Lazy (A Haiku)
Sleeping in, movies,
Needlepoint, reading, reading,
More reading, and bed.
Things that I miss more than I expected to:
1) Washing machines.
It still amazes me just how exhausting washing clothes in the pila really is. And I swear, I’m not just being a baby. Volunteers who give nutrition charlas often include doing laundry as a form of exercise. Not only is it hard work, the clothes never seem as clean as at home. Every time I’m scrubbing away (half cleaning, half destroying my clothes…) I find myself giving thanks that I have only my own clothes to wash, and not a husband, five children, and probably a couple of grandchildren’s worth of dirty laundry, like most women here. I’m reading an extremely cheesy light read about a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ecuador, and she describes her revelation that “life in America was the aberration”, and that “barefoot and soily, among animals, in a forced intimacy with the earth- this was how most of the people on this planet lived”. As silly as I feel taking life lessons from a semi-trashy story of “How a Peace Corps Poster By Won my Heart” (you can’t make this stuff up), it does hit me every once in a while how luxurious our life in the states really is compared to most of the world. Especially when you consider that my pila using, cold water showering, giant spiders and ants in the kitchen life here is, in comparison to most of the country, pretty darn high class.
2) TARGET.
Okay, not such a shocker for anyone who knows how much I truly love this heaven in the form of a store (the cashiers at the one by my house probably wonder where I’ve gone…), but seriously. If they can get satellite TV and Walmart owned supermarkets here, shouldn’t they be able to get one little Target? Granted, I have found that the “Super Paca” is a pretty good substitution (especially since Target seems to ship most of its unsold clothing to Guatemala…who would’ve thunk?) and it’s not like my volunteer salary would allow for many Target trips, but it is still a comfort from home that I have definitely found myself craving on more than one occasion.
3) Walking around the house without shoes.
I have never been a shoe person. Really, I’ve never been much an any type of clothing thing; I’m pretty sure I would make a superb nudist, except then I would have no reason to go shopping, and if #2 on this list gives you any indication, I’m sure you can guess how well that would go over. But shoes, especially, are something I never, ever wore at home. Here, if you don’t wear shoes you not only wind up dragging all sorts of dirt and god knows what else into your bed at the end of the day (requiring yet MORE pila-washing, and sheets are the WORST to do), but you also risk stepping in or on anything from chicken poop to a scorpion. Needless to say, no matter how integrated or comfortable I get here, I will not be walking barefoot at any point.
4) Cheese.
I think that probably had I known that I would more or less be going completely without cheese for the next two years, I would have expected to miss it. But it really never occurred to me that I might encounter such a tragedy. For whatever reason (I still haven’t found anyone that can explain it to me), cheese is pretty much the most expensive food in the grocery store- with the exception of peanut butter and slightly obscure foods like canned artichoke hearts. Granted, they do have cheap and readily available “Campo Cheese” here, which is delicious but usually does a number on the stomach and is also more like a dip than the kind of cheese you can put on a sandwich or in mac and cheese. I have literally sat with other volunteers talking about what we wouldn’t give for a nice block of cheddar cheese.
I’m sure the list could go on and on, as there are probably one or two things every day I find myself wishing they had in Guatemala (non-stick frying pans, carpets, baseball fields…), but when all is said and done, there’s nothing I’ve had to go without that has really, truly affected my life. I mean, sure, wouldn’t it be convenient if I did have a washing machine I could throw a load into on Sundays like I did at home? But (and maybe it’s just the 7 months of living here I have under my belt taking), it certainly hasn’t been a major, life changing adjustment to have to do my laundry by hand. I’m sure I’ll go home in two years and be completely overwhelmed by the realization of exactly how completely different my life really is here, but the point is, for now I’m pretty darn happy in my cheese-and Target-less, perpetually shoed life here =)
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Always know that i would find a way to get to where you are
February (A Haiku)
Spring Training started
Reconnect and Mom Visit
The best month ever!
Well, February was quite the month and to be completely honest I'm having a hard time remembering what went on the beginning of the month. The first two weeks were full of work and anticipation- I'm sure everyone here was sick of me talking about my mom coming. Right before she got here we had reconnect, celebrating my group's six month anniversary of being in Guatemala (yes, I have officially been here HALF A YEAR already...weird) and giving us a time to "reflect and share" about our first three months in site (BARF- but it was also a good excuse to see my group and have lots of grand adventures in Antigua (inculding Secret Valentines and an "Ugly Paca Party", rules being you could only wear things bought at the Guatemalan second hand stores, called Pacas).
Then, finally, FINALLY, FINALLY Mom got here and we spent a grand (but far too short) two weeks travelling around Guatemala and (of course) entertaining each other. In case any of you forgot, we are SO FUNNY. The trip started in Antigua, where we visited my training host family and Mom got to meet Wilson and all the others. I think my family was truly pleased I brought her to meet them, and we wound up staying the whole afternoon playing with all the presents Mom brought from the states. We also did some of the tourist things in the area, including the Cerro de la Cruz and the artisan market. Then we headed to Lake Atitlan, boated all around and bought about 25 scarfs (it might be an addiction). From there we spent a very long, long day traveling to the East and my site, where we spent three days crowded into my little mosquito-netted bed, traveling to the Mayan ruins in Copán, Honduras and El Cristo Negro in Esquipulas and doing a pain in the ass jigsaw puzzle by night. From there we bussed to Rio Dulce, Livingston, and Puerto Barrios which all felt like a combination of the old fashioned deep south and some kind of exotic Amazonian adventure. Then we trekked it allllll the way back to Guatemala City for the night, where we camped out in front of the big screen TV at the oh-so-fancy Howard Johnson (that's serious luxury here in Guatemala) and, early the next morning, Mom went off to the airport (BOO) and I headed home. It was a great trip, and so SO good to see her finallyyyyy.
Wilson showing off the cars Su-B sent him
At the Cerro de la Cruz
Lake Atitlan
The ruins at Copán
Our hotel at Rio Dulce
Spring Training started
Reconnect and Mom Visit
The best month ever!
Well, February was quite the month and to be completely honest I'm having a hard time remembering what went on the beginning of the month. The first two weeks were full of work and anticipation- I'm sure everyone here was sick of me talking about my mom coming. Right before she got here we had reconnect, celebrating my group's six month anniversary of being in Guatemala (yes, I have officially been here HALF A YEAR already...weird) and giving us a time to "reflect and share" about our first three months in site (BARF- but it was also a good excuse to see my group and have lots of grand adventures in Antigua (inculding Secret Valentines and an "Ugly Paca Party", rules being you could only wear things bought at the Guatemalan second hand stores, called Pacas).
Then, finally, FINALLY, FINALLY Mom got here and we spent a grand (but far too short) two weeks travelling around Guatemala and (of course) entertaining each other. In case any of you forgot, we are SO FUNNY. The trip started in Antigua, where we visited my training host family and Mom got to meet Wilson and all the others. I think my family was truly pleased I brought her to meet them, and we wound up staying the whole afternoon playing with all the presents Mom brought from the states. We also did some of the tourist things in the area, including the Cerro de la Cruz and the artisan market. Then we headed to Lake Atitlan, boated all around and bought about 25 scarfs (it might be an addiction). From there we spent a very long, long day traveling to the East and my site, where we spent three days crowded into my little mosquito-netted bed, traveling to the Mayan ruins in Copán, Honduras and El Cristo Negro in Esquipulas and doing a pain in the ass jigsaw puzzle by night. From there we bussed to Rio Dulce, Livingston, and Puerto Barrios which all felt like a combination of the old fashioned deep south and some kind of exotic Amazonian adventure. Then we trekked it allllll the way back to Guatemala City for the night, where we camped out in front of the big screen TV at the oh-so-fancy Howard Johnson (that's serious luxury here in Guatemala) and, early the next morning, Mom went off to the airport (BOO) and I headed home. It was a great trip, and so SO good to see her finallyyyyy.
Wilson showing off the cars Su-B sent him
At the Cerro de la Cruz
Lake Atitlan
The ruins at Copán
Our hotel at Rio Dulce
Friday, January 28, 2011
Hello, let me introduce you to the characters in the show
Guatemalan Coffee (A Haiku)
Gross styrofoam cup.
Weak, with a pound of sugar.
Instant and unstirred.
Things that have yet to stop amazing/surprising me in Guatemala:
1) The Carrots. I love carrots, so the first time I saw one of Guatemala's carrots I nearly fell over. They are HUGE. Huge is not even the right word- they are Ginormous. One carrot is enough for at least two meals, if not more.
2) The Acronyms. Guatemaltecos loveee their abbreviations. I mean, so does teh US Government, right, but Guatemalan acronyms are so much more...inexplicable. Take, for instance, my organization, CODEFEM --> Colectiva para la defensa de los derechos de las mujeres en Guatemala. How the hell they got CODEFEM out of that I still can't figure. Another instance? While working on the POS (Plan Operativo Anual- that one's boring) for CODEFEM at our meeting in the capital, the group kept referring to the plan estrategico (strategic plan), but on all the handouts it was abbreviated PLE. I asked every person in the room why the heck there was an L in the abbreviation and no one could tell me what it stood for. Even better, none of them had ever even thought about it before.
3) The lack of urgency (AKA Hora Chapin). Sorry if this makes me an impatient, uptight American, but I don't think I will ever, EVER get used to this. Yesterday I had to go to a COMUDE (Consejo Municipal de Desarollo- another boring one) meeting at the Muni. IT's a very official thing, and they even send out printed invitations, so I have written proof that it was due to start at 9AM. I knew it wouldn't , so I took my time getting ready in the morning and even forced myself to read a chapter of my book to make myself a little later, arriving to the meeting fashionably late at about...9:10 (what can I say, it's physically painful for me to be late. I hate it. It makes me anxious). There was no one else in the place. The community presidents started to drift in around 9:30, 10 and finally around 10:30 they were ready to start. People were still arriving at 11, 12 and 12:30. And don't even get me started on buses that sit for 10, 20 minutes at a time in towns waiting for passengers.
4) The fact that...I live here. Every once in a while (usually once a day, at least) it just kind of hits me- this is my life. Bargaining for tomatoes at the market is my life. Saying "Adios" to every single person I pass on the street is my life. Watching a lizard eat ants above me on the ceiling while I shower is my life. Trashy telenovelas are my life. Spending a weekend on the pacific ocean and releasing a baby turtle is my life. Sometimes it's a This. Is. My. Life. For the Next. Two. Years. thought, and other time it's a "This is my life for the next two years!" but it has not ceased to amaze me that I am actually here, in the PEace Corps, fulfilling a life long goal. Honestly, I hope it never does.
Yup, this is my life:
Gross styrofoam cup.
Weak, with a pound of sugar.
Instant and unstirred.
Things that have yet to stop amazing/surprising me in Guatemala:
1) The Carrots. I love carrots, so the first time I saw one of Guatemala's carrots I nearly fell over. They are HUGE. Huge is not even the right word- they are Ginormous. One carrot is enough for at least two meals, if not more.
2) The Acronyms. Guatemaltecos loveee their abbreviations. I mean, so does teh US Government, right, but Guatemalan acronyms are so much more...inexplicable. Take, for instance, my organization, CODEFEM --> Colectiva para la defensa de los derechos de las mujeres en Guatemala. How the hell they got CODEFEM out of that I still can't figure. Another instance? While working on the POS (Plan Operativo Anual- that one's boring) for CODEFEM at our meeting in the capital, the group kept referring to the plan estrategico (strategic plan), but on all the handouts it was abbreviated PLE. I asked every person in the room why the heck there was an L in the abbreviation and no one could tell me what it stood for. Even better, none of them had ever even thought about it before.
3) The lack of urgency (AKA Hora Chapin). Sorry if this makes me an impatient, uptight American, but I don't think I will ever, EVER get used to this. Yesterday I had to go to a COMUDE (Consejo Municipal de Desarollo- another boring one) meeting at the Muni. IT's a very official thing, and they even send out printed invitations, so I have written proof that it was due to start at 9AM. I knew it wouldn't , so I took my time getting ready in the morning and even forced myself to read a chapter of my book to make myself a little later, arriving to the meeting fashionably late at about...9:10 (what can I say, it's physically painful for me to be late. I hate it. It makes me anxious). There was no one else in the place. The community presidents started to drift in around 9:30, 10 and finally around 10:30 they were ready to start. People were still arriving at 11, 12 and 12:30. And don't even get me started on buses that sit for 10, 20 minutes at a time in towns waiting for passengers.
4) The fact that...I live here. Every once in a while (usually once a day, at least) it just kind of hits me- this is my life. Bargaining for tomatoes at the market is my life. Saying "Adios" to every single person I pass on the street is my life. Watching a lizard eat ants above me on the ceiling while I shower is my life. Trashy telenovelas are my life. Spending a weekend on the pacific ocean and releasing a baby turtle is my life. Sometimes it's a This. Is. My. Life. For the Next. Two. Years. thought, and other time it's a "This is my life for the next two years!" but it has not ceased to amaze me that I am actually here, in the PEace Corps, fulfilling a life long goal. Honestly, I hope it never does.
Yup, this is my life:
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
How come you always wind up changing your direction?
Look it up (A Haiku)
Guatemalan means:
completely blind to
the concept of time.
Just another one of those Peace Corps roller coaster days…
LOW POINT: It started off rough, with an early wake up and a sore throat. My room is always pitch black, making getting up at any hour kind of a chore.
HIGH POINT: But things started looking up when I managed to get to the main street right as a bus to Jocotán was passing, and even got a friendly driver, which is always a nice surprise. Because of the easy travels, I wound up at the gas station my counterpart and I had chosen as our meeting spot about fifteen minutes early (we were going to help Marisa, another member of the CODEFEM team, give a charla on Gender Equity), but, as always in the country of “la hora chapina”, I had my book with me and didn’t mind reading for a bit.
LOW POINT: 45 minutes later, I finally called my counterpart, who told me “ahorita voy” (Right now I’ll be there), which I knew was impossible as I heard her children and television set in the background…she lives in the next town over.
I tried to keep my patience, and eventually she arrived and we went to the center where the charla would be held. I was put on camera duty and the activities of the day began.
HIGH POINT (?): I still can’t decide if this should really be a high point, as it’s pretty incredible, but it was funny as hell. Marisa asked the group “What is Gender?”. There was silence for a good, solid minute. Finally she asked one man what he thinks it means. His response: “I think it’s the thread that you make fabric out of”. Someone else commented that no, it was actually part of a hammock. Marisa shook her head a bit and moved on, asking “What is equity?”. A woman’s answer: another word for wardrobe.
HIGH POINT: While working in groups, the women began to chat, and Felipa, a woman from one of my groups, began to tell a story about our trip to the capital for Dia de la No Violencia. The facilitator said “wow, you went to the capital?” and as she nodded in response, Felipa looked like she might die of pride.
LOW, LOW, LOW POINT: After the taller had finished, Rosanely wanted to go the restaurant in town where we have a charla of our own tomorrow. I managed to talk her out of going all the way back to the office, but she she still insisted she needed to go home to e-mail a picture to the central office (which apparently could not wait an hour). So, she went to “quickly” send the photo while I made my way to the restaurant to wait for her. Keep in mind, she went on her moto. I, however, waited a good 20 minutes for a ride from the owners of the place where the taller was to the center of town, where I had to flag down a tuktuk (little bumpy taxi) to take me across town to the restaurant. I sat down outside and, once again, pulled out my trusty book. Twenty, forty, sixty pages later…and still no counterpart. As sat in the 90 degree afternoon sun I started to wonder if maybe I understood her wrong. After all, her house is only twenty minutes away, at most. I called her. When she heard it was me she said “digame”…as if she had no idea what I could possibly want. I mean, why would I be calling her, an HOUR AND A HALF after she left me to run what should have been, at the most, a 45 minute (pointless) errand?? I, quite patiently (I think) told her I was here at the restaurant and didn’t know what she wanted me to do, so if she was expecting me to do it by myself I needed more information. Her response- once again, “Ahorita voy”. Two minutes later I got a call from her- “I have to go to the bank, give me time to do that and then I’ll be there”. I nearly threw the phone.
HIGH POINT: While seething over my counterpart’s complete…Guatemalan-ness, a little girl from the house across the street began to talk to me. Her name was Kimberly, and she was what the Higgins family likes to call an NST (Non Stop Talker). But, she was a friendly, clever NST and had me falling off my rock laughing, from starting off our conversation with “Are you reading the Bible?”, looking at my 900 page book, to her description of her family including the “real big pigs” that live in the house next to them, but always wander into their yard.
LOW POINT: Finally, finally, finally Rosanely arrived. We went to the restaurant, and…dropped of the radio I had been carting with me since the charla that morning, asked the husband to ask his wife to make breakfast for us in the morning, and left. I was fuming. I really, REALLY needed to be there for THAT?
HIGH POINT: I found a quetzal (equal to 1/8 of a dollar… but still a good find on a Peace Corps budget!) on the ground!
We trekked back to my town, where we had a meeting with the coordinator of the Muni’s Women’s Office. Two hours later, it was dark, and I was hot, sweaty, stinky, and tired. I was so excited to go home, shower, eat dinner, and crawl into bed. But, we still had to get everything arranged in the office that we needed for tomorrow. I started to walk to the office and Rosanely would meet me there on her moto.
LOWER POINT: I got to the office. One would think, me on foot and she on moto, she would be there first. She was not. I sat on the office stairs. It was too dark to read my book. Twenty minutes later…she showed up with BREAD SHE HAD STOPPED TO BUY AT THE BAKERY. I got everything arranged in the office as quick as I could, before I exploded, and jetted home.
HIGH POINT: Living in the 90 degree heat with no air conditioning and obnoxious people has really made me appreciate a nice, cold shower. I felt immediately better. Then, I had some of my homemade corn chowder and delicious fresh bread from my favorite bakery, and now am about to pass out…
Until I have to get up, bright and early, and do it all again tomorrow. The way I see it, at least I’m ending on a high point. Wish me luck!
Guatemalan means:
completely blind to
the concept of time.
Just another one of those Peace Corps roller coaster days…
LOW POINT: It started off rough, with an early wake up and a sore throat. My room is always pitch black, making getting up at any hour kind of a chore.
HIGH POINT: But things started looking up when I managed to get to the main street right as a bus to Jocotán was passing, and even got a friendly driver, which is always a nice surprise. Because of the easy travels, I wound up at the gas station my counterpart and I had chosen as our meeting spot about fifteen minutes early (we were going to help Marisa, another member of the CODEFEM team, give a charla on Gender Equity), but, as always in the country of “la hora chapina”, I had my book with me and didn’t mind reading for a bit.
LOW POINT: 45 minutes later, I finally called my counterpart, who told me “ahorita voy” (Right now I’ll be there), which I knew was impossible as I heard her children and television set in the background…she lives in the next town over.
I tried to keep my patience, and eventually she arrived and we went to the center where the charla would be held. I was put on camera duty and the activities of the day began.
HIGH POINT (?): I still can’t decide if this should really be a high point, as it’s pretty incredible, but it was funny as hell. Marisa asked the group “What is Gender?”. There was silence for a good, solid minute. Finally she asked one man what he thinks it means. His response: “I think it’s the thread that you make fabric out of”. Someone else commented that no, it was actually part of a hammock. Marisa shook her head a bit and moved on, asking “What is equity?”. A woman’s answer: another word for wardrobe.
HIGH POINT: While working in groups, the women began to chat, and Felipa, a woman from one of my groups, began to tell a story about our trip to the capital for Dia de la No Violencia. The facilitator said “wow, you went to the capital?” and as she nodded in response, Felipa looked like she might die of pride.
LOW, LOW, LOW POINT: After the taller had finished, Rosanely wanted to go the restaurant in town where we have a charla of our own tomorrow. I managed to talk her out of going all the way back to the office, but she she still insisted she needed to go home to e-mail a picture to the central office (which apparently could not wait an hour). So, she went to “quickly” send the photo while I made my way to the restaurant to wait for her. Keep in mind, she went on her moto. I, however, waited a good 20 minutes for a ride from the owners of the place where the taller was to the center of town, where I had to flag down a tuktuk (little bumpy taxi) to take me across town to the restaurant. I sat down outside and, once again, pulled out my trusty book. Twenty, forty, sixty pages later…and still no counterpart. As sat in the 90 degree afternoon sun I started to wonder if maybe I understood her wrong. After all, her house is only twenty minutes away, at most. I called her. When she heard it was me she said “digame”…as if she had no idea what I could possibly want. I mean, why would I be calling her, an HOUR AND A HALF after she left me to run what should have been, at the most, a 45 minute (pointless) errand?? I, quite patiently (I think) told her I was here at the restaurant and didn’t know what she wanted me to do, so if she was expecting me to do it by myself I needed more information. Her response- once again, “Ahorita voy”. Two minutes later I got a call from her- “I have to go to the bank, give me time to do that and then I’ll be there”. I nearly threw the phone.
HIGH POINT: While seething over my counterpart’s complete…Guatemalan-ness, a little girl from the house across the street began to talk to me. Her name was Kimberly, and she was what the Higgins family likes to call an NST (Non Stop Talker). But, she was a friendly, clever NST and had me falling off my rock laughing, from starting off our conversation with “Are you reading the Bible?”, looking at my 900 page book, to her description of her family including the “real big pigs” that live in the house next to them, but always wander into their yard.
LOW POINT: Finally, finally, finally Rosanely arrived. We went to the restaurant, and…dropped of the radio I had been carting with me since the charla that morning, asked the husband to ask his wife to make breakfast for us in the morning, and left. I was fuming. I really, REALLY needed to be there for THAT?
HIGH POINT: I found a quetzal (equal to 1/8 of a dollar… but still a good find on a Peace Corps budget!) on the ground!
We trekked back to my town, where we had a meeting with the coordinator of the Muni’s Women’s Office. Two hours later, it was dark, and I was hot, sweaty, stinky, and tired. I was so excited to go home, shower, eat dinner, and crawl into bed. But, we still had to get everything arranged in the office that we needed for tomorrow. I started to walk to the office and Rosanely would meet me there on her moto.
LOWER POINT: I got to the office. One would think, me on foot and she on moto, she would be there first. She was not. I sat on the office stairs. It was too dark to read my book. Twenty minutes later…she showed up with BREAD SHE HAD STOPPED TO BUY AT THE BAKERY. I got everything arranged in the office as quick as I could, before I exploded, and jetted home.
HIGH POINT: Living in the 90 degree heat with no air conditioning and obnoxious people has really made me appreciate a nice, cold shower. I felt immediately better. Then, I had some of my homemade corn chowder and delicious fresh bread from my favorite bakery, and now am about to pass out…
Until I have to get up, bright and early, and do it all again tomorrow. The way I see it, at least I’m ending on a high point. Wish me luck!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
All you're ever gonna be is mean (and a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life, and mean).
Fine. (a haiku)
Dearest Aunt Su-B,
Here is your stupid blog post.
Shut it, por favor.
(ps, this blog title is not directed at you, it's just a great song)
this picture, however, is:
So, although I have no good life updates I am posting a quick blog to stop the torrent of post-a-blog-now-haikus flooding my inbox from my favorite aunt. Life has been completely uneventful because, turns out, we don't go back to work until the 10th (which i did not find out until i went to work on the 3rd, sat on the office steps for an hour, called my counterpart repeatedly and finally received an e-mail from her at 11 that night). So i have literally simply been sitting around. High point of the week: we got new phones! Peace Corps decided to provide us with phones that give us free calls to other volunteers and a certain number of free minutes each month. Unfortunately, this required us to travel three+ hours to Jalapa to pick them up, just to turn around and come home immediately so that we could catch our connecting busses. Other than that, I have been reading crappy books and working on the INFURIATING puzzle my mother sent me for christmas (gee, thanks...). Annnnnnd, that's all!
(Happy now, Andy?)
Love to all-
Dearest Aunt Su-B,
Here is your stupid blog post.
Shut it, por favor.
(ps, this blog title is not directed at you, it's just a great song)
this picture, however, is:
So, although I have no good life updates I am posting a quick blog to stop the torrent of post-a-blog-now-haikus flooding my inbox from my favorite aunt. Life has been completely uneventful because, turns out, we don't go back to work until the 10th (which i did not find out until i went to work on the 3rd, sat on the office steps for an hour, called my counterpart repeatedly and finally received an e-mail from her at 11 that night). So i have literally simply been sitting around. High point of the week: we got new phones! Peace Corps decided to provide us with phones that give us free calls to other volunteers and a certain number of free minutes each month. Unfortunately, this required us to travel three+ hours to Jalapa to pick them up, just to turn around and come home immediately so that we could catch our connecting busses. Other than that, I have been reading crappy books and working on the INFURIATING puzzle my mother sent me for christmas (gee, thanks...). Annnnnnd, that's all!
(Happy now, Andy?)
Love to all-
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow
Dear Rooster (A Haiku)
Cockadoodledoo!
It’s not morning, it’s MIDNIGHT.
Shut it, por favor.
So, my first Christmas away from home. Like all other things here in Guatemala, Christmas was full of new experiences. I got to my host family’s house on Thursday, and spent the entire day playing with Wilson. Just after being gone two months he already talks so much more (like saying “Ale, Esperame” (wait for me) and holding up his hand for me to wait while he goes to get toys, or “No miedo” (I’m not scared) when a firework goes off). That night he, Brenda and I went to the Posada, which is a nine-night tradition before Christmas, reenacting Joseph and Mary looking for a place to stay. Each night, Mary and Joseph statues are carted to a new house, followed by a procession of townspeople. When the procession gets to the house, the people inside the house and the people in the procession sing to each other (something along the lines of “let us in” – “no, there’s no room” – “Please let us in” – “Oh, okay”) and the figures are taken into the house and placed in a big manger scene. Then the hosts give everyone tamales or chuchitos and ponche, and sometimes there’s a piñata and/or the Guatemalan equivalent of door prizes.
Here, Christmas day is not such a big holiday, but instead Christmas Eve (Noche Buena) is the big celebration. We spent a good part of the day making 80 or so tamales and just hanging around. There was a “baile”- sort of like a parade, where kids dress up and dance in the street, and, of course, plenty of fireworks. At night we went to the barrio, where my host dad’s parents live. We had hot chocolate and pan dulce and sat around the fire sharing stories about the US and Guatemala. Eventually we headed back down to the house (packing all 10 of us in a pickup for the ride) and started a huge bonfire in the house, which we sat around waiting for midnight, when EVERYONE in the neighborhood sets off firecrackers for Jesus’ birthday. Then, after prayers, at about 1 in the morning, we had a Christmas dinner of champagne, tamales, and rice and enjoyed all of the fireworks. I went to bed shortly after (I’m an old woman here in Guatemala; I can’t remember the last time I saw midnight!) but the fireworks continued throughout the night, and my host brothers were apparently out celebrating until all hours.
Christmas morning I woke up bright and early with my second bout of violent illness since coming to Guatemala (Merry Christmas to you, too, bathroom floor!), which thankfully passed quickly and I cuddled back into bed almost until lunch. I spent the rest of the day being lazy and opening presents mailed from home. I missed my family like crazy, of course, but couldn’t think of a better place to be if I couldn’t be at home. My host brother Tono asked me this morning if all was well, and I told him yes. He then asked me “But, are you okay? I mean, are you happy?” to which I replied yes, I was, and he said “Well, that’s all that’s important. Thank you for spending Christmas with us.”- as if I had done them some sort of favor by being here. So, while the traditions and practices were completely different from my usual Christmases, I did not lack the holiday love and care that you get from being with family, and (besides the presents, of course) that’s really the best part of Christmas anyway, isn’t it?
ps- merry christmas and happy new year to all of my friends and family- and thank you for all of the love and support this year and always <3
Cockadoodledoo!
It’s not morning, it’s MIDNIGHT.
Shut it, por favor.
So, my first Christmas away from home. Like all other things here in Guatemala, Christmas was full of new experiences. I got to my host family’s house on Thursday, and spent the entire day playing with Wilson. Just after being gone two months he already talks so much more (like saying “Ale, Esperame” (wait for me) and holding up his hand for me to wait while he goes to get toys, or “No miedo” (I’m not scared) when a firework goes off). That night he, Brenda and I went to the Posada, which is a nine-night tradition before Christmas, reenacting Joseph and Mary looking for a place to stay. Each night, Mary and Joseph statues are carted to a new house, followed by a procession of townspeople. When the procession gets to the house, the people inside the house and the people in the procession sing to each other (something along the lines of “let us in” – “no, there’s no room” – “Please let us in” – “Oh, okay”) and the figures are taken into the house and placed in a big manger scene. Then the hosts give everyone tamales or chuchitos and ponche, and sometimes there’s a piñata and/or the Guatemalan equivalent of door prizes.
Here, Christmas day is not such a big holiday, but instead Christmas Eve (Noche Buena) is the big celebration. We spent a good part of the day making 80 or so tamales and just hanging around. There was a “baile”- sort of like a parade, where kids dress up and dance in the street, and, of course, plenty of fireworks. At night we went to the barrio, where my host dad’s parents live. We had hot chocolate and pan dulce and sat around the fire sharing stories about the US and Guatemala. Eventually we headed back down to the house (packing all 10 of us in a pickup for the ride) and started a huge bonfire in the house, which we sat around waiting for midnight, when EVERYONE in the neighborhood sets off firecrackers for Jesus’ birthday. Then, after prayers, at about 1 in the morning, we had a Christmas dinner of champagne, tamales, and rice and enjoyed all of the fireworks. I went to bed shortly after (I’m an old woman here in Guatemala; I can’t remember the last time I saw midnight!) but the fireworks continued throughout the night, and my host brothers were apparently out celebrating until all hours.
Christmas morning I woke up bright and early with my second bout of violent illness since coming to Guatemala (Merry Christmas to you, too, bathroom floor!), which thankfully passed quickly and I cuddled back into bed almost until lunch. I spent the rest of the day being lazy and opening presents mailed from home. I missed my family like crazy, of course, but couldn’t think of a better place to be if I couldn’t be at home. My host brother Tono asked me this morning if all was well, and I told him yes. He then asked me “But, are you okay? I mean, are you happy?” to which I replied yes, I was, and he said “Well, that’s all that’s important. Thank you for spending Christmas with us.”- as if I had done them some sort of favor by being here. So, while the traditions and practices were completely different from my usual Christmases, I did not lack the holiday love and care that you get from being with family, and (besides the presents, of course) that’s really the best part of Christmas anyway, isn’t it?
ps- merry christmas and happy new year to all of my friends and family- and thank you for all of the love and support this year and always <3
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
and you ask why i do it that way, it's just the fear of wasted time
Road Trip (A Haiku)
Bumpy old dirt roads
Eleven laughing women
Green and green and green.
To give you all an incredibly accurate portrayal of life in Guatemala:
This week we took our last women's group on their interchange trip to Totonicapán. This was our longest trip yet, and the group that lives the farthest out in the middle of nowhere- no water, no electricity. They are also my favorite group- they really enjoy each other and the traveling and joking. We started out at 8 am on Sunday- the bus picked me up last on the way out of town. We were missing about half the group because Mi Familia Progresa, a government program, was coming on Tuesday to give out money and the women couldn't miss that. We weren't planning on coming back until late Tuesday. So Rosanely decided last minute that we would come back Monday night and stay in Jocotán, where Mi Familia Progresa would be, so that everyone could go. That also meant, though, that we had to wait about an extra half hour for them to take a bus down from their community. So, we started off late but made decent time across the country (yes- more or less literally ACROSS the country) and by about 6 o'clock we were in the municipio of Totonicapán.
Right around that time it was discovered that no one in the van knew exactly how to get to the co-op we were supposed to be staying in. We therefore spent another 45 or so minutes driving around completely lost, and every person we asked for directions told us something different. The co-op, of course, was not answering their phone. After a lotttt of trial and error, we finally found the place, and Rosanely and I had to walk all over the property looking for whoever was in charge. When we finally found the little rain-booted señor, he showed us to his office, sat us down, took a deep breath, and said “Disculpe. Fijese que…”
Oh shit. Nothing good ever- EVER- comes after “fijese que”. Especially not when accompanied by a “disculpe”. I started picturing our 11 women, my counterpart, the chauffer and I trying to sleep in the squished van that already smelled like 10 hour road trip. Luckily, the problem was just that the rooms weren’t ready yet, as the people that had stayed in them the night before had only just left and “hadn’t felt like taking their bags out of the rooms”. So, could we please eat dinner while they cleaned the rooms up? Fine- I was just happy there was still (hypothetically) a bed for me somewhere.
During dinner my counterpart told me we had to go buy diapers for the women with babies because she had run out. Why she had not thought of this either: (1) at home in the past week or (2) An hour ago, before we had driven all the way out of town to the hotel, I’ll never know. But, she took the coffee out of my hands (apparently I was done…) and back into the van with the chauffer we went, telling Mr. Rainboots we were just going to the corner tienda and not to lock the gate- we would be back in five minutes.
A half-hour, ten tiendas, two chocolate bars, one pharmacy, and a panaderia later we returned, diapers (finally) in tow. We then spent the rest of the night filling out “listas” for the women to sign; one for each meal, bus trip, and hotel room. This is a particularly fun task with a group of women who neither read nor write.
The next morning we had to get an early start since we were leaving that day instead of the next. 6:30 breakfast and out the door (hopefully) by 7. Ha. Ha. Turns out, the only person that could provide a receipt (which my counterpart MUST have to get reimbursed) was not coming in until 8, so we would have to wait. Finally at 8:30 we piled back into the van and trucked it down the hill towards the community we were visiting. We picked up Doña Olga, the woman in charge, and she directed us to the community where the women were waiting.
At 9:00 we hit a road block- construction until 10. Of course. Doña Olga told us that we would have to rush through RIGHT at 10, as there were two more road blocks after this one that also opened at 10, and if we didn’t make it through them all at once who knows how long we would have to wait. Luckily we made it through the first two blocks- but ran into the third, where they told us it would be another hour. Considering the goal was to leave for home by 2:00, that didn’t sound so good. So, U-Turn on the one way, cliff side dirt road and up the back road by Doña Olga’s directions. (Please note- I don’t believe that Guatemala has anything BUT what qualifies in the states as a “back road”, so you can only imagine what a Guatemalan back road is like…)
We finally made it to the community around noon, interchanged, and began the journey home around 3. Yes, all that traveling for approximately three hours of activities. Even better, around 8 that night when we stopped for dinner, Rosanely called to have them get our rooms ready in Jocotán- and had forgotten it was the town feria in the neighboring town (that has no hotels) and so there were no vacancies. Luckily, she hunted around a bit and found a place, whch we arrived at around midnight, and slept soundly until 6 am when the women had to go get their money. Phew.
But, the thing that really makes this so classic Guatemala is that, despite all the ridiculous hassle, the interchange was absolutely the best one yet. Doña Olga is this kick-ass woman who has been working with her group for twelve years- they grow any kind of vegetable/fruit/herb you could imagine, and build houses, gutter systems, and green houses. When they were demonstrating how to turn a tire inside out to make a planter, the man who was doing it couldn’t cut the tire. Doña Olga hiked up her skirt, picked up the knife, pushed the man out of the way, and within two minutes had a planter.
The place we visited was a compound where four women- all without husbands for one reason or another- live and work together; them and their children. Highlight of my day was watching a little girl- probably nine years old- in her indigenous traje jump over the wall of a pig sty with a machete and, with one slice, chop a squash in half for the hungry, snorting pig that was probably 3 times her size. Like it was nothing.
Moral of the story is, I’m slowly learning that, while they may take way, WAY longer to do things in Guatemala, and planning/schedules are not their strong suit, if I can hold on to my patience and flexibility for the next two years (God help me!), I’m going to have a lot of absolutely incredible experiences. And, maybe, implement a few plans and some organization along the way…
Bumpy old dirt roads
Eleven laughing women
Green and green and green.
To give you all an incredibly accurate portrayal of life in Guatemala:
This week we took our last women's group on their interchange trip to Totonicapán. This was our longest trip yet, and the group that lives the farthest out in the middle of nowhere- no water, no electricity. They are also my favorite group- they really enjoy each other and the traveling and joking. We started out at 8 am on Sunday- the bus picked me up last on the way out of town. We were missing about half the group because Mi Familia Progresa, a government program, was coming on Tuesday to give out money and the women couldn't miss that. We weren't planning on coming back until late Tuesday. So Rosanely decided last minute that we would come back Monday night and stay in Jocotán, where Mi Familia Progresa would be, so that everyone could go. That also meant, though, that we had to wait about an extra half hour for them to take a bus down from their community. So, we started off late but made decent time across the country (yes- more or less literally ACROSS the country) and by about 6 o'clock we were in the municipio of Totonicapán.
Right around that time it was discovered that no one in the van knew exactly how to get to the co-op we were supposed to be staying in. We therefore spent another 45 or so minutes driving around completely lost, and every person we asked for directions told us something different. The co-op, of course, was not answering their phone. After a lotttt of trial and error, we finally found the place, and Rosanely and I had to walk all over the property looking for whoever was in charge. When we finally found the little rain-booted señor, he showed us to his office, sat us down, took a deep breath, and said “Disculpe. Fijese que…”
Oh shit. Nothing good ever- EVER- comes after “fijese que”. Especially not when accompanied by a “disculpe”. I started picturing our 11 women, my counterpart, the chauffer and I trying to sleep in the squished van that already smelled like 10 hour road trip. Luckily, the problem was just that the rooms weren’t ready yet, as the people that had stayed in them the night before had only just left and “hadn’t felt like taking their bags out of the rooms”. So, could we please eat dinner while they cleaned the rooms up? Fine- I was just happy there was still (hypothetically) a bed for me somewhere.
During dinner my counterpart told me we had to go buy diapers for the women with babies because she had run out. Why she had not thought of this either: (1) at home in the past week or (2) An hour ago, before we had driven all the way out of town to the hotel, I’ll never know. But, she took the coffee out of my hands (apparently I was done…) and back into the van with the chauffer we went, telling Mr. Rainboots we were just going to the corner tienda and not to lock the gate- we would be back in five minutes.
A half-hour, ten tiendas, two chocolate bars, one pharmacy, and a panaderia later we returned, diapers (finally) in tow. We then spent the rest of the night filling out “listas” for the women to sign; one for each meal, bus trip, and hotel room. This is a particularly fun task with a group of women who neither read nor write.
The next morning we had to get an early start since we were leaving that day instead of the next. 6:30 breakfast and out the door (hopefully) by 7. Ha. Ha. Turns out, the only person that could provide a receipt (which my counterpart MUST have to get reimbursed) was not coming in until 8, so we would have to wait. Finally at 8:30 we piled back into the van and trucked it down the hill towards the community we were visiting. We picked up Doña Olga, the woman in charge, and she directed us to the community where the women were waiting.
At 9:00 we hit a road block- construction until 10. Of course. Doña Olga told us that we would have to rush through RIGHT at 10, as there were two more road blocks after this one that also opened at 10, and if we didn’t make it through them all at once who knows how long we would have to wait. Luckily we made it through the first two blocks- but ran into the third, where they told us it would be another hour. Considering the goal was to leave for home by 2:00, that didn’t sound so good. So, U-Turn on the one way, cliff side dirt road and up the back road by Doña Olga’s directions. (Please note- I don’t believe that Guatemala has anything BUT what qualifies in the states as a “back road”, so you can only imagine what a Guatemalan back road is like…)
We finally made it to the community around noon, interchanged, and began the journey home around 3. Yes, all that traveling for approximately three hours of activities. Even better, around 8 that night when we stopped for dinner, Rosanely called to have them get our rooms ready in Jocotán- and had forgotten it was the town feria in the neighboring town (that has no hotels) and so there were no vacancies. Luckily, she hunted around a bit and found a place, whch we arrived at around midnight, and slept soundly until 6 am when the women had to go get their money. Phew.
But, the thing that really makes this so classic Guatemala is that, despite all the ridiculous hassle, the interchange was absolutely the best one yet. Doña Olga is this kick-ass woman who has been working with her group for twelve years- they grow any kind of vegetable/fruit/herb you could imagine, and build houses, gutter systems, and green houses. When they were demonstrating how to turn a tire inside out to make a planter, the man who was doing it couldn’t cut the tire. Doña Olga hiked up her skirt, picked up the knife, pushed the man out of the way, and within two minutes had a planter.
The place we visited was a compound where four women- all without husbands for one reason or another- live and work together; them and their children. Highlight of my day was watching a little girl- probably nine years old- in her indigenous traje jump over the wall of a pig sty with a machete and, with one slice, chop a squash in half for the hungry, snorting pig that was probably 3 times her size. Like it was nothing.
Moral of the story is, I’m slowly learning that, while they may take way, WAY longer to do things in Guatemala, and planning/schedules are not their strong suit, if I can hold on to my patience and flexibility for the next two years (God help me!), I’m going to have a lot of absolutely incredible experiences. And, maybe, implement a few plans and some organization along the way…
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