"cada cabeza es un mundo"

I am a big fan of this saying up top, "Cada cabeza es un mundo", which translates literally to "Every mind is a world" but more along the lines of Every mind is a universe unto itself. At any rate, that is how I feel right now about how I interact with people in a nutshell. Every interaction, every gusto (taste, like), every form of communication, every opinion can be qualified by the simple fact that every person is a unique individual in the world.

How's that for a nice big generalized and vague statement?

At any rate, I am hoping and anticipating that I will be doing some good blogging when I am actually in the states, from Dec 22nd until Jan 3rd, when I have a chance to digest and/or chew and spit out some of the cultural and personal observations that have been sitting on the backburner of my brain for a while.

In the meantime, I will say that I have been incredibly tired lately. And I have been away from my home in Xela for long periods of time. The past two weeks were filled with: 1, being a guide/translator for two families that came down to help build a house with Habitat near Lago Atitlan, and 2, the 5 day celebration of the 25,000th Habitat house built in Guatemala that was commemorated by a blitz build of 25 houses in 4 days in Zacapa, one of the hottest parts of the country. Oh my.

Tomorrow I leave Xela again to travel for work for a week. How the time flies!

Narcotraffickers for 2007.

So, after a long, violent and arduous election cycle, Guatemala has a new president-elect: Álvaro Colom.


The Guatemalan election cycle is sort of akin to the US style in the sense that there are always two rounds of elections, but that of Guatemala is structurally more diverse. Whereas in the States we have two recognized parties, the Democratic and Republican parties, in Guatemala there are as many parties as can gain recognition, registration and enough votes in time for the General Elections. However, there are generally three or four parties that hold all the power, and the rest tend to be pretty marginalized in power.

The General Elections determine all positions except for the president/vice-president: As there is always a very large number of political parties (this election cycle there were 14 in the original running), it is nearly statistically impossible for any one presidential candidate to receive 50% + 1 vote. Theoretically, it is possible, but in reality, pues, it ain't ever gonna happen, folks. So, there is nearly always La Segunda Vuelta (The Second Round) of votation, in which the two parties with the most votes for president/vice president continue campaigning for another approximate two months. (General Elections this year: Sept 9th, Second Round: Nov 4th).

At any rate, the two remaining parties were Partido Patriota (Patriotic Party) and La UNE (Union Nacional para la Esperanza - National Unity for Hope), with their presidential candidates Otto Pérez Molina and Álvaro Colom, respectively. Frankly stated, both sucked. And still suck.

Otto Pérez Molina is a retired general who helped kill lots of people during the horrendous 30+ year armed conflict during its roughest years in the 1980s. But, he also helped get the Peace Accords signed in the 1990s. The slogan of PP, and the image everywhere was LA MANO DURA, with the (unfortunately) corrupted image of the solidarity fist.....meaning....Hard/Strong/Unforgiving Hand....ie let's rule this country with an iron fist and use violence to solve the neverending problems of violence and corruption in this country.

Álvaro Colom doesn't exactly have the most transparent financial campaign records. It's widely believed to be fact that Colom's largest financial backing is through narcotraffickers, who in recent years have begun to develop an extremely large and rapidly growing interest in Guatemala as a crossroads for getting drugs overland to the States through Mexico. This is the third time that Colom has run for President, and has received unbelievable amounts of money backing him in each of the campaigns, which leads to the inevitable question of what debts does he now owe. His party slogan is "Tu Esperanza es mi Compromiso" (Your Hope is My Promise), but also, after a while (and after the shellshock of Mano Dura everywhere in your face) a sub-tagline at times of "La violencia se combate con inteligencia" (Violence is combatted with intelligence).

Every single Guatemalan I chatted with about the elections in between the two dates expressed some sort of variant of the following opinion: I am not in favor of either candidate that remains, they both have their downfalls and seem pretty bad for the country. But, I will vote because I should and I will vote for XXXX (and then their explanation and choice). Bad news bears.

But, Colom won. So here we are. And where am I? Well, my Spanish teacher is ready to fill me in on the onslaught of jokes that are bound to form around Colom. First and foremost, well, he just looks, to me, sort of dopey. But that is beyond the point. The real point is, apparently people think Colom is a bit akin to both Kermit the Frog (La Rana René in Spanish) and Milhouse from the Simpson's. I am not sure if I agree, but I will post for your judgment at any rate.




(I, personally, maybe see some Milhouse).

For Renée:

this picture:

(On Saturday I was walking down a dirt road to a small colonia being built by Habitat in Rabinal, Baja Verapaz when I saw this baby horse munching on the side of the road. He was just chilling out, able to go wherever he felt, about 20 meters away from his mom, who was tied to a nearby shrub or tree.)

my 1.5 day trip to sololá.

So, this picture doesn't really do any sort of justice to the gigantitude of the corn, but hopefully you can use your visual literacy skills to see it. The man, Diego, is one of the regional promoters for Habitat (each department, i.e. Guatemalan state, has a Guatemalan office. depending on how active the office is, each office has between 1-5 promoters who do the grunt work of talking with potential and selected Habitat families and following through on applications/construction overseeing ), leading me through a field of maiz (corn) to a family's Habitat home.

Like a good percentage of Guatemalan men that I meet/see, Diego is very slightly shorter than me. But, still, probably a good 5'3". So look long and hard at that picture. The corn is way more than twice as tall as he.

And it is absolutely beautiful.

(Also does not do ample justice to the beauty). This picture was taken with the camera above my head pointing up. I did not crouch down. It's really tall.



This is my slightly crooked view looking towards Lake Atitlan from the back of a Habitat motorcycle. Yes, Habitat motorcycle. The joys, the heartbreak, the wonder, and the (and once I have better ammunition) badass photos of Lindsey and any and all motorcycyle related glory, will come in a later entry. For now, you can see what Lake Atitlan looks like on the road back to Panajachel from a terrible digital camera shot as whisked around a hairpin turn.

Until then.

A salty and slimy comparison.

slug in my old house.


my little snail friend at my new house.

Anniversario.

6 months in Guatemala.

I am currently reading The Alchemist in Spanish.


Here's to more months abroad, more reflections, and the longing/missing of friends and family back in the states.

Fotos al azar.

A "chicken bus" (see previous entry) prior to being filled and prior to departure. This one happens to have the interior decor only of a few signs in the front that you can barely see. To really get the flavor of this, imagine it with 3 people per seat plus a random array of people and things filling all other available and unimaginable spaces.



Hello, Xela. This is the big round thing in Parque Central. You may have even received a postcard of it. The central park is sort of the heart of the city and is about one block wide and three blocks long. And on the north end of it, there's this lovely thing, which is a popular place to sit and hang out and popular for activities such as: sitting and whiling away the time; watching street dogs have gang fights or courting sessions; getting approached/approaching people for money; getting hit on or hitting on someone; whistling or hissing at strangers; giggling at lost foreigners; reveling in the ability to drink a beer in the open; seeing teenagers feel cool as they smoke, and so on and so forth.



This is the street corner one block up from the part, looking toward the cross street, 3a Calle, where Trama, the women's weaving cooperative/my old volunteer job (and the same street that around the corner past the people, a few doors down, my old house) is located.



Job #1: This the view looking into Trama's store, where I spent a hell of a lot of time folding stuff, translating for customers who wanted to ask the women questions, putting tags on random items, and chasing Oralia's kids around. But, in short, here are all the pretty textile things I was surrounded with...



...And, here are all the textiley things before they are made into textiley things! This is the thread store where I bought most of my thread that I have woven with/ where Trama buys its threads for its big orders.



And, me, looking like an idiot, setting up one of my weavings in the office at Trama.



Job #2: This is "El Cuartito" (the little room), the bar/cafe where I work. Pictured are various friends and coworkers at the despedida (goodbye party) for my friend Maja who just went back to Denmark.



A view of El Cuartito looking back from the opposite side of the table of where the first picture was taken. Through the doorway behind everyone is where one goes to find the next picture...



This is my El Cuartito dwelling place, ie working behind the bar. From left to right is my manager, Daniel; the owner, Osman (who bought the cafe from the original owners in May); and of course, me, with a bewildered smile on my face.


So, in sum, a partial illustration of the previous post, a snapshot of Xela, and my old (well, in the case of El Cuartito, soon to be old...as of September 3rd) places of employment.

My rendering of the "Chicken Bus"

Check out any text for tourists on Guatemala and you're bound to find a description (and sometimes horribly racist so) of the buses in Guatemala. The most common forms of transport across the country are old schoolbuses, usually from the states or Canada, that are brought down and given a whole new life in Guatemala. They're always painted different colors (I've never seen a yellow one), usually bright blues, reds, oranges, and/or greens, and all have names - sometimes depending on the busline, sometimes on the tastes of the operators. On the front top, where it would normally say SCHOOL BUS, it says the route of the bus. The little boy or man who shouts the destination and takes your fare helps throw your stuff on top of the bus, and sometimes hopefully secure it. Inside, there are always racks attached to the ceiling running the length of the bus over the two aisles of seats for you to shove your stuff in, and there is nearly always a rail also running along the ceiling to hold to (very much needed) like in a subway.

As for the decor, well....it's always a treat. One standard is that there will always be some sort of blessing or statement about god, a la "que Dios te bendiga" (may god bless you) or "¡cuando tienes un problema, no se lo digas a Dios tan grande tu problema, pero dile a tu problem tan grande es tu Dios!" (that's not exactly what it said in Spanish, but close...and saying...."when you have a problem, don't complain to god about how big your problem is, but tell your problem how grand God is"), which also may or may not be painted over the back or sides of the bus as well. The bendictions are always terriffic when contrasted with say, plastic hot rod chick stickers, or, playbunny type stickers, or Calvin pissing stickers, or, weird Disney stickers. Sometimes, all of the old signs from when it was a school bus further north (like if you misbehave on the bus we'll tell your principal), in English, are still there. Sometimes, there will be the weirdest decorations on the walls/ceiling ever (painted ceiling +Tweety bird stickers + Dios te ama (god loves you) stickers + fuzzy dice + some sort of weird portrait of a patron saint and Jesus on the cross + speakers that may fall on you at any moment blaring either Banda or Reggaeton music + (this was the best I've seen...) a full out mini tv strapped into the front of the bus playing music videos or poorly copied dvds of movies...).

Now, on to the experience of a "chicken bus". First of all, both entrances are game (ie, front door and back emergency exit door), and not all things that appear bound to the floor or ceiling are not actually as they seem, although you very much need them to be. Anyways, Guatemala, as you hopefully may know, is a MOUNTAINOUS country. And the highways - which are really for the most part double lane roads - cut curve and climb the mountains. Every road is a creative interpretation of the beautiful landscape that you consequently feel in your stomach. Anyways, due to the hilly nature, there are random speed bumps (and not particularly well made ones) everywhere, usually coinciding with something we more or less would think of as bus stops. However, it seems like anyone, anywhere on the road in Guatemala is pretty much fair game to be a potential passenger or to call a bus over and board. So, we have the 'dále dále' or 'guate guate' men/boys mentioned earlier. Their job is to hang outside the door or climb all over the bus screaming the destination and some major intermediate stops so that aforementioned passengers-to-be or unwitting people walking along the side of the street, know exactly where that bus is barreling towards. They also are the ones who haul your luggage (backpack, basket, giant sack of vegetables, livestock, bicycle, whatever) on top of the bus so as to be (hopefully) transported with you, and charge your fare inside of the bus.

But, really, their primary role is to get the bus to optimal capacity. And when I say optimal, I mean holy-shit-I-didn't-think-another-person-could-fit-in-here nevertheless-5-more-plus-some-chickens capacity. Buses where the seats would normally fit two adults are nearly always packed to three plus either one or two seated leaners - ie those that are in the aisle with their ass marginally associated with a bus seat, leaning across the aisle using their shoulders or whatever body part to brace themselves against the nearest person, making themselves in the end in to some sort of human keystone linking the arc of people from one side of the bus to the other. If there are no seated leaners, then we have the standing passengers, also filling up the entire length of the aisle. They are encouraged to stand in whichever way will allow more people to enter, regardless of such essential factors as...balance, items carried in hand, babies strapped to backs, people that need to get off the bus, chickenes stuffed in baskets that are about to fall out of the overhead bins to hold possessions, getting your passage fare from you through the sea of people to the man collecting it, or butts and crotches in the faces of seated passengers. So, needless to say, it becomes a, em, tight situation. Always.

But, this would almost be fine, if it weren't for the aforementioned problems: Guatemala is not flat, nor straight. And neither are the surfaces and contours of the road, by any means. So, as you try and fit yourself between a woman with a small child on her back taking up the space of nearly 2 people but trying to pretend it's one, and the man whose face inevitably, because you're standing next to him, is at boob level, you have the additional joy of being subjected to the most ridiculous hairpin turns taken at lightning quick speeds. I stand by what I said to myself cerca 5 months ago: aside from futbol (soccer), the next national sport is passing as quickly as possible on blind curves. And I mean, blind. And fast.

And that, my friends, is my brief portrait of the "chicken bus", called so, because of foreigners shock at the livestock that is often transported along with humans. In reality, they're called "camionetas" which just means bus. But, the hysterical crowdedness, ridiculous speeds, and interesting choices of transportation are just one and all a part of what you do. And, as I get more and more used to riding public transportation that is actually affordable and reliable to get around here, I sometimes forget to take note or explain the humor in those things that I have now taken as commonplace but are not exactly what I am accustomed to in the states.

As I get more accustomed...

....to living here... I forget to take note of the little differences around me. The trash piles that no one gives a second thought; the way that men and women in the market prop themselves up on a blanket to sit for long periods of time; the incredible diversity of color, dress, and language that surrounds me when I go anywhere; the act of going to a market to procure anything and everything for consumption; the routine packing of 12 person vans to 20; the diversity of salutations on the street; the whistling, hissing, or ch-ch-ing that every other man does on the street to a woman and gets away with it; the entire set of reggaeton songs that I know and can sort of mumble along to but fall under a genre and scene of music that I would NEVER know in the states; the firecrackers and fireworks at all times of day and night, all week along - for there is always a reason to set them off; the confusing hand gesture that to foreigners at first means "go away!" but actually means "hurry up, you or come here"; the number of 6-14 year old children I pass on the street that should clearly be in school but are instead helping their parents or just aren't forced to go; the 6-10 year old boys that work and are the strongholds of micro-bus and chicken bus** entry management - ie, those that scream the destination of whatever moving vehicle half hanging out of the window and/or open door and skillfully (and dare I say it...even...gracefully) help shove more people into said vehicle than thought humanly possible; strangers on the street actually looking you in the eye just to greet you; and, of course, speaking Spanish everyday.

**I realize that in my short and very lacking narrative of my experience in Guatemala, I have managed to leave out an explanation of the "chicken bus". This will follow shortly (tomorrow).

uno, dos, tres

1. For those who still don't know, I am taking next semester off from school as well so as to remain down here. It remains to be seen if I will continue to stay in Xela or if I will go to Mexico.

2. I moved locations from Casa Internacional to Dicap, the apartments where my friend Cheka lives. On Saturday I will most likely change locations again to the Yoga House, which is cheaper, slightly dirtier (but still cleaner than Casa Internacional), more co-opy, and includes free yoga with my rent.

3. I have a mysterious cold/allergy duo.

Hey look, pictures/I do exist!

This is the view looking out from Cheka's apartment toward Zunil. This apartment is my second home, as it is generally the only place I can shower due to the general lack of water in the shower at my house. (june 14th)


This is Carla, the cutest baby in the world, who just turned 1 year old. She is the daughter of Oralia, one of the two women I work with, and perhaps the best behaved and sweetest baby I have ever met (midst my very limited baby-knowing years). Her birthday party was quite the extravaganza, including two piñatas, a ton of fried chicken (a real treat for the family, from Pollo Campero - Guatemala's less-sketchy version of KFC), two cakes (including the alcohol soaked cake that is extremely popular here but is just....soggy cake to me), fresh cinnamon tea, a new outfit for Carla, freshly made cinnamon tea, many friends and family, fireworks, and a lot of laughing. It's interesting because Oralia, her mother/vice president of TRAMA Textiles (the organization I volunteer full time at), lives in Sololá, a different department that is quite the travel. As a result, she and her kids reside in Xela during the week living at TRAMA, and the kids go to school in Xela, while her husband (Israel, pictured holding her), stays in their community. They go home almost every weekend but not quite. So, as Oralia explained to me, Carla has spent more of her life (and hence more of her home) in TRAMA rather than in their community, and so instead of holding the birthday party at home in Sololá, it was held in TRAMA - meaning that all of the family from the community had to travel to Xela. This also consequentially relates to the interesting issue of language - very few people in Oralia's village speak Spanish (she is one of the few) - they all speak Kakchiquel (a Mayan dialect). But, each of Oralia's children from oldest to youngest subsequently knows less and less Kakchiquel, because they spend more of their time in Xela speaking Spanish than at home speaking Kakchiquel.

While it's a privilege to speak Spanish and an almost essential skill in Guatemala, as the language barrier for many indigenous people is the one of the greatest barriers to fair wages, it's extremely intriguing/crazy for me to realize that the younger children of the family often lose the ability to communicate fluently with their families because of the push for homogeneity with Spanish language. It certainly provides more economic and educational opportunity, but it doesn't really seem to me that Carla, when she grows up could be equally ostracized or discriminated against by indigenous and ladino (non-indigenous) populations - by one for not conforming to Western standards of dress - and by the other for not speaking Kakchiquel fluently. In short, thinking about concepts of viable and non-discriminatory pluri-cultural societies blows my mind. (the photo is from yesterday, june 16th)


This is Jeremy, Marlisa, and me in the aforementioned hostel in Guate where Che Guevara stayed. We are sunburned, ready to go to Xela, and sick of waiting for the very cute little girl to the left's sister, whom I allowed to play with my camera and take a picture of us, to figure out how to sacar a photo that actually has us in it. (june 2nd)


This is the whole TRAMA Textiles gang that makes up my 9 to 5 (and more) life. In the picture are the two women I work with at TRAMA, Oralia and Amparo, and the kids. The kids are all Oralia's, and from left to right it is Kevin (6), Oralia (vicepresidente), Carla (1), Wilson (about to blow out the candles on his..um..delicious...soaked cake for his 9th birthday), and finally Amparo (presidente). (may 17th)



This is my most recent room - ie where I have been living for the last 2 months (in Casa Internacional). It is also the suspect of my bad allergies, as there is some sort of black mold on the ceiling. However, one of the positive aspects of the room is this mural which says 'En lengua K'iche no decimos adios sino...' and then I can't remember how to spell the K'iche words...and then in parentheses...'volveré a hablarte'. So, that means, In the K'iche language (another Mayan dialect), we don't say goodbye but rather (K'iche stuff I can't remember the letters of), I will return to talk to you.


As part of working at TRAMA I get to learn how to weave (I have to translate for the weaving students). This was my first weaving project - a scarf for Heather's birthday. Since making this scarf in the beginning of May, I have woven two other scarves. This type of weaving is called backstrap loom weaving (telar de cintura), and it is incredibly time consuming and hard to do, but beautiful (although not so much my projects...).


This is the view from the porch of the house we rented at the beach in the middle of May. So, this is the sand responsible from my some odd 200 beach flea bites. However, the view and the hammocks and the water were definitely worth the nasty bites I received.


This is after Xela won. It began pouring so we took respite from the drunken shouting and rain in a bar amazingly called beer zone. After entering we received a hilarious number of drunk comments from some very excited Quetzaltecos, including the one here who insisted on a picture with all of us. From left to right, the swede couple, drunk man whose name i cannot remember for the life of me, sage, me, and cheka. (may 26th)


This is the view hiking down from Lago Chicabal (however, of course, right side up), looking toward the community of San Martín Chile Verde, which is also the community where Amparo lives. (beginning of march)


This is one of the entrance ways into Lago Chicabal. You have to hike up a big mountain to get to the Mirador (the viewing point) and then down a ton of stairs to actually get to the lake itself. (beginning of march)

Xela won the national cup (I don't actually know what it's called - I'm just making that up), which meant for lots of drunken rampaging through the streets and even more fireworks than usual (who knew that was possible?!).

Rainy season started. Boo. But, it's actually not that bad. Unlike in New England, you know that the rain will stop and you will get some sunshine before it all starts over again. Basically, it rains nearly every day without fail in the evenings and sometimes afternoons.

My mini trip to Guatemala City was great. I stayed in a hostel type place where Che Guevara stayed back in the day. I didn't get robbed. My visa got renewed painlessly. Jeremy and Marlisa are here, which is also great. I somehow picked up a Honduran suitor in Guate, which was not so great.

My eyes have taken to being blood shot for the past 5 days, which again results in many questions akin to 'what the hell happened to you', but in Spanish.

I still haven't found a replacement for my volunteer job at TRAMA, which means my traveling plans will be modified a bit because I won't be able to take off from Xela quite yet.

I keep meaning to update this, but don't quite get to it.

Lists are the preferred mode.

1. I walked into a telephone pole wire last Friday night, with the end result of a badass black eye...cheek...forehead...arm. The women I work with don't believe that I'm that clumsy.

2. I decided that 5 weeks of diarrhea was a good enough chunk of time to make myself go get a stool sample. Then, of course, it took me almost 2 more weeks before actually getting the results to a doctor (or gave the test results to a friend to give to his doctor to diagnose). Today, I finally bought the antibiotics. It's a proud day.

3. In the past, err, month or so since I last updated there have been several things in Xela such as;
A. random helter-skelter protests (sometimes there are secondary students just walking down the street with their colegio not in conjunction with anything else; pretty much all of which are in response to the big government push to privatize education)
B. A music festival in Xela that was all over this 5 block radius in the streets....with some of the worst rock in the world, but an extremely awesome El Salvadorean drum circle that showed up to a dance club and made the bad reggaeton stop just so that they could play. They made me miss the marching band in Providence.
C. Xela's soccer team made it to the finals, which hasn't happened in 11 years. I'm not really sure how winning the tournament works, but even though they lost last night there will be another game on Saturday. We'll see how that goes!

4. I went to the beach with all of my roommates and a smattering of other people for a weekend (about 3/5 foreigners, 2/5 Guatemalans). We rented a house in the middle of nowhere on the coast that we had to ourselves (all 20 of us) and brought tons of food and alcohol (apparently the other staple here, aside from water) to this house. Thus far in my time in Guatemala I don't think I've ever been confronted with such a stark contrast in living situations. We rolled in on this dirt road in a private van at 9:30am on a Saturday morning with reggaeton blasting through the windows past hundreds of small houses without electricity. We must have been going atleast 40mph on this dirt road, kicking up dust, making noise, and drawing understandably annoyed/confused looks from most around us. The house, which was beautiful, was right smack in the middle of the beach. It was the only private house for miles made with solid wood beams/concrete. Pigs, trash, horses, tons of stray dogs were our most immediate neighbors. And there we were, with our little vacation that was so much in contrast to everything around us. I'm not doing a terribly good job of explaining the issues that I had, but hopefully I will be more successful later. It was incredibly beautiful and the water was amazing; although my body has about 200 bites from beach fleas still. Also, I never knew how much my roommates can drink. Wow. Pretty much 40 hours straight of drunkenness.

5. Jeremy and Marlisa come in a week. My visa expires on Monday (so I have to go on the epic travel journey that all the long term foreigners do here...the visa journey...to Guatemala City to renew it). My closest friend that I have here leaves on Tuesday. And the tourist season, which ironically coincides with the worst weather season (rainy season/'winter'), starts right about now. In short, much change to come!

In brief.

1. I live in a place called Casa Internacional. It's like a hostel meets a house. 2 Guatemalan university students, 2 Spanish Teachers, 1 Girlfriend of Spanish Teacher who's a tour guide, 2 foreign volunteers, plus me and my roommate...ie I a friend of mine who wants to have a room just in case....even though in the past two and a half weeks since I've moved she hasn't stayed in the room once.
1b. Casa Internacional is dirty as hell, and I've managed to only shower once (showering at friends' houses are better), but it's an endearing place.
1c. I think courtyards are awesome.
1d. We have two crazy cats. They're pretty scared of people, but one of them finally let me pet her last night.

2. I work at TRAMA, a weaving association/cooperative of mostly indigenous women in the western highlands of Guatemala. I work 9-5 there Monday through Friday, although I leave a little earlier on Mondays and Wednesdays, because I work as a barista/waitress at a cafe called El Cuartito. Although at TRAMA we are currently redoing everything on it and it's quite out of the date, including the catalog, the website can be checked out to get a general sense of who the organization is. The link is right here. My work at TRAMA is hard to explain, and I will go through it more later, but it's certainly challenging and interesting.

3. I managed to get rid of my unwanted Guatemalan suitor. Woohoo.

4. I'm still very siked on being here, although I am worried about the coming rainy season.

5. I may have forgotten what it's like to have normal bowel movements.

6. I still can't get over how unbelievably fresh, tasty, and cheap produce is here.

7. I need to get better at writing entries again.

w00t.

Charlie.

Okay, so I keep on putting off writing about Holy Week, and I promise I will write of it, but for now I have a story that will more than substitute I think***. And, it will substitute sufficiently because it goes to show that you will inevitably meet....em...interesting...people while abroad. So, I´m going to take you way back to about two weeks ago when I was at a bar/cafe with some friends having a beer and gawking at this incredibly drunk man, who was falling off his chair left and right because he was so drunk. Midst his shouts of wooooooohooo and immer reeeel americun, and a bit too much swinging of the beer glass, I made my way forward to talk with my friend Julie, the bartender, who explained that Charlie was an U.S. expat (of about 35 years) who had a farm in San Pedro and was apparently taking a vacation in Xela for a little while. He had showed up drunk the previous day during the afternoon, plopped himself down at the bar, and emptied his sleeves of 4 giant ziplock bags of marijuana, proudly proclaiming ´´YALL WANT SOME WEED?´´. And, more or less, he hadn´t left since. Well, as my, I would like to think, defense tactics tell me to stay away from drunk and crazy men, I kept my distance. But, my male friends, had a jolly old time conversing...if you could call it that...with him.

Anyways, apparently he´s still around a lot, but I hadn´t seen him since that week, until I was walking down the street with my friend Matt in search of these tasty Taiwanese empanadas that I found. Matt is quite the awesome character in general, but an additional spectacle is his giant beard/moustache/ medium longish hair spectacle, combined with scholar´s spectacles (ie what you would imagine someone literary philosopher from eastern Europe wearing during the early 20th century) and an army green militaryish jacket. In short, I don´t think I´ve gone more than three days at a time with Matt without hearing a joke being thrown around about him looking like Fidel Castro (although I don´t actually see the resemblence.....just..... dark hair and....beard). So, I´m walking past this little hole in the wall bar yesterday craving empanadas, and we hear a battlecry following us as we pass ´´FIDEL, get yer ass in here and have a beer with me´´, and we see Charlie come lurching out of the door. Matt explains that we´re on our way for empanadas but we´ll return. So we go for empanadas, and the restaurant is closed (Holy Week schedules are not predictable by any means), so Matt urges that we should return to the little cantina, and assures me that he can chug that beer quickly so we can leave and get food somewhere else.

So, we turn around and go back, and as I enter, you know, the first glorious thing that comes singing out of Charlie´s mouth is ´´Hey Fidel, how´d ya get such a nice lookin girl to come round with ya. She Danish? I hope she´s Danish.´´ Great, point one against. So, I pipe up explaining no, I´m from Rhode Island. Well, Charlie explains, he hates America, and do we want a beer or a soda pop? So Matt and I sit down to have a beer (after an apologetic set of glances for Charlie in general with the woman working the store), and we commence to receive...the FULL Charlie experience. I can´t give the best chronological arrangement of our conversation, but I will highlight the following points....that...well...are interesting to say the least. Quotes denote specifics not of yours truly, but Charlie.

1. I drove down (´stoned off my ass´) from California in a VW bus in 1971 with a friend of mine. I ain´t goin back.

2. Ya know I´m the only ´´whitie´´ that owns property in San Pedro (one of the many towns around Lago Atitlan, one of the most scenic and well known places to visit in Guatemala....filled with drugged out hippy expats often....),. and damned if any of ém locals will sell property to more whities.

3. It´s hard growing drugs, but it´s good money, ya know. When yall travel (Matt, I, whoever else), if ya want to buy a pound of marijuana for 800Q (roughly $107) , you should go to this shed in the afternoon and tell ém that Charlie sent you.
4. Have youmet Space Dave? He looks just like ya, Matt, cept his beard´s white. You can always tell when Space Dave is around because he makes the damn best pot cookies around. And, because the street dogs always get to the scraps of every meal, you can find where he is buy the number of drugged up dogs on the sidewalk.

4b. Also, Space Dave sells the best crack. Do we want some crack? (Matt´s reply, No thanks, we´re not into crack). Well, me neither, but every once in a while I just need to BLOW MY MIND, ya KNOW? and FOR-GIIIIIT that I´m an American. Yall better work on getting George Bush out now, ya here?

5. One time, two FBI agents and a woman came to my farm (background info: about 2 or 3 years back there were many drug raids in San Pedro and surrounding areas during a crack down on the drug trade) to try and bust me up. And I told ´em, if you come here on my property, Imma shoot yer leg off and burn ya and then throw ya in the lake. We ain´t in American anymore, I can do that. And the next day, they left, damn they did. Ya know, I´m all for peace, but ya gotta use violence sometimes you know.

6. I live behind Pollo Campero (the popular Guatemalan fast food chain that also delivers food on motor bikes) and damn do I hate those guys on their bikes. So I have this big window, right, and it´s so damn loud VEERRROOW VRRRROOM and sometimes when they can´t see me I´ll poke my head out and shoot ém with my bee bee gun (please don´t make fun of my spelling of that...). Suckers.

And that is Charlie. And that is my story for the day.


***So, my footnotes are the following 1, Alcoholism and addiction are diseases and I recognize that. But, at times I feel it is necessary to take stock of how ridiculous a situation can be and to relate it just to get it off one´s chest. 2, My story should not be taken as any sort of indication of danger in Guatemala.....I don´t feel any more in danger here than in Providence. 3, Lastly, hopefully this doesn´t offend anyone, but let me know if it does.

Holy crap.

I think the title about sums it up. The only words I can say about the past two weeks...are...holy crap! I don´t know if it´s possible in any way to convey how much has changed for me in the past week about being here, but changed in good ways!

Here´s a quick rundown:
...I changed schools (INFINITELY better, and apparently the other school is kind of in a crisis right now anyways. At this school, Juan Sisay, I had to take tests at the beginning of the week to assess my level..which is advanced, who knew? And my teacher is SO much better. He really understands grammar..I mean...really understands grammar. And so we´re going over select parts of grammar on a deeper level, not just passing over the vague version of all the stuff that I´ve learned before, like I was doing at my old school.)
...I changed families (SO MUCH BETTER. The food is great. She cooks with TVP and soy and all of this great stuff, too!)
...I´ve started hanging out with people that speak Spanish instead of English. (woohoo)
...I started working at a cafe (It´s crazy...I work for 8 quetzals an hour plus tips....so en total about 12 quetzals an hour...ie $1.50. It puts into perspective a lot about working and money for me.)
...I started getting hit on a lot (no tengo ningún idea porque ahora si y antes no).
...I started looking for an apartment with a friend I met here.
...I realized I´ve been here for over a month!
...Semana Santa is coming up, which means a crazy week for everyone. (More on this one later. Get siked)
...I was told I don´t have a gringa accent (though, of course, I don´t have a Latin accent either, but hey, not gringa is good!).
...I got my first bad sunburn...only on my face (consequently, every night the favorite joke was to ask if I was drunk because my face was so red..).
...I had my first realization that I wish I could stay longer.


Okay, so that about sums it up for now. Time to go eat lunch!

hasta luego!

Too much english.

So, in the past week my life here has seen a signifcant change in the volume of English spoken, which is ultimately not a good thing. I finally went to EntreMundos, the clearinghouse organization of international volunteers, to poke around and look at the volunteer job offerings. There is a woman´s weaving cooperative called Trama that is looking for a new volunteer coordinator, and that is a possibility. However, I haven´t been able to get a hold of the girl doing that job now to figure out what sort of timeline they´re looking for.

The other organization that I was interested in (and am now perplexed by) is this organization called Union de Trabajadores Quetzaletco (UTQ - Quetzaltenangoan Workers Union, more or less). They are an everything but the kitchen sink sort of organization consisting of unions, a school sort of, a clinic sort of, general organizing, sort of a broader union, and I´m not quite sure what else. But, according to the description they were looking for an intern to help with a bunch of different things, including research and help getting their newsletter back off the ground again. When I went to talk to the man, Oswaldo, it was painfully clear to me that there was no defined role of volunteers and everything was helter skelter. The main thing that they´re looking for is more funding, but for which programs or projects in particular I´m not yet sure. There were two other volunteers there when I arrived (one of whom left today) that Oswaldo wanted me to talk to, so I didn´t get the chance to talk for as long as I wanted to with him or his assistant, Rosaria.

I decided to definitely take this coming week off from classes, so I plan on going into UTQ during the mornings for this week, to try and get a feel of if I would like to work there longer term. Then, hopefully, in the afternoon(s) I can go to Trama. I may change schools, too, for the next week, I´m not really sure. And, I´m considering living in a different living situation as well, so a lot of possible changes coming up...we´ll see!

Hasta luego.

Lago Chicabal + Fútbol.

before i begin, today bush is supposed arrive today at about 1:30 in guatemala. already, i have had quite a number of interesting conversations (condemnations) about/of bush. after he has been here for a little while and there have been protests against him and bad speeches made by him, i will be sure to talk more about it.

LAGO:

yesterday i hiked up a small volcano to see a small sacred lake named lago chicabal with 3 other people. two students from my school that leave for other parts of guatemala today (the german girl, sara, and the crazy italian man, enzo) and a guide (incidentally the brother of my teacher, angelica) and i climbed this little volcano. well, it was definitely vale la pena (worth the pain) for the view, but my god, i felt like i was going to die at times. the hike, when all was said and done, was not that hard, and it was only about an hour to the top, but wow was i tired and winded. we went super slow and it wasn´t that steep. i can only chock it up to the much higher altitude (and the fact that the only exercise i get now is walking around the city, which i only do about half to one hours worth of per day.) i knew to expect it to be harder to breath, but it´s still such a weird sensation that i wasn´t expecting - it was kind of what i expected having asthma to be like.

the end result is that i´m not sure if i could handle hiking other volcanos in the area that i wanted to -there´s one volcano named santa maria that had a huge eruption in the early 1900s that covered xela, killed some 1500 people, and somehow spawned another mini volcano (i think it´s name is migeulito? or something like that) that has constant activity, spewing out gases, rocks, smoke, etc into the area. santa maria takes about 4 or 5 hours to hike, and it´s a lot steeper and higher. you pass a ring of clouds before you get to the top, which seems pretty amazing to me. there is also another volcano that is the highest point in central america (only a little bit taller than santa maria, but i´m blanking on the name), where you can see to mexico on the other side. but, who knows if i will be able to do those or not! my friend xander hiked santa maria last week and was sore for about 5 days later.



LA COMIDA/ FOOD:

i´ve also decided, that i´ve gained weight since arriving. i definitely eat less here than at home (because i actually eat at regular times), but i seem to be successfully packing it on. i think it´s because with every meal you eat francesa*(basically plain white bread) or tortillas. i guess if any a proof needed to exist for the atkins diet, i would be it. it´s hard because it´s mildly offensive to refuse the francesa or tortillas i don´t think i´ve had a whole grain since i arrived, and come to think of it i think that´s what i´m craving. perhaps this week i will go to the bake shop (yes, named so) and buy some whole wheat bread. the bake shop is this little shop run by mennonites that is open only on tuesdays and fridays, and they make their own granola, bread, yogurt, but most everyone comes to buy fresh donuts.**

last tuesday, my teacher from that week, marvin, took me there and we both had mango yogurt, which, a few hours later, i´m pretty sure became the culprit of the horrible traveler´s sickness that i had/have, which has mostly gone, but still is kind of hanging around to bug my bowels at times. so, for the past week, my stomach has been, ehh, iffy and uncomfortable to say the least, but since friday afternoon it´s at least felt liveable.

i had an interesting interaction with blanca, my host mom, the other day, where she explained to me, as she was cooking some potatoes, that the doctor told her not to eat potatoes, rice, or francesa because she had high cholestrol. well, either i misunderstood the word for cholestrol (which is pretty straight forward) or there is some weird medical advice, because i can think of a lot of other things besides those starches that we eat that would be responsible for the cholestrol. additionally, after saying this, she pointed to her sides and her thigh, and said that was the reason she was a little fat (which she isn´t)....which is again, a bit contrary to what i would normally think. but, that´s how it was!



PARTIDO DEL FUTBOL:

so, on wednesday night (bad stomach pains and all), the 4 students from the school went to a soccer game between xela´s team and one of the 3 teams from guatemala city. xela was 2nd ranked and the municipal 1st (and they were only separated in the league by one point), so it was a very contentious match. well, as was expected, we heard tons of bad words, and of course, our fair share of italian swears coming out of our very own enzo. although all areas of the stadium are very, um, enthusiastic, about the game, we had the luck of sitting in an area with a lot of teenagers who had brought with them lots of props. after entering the stadium with much difficulty*** (see note).

the best was at the beginning of the game, when about 4 teenagers climbed up on top of the fence that separates the fans from the field, and straddled the fence holding fire extinguishers. then, right before the game began, from seemingly every different direction, there were fireworks going off (some other time, i will talk about my revelations about fireworks), sparklers, lit torches, noisemakers, streamers, and finally, from the fire extinguishers, colored smoke - red and blue - the colors of the xela team - that they spewed out for a good minute or so. haha, thankfully, my camera takes small videos, and thankfully as well, i had a bandana with me to cover my face because it was impossible to breath during and shortly after the pyrotechnic extravaganza. following the excitement, we were all covered in a good thick layer (and i mean thick) of reddish brown dust. again, thank you bandana, because i was able to dut myself, waterbottle, and camera off. well, xela won 2-0, which was quite exciting for us and meant they upset the number one team. they played yesterday, too, but i guess they ended up losing 0-1.

SO, that´s all for now. i am very much hoping to look at some places to volunteer this week. we´ll see!

------------------------

*so, ironically the word francesa (plain white bread here) is the same word you use to refer to a female from france. i was told a story about one afternoon when there was a cooking lesson for the activity. one french student who attended the school turned extremely red when he was told that they needed francesa to cook!

**on a side note, products here seem to be worth more or are more desirable if they have english thrown into the titles. it usually ends up being really repetitious adjectives, but my favorite so far is MEGA BIG soda.

***we had 4 different people working for the stadium try and tell us that we couldn´t bring our plastic bottles filled with water into the stadium, followed by people telling us oh it´s okay we could, followed by no, followed by yes, etc. enzo, thankfully, was able to point out that we were two americans, a german, and an italian, and no, not to worry, we would NOT be throwing the bottles at the players or the opposing fans. after several arguments, and my pleading that i needed water because i was sick, and that we would put the bottles in my backpack after we finished so that other people couldn´t throw them, they finally let us go.

student protests.

so! i wanted to write about friday night (friday was my first full day in xela). the heart of xela is el parque central (central park) a park of about two blocks in the middle of the city surrounded by a gazillion banks, a museum, a shopping center, some fancy hotels, and a two churches. inside the park is this odd greek-styled rotunda (apparently it´s called a kiosk?) thing made out of cement. the most common building material here seems to be cement. anyways, lots of exciting events go down in el parque central, and the first weekend i was there had a lot going on, because it was the first weekend of the month. so, even though the streets around the park are one way anyway, half of one of them was blocked off as there were vendors everywhere with food, snacks, drinks, crafts, and so on. in the back of a blocked off street, there were also rides for kids. anyways, during my first day of classes, i walked around with angelica, and she told me about the city and showed me a bunch of different places, things, etc. in addition, she explained that i really should attend the student protests that night; so i did.

so i arrive, and the entire park is filled with people. the atmosphere is like a fair, there are families snacking, teenagers drinking in the shadows, and people milling about everywhere. there´s a huge stage set up and people talking so quickly that i couldn´t figure out what words i was hearing, nevertheless translate them. so i look up at the stage only to see...a mass of people standing (and passing through the crowds) in robes like the kkk. oh my, if you can only imagine my shock. todos the students were wearing robes, of different colores, covering their entire faces and bodies that are shaped..... exactly like KKK robes. except, they are different colors - blue, black, purple, lavendar. but, to boot, most of them are also carrying a short stick, like a baton to beat people with...and i´m thinking to myself what the hell?! well, anyways, both robes and batons are symbolic because in years past students were killed, tortured, persecuted and so on for speaking out against the government. and even though now in theory they would be fine, it{s an added measure of protection and of tradition to show up disfrazados (disguised/costumed) in order make their very long, swear-ridden, but mostly truthful condemnations and statements about the local and national governments, recent events, and various candidates for office. the different colors represent various deparments of the university (the public university here is called san carlos; most of the public universities lean quite heavily to the left and the private ones to the right), but still nonetheless, it was quite a shock and quite interesting. there were so many people there, and the protests are regular every friday night, although they change location depending upon which weekend of the month it is. so anyways, it´s a goal of mine to actually understand what the students are saying while they are saying it (instead of slowly translating their little pamphlets) by the time that i leave - if i can understand words spoken so quickly and so distorted by amplifiers as theirs, then i will be able to understand almost anything.

as for my new teacher: his name is marvin, he´s 24, a student at san carlos, quite short, and he enjoys making jokes that just barely make it over my head (ie, i usually catch on about 40 seconds later). he´s only been teaching for about a year, but he seems to me to be a good teacher. it´s quite difficult for me to figure out what i need at this point in order to improve. i want to make sure that i´m getting my money´s worth out of school, but i have no idea wha that, in practicality, means.

it´s like i have this giant cesspool with a mix of different stuff- verb agreement, various articles, verb tenses, and some vocabulary that sloshes around a lot in my head. at times, i´m able to pick out the right parts and use them, but for the most part, it´s all kind of a big mess. miraculously though (and this is what surprised me and the teachers i have had) buried deep down in the murky depths of my brain, i have all of the elements of correct grammar stored (who knew?). i do know all the tenses, i know their uses, i know the differences between estar y ser, between por y para, etc, but all this knowledge surfaces only when it feels like it. i also think there must be something akin to a layer of velcro in my head, that, through the years has been covered with cat hair. consequently, only some vocab sticks, and some, no matter how hard i try, keeps falling off. so, in total, i have this really random assortment of words that i know and use, words that i understand, and words that look or feel somewhat familiar to me but i can´t quite place. the end result is that i´m not quite sure how to go forward with my studies. everyone seems convinced (teachers, friends, family) that the vocab will come with time from listening to people, watching tv, etc, but i´m not sure.

i guess at this point i worry that i don´t have enough homework or that my spanish will stay at the same weird skill level that it´s at now. after class, i spend usually around 2 hours at some point during the day reading other texts in spanish, and i try to talk as much as possible with my family (although difficult), but i´m just not sure what´s best. there are definitely different styles of teaching, and i could most definitely switch schools (i´ve only paid for 2 weeks so far) and there are some odd 40 schools in xela, but it´s hard to tell what i actually need.

moving on, there are only 4 students in my school: a german girl of about the same age, a girl from tenessee who just finished nursing school, an older italian man that is a bit full of himself but quite hilarious and good with his words (spanish and italian are very similar), and me. tonight the school activity is to go to the futbol game between the municipal (the xela team) and the capital (guatemala city). it should be quite the adventure; i´m pretty siked for it. as our teachers told us, ohhh you´ll learn such new words! so many swears! haha. so, we´ll see.

and finally, my funny moment of the day. one of the teachers told me not to worry about missing the dinner with my family tonight (because of the game), because i can eat hot dogs and hamburgers instead. in response, i explained i was a vegetarian and wouldn´t eat those things. so, she told me, well...good thing beer is vegetarian! hah. and good thing, i won´t be taking her advice!

hasta luego.

de las calles.

well, today i finally went on a 3 hour aimless walk throughout part of the city with another chica, sara, from germany. it seems that the majority of the students here are either german or american (which, incidentally are apparently the two "worst" or harshest accents to have! how fun!). anyways, it was great to wander around here; i hadn't really realized how big the city is, and we went to the outer limits of the city only to find....more streets and houses and so on! we didn't feel like walking down and back up this giant hill, and all of the buildings were spread further apart there, so we decided not to go any further. but still! i discovered this great setting on my camera today that helps you to take panoramic shots, and i've been using it a lot. when i have more time, i'll figure out how to post some pictures and show them!

so today: this morning it was maybe 55 degrees with some wind, and EVERYONE was walking around going "que frio!" or "hace frio", which i found quite amusing. it was cloudy and windy this morning, but it always warms up and clears up by the afternoon, so i ony wore a long sleeve shirt over a tank top. and, i was little cold, sitting still for such a long time, but ay, so funny! everyone thinks it's like a blizzard, and i was laughing because it's like a warm winter/spring day in the states! also, although i didn't feel it or hear it (which is odd because i wake up very easily here) there was an earthquake last night at 1am. quien sabe?!

but on a more solem note, my wonderful maestra, angelica, is no longer my maestra for the week. sadly, her father-in-law died of tuberculosis yesterday. apparently he was pretty young as well, and an extremely well known and respected man. on friday, angelica told me about how he used to run this amazing radio station that programmed both in spanish and quiche (a mayan dialect) with a community focus. but, he was doing it without one of the very expensive licenses that you need in order to operate as a radio station (much like the united states pretty much all of the radio media is controlled by about 3 major, powerful and rich companias). there are many small radio stations, but it's illegal to run one without a license, and apparently he got slammed by the equivalent of the fcc with a court case that resulted in a possibility of either two rulings: go to jail or pay a fine of 1.5 million quetzals. crazy, yeah? and then he developed tb. and yesterday, he passed away, which is incredibly sad. as i was walking home this afternoon, i encountered the funeral procession - which consisted of over a thousand people marching in memory of him. it was a crazy sight; hundreds of men dressed in black that form two columns on either side of the street. and then i think the relatives walk with the coffin and the various signs with pictures of the virgin mary, and then behind, follow all of the women. my host family knew the man, and they're friends with angelica, so tomorrow we will go pay a visit to her. but, wow.

anyways, tengo que salir, but i will write more later. of my new profesor (marvin), of the student protests on friday night (whoa), of the other students, and of my host family.

hasta luego!

observaciones!

well well well! so here is a far too detailed and run-on-sentence-laden telling of my experiences and observations thus far. to sum up though, (and this is no shocker) i am very aware of how little i know about the world outside of new england in practical terms. i can tell you academic sociological/historical ¨stuff¨about the world, and for example a bunch about guatemala, but the academic material is dry and devoid of meaning to me without lived reality. i am here because ways i want to be of and in the world rather than just studying or thinking about it and my reactions hypothetically. por eso, i can say quite confidently that i feel affirmed thus far in my reasons and feelings about taking this trip. i´m learning so much about myself and the world in ways that i knew i couldn´t at home in providence. so, bear with me because i may make rather crude observations at times that are simply attempts and realizations on my part to process difference. (also, bear with my grammar - i am trying to write these as quickly as possible!)

so, here goes!

i am here at last! and by here, i mean in xela instead of guatemala city and instead of antigua. after arriving in shock and sweating lots (literally and figuratively) about carrying my bag around, i jumped on a shuttle bus to antigua that was supposed to drop me off on a busline to xela. however, the bus stop was a little flower bed by the side of a road at a gas station on a busy street, where a young girl and her father were eating ice cream. the bus driver asked them about the bus and they said something to the effect of, oh it just came. i think that another one will be here in another hour. well, i didn´t feel so siked about waiting for a bus by myself in the middle of a place i didn´t know for a bus that may or may not come and that i may or may not be able to flag down. so, i continued on to antigua and stayed in a cheap hostel with a girl from montreal i had met on the plane.

well, all i have to say about antigua is roosters and tourists abound! i know it´s one of ¨those¨ places that are supposed to be amazing, but i didn´t particularly enjoy it. it could have been that i was in the wrong city with no real way to contact people in xela or the fact that i was tired and cranky, but the entire city seemed too small and touristy for my liking.

so, por la mañana on thursday, i got on a shuttle ¨to¨ xela, thinking that this shuttle to xela would be like those advertised around, stopping off in (i think the name is..?) chimicastenango, where you switch buses for xela. antigua is about 1 hour west of guate city, and xela is about 4 hours west-northwest of guatemala city. anyways, instead of going in the right direction, the bus went back to guatemala city, where i was handed off to a taxi after the airport, who took me to the bus station i was originally planning on going to when i arrived on wednesday. hah! well, i arrived 5 minutes after the 11am bus had arrived, and even though there was a 12; 30 bus advertised, i was told no! the next bus was not until 2;30. so i waited. and waited. and ate a lot of snacks.

finally, i get on the bus (this was a first class pullman bus called galgos. galgos = greyhound) and we head off...after a half hour wait on the bus. so, at this point i´m happy to be on the road a bit cranky about waiting, but happy nonetheless...except that we run into the same terrible construction outside of guatemala city that leaves you sitting for a half hour at a time in one place. now, in case you don´t know the geography of guatemala it´s extremely mountainous/hilly, and the area where i´m living is called the altiplano - and it´s the western highlands/ mountains of the country. xela is in a sort of basin/valley in the middle of mountains and with an active volcano next door.

but, back to the bus. this bus, as most vehicles i´ve seen here, was a manual shift bus, and, to well, stopping & starting on the giant hills of guatemala in traffic was...err...humorous to say the least. now, passengers change frequently on the bus, as there are two men working for the bus station (aside from the driver) whose jobs are explicitly to hang halfway out the bus door as it travels anywhere between 5-30 mph and yell XELA XELA XELA. and if someone responds, the bus screeches to a halt and picks them up. also, any time the bus stops at random to pick up a hopeful passenger along the side of the road or it is blocked in traffic, vendors jump onto the bus to peddle their food or wares and stay on for the ride until the next convenient moment to hop off.

so, i´m on this pullman bus, and i have my head nearly out the window, and it´s flying around these hairpin curves at a terrifyingly rapid pace..except..again for the frequent traffic jams from the road construction. so we continue onward and the bus driver continues to struggle with this extremely old bus, that, from what i can gather, requires all of your upper body strength to shift into first gear. not only does it require all of the driver´s (and sometimes the assistants´help), but it shakes the entire bus and makes the most terrible grinding sound i´ve ever heard. every time we shift to first gear. or rather, every time there is an attempt to shift, for he stalls out numerous times (it´s a wonder to me how little he managed to stall out), and each time, the assistants kind of run outside with a wrench or something and do i don´t know what to the bus, and the bus driver starts going and the two men sprint after the bus to catch up and jump in as it plugs along. ¡que humoroso! so, we´re moving along and it´s getting dark and i´m starting to feel extremely nervous because the 4 hour bus ride has clearly turned into a 5.5 hour bus ride in which i am arriving at night, by myself, without a real clear idea if there will be someone to meet me, because i thought i would be arriving on the 11am bus to xela (that would be there approximately at 3pm). instead, it´s 8;30pm and i´m going CRAP. i have a broken bag (the hip belt, ie the most important part of a backpacking pack, ripped off in transit from the taxi drivers haphazard handing of my bag to me) and it´s dark and i´m by myself without a clue who or where my family is!

but, never fear, it all worked out. there was a note left for me on the door of the school (i took a taxi to it, which again reaffirmed my poor bargaining skills. i know i´m being ripped off but i have not yet developed either the confidence-gumption-language skills to change it). the note told me to call someone who would call my host family, and they came to the school, helped me carry my bags to their house (which is a less than 5 minute walk from the school). and finally, i was there!

i am writing an extremely large amount right now, so i will save the descriptions of the people in my family for later. but i will run through their names now - blanca (la madre-mom), jorge (padre), alejandra (daughter of college age), mindi (daughter of college age), y jorge (son of college age or older as well). then, there are the two girls who stay at the house. and finally me, and another student from another school named bonner (i don´t actually know how to spell his name, but it´s pronounced bahn-er) who replaced a girl liz. apparently, more than one student staying at a house is not allowed in the world of homestays, and thus my mother asked me por un favor - to say, when asked, that there weren´t any other students in the house with me. i still haven´t decided how i feel about that, because bonner´s spanish, although he´s been studying since january, is far worse than mine, and he likes to hang around and speak english with me - which is the exact opposite of what i want.

so anyways, i am extremely happy to be here and excited and confused and challenged in a number of different ways! i started my schooling on friday with mi maestra, angelica. and i will write about her and my lessons later. but, to provide a brief synposis (in contrast to the tone of the rest of this entry!), i have been pleasantly surprised by how much spanish i retained in the recesses of my brain that was just waiting for the right moment to jump back out and resurface to the accessible parts of my brain! i am actually using different verb tenses of my own accord (although i screw them up frequently, and often substitute by default the present tense for the appropriate one).

but overall, i´ve been happy and excited for the opportunity to use my spanish - and my biggest concern now is to try and find ways to speak with other spanish-speakers, not foreigners, in my every day life. on monday i will hopefully will begin looking for a place to volunteer. so anyways, hasta luego readers!

pack it up.

so, i leave tomorrow for guatemala, which, unfortunately for me, is far too soon. i am thus sitting here quite excited, quite distracted, and unable to figure out which errands should be run first or last or whenever. packing is the final, i'm-not-so-prepared-for-this-frontier.

i'm pretty lukewarm on the having a blog front, but after about 10 inquiries from various people in the last 24 hours about where my blog is and why haven't they received a link to it yet, i figure it's time to cave in to the pressure.

so, here's to me scurrying around like mad in the next 16 hours. oh what a time it will be!