could think of... I called my mommy. She was the exact appropriate combination of appalled and amused, and (after concurring that I probably didn't want to try to kill it- think of the smushing sound and the guts! gross.) she very patiently waited on the phone as I put on rubber gloves and shoes (and, still, nothing else- I was not about to put on clothes and lose track of that thing in the process), gathered a box and yogurt container, squealed a bit more, and then somehow, not so gracefully, scooped the monster into my trap. After more squealing (and probably more cursing) I managed to get myself clothed and carry the whole contraption (tarantula enclosed) out of my house and far, FAR away, where I then chucked the whole thing with as much force as possible and RAN back to the house. Phew.
Really, it's not THAT exciting- most Peace Corps volunteers will run into a tarantula at least once in their service. But I figured I would share so at least there could be some entertainment from the whole event. Also, I would just like to say, Thank God for mosquito nets, otherwise I would never sleep again.
Okay, moving on. Until yesterday's traumatic tarantula extravaganza, this post was going to be about the Fourth of July. I guess Guatemala is changing me a lot more than I think, because not only have I become the girl freaking out about the spider in her room, I've also apparently become the proud, patriotic American. I've never been a fan of Independence Day, and I've never really considered myself proud to be an American. I'm still not particularly proud. It's not like I did anything to be proud of- I just happened to be born in the United States. But living in a third world country has certainly made me appreciate my country more, and spend more time being grateful for its blessings than critical of its shortcomings.
I don't know if it was due to this newfound patriotism, or simply the combination of good company, cheap drinks, and fun costumes, but this was by far my favorite Fourth of July. There was a big celebration for all the volunteers, including a bake-off, raffle (I won a smoothie AND some shampoo- score!), talent show, barbeque (with veggie burgers), and plenty of red, white, and blue. I spent way too much money, and ate WAY too much food, but what better way to celebrate America than to be a little self-indulgent, right?
Happy Fourth of July from Guatemala!
Walk into the room...
Holy crap- tarantula!
Shit. Ohshitohshit.
I am not a sissy girl. Bugs don't freak me out. In college I was the one my friends called into their rooms to kill the spiders. But, tarantulas are where I draw the line. Tarantulas are not bugs. They're not spiders. They're MONSTERS.
Now, when I think about it, it's probably a funny story. I had just cleaned my pila (literally climbed inside my pila and scrubbed it) and I was disgustingly sweaty. Trying to take advantage of the running water, which usually only lasts for an hour or so in the afternoon, I quickly jumped into the shower straight out of the pila. Thus, when I got out I had no towel and no clothes to put on (yet another beautiful thing about living alone...). So, i dripped dripped dripped nakedly through my house into my room, went to reach for my towel, and came face to face (almost touched) a huge, furry, fanged MONSTER.
After a good, long string of curse words in both english and spanish, I promptly did the only thing I could think of... I called my mommy. She was the exact appropriate combination of appalled and amused, and (after concurring that I probably didn't want to try to kill it- think of the smushing sound and the guts! gross.) she very patiently waited on the phone as I put on rubber gloves and shoes (and, still, nothing else- I was not about to put on clothes and lose track of that thing in the process), gathered a box and yogurt container, squealed a bit more, and then somehow, not so gracefully, scooped the monster into my trap. After more squealing (and probably more cursing) I managed to get myself clothed and carry the whole contraption (tarantula enclosed) out of my house and far, FAR away, where I then chucked the whole thing with as much force as possible and RAN back to the house. Phew.Really, it's not THAT exciting- most Peace Corps volunteers will run into a tarantula at least once in their service. But I figured I would share so at least there could be some entertainment from the whole event. Also, I would just like to say, Thank God for mosquito nets, otherwise I would never sleep again.
Okay, moving on. Until yesterday's traumatic tarantula extravaganza, this post was going to be about the Fourth of July. I guess Guatemala is changing me a lot more than I think, because not only have I become the girl freaking out about the spider in her room, I've also apparently become the proud, patriotic American. I've never been a fan of Independence Day, and I've never really considered myself proud to be an American. I'm still not particularly proud. It's not like I did anything to be proud of- I just happened to be born in the United States. But living in a third world country has certainly made me appreciate my country more, and spend more time being grateful for its blessings than critical of its shortcomings.
I don't know if it was due to this newfound patriotism, or simply the combination of good company, cheap drinks, and fun costumes, but this was by far my favorite Fourth of July. There was a big celebration for all the volunteers, including a bake-off, raffle (I won a smoothie AND some shampoo- score!), talent show, barbeque (with veggie burgers), and plenty of red, white, and blue. I spent way too much money, and ate WAY too much food, but what better way to celebrate America than to be a little self-indulgent, right?
Happy Fourth of July from Guatemala!
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