I want rain. There I said it. Three months ago I probably could never have imagined saying those words but I’m a changed man. No I’m not; I’m just a man who cares dearly about his precious carrots that have sprouted in his garden. A few days after I arrived at site I made a bed and planted carrots and broccoli. The soil was clay so I double dug the bed in order to loosen the soil up, meaning with the help of my two youngest brothers I dug a deep trench then pushed the soil I had just dug back in the trench and built up the elevated garden bed. I also made check dams to absorb water in case it rained. It took us one afternoon and by the end of it my brothers wanted to kill me. My host father wore a confused face that day. I explained to him that it was an odd technique but I was just experimenting.
The next day I helped him make his own bed, we made six his way, without digging in the soil. Afterwards he said to me “Look today we made six beds my way and it took you an afternoon just to make one your way. Whose way is better, yours or mine?” All I could say was we’ll see, to which he laughed. For a second there I felt like the guy who comes in following the textbook only to quickly learn that that’s not how it works in the field. Fast forward a couple weeks. My host father comes up to me: “Your carrots have sprouted, mine haven’t.” I wanted to do a fist pump right there but I just smiled. As of today his carrots have yet to sprout.
Ahh yes the work has begun. It took a while due to several meetings where none of the group leaders showed up and my organization changing things but I have started working in several family gardens in three communities. So far we’ve planted carrots, swiss chard, beets, and radishes and I’ve given talks on double digging (after my own success) and a couple brief talks about nutrition. I’m mighty busy but all I can say is that it feels great to get my work up and running.
The family situation is getting a bit sticky. It seems my concerns about religious involvement are coming to a head. I won’t go into it but I think they might raise my rent for not going to church with them. It’s kind of funny how illegal that would be in the States. That’s not to say that all is not well with my family situation. They’re building a house for their oldest who has a pretty serious girlfriend he hopes to wed next year. She lives in one of the nearby villages and I met her last night. Carlos and Reina just stood there and talked while her little brothers dragged me off to throw fireworks and eventually watch Bloodsport. It was hilarious. The little kids kept referring to Jean-Claude Van Damme as “El Van Damme,” (The Van Damme). I occasionally lend my family a hand with the house construction and they have me lifting hundreds of cinder blocks which is good exercise but most importantly when I help them out they feed me for free. Little odd jobs like giving the cows water. I guess you can say “feed the cows” but you can’t say “water the cows.” Anyways note to self don’t wear a red shirt next time.
Basketball has been frustrating as of late. They don’t call fouls up here and I now understand why that huge guy I would play basketball with at Covenant in the mornings would always threaten to punch someone because everyone would foul him like crazy because they couldn’t stop him.
The daily grind means I have little time to myself in which to write. I fixed my fakakta bed so there’s not a missing board where my neck rests. At night I’ll throw on an album and listen to it straight through while I cook dinner. It’s sort of like my own little scene from The Big Chill. I try and listen to an album a night, last night it was David Bowie’s "Heroes". I think tonight I’ll put on either Blonde on Blonde or Loaded.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Salquil Grande Hoops
I found some guys who enjoy shooting hoops so I’ve brought my basketball game up here. There’s a muddy court we play streetball on in the foggy evenings. Our own Rucker Park and while I’m not exactly “The Goat” or “Black Jesus”, I can dominate. (I need to get an awesome nickname like those two guys. Sweet Dan Jennings?) As much as I’d love to say it’s more than just the height factor, it mainly is the height factor. What they lack in height the make up for with speed. They’re much quicker than I am. They’re in better shape and they’re used to playing at this altitude. I gotta get in better shape. I’m no Derrick Coleman.
I do love me some streetball. Their version of 21 is a little odd. I’ve played it numerous times and still don’t quite understand it. I’m such a sucker for a game of basketball. The other day I was sick and they called me out to play. See: The Flu Game. Ok so I exaggerate. Anyways apparently there is a somewhat semi-thrown together league or let’s just say a group of teams. Last year my team were the Lakers, this year they’re the Bobcats. That’s right they asked me to name the team. Apparently we’re getting jerseys (!?) made: blue, outlined with white with Los Bobcats printed on the front. We’ll see how those turn out. I’m not exactly sure they’ll resemble the real Bobcats uniforms. We’ve got a game tomorrow night and I’m pretty excited to see how these Nebajenses run the floor. What I learned playing in Sacatepequez is not to assume your height will carry the game. We got trounced a few times. Some of these cats can ball.
I do love me some streetball. Their version of 21 is a little odd. I’ve played it numerous times and still don’t quite understand it. I’m such a sucker for a game of basketball. The other day I was sick and they called me out to play. See: The Flu Game. Ok so I exaggerate. Anyways apparently there is a somewhat semi-thrown together league or let’s just say a group of teams. Last year my team were the Lakers, this year they’re the Bobcats. That’s right they asked me to name the team. Apparently we’re getting jerseys (!?) made: blue, outlined with white with Los Bobcats printed on the front. We’ll see how those turn out. I’m not exactly sure they’ll resemble the real Bobcats uniforms. We’ve got a game tomorrow night and I’m pretty excited to see how these Nebajenses run the floor. What I learned playing in Sacatepequez is not to assume your height will carry the game. We got trounced a few times. Some of these cats can ball.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Movies with my brothers and sisters
The kids in my family love to watch movies, which is cool with me. No matter how horribly dubbed the film is I think it’s a great way to practice my Spanish, an opportunity which in this Ixil speaking town, is very rare. Also if the film only has Spanish subtitles it can be absolutely hilarious because many times what is being said on screen and what’s appearing as the translation are completely different. The kids mainly get a hold of shitty comedies and action movies like Wayans Brothers films or The Fast and the Furious. But whatever the movie, sitting and watching with them is great. Their eyes full of wonder I find myself laughing with them in their joy even if the movie is terrible. I’d been trying to find a good way to connect with them since I’m busy all day and we don’t get to spend much time together. I figured that laughter is a perfect way. The only movies I brought that I thought might appeal to them are Beverly Hills Cop and The Naked Gun but alas those don’t have Spanish subtitles. When they were looking through my DVD’s they pointed out Wet Hot American Summer because of the colorful disc but I made it clear that that was a definite no. Too adult, plus I don’t think they would get the humor.
It’s often hit or miss with my brothers and sisters. Sometimes I can predict whether they’ll like the movie before we watch it and other times not. Example: I showed them Kick-Ass the other night because with the exception of candy, there is nothing children like better than violent action movies. It was a success. They were enthralled watching little kids kill bad guys and I was pleased by their excitement. Other times I miss the mark. I figured they like dumb, silly comedies so I showed them Zoolander which is about as mindless a comedy as there is and I only got a couple chuckles. Slapstick translates the best. I need to get a hold of some Jim Carrey movies. They loved The Mask.
Anyways last night I had an unexpected success, kind of. I’m a big fan of Eddie Murphy’s 1980’s comedies (48 Hrs., Beverly Hills Cop, Coming to America, etc.). I don’t know what he’s doing now with Norbit and The Adventures of Pluto Nash but his work in the 80s was gold. John, the volunteer I replaced left me some movies that he bought down here including one of my personal favorite Eddie Murphy films: Trading Places. Although the original unedited version is superior, if you had cable growing up you’ve probably seen the edited version on television. This movie is on Comedy Central more times than Law & Order is on USA network. I had the movie and I was dying to watch it and the kids noticed I had a movie they hadn’t seen (it could have been any movie for all they cared) and they begged me to put it on. Again the humor isn’t exactly silly, slapstick type stuff so I warned them that they probably wouldn’t enjoy it but they insisted. Well we put it in and by the end it was just my oldest brother Carlos (19) and I watching it and although it lost its effect on the younger kids, he was getting it. He would crack up and turn to me to point out something funny that had happened. It was perfect. It was great to spend some time with just him. We both have busy schedules and most of the time I watch the movies with the younger ones who are more often around than Carlos. I know he wants to hang out and I want to hang out with him so it’s good that we get the older sibling bonding time. I invited him to shoot hoops once but he couldn’t. Perhaps next time. While the language is definitely a barrier we can both share laughter at funny movies.
On another note, Lauren Marentette, a good friend of mine in high school gave birth to a beautiful baby boy yesterday and I just wanted to note how wonderful that is and that I'm very happy for her.
It’s often hit or miss with my brothers and sisters. Sometimes I can predict whether they’ll like the movie before we watch it and other times not. Example: I showed them Kick-Ass the other night because with the exception of candy, there is nothing children like better than violent action movies. It was a success. They were enthralled watching little kids kill bad guys and I was pleased by their excitement. Other times I miss the mark. I figured they like dumb, silly comedies so I showed them Zoolander which is about as mindless a comedy as there is and I only got a couple chuckles. Slapstick translates the best. I need to get a hold of some Jim Carrey movies. They loved The Mask.
Anyways last night I had an unexpected success, kind of. I’m a big fan of Eddie Murphy’s 1980’s comedies (48 Hrs., Beverly Hills Cop, Coming to America, etc.). I don’t know what he’s doing now with Norbit and The Adventures of Pluto Nash but his work in the 80s was gold. John, the volunteer I replaced left me some movies that he bought down here including one of my personal favorite Eddie Murphy films: Trading Places. Although the original unedited version is superior, if you had cable growing up you’ve probably seen the edited version on television. This movie is on Comedy Central more times than Law & Order is on USA network. I had the movie and I was dying to watch it and the kids noticed I had a movie they hadn’t seen (it could have been any movie for all they cared) and they begged me to put it on. Again the humor isn’t exactly silly, slapstick type stuff so I warned them that they probably wouldn’t enjoy it but they insisted. Well we put it in and by the end it was just my oldest brother Carlos (19) and I watching it and although it lost its effect on the younger kids, he was getting it. He would crack up and turn to me to point out something funny that had happened. It was perfect. It was great to spend some time with just him. We both have busy schedules and most of the time I watch the movies with the younger ones who are more often around than Carlos. I know he wants to hang out and I want to hang out with him so it’s good that we get the older sibling bonding time. I invited him to shoot hoops once but he couldn’t. Perhaps next time. While the language is definitely a barrier we can both share laughter at funny movies.
On another note, Lauren Marentette, a good friend of mine in high school gave birth to a beautiful baby boy yesterday and I just wanted to note how wonderful that is and that I'm very happy for her.
I’m going to have to start hiding my peanut butter from myself.
The day in Quiché was well needed. Not only was I there to buy household supplies but I was also able to see two other volunteers: Noor and Nicole. It was great to see some familiar faces because I’m totally isolated from my fellow volunteers out in Salquil Grande. We went to the dispensa (supermarket) to stock up on supplies and buy some kitchenware.
With my new oven mitts it’s always Christmas! I mainly nabbed some food stuffs in the dispensa including parmesan cheese which is going to be absolutely bitchin’ on the pasta that is currently cooking on my stove. That pot gets terribly hot so I had to grab some oven mitts and it being the holiday season means festive designs so I’ll be mashing a print of Santa’s bearded face into the hot metal.
After visiting the dispensa we walked through the marketplace and I bought some relatively unnecessary items. When I was in high school my Uncle Rob changed the way I shaved. He gave me mug with a bar of soap and a brush of badger tail for Christmas. It has always been one of my favorite gifts and I definitely prefer the traditional way of mixing the bar of soap in the mug with the brush and then lathering it on my face as opposed to simply spraying the canned shaving cream. Like most people I shave with the common safety razor but after seeing someone selling straight razors I decided to take the whole traditional shaving method a step further. It’s going to be quite the (painful) trial and error process and the more I read about starting to shave with a cut-throat razor (wonderful name, right?) the more I ask myself what the hell I was thinking buying one. It requires a certain skill to shave with one and it apparently takes about 100 shaves (and innumerable cuts) before you get a handle on it. Might as well try to pick something new up while I’m down here. Let the great experiment begin.
The other unnecessary purchase I made in the market was Titanic II (well maybe it was necessary). I was walking by a DVD stand and lo and behold there it was. I had to pull the trigger on it. Had to. My curiosity was piqued after that previous journal entry where I wrote that I had seen it hanging on a DVD stand. Not surprisingly it was god-awful. So bad that it was unintentionally funny. So while it probably isn’t the best $1.25 I’ve ever spent, it was worth it.
I’m still consuming an absurd amount of tortillas but tamales are more popular in Salquil Grande and they’ve become a staple of my diet here. They’ve already worn out their welcome so I usually cook dinner for myself and afterwards (I’m trying to) ration myself a spoonful of the delicious, crunchy peanut butter I picked up in Quiché.
With my new oven mitts it’s always Christmas! I mainly nabbed some food stuffs in the dispensa including parmesan cheese which is going to be absolutely bitchin’ on the pasta that is currently cooking on my stove. That pot gets terribly hot so I had to grab some oven mitts and it being the holiday season means festive designs so I’ll be mashing a print of Santa’s bearded face into the hot metal.
After visiting the dispensa we walked through the marketplace and I bought some relatively unnecessary items. When I was in high school my Uncle Rob changed the way I shaved. He gave me mug with a bar of soap and a brush of badger tail for Christmas. It has always been one of my favorite gifts and I definitely prefer the traditional way of mixing the bar of soap in the mug with the brush and then lathering it on my face as opposed to simply spraying the canned shaving cream. Like most people I shave with the common safety razor but after seeing someone selling straight razors I decided to take the whole traditional shaving method a step further. It’s going to be quite the (painful) trial and error process and the more I read about starting to shave with a cut-throat razor (wonderful name, right?) the more I ask myself what the hell I was thinking buying one. It requires a certain skill to shave with one and it apparently takes about 100 shaves (and innumerable cuts) before you get a handle on it. Might as well try to pick something new up while I’m down here. Let the great experiment begin.
The other unnecessary purchase I made in the market was Titanic II (well maybe it was necessary). I was walking by a DVD stand and lo and behold there it was. I had to pull the trigger on it. Had to. My curiosity was piqued after that previous journal entry where I wrote that I had seen it hanging on a DVD stand. Not surprisingly it was god-awful. So bad that it was unintentionally funny. So while it probably isn’t the best $1.25 I’ve ever spent, it was worth it.
I’m still consuming an absurd amount of tortillas but tamales are more popular in Salquil Grande and they’ve become a staple of my diet here. They’ve already worn out their welcome so I usually cook dinner for myself and afterwards (I’m trying to) ration myself a spoonful of the delicious, crunchy peanut butter I picked up in Quiché.
Camionetas
Transportation here can be quite an experience. The most comfortable method of travel are Pullmans but they’re rare and only on the Pan-American Highway. The most common form of transportation are camionetas and riding on them is an essential experience of Guatemalan life. Camionetas are school buses from the U.S. that have somehow found their way down here. Usually they’re painted different colors but sometimes you’ll see the traditional yellow with the name of a U.S. school district on the side. At the front of the bus there is the leftover English sign that reads “Your child’s safety is our business.” These signs are pretty funny because if you’ve ever been on a camioneta you know that safety isn’t exactly a priority. The system is quite simple: the more people you can fit on your camioneta the more money you’ll make by giving them passage. As a result everyone is packed in on top of one another. I am especially at a disadvantage when it comes to riding in camionetas. I have long legs and when I sit down my knees are mashed into the metal back of the seat in front of me. The bumpy, unpaved road to Salquil Grande only makes this worse and I just have to grin and bear it. Sometimes you’ll get preachers who come on and scream the word of the Lord up front during the duration of the ride. Though it can be annoying, it’s also rather impressive. I like to think that it’s part of their training in seminary: they have to deliver sermons on a certain number of buses. The most bizarre form of camioneta busking I’ve seen (and this happened twice) was a man got on and made balloon animals (he was very good) and then ask for donations. Yes camionetas are quite the experience but unfortunately riding on them is your best chance of being robbed so you always have to be on the lookout.
My usual camioneta ride is the 5 a.m. bus that departs Salquil Grande for Nebaj. I wait outside of my house for the camioneta to roll-up, lights flashing in the dark, foggy street. I’ve mentioned before that they play a variety of music on the camionetas but on those that run between Salquil Grande and Nebaj all you’ll here are Christian tunes. Everyone is sort of in a sleepy half-awake state as the sun comes up during the ride. Once I would love for something like “Angel of Death” by Slayer to come blasting on and just see everyone whip their heads up in surprise. The other day on the bus someone was playing “Tarzan Boy” by Baltimora which made me smile because I remember it was on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III movie soundtrack I bought when I was 6.
The other common method of transportation are microbuses (in Africa we called them bush taxis). These are preferable to camionetas because they’re faster, usually more comfortable and sometimes the music is better. This past weekend I had a fun microbus experience. I was headed to Quiché, the department capital, to buy some things for my house so I caught a microbus in Nebaj for the beautiful three hour ride. We’d only made it two blocks when the woman next to me pulled out a bag and started gagging. Within ten minutes two other people were vomiting. I hugged the window, opened my book and tried not to smell. The first part of the drive from Nebaj to Quiche is a winding, rapid descent down the mountains with a stunning view, easily one of the most spectacular drives I’ve ever been on. Luckily the weather was sunny and clear and I could see for miles and I tried to focus on the beautiful day as opposed to the Guatemaltecos ralphing around me. I don’t know who Ralph was or what he did that made his name synonymous with vomit (although I have a clue) but I feel sorry for the guy.
On another note I’ve got a new address now that I’m out at post and it’s apparently more reliable than my previous one so please send stuff! Oh and also big thanks to Zach, Miles, and Will for keeping me up to date with good music.
My usual camioneta ride is the 5 a.m. bus that departs Salquil Grande for Nebaj. I wait outside of my house for the camioneta to roll-up, lights flashing in the dark, foggy street. I’ve mentioned before that they play a variety of music on the camionetas but on those that run between Salquil Grande and Nebaj all you’ll here are Christian tunes. Everyone is sort of in a sleepy half-awake state as the sun comes up during the ride. Once I would love for something like “Angel of Death” by Slayer to come blasting on and just see everyone whip their heads up in surprise. The other day on the bus someone was playing “Tarzan Boy” by Baltimora which made me smile because I remember it was on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III movie soundtrack I bought when I was 6.
The other common method of transportation are microbuses (in Africa we called them bush taxis). These are preferable to camionetas because they’re faster, usually more comfortable and sometimes the music is better. This past weekend I had a fun microbus experience. I was headed to Quiché, the department capital, to buy some things for my house so I caught a microbus in Nebaj for the beautiful three hour ride. We’d only made it two blocks when the woman next to me pulled out a bag and started gagging. Within ten minutes two other people were vomiting. I hugged the window, opened my book and tried not to smell. The first part of the drive from Nebaj to Quiche is a winding, rapid descent down the mountains with a stunning view, easily one of the most spectacular drives I’ve ever been on. Luckily the weather was sunny and clear and I could see for miles and I tried to focus on the beautiful day as opposed to the Guatemaltecos ralphing around me. I don’t know who Ralph was or what he did that made his name synonymous with vomit (although I have a clue) but I feel sorry for the guy.
On another note I’ve got a new address now that I’m out at post and it’s apparently more reliable than my previous one so please send stuff! Oh and also big thanks to Zach, Miles, and Will for keeping me up to date with good music.
Friday, November 5, 2010
And so it begins...again
It’s cold. I was hoping for some sweet, sweet sunshine after last night’s frozen slumber in long undies and my beanie but alas that’s not the case. It’s November and the beginning of winter and perched on the mountainside, Salquil is completely enveloped in the clouds. Standing in the street you couldn’t see fifty feet in front of you. As a result I have spent the day huddled in my room, studying Spanish, trying to plan my work for the next month and currently hunched over my laptop with a warm cup of Darjeeling tea on my stove (Brittany you’re the best).
It’s my first week as a volunteer here and what a week it has been. I meant to update my blog earlier but I was continually finding myself drained of brain power at the end of every day, exhausted from trying to keep up with all the Spanish. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday at meetings with my cooperative in Nebaj. By the end of Tuesday’s 9 hour session completely in Spanish all I wanted was a cold beer (and I got one). Wednesday’s meeting was better. I was digesting more of the Spanish and I was more involved as we planned out the month ahead. It’s going to be a crazy one.
Perhaps I should give you a brief description of what exactly my work here entails. As a Food Security Facilitator there are three basic areas I work in: 1) Community gardens(soil conservation, compost, worm composting, etc.). 2) Poultry/livestock management (vaccination campaigns, milk goats are a big project in Nebaj). 3) Nutrition (Usually educationally related, goat milk is more nutritious than cow milk. Nutrition is easily my weakest area of the three as anyone who lived with me in college can attest.) That’s a basic overview of the field in which I work.
Next week I have presentations in each of the three communities I’m going to be working in: Salquil Grande (my home), Quejchip, and San Francisco Javier. The initial goal for my first three months is five family gardens and one school garden in each of the communities. But before I can leap into that I have to take a survey and get to know the communities. John, the volunteer I replaced had some advice about approaches to carrying out projects, so we’ll see what happens. Also this month PROMASA, one of the organizations I’ve been assigned to is holding a health fair in Salquil. I’m not exactly sure what part I’m going to be playing in that but again, we’ll see what happens. I’m hoping I’ll be able to head to San Marcos so I can spend Thanksgiving with Jaron. That would be a nice end to a hectic month.
It’s my first week as a volunteer here and what a week it has been. I meant to update my blog earlier but I was continually finding myself drained of brain power at the end of every day, exhausted from trying to keep up with all the Spanish. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday at meetings with my cooperative in Nebaj. By the end of Tuesday’s 9 hour session completely in Spanish all I wanted was a cold beer (and I got one). Wednesday’s meeting was better. I was digesting more of the Spanish and I was more involved as we planned out the month ahead. It’s going to be a crazy one.
Perhaps I should give you a brief description of what exactly my work here entails. As a Food Security Facilitator there are three basic areas I work in: 1) Community gardens(soil conservation, compost, worm composting, etc.). 2) Poultry/livestock management (vaccination campaigns, milk goats are a big project in Nebaj). 3) Nutrition (Usually educationally related, goat milk is more nutritious than cow milk. Nutrition is easily my weakest area of the three as anyone who lived with me in college can attest.) That’s a basic overview of the field in which I work.
Next week I have presentations in each of the three communities I’m going to be working in: Salquil Grande (my home), Quejchip, and San Francisco Javier. The initial goal for my first three months is five family gardens and one school garden in each of the communities. But before I can leap into that I have to take a survey and get to know the communities. John, the volunteer I replaced had some advice about approaches to carrying out projects, so we’ll see what happens. Also this month PROMASA, one of the organizations I’ve been assigned to is holding a health fair in Salquil. I’m not exactly sure what part I’m going to be playing in that but again, we’ll see what happens. I’m hoping I’ll be able to head to San Marcos so I can spend Thanksgiving with Jaron. That would be a nice end to a hectic month.
Last Hurrah
Training finally came to an end. It was intense and I learned a lot but, including my time in Togo, I’ve had 5 months of training in the past year instead of the 2 ½ , months, so I am ready to be out in the field. My Spanish comprehension has improved greatly and I’m constantly surprising myself when I speak. It’s an incredible feeling. I’m not anywhere close to being fluent but I know enough to get around and express myself.
San Bartolome has been a perfect training site. It’s a comfortable town with friendly residents. My family has been just awesome to live with. They’ve been wonderfully hospitable and patient. I’m going to miss them but I hope to return and visit sometime in the future. Also I’ve developed a fantastic ass from the daily hike to my house (it literally is uphill both ways). I remember when I was younger and my mom would take me shopping for pants. “You’ve got no butt,” she would say. Well that’s not the case anymore. As you can tell I’m proud of my newly sculpted tokhes.
To show our appreciation we prepared lunch for all of our host families in San Bartolome. We had shish-ka-bobs and while I think we did a damn fine job, they didn’t seem impressed. Meh.
I had a good laugh with my pops while we were eating. He turned to me and said, “This is good. All that’s missing is the pica (hot sauce). Have you not learned anything from us?” We both cracked up. Afterwards I bought a bottle of picante and then during dinner I told them “This is good. All that’s missing is the pica.” I then proceeded to pull out the bottle I bought and douse my plate. They gave me a nice floral blanket to take to site which was great. Cara’s host mother gave us all colorful cloths to wrap our tortillas in of course.
While I knew I would miss them, Friday couldn’t come soon enough. I woke up that cloudy morning, packed the last of my belongings into my backpack and straightened my tie in the mirror. We loaded our bags into a van and headed into the swelling mass that is Guatemala City. After idling in traffic we arrived at the home of the U.S. Ambassador to Guatemala Stephen McFarland. He has a beautiful spread complete with pool and tennis court. We didn’t waste time and the ceremony began and after taking the oath (the same oath that all government employees/officials with the exception of the President takes) we were volunteers. Smiles, hugs and pictures ensued.
We were dropped off in Antigua to celebrate the night. I was feeling under the weather but I powered through. A group of us were staying at a hostel and more people showed up more revelry occurred. I had gotten my hands on a bottle of Ron Zacapa, perhaps the best rum I've ever tasted (I will be bringing some back with me) and that made the rounds as we got ready for the night out. Everyone met up at a pizza parlor where we gave out superlatives. I was voted most likely to catch on fire (which was kind of random) and most likely to be medically evacuated (which was just cruel) but hey at least I didn’t get most likely to fall in a latrine or most likely to get fecal-oral contaminate.
The night descended into drink and laughter and by the time the pizza arrived we were scattered all over the restaurant. Afterwards we found our way to some club and danced like we were mad. It all came to a close with Marco Antonio Solis karaoke so yea , it was a tremendous night. The next morning was somber and with heavy heads we departed for our sites.
It’s been a great three months and I just want to thank all my fellow volunteers for the great times we had.
San Bartolome has been a perfect training site. It’s a comfortable town with friendly residents. My family has been just awesome to live with. They’ve been wonderfully hospitable and patient. I’m going to miss them but I hope to return and visit sometime in the future. Also I’ve developed a fantastic ass from the daily hike to my house (it literally is uphill both ways). I remember when I was younger and my mom would take me shopping for pants. “You’ve got no butt,” she would say. Well that’s not the case anymore. As you can tell I’m proud of my newly sculpted tokhes.
To show our appreciation we prepared lunch for all of our host families in San Bartolome. We had shish-ka-bobs and while I think we did a damn fine job, they didn’t seem impressed. Meh.
I had a good laugh with my pops while we were eating. He turned to me and said, “This is good. All that’s missing is the pica (hot sauce). Have you not learned anything from us?” We both cracked up. Afterwards I bought a bottle of picante and then during dinner I told them “This is good. All that’s missing is the pica.” I then proceeded to pull out the bottle I bought and douse my plate. They gave me a nice floral blanket to take to site which was great. Cara’s host mother gave us all colorful cloths to wrap our tortillas in of course.
While I knew I would miss them, Friday couldn’t come soon enough. I woke up that cloudy morning, packed the last of my belongings into my backpack and straightened my tie in the mirror. We loaded our bags into a van and headed into the swelling mass that is Guatemala City. After idling in traffic we arrived at the home of the U.S. Ambassador to Guatemala Stephen McFarland. He has a beautiful spread complete with pool and tennis court. We didn’t waste time and the ceremony began and after taking the oath (the same oath that all government employees/officials with the exception of the President takes) we were volunteers. Smiles, hugs and pictures ensued.
We were dropped off in Antigua to celebrate the night. I was feeling under the weather but I powered through. A group of us were staying at a hostel and more people showed up more revelry occurred. I had gotten my hands on a bottle of Ron Zacapa, perhaps the best rum I've ever tasted (I will be bringing some back with me) and that made the rounds as we got ready for the night out. Everyone met up at a pizza parlor where we gave out superlatives. I was voted most likely to catch on fire (which was kind of random) and most likely to be medically evacuated (which was just cruel) but hey at least I didn’t get most likely to fall in a latrine or most likely to get fecal-oral contaminate.
The night descended into drink and laughter and by the time the pizza arrived we were scattered all over the restaurant. Afterwards we found our way to some club and danced like we were mad. It all came to a close with Marco Antonio Solis karaoke so yea , it was a tremendous night. The next morning was somber and with heavy heads we departed for our sites.
It’s been a great three months and I just want to thank all my fellow volunteers for the great times we had.
Little Gems of U.S. Pop Culture
I love the random U.S. pop culture that I come across down here. I find them to be quite special, be it The Shirelles playing on a packed camioneta (Guatemalan buses which are literally old school buses, sometimes with U.S. school district names still written on the side) or Shampoo on TV (when was the last time you heard that movie referenced?). Man it was cool watching infamous lothario Warren Beatty play…well a lothario I guess. Sometimes you come across the most random stuff and it instantly makes you smile. I love it. Hell the other day in the market I saw a DVD titled Titanic 2. Titanic 2? How is that possible? The boat sinks in the first one. I should just buy it next time and find out. Oh and Homer is Homero on Los Simpsons here.
Living with Mayans
I mentioned a little about Salquil Grande in my last post but I think I should explain some more about my new home. Salquil Grande is located in what is called the Ixil region (pronounced “E-shill”). There are 22 different Mayan languages spoken in Guatemala and in the small area between the towns of Nebaj, Chajul, and Cotzal is a language spoken nowhere else in the country: Ixil. I will undoubtedly be learning Ixil. Remember how I said I wanted to be placed in a Mayan village? Well Salquil is 98% Mayan and during my visit the only time I ever heard the people speak Spanish was when they were speaking to me. The rest of the time they were conversing in Ixil. So now not only do I have Spanish on my plate, but Ixil as well.
There is some interesting history behind region. Guatemala was embroiled in a 36 year civil war during the latter half of the 20th century and unfortunately the war was especially hard on the Ixil people. The remoteness of the region that preserves its pristine mountains was one of the contributing factors to what some consider a genocide of the Ixil in the 1980s. As with all conflicts it’s important to recognize that there are two sides to every story as to why certain actions are taken but the fact that there were mass killings of the Ixil is indisputable. They were simply caught between two warring parties and the result was devastating. I won’t go into a history lesson but I’ll give you a brief, general overview of what I’ve learned because I think it’s pretty interesting. In the 1970s the Guerilla Army of the Poor took to the mountains of the region because of their remoteness and sadly the local villagers were trapped in the fight between the guerillas and the government as the army tried to purge the area of rebels and the rebels tried to maintain control of the region to create a independent zone. By the end of the war tens of thousands of civilians had been killed and those who survived were displaced from their homes. That’s all I really know but I would like to read more about it. I’ve heard that wounds are still fresh and although the area is commonly referred to as the Ixil Triangle (because of the three major towns Nebaj, Cotzal, and Chajul), one person told me that there’s a social stigma tied to that name and that it’s not kosher to refer to it as the Triangle.
On a lighter note I’ll tell you about my living situation in Salquil Grande. My house is a small room in a hostel. Because of Salquil’s remoteness the hostel doesn’t get many guests and that’s pretty apparent when you see the place. The hostel is run by a family of eight and they’ve been quite hospitable so far which is great. The kids are a lot of fun, they like watching movies. On my visit we watched The Mask and my host sister instantly said I was like Jim Carrey (something I’ve gotten throughout my life). I swear I’d only spoken probably 3 sentences to her and she already tagged me as a silly jokester. I’d say that’s a fair assessment.
In my travels I’ve always worried about religion coming into play with the family I’m living with. It’s a touchy subject. Hell, people die every day because of religion. I want to fit in and be accepted without any problems but at the same time there is nothing I hate more than proselytizing. It’s my biggest problem with religions. You can believe in whatever you like. As long as you’re not causing any harm then its fine with me. The family I’m living with is Evangelical and the father is a pastor. They asked me to go to church with them which I said I would. I’m interested in seeing their ceremonies because Evangelicals here are different than those in the States. However I’m a bit skeptical because Evangelicals here are particularly forceful with their beliefs (not that Evangelicals elsewhere aren’t as well, but here it’s more in your face). Maybe it was the preacher screaming in my face on the bus ride from Nebaj up to Salquil. I guess I’m a little worried about having to deal with that with my family. I don’t want to make things uncomfortable. I’ve lived with Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses, two religious groups that are notorious for door-knocking, but in both of those cases I didn’t feel pressure to convert at all. Hopefully it will be the same here. I like being the thoughtful observer, there to experience and learn without commitment. Anyways it’s an issue I’ll deal with when I come to it. So far the family has been great.
I like my little room, it’s quite quaint. I have a stiff little bed, a shelf made of stacked cinder blocks with a board between them, and a table with a stove on it. It’s Peace Corps Guatemala’s policy that all volunteers live with a host family for their first three months. Then they are free to find a house of their own. This was not the case in Togo where we had our own houses to start with. I’m sure most of my friends are looking forward to living on their own and I admit that would be nice but Salquil is such a small town and there’s no house to rent so chances are I’ll be living with this family for the whole two years. And that’s fine with me. I’m comfortable in my little room. Plus it's a hostel so if I can convince any of you to come visit me (and make my life) there's a place to stay.
I should comment on the weather because it’s rather unusual. Most of the time it’s cold up here in the mountains but that can change in an instant. There’s a big hard Sun, Eddie and its mighty powerful up here. It will be burning hot and I’ll be sweating but after spending a couple minutes in the shade I’ll want a jacket. Once the clouds role in late in the afternoon, it starts to get chilly. I’m coming to site at the beginning of November which is the last month of the rainy season and the beginning of winter. I’m glad I packed warm clothes.
There is some interesting history behind region. Guatemala was embroiled in a 36 year civil war during the latter half of the 20th century and unfortunately the war was especially hard on the Ixil people. The remoteness of the region that preserves its pristine mountains was one of the contributing factors to what some consider a genocide of the Ixil in the 1980s. As with all conflicts it’s important to recognize that there are two sides to every story as to why certain actions are taken but the fact that there were mass killings of the Ixil is indisputable. They were simply caught between two warring parties and the result was devastating. I won’t go into a history lesson but I’ll give you a brief, general overview of what I’ve learned because I think it’s pretty interesting. In the 1970s the Guerilla Army of the Poor took to the mountains of the region because of their remoteness and sadly the local villagers were trapped in the fight between the guerillas and the government as the army tried to purge the area of rebels and the rebels tried to maintain control of the region to create a independent zone. By the end of the war tens of thousands of civilians had been killed and those who survived were displaced from their homes. That’s all I really know but I would like to read more about it. I’ve heard that wounds are still fresh and although the area is commonly referred to as the Ixil Triangle (because of the three major towns Nebaj, Cotzal, and Chajul), one person told me that there’s a social stigma tied to that name and that it’s not kosher to refer to it as the Triangle.
On a lighter note I’ll tell you about my living situation in Salquil Grande. My house is a small room in a hostel. Because of Salquil’s remoteness the hostel doesn’t get many guests and that’s pretty apparent when you see the place. The hostel is run by a family of eight and they’ve been quite hospitable so far which is great. The kids are a lot of fun, they like watching movies. On my visit we watched The Mask and my host sister instantly said I was like Jim Carrey (something I’ve gotten throughout my life). I swear I’d only spoken probably 3 sentences to her and she already tagged me as a silly jokester. I’d say that’s a fair assessment.
In my travels I’ve always worried about religion coming into play with the family I’m living with. It’s a touchy subject. Hell, people die every day because of religion. I want to fit in and be accepted without any problems but at the same time there is nothing I hate more than proselytizing. It’s my biggest problem with religions. You can believe in whatever you like. As long as you’re not causing any harm then its fine with me. The family I’m living with is Evangelical and the father is a pastor. They asked me to go to church with them which I said I would. I’m interested in seeing their ceremonies because Evangelicals here are different than those in the States. However I’m a bit skeptical because Evangelicals here are particularly forceful with their beliefs (not that Evangelicals elsewhere aren’t as well, but here it’s more in your face). Maybe it was the preacher screaming in my face on the bus ride from Nebaj up to Salquil. I guess I’m a little worried about having to deal with that with my family. I don’t want to make things uncomfortable. I’ve lived with Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses, two religious groups that are notorious for door-knocking, but in both of those cases I didn’t feel pressure to convert at all. Hopefully it will be the same here. I like being the thoughtful observer, there to experience and learn without commitment. Anyways it’s an issue I’ll deal with when I come to it. So far the family has been great.
I like my little room, it’s quite quaint. I have a stiff little bed, a shelf made of stacked cinder blocks with a board between them, and a table with a stove on it. It’s Peace Corps Guatemala’s policy that all volunteers live with a host family for their first three months. Then they are free to find a house of their own. This was not the case in Togo where we had our own houses to start with. I’m sure most of my friends are looking forward to living on their own and I admit that would be nice but Salquil is such a small town and there’s no house to rent so chances are I’ll be living with this family for the whole two years. And that’s fine with me. I’m comfortable in my little room. Plus it's a hostel so if I can convince any of you to come visit me (and make my life) there's a place to stay.
I should comment on the weather because it’s rather unusual. Most of the time it’s cold up here in the mountains but that can change in an instant. There’s a big hard Sun, Eddie and its mighty powerful up here. It will be burning hot and I’ll be sweating but after spending a couple minutes in the shade I’ll want a jacket. Once the clouds role in late in the afternoon, it starts to get chilly. I’m coming to site at the beginning of November which is the last month of the rainy season and the beginning of winter. I’m glad I packed warm clothes.
7th Home in the Past Year
The past three weeks have been a whirlwind and I haven’t gotten enough time to write in my gournal (I hope someone gets that reference). Anyways, let’s play catch-up. I've broken up all of what I had written over the past couple of weeks up into five different entries. That way it’s not just one long, scatterbrained, rambling passage (although they will probably all read that way).
October 14th we were assigned our sites and we spent the next week visiting them. I knew I wanted a rural, indigenous site in the mountains, and that’s exactly what I got. For the next two years I will be living in Salquil Grande, an aldea in the Nebaj region of the department of Quiché, (“key-chay”). There’s an accent on the “e” so no it’s not pronounced like the French cuisine. Don’t bother trying to find Salquil Grande on Google Maps, it’s not there. Instead look up Nebaj, a close town of about 13,000. Salquil is about an hour and a half northwest of Nebaj along a windy, bumpy road high up in the Sierra de los Cuchumantanes, the highest non-volcanic mountain range in Central America. Salquil rests on a mountainside and my house sits at about 7,500 ft. From my window I have an incredible view of the surrounding 10,000+ ft peaks. The scenery of the area is epic; steep slopes drop into vast valleys. There is much to explore in these distant mountains with gushing rivers and cascading waterfalls. Not surprisingly Nebaj is a hiking destination though not well known or exploited due to its remoteness. I plan on doing a good amount of exploring during my time there.
The site visit went well. Peace Corps Guatemala pairs its volunteers up with organizations (this is not the case in Togo) and I’ve been paired with Save the Children which I think is a pretty well known U.S. organization. The other new volunteers in my area are also working with Save the Children: Stephen, Nicole, and Cara. They’re all a good distance away from me but we’ve got a good group up here and I’m pleased they’re (relatively) close to me. On our way to our sites we had a meeting in Santa Cruz de Quiché, the department capital. Save the Children put us up in a nice hotel and we spent the night full of fresh emotion, bonding over beers and watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall.
It was nice to finally see where I’ll be working. I’m replacing a volunteer named John who left me all his stuff which includes a huge Kansas Jayhawks flag, which shall be replaced as soon as possible. John was great in showing me around and introducing me to people. There is a decent sized group of gringos in Nebaj made up of volunteers from different organizations. They threw a welcome dinner for me which was nice. I’m looking forward to seeing them whenever I’m in Nebaj. Saturday we all returned from our post visit drained, eager to return to our sites and facing one more week of training.
October 14th we were assigned our sites and we spent the next week visiting them. I knew I wanted a rural, indigenous site in the mountains, and that’s exactly what I got. For the next two years I will be living in Salquil Grande, an aldea in the Nebaj region of the department of Quiché, (“key-chay”). There’s an accent on the “e” so no it’s not pronounced like the French cuisine. Don’t bother trying to find Salquil Grande on Google Maps, it’s not there. Instead look up Nebaj, a close town of about 13,000. Salquil is about an hour and a half northwest of Nebaj along a windy, bumpy road high up in the Sierra de los Cuchumantanes, the highest non-volcanic mountain range in Central America. Salquil rests on a mountainside and my house sits at about 7,500 ft. From my window I have an incredible view of the surrounding 10,000+ ft peaks. The scenery of the area is epic; steep slopes drop into vast valleys. There is much to explore in these distant mountains with gushing rivers and cascading waterfalls. Not surprisingly Nebaj is a hiking destination though not well known or exploited due to its remoteness. I plan on doing a good amount of exploring during my time there.
The site visit went well. Peace Corps Guatemala pairs its volunteers up with organizations (this is not the case in Togo) and I’ve been paired with Save the Children which I think is a pretty well known U.S. organization. The other new volunteers in my area are also working with Save the Children: Stephen, Nicole, and Cara. They’re all a good distance away from me but we’ve got a good group up here and I’m pleased they’re (relatively) close to me. On our way to our sites we had a meeting in Santa Cruz de Quiché, the department capital. Save the Children put us up in a nice hotel and we spent the night full of fresh emotion, bonding over beers and watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall.
It was nice to finally see where I’ll be working. I’m replacing a volunteer named John who left me all his stuff which includes a huge Kansas Jayhawks flag, which shall be replaced as soon as possible. John was great in showing me around and introducing me to people. There is a decent sized group of gringos in Nebaj made up of volunteers from different organizations. They threw a welcome dinner for me which was nice. I’m looking forward to seeing them whenever I’m in Nebaj. Saturday we all returned from our post visit drained, eager to return to our sites and facing one more week of training.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Goodwill Hunting
Ok so techically it's not Goodwill, but really it is. Wednesday in San Bartolome is Paca day. Trucks full of used clothes park in the street to sell discarded threads from the U.S. I've found a few jems there. Probably the coolest thing I've found was a Patrick Ewing jersey (in good condition) but alas it was too small. My two best buys were a shirt that says "To hell with work...Let's go to Barbados" and an old school Ohio State jacket. We're talking Woody Hayes era. In fact I'm pretty sure it's the same jacket he was wearing when he punched that Clemson nose tackle in the throat. Anyways it will look good on me once they win the National Championship. Yea that's right I said it.
I love Paca shopping just like enjoyed Goodwill hunting in the States. You can always find great relics and it's always interesting to barter. It's kind of funny, I don't think I've ever bartered in English but I've done plenty of it in French and Spanish. You have to go into it knowing that they're going to try and rip you off and usually they do. It's that Gringo surcharge. It's the most absurd thing I've seen in the Paca so far was a shirt that read "Welcome to America, Speak English" with the big Stars and Stripes behind it. How fitting that found its way here. Probably my favorite part about it is that it says "Welcome to America" and not "Welcome to the United States" as if the rest of the hemisphere isn't considered part of America, be it North, Central or South.
I've seen some Guatemalans walking around wearing some familiar clothes. In San Bartolome alone I’ve seen two Charlotte Hornets hats, two UNC hats, and an Elon sweatshirt (!). The most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen was a man in a market in Togo wearing an East Chapel Hill High School t-shirt. Sometimes you’ll see people wearing shirts with the most profane sayings and you have to wonder if they have any idea what their shirt means. Our used clothes that find life anew here is just one of the neat things about living in Guatemala.
This past weekend was a pretty fun one. Saturday we learned how to kill a rabbit. I had some idea of how to do it from the tearjerking rabbit-lady scene in Roger & Me. The whole ordeal was nasty business. You bash it over the head and then let it bleed out (during which Nick quipped “I’m never drinking a Bloody Mary again”) then you skin it because rabbit fur is quite valuable (as are the feet). It was pretty graphic and the Guatemalan woman that demonstrated the process was a pro. Unfortunately we didn’t get to eat it. I didn’t know it but according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture domestic rabbit meat is the most nutritious meat in the world. It’s higher in protein percent and lower cholesterol level and in percent of fat than chicken, turkey, beef and pork. Anyways working with rabbits seems like a good future project although those little guys can scratch you up pretty badly.
Sunday four of us took a hike up the mountain that San Bartolome rests on. On top of the mountain is one of the most amazing views I have ever seen. We were lucky it was a clear day and had a full view of the volcanoes Agua, Fuego, and Acatenango. Photos don’t really do it justice but it was incredible to see these massive volcanoes at full scope and how they sloped down into one another. Below is a picture that Jaron took with her super awesome camera.
Left to right: Agua (12,336 ft), Fuego (12,346 ft) and Acatenango (13,044 ft).
I love Paca shopping just like enjoyed Goodwill hunting in the States. You can always find great relics and it's always interesting to barter. It's kind of funny, I don't think I've ever bartered in English but I've done plenty of it in French and Spanish. You have to go into it knowing that they're going to try and rip you off and usually they do. It's that Gringo surcharge. It's the most absurd thing I've seen in the Paca so far was a shirt that read "Welcome to America, Speak English" with the big Stars and Stripes behind it. How fitting that found its way here. Probably my favorite part about it is that it says "Welcome to America" and not "Welcome to the United States" as if the rest of the hemisphere isn't considered part of America, be it North, Central or South.
I've seen some Guatemalans walking around wearing some familiar clothes. In San Bartolome alone I’ve seen two Charlotte Hornets hats, two UNC hats, and an Elon sweatshirt (!). The most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen was a man in a market in Togo wearing an East Chapel Hill High School t-shirt. Sometimes you’ll see people wearing shirts with the most profane sayings and you have to wonder if they have any idea what their shirt means. Our used clothes that find life anew here is just one of the neat things about living in Guatemala.
This past weekend was a pretty fun one. Saturday we learned how to kill a rabbit. I had some idea of how to do it from the tearjerking rabbit-lady scene in Roger & Me. The whole ordeal was nasty business. You bash it over the head and then let it bleed out (during which Nick quipped “I’m never drinking a Bloody Mary again”) then you skin it because rabbit fur is quite valuable (as are the feet). It was pretty graphic and the Guatemalan woman that demonstrated the process was a pro. Unfortunately we didn’t get to eat it. I didn’t know it but according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture domestic rabbit meat is the most nutritious meat in the world. It’s higher in protein percent and lower cholesterol level and in percent of fat than chicken, turkey, beef and pork. Anyways working with rabbits seems like a good future project although those little guys can scratch you up pretty badly.
Sunday four of us took a hike up the mountain that San Bartolome rests on. On top of the mountain is one of the most amazing views I have ever seen. We were lucky it was a clear day and had a full view of the volcanoes Agua, Fuego, and Acatenango. Photos don’t really do it justice but it was incredible to see these massive volcanoes at full scope and how they sloped down into one another. Below is a picture that Jaron took with her super awesome camera.
Left to right: Agua (12,336 ft), Fuego (12,346 ft) and Acatenango (13,044 ft).
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Cowboys, Chickens, Knives, & Aggies
Man have I been bad about updating my thing. I’m curled up in bed right now because my stomach is being difficult. It’s raining outside (shocking) and I’m listening to Mule Variations because Tom Waits feels right. This is the perfect environment for writing and it has definitely been wayyyyyy too long since I’ve updated this thing. Two weeks ago was our field based training. We spent the week visiting towns and volunteer sites in the state of Jalapa, in the eastern part of the country. The Oriente (as they call the east) is populated with Ladinos. People are much more open compared to the people of the Occcidente (the west) which has a more conservative, indigenous (Mayan) presence. Probably my favorite part about the east is that all the men wear cowboy hats. They are worn all over the country but they’re much more prevalent out east. You’d see a group of four men talking in the park all gathered around wearing their white cowboy hats, jeans, and boots. I bought a cowboy hat in Antigua and I can’t wait to wear it to work.
I'm a baaaaad man
Our base was Mataquescuintla, the pronunciation of which I butchered continually throughout the trip much to the chagrin of my Spanish instructor. We stayed in Mataquescuintla but during the day we would travel up into the scenic mountains that surround it to visit smaller communities. Our first day we visited a volunteer (that one of us will be replacing) in her beautiful mountainside village. They grow a lot of coffee there. I don’t drink coffee, I made it through college without drinking coffee, but something tells me I’ll be a coffee drinker before I leave Guatemala. It’s seriously like water here. Babies begin drinking coffee at 6 months which is absurd to me. I tried to explain to my family that I don’t drink it but they just can’t wrap their heads around it. On numerous occasions they’ve brought up how weird it is for someone not to drink coffee. We’ll see what happens. Right now my only vice here is Coca-Cola. It’s so delicious because they use real sugar here, not artificial like in the U.S. Anyways, I digress. It felt so nice to be in a rural area. The slower, friendlier lifestyle.
I’d say there were two real highlights of the trip. The first would be our presentations and how much of a disaster mine was. A women's group had requested presentations on certain agriculture related topics. My topic was tire gardening. There are really only two difficult parts of teaching tire gardening: cutting and then flipping the tire inside out. My presentation went relatively well until we got to those two steps. I had a nice icebreaker and a group activity that conveyed the theme but then came the hands on part. The cutting of the tire part wasn’t too terrible. Tires destroy knives and when I cut into it my knife’s locking blade collapsed on my hand (cuts #1 & #2). The real problem came when I flipped the tire inside out. I had practiced and knew that flipping a tire inside out isn’t exactly easy so I grabbed the tire and immediately threw my strength into it. It worked but it was an old tire and in my haste I had failed to avoid the exposed steel cords that reinforce the sidewall. This resulted in patchy cuts #3-6 on my left hand and slitting my right thumb open (cut #7). At first I didn’t notice the cuts but when I touched my one of my posters as I was presenting it left some blood. The cuts weren’t serious but I was worried about my thumb. Needless to say the end of my presentation was accompanied with nervous laughter from the audience which wasn’t sure how bad the cuts were. I finished presenting and immediately doused my hands in antiseptic. Tires tend to be a little dirty. With the exception of the scene I created, I was pleased with my presentation. The women responded well and got involved in the cutting process.
Tire flippin'
The second highlight of the trip was our vaccination session. I’ve received probably 20 + shots in the past two years and it felt nice to dish out some of my own even if it was just to chickens. I have to say they are much better patients than humans. If someone tried to give me a shot on the back of my neck with a needle almost as long as my face you’d probably hear something close to Steve Martin’s car rental outburst in the Planes, Trains and Automobiles.
No he didn't get a sucker or a bouncy ball.
Speaking of doctors and shots, I don’t know how much press it got stateside but last week’s release of the Guatemalan Syphilis experiments in 1940s certainly got a lot of press here. If you don’t know what I’m talking about it was recently revealed that as part of a U.S. government sponsored medical experiment U.S. public health doctors deliberately infected Guatemalan prisoners, mental patients and soldiers with syphilis in the mid-1940s. Not surprisingly it was carried out by the same immoral doctor who was in charge of the Tuskegee Experiments. Terrible, terrible stuff. Anyways, I hope that this recent revelation will not complicate my service here as an American volunteer.
On a lighter note, we were translating our résumés into Spanish today and I came across something funny. On my résumé I have “farmhand” written as my position at Poplar Ridge Farm where I worked during the summer of 2007. According to my dictionary the word for “farmhand” in Spanish is “peón” from which the English “peon” is derived. I will not be listing my job title as “peon.”
Hmm what else has happened? We went to the city to see a speaker from Texas A&M give a presentation on adult education methods in agriculture. That was pretty neat but sitting there with a name tag that had the Texas A&M logo above my name I couldn’t help but think of my mom and how she would feel if she saw me wearing that. I’m sure the Longhorn in her would not approve. Our tech trainer is a Texas A&M grad and I think he just enjoys calling us all Aggies. The rain got so bad that I finally bought some rain boots. My BluBlockers are making my world a brighter place, I feel like I’m walking around in bizarro world whenever I put them on, Zach. We had our last school presentation today which comes with some relief. Our class was quite a handful.
Training is winding down; we swear in as volunteers on the 29th and then it’s off to our sites for the next two years. We find out where we’ll be serving next Thursday so count on a post about that. If you’re interested and you happen to have a map of Guatemala handy I can tell you this much about our potential sites: 3 sites are located in the state of Quiché (not pronounced like the French cuisine), 2 in Jalapa, 1 in Chimaltenango, 1 in San Marcos, 1 in Sololá, and 1 in Zacapa. So I will be living in one of those states for the next two years.
I'm a baaaaad man
Our base was Mataquescuintla, the pronunciation of which I butchered continually throughout the trip much to the chagrin of my Spanish instructor. We stayed in Mataquescuintla but during the day we would travel up into the scenic mountains that surround it to visit smaller communities. Our first day we visited a volunteer (that one of us will be replacing) in her beautiful mountainside village. They grow a lot of coffee there. I don’t drink coffee, I made it through college without drinking coffee, but something tells me I’ll be a coffee drinker before I leave Guatemala. It’s seriously like water here. Babies begin drinking coffee at 6 months which is absurd to me. I tried to explain to my family that I don’t drink it but they just can’t wrap their heads around it. On numerous occasions they’ve brought up how weird it is for someone not to drink coffee. We’ll see what happens. Right now my only vice here is Coca-Cola. It’s so delicious because they use real sugar here, not artificial like in the U.S. Anyways, I digress. It felt so nice to be in a rural area. The slower, friendlier lifestyle.
I’d say there were two real highlights of the trip. The first would be our presentations and how much of a disaster mine was. A women's group had requested presentations on certain agriculture related topics. My topic was tire gardening. There are really only two difficult parts of teaching tire gardening: cutting and then flipping the tire inside out. My presentation went relatively well until we got to those two steps. I had a nice icebreaker and a group activity that conveyed the theme but then came the hands on part. The cutting of the tire part wasn’t too terrible. Tires destroy knives and when I cut into it my knife’s locking blade collapsed on my hand (cuts #1 & #2). The real problem came when I flipped the tire inside out. I had practiced and knew that flipping a tire inside out isn’t exactly easy so I grabbed the tire and immediately threw my strength into it. It worked but it was an old tire and in my haste I had failed to avoid the exposed steel cords that reinforce the sidewall. This resulted in patchy cuts #3-6 on my left hand and slitting my right thumb open (cut #7). At first I didn’t notice the cuts but when I touched my one of my posters as I was presenting it left some blood. The cuts weren’t serious but I was worried about my thumb. Needless to say the end of my presentation was accompanied with nervous laughter from the audience which wasn’t sure how bad the cuts were. I finished presenting and immediately doused my hands in antiseptic. Tires tend to be a little dirty. With the exception of the scene I created, I was pleased with my presentation. The women responded well and got involved in the cutting process.
Tire flippin'
The second highlight of the trip was our vaccination session. I’ve received probably 20 + shots in the past two years and it felt nice to dish out some of my own even if it was just to chickens. I have to say they are much better patients than humans. If someone tried to give me a shot on the back of my neck with a needle almost as long as my face you’d probably hear something close to Steve Martin’s car rental outburst in the Planes, Trains and Automobiles.
No he didn't get a sucker or a bouncy ball.
Speaking of doctors and shots, I don’t know how much press it got stateside but last week’s release of the Guatemalan Syphilis experiments in 1940s certainly got a lot of press here. If you don’t know what I’m talking about it was recently revealed that as part of a U.S. government sponsored medical experiment U.S. public health doctors deliberately infected Guatemalan prisoners, mental patients and soldiers with syphilis in the mid-1940s. Not surprisingly it was carried out by the same immoral doctor who was in charge of the Tuskegee Experiments. Terrible, terrible stuff. Anyways, I hope that this recent revelation will not complicate my service here as an American volunteer.
On a lighter note, we were translating our résumés into Spanish today and I came across something funny. On my résumé I have “farmhand” written as my position at Poplar Ridge Farm where I worked during the summer of 2007. According to my dictionary the word for “farmhand” in Spanish is “peón” from which the English “peon” is derived. I will not be listing my job title as “peon.”
Hmm what else has happened? We went to the city to see a speaker from Texas A&M give a presentation on adult education methods in agriculture. That was pretty neat but sitting there with a name tag that had the Texas A&M logo above my name I couldn’t help but think of my mom and how she would feel if she saw me wearing that. I’m sure the Longhorn in her would not approve. Our tech trainer is a Texas A&M grad and I think he just enjoys calling us all Aggies. The rain got so bad that I finally bought some rain boots. My BluBlockers are making my world a brighter place, I feel like I’m walking around in bizarro world whenever I put them on, Zach. We had our last school presentation today which comes with some relief. Our class was quite a handful.
Training is winding down; we swear in as volunteers on the 29th and then it’s off to our sites for the next two years. We find out where we’ll be serving next Thursday so count on a post about that. If you’re interested and you happen to have a map of Guatemala handy I can tell you this much about our potential sites: 3 sites are located in the state of Quiché (not pronounced like the French cuisine), 2 in Jalapa, 1 in Chimaltenango, 1 in San Marcos, 1 in Sololá, and 1 in Zacapa. So I will be living in one of those states for the next two years.
Friday, September 17, 2010
This Year
Well it’s been exactly one year since I left for Togo and this whole Peace Corps adventure began. I thought it would be a two year stay in West Africa. Togo was everything I had hoped it would be and better. Truly the best time of my life. I plan on returning to the motherland someday. That’s the goal. It’s terrible what happened and I miss it dearly (my friends, my family, my village). But shit happens. This past year has been a whirlwind and I could not have imagined I’d be where I am right now.
I’ve been on the move a lot this year and it has been a great test of my adaptability. In the past year I’ve lived with 6 different families, speaking 5 different languages between them, and all of those experiences have been wonderful and unique in their own way. For someone who used to be relatively shy, I’d say I’ve grown a lot. It’s been a testing year with plenty of ups and downs but it’s been made beautifully clear to me how blessed I am to have such wonderful people in my life and for that I thank you.
I’ve been on the move a lot this year and it has been a great test of my adaptability. In the past year I’ve lived with 6 different families, speaking 5 different languages between them, and all of those experiences have been wonderful and unique in their own way. For someone who used to be relatively shy, I’d say I’ve grown a lot. It’s been a testing year with plenty of ups and downs but it’s been made beautifully clear to me how blessed I am to have such wonderful people in my life and for that I thank you.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Dia de la Independencia
Well it's September 15th which is Guatemala's day of independence (it shares this date back in 1821 with El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica). As such an important day the town is alive and brimming with commotion. This morning there was a parade which wove through the streets. It reminded me of those Montreat parades I used to march in, with kids dressed as different things like the Quetzal (Guatemala's national symbol). The most interesting part of the parade was probably a group of children dressed up in black face to depict the Garifuna people (West African descendants who inhabit the eastern part of the country). I don't think that would exactly fly stateside. Everyone was decked out in their blue and white, school bands marched and little kids set off fireworks in the streets. It's such a neat thing to experience another country's day of independence, witness all their patriotism and pride. It's been a while since I've updated. I've been very busy: lots of presentations with little prep time but it's good to practice shooting from the hip. Tomorrow I've got to give a presentation on tire gardening in Spanish which should be interesting.
It was a good weekend. Saturday we took part in a traditional Mayan ceremony. I'm looking forward to learning more about the Mayan culture and since my program is Food Security it's likely I will be in a more rural, Mayan village. It was very interesting. It's been an amazing year experiencing different religious ceremonies. In the past year I've been to a Jehovah's Witness service, a Christian service, participated in a voodoo ceremony, an informal Jewish event, a Pagan/Wiccan solstice party and now a Mayan ceremony. It's been awesome to take part in such a wide array of sacred events. I'm completely fascinated with different cultures, ways of life, beliefs, etc. It's a desire to understand one another through learning and absorbing different cultural aspects.
I spent this past Sunday up at the farm with my family. When we got to the farm we found their guard dog Rex lying lifeless. It turns out a coyote had gotten him. It was a little sad but we dug a grave and buried him under the corn. We hung up plastic bags to scare birds away from the avocado trees and we cut down some corn to sell. It was a great to spend the day with the extended family and not have a tech or Spanish session to attend. I've been playing some soccer which has been good exercise especially up here at 7,000 ft and I'm going to have a nice tush by the end of training thanks to the steep hill that leads to my house.
We're taking a field trip next week which should be quite the outing. Yup that will be me and eight girls. I may commit seppuku before I make it back. I'm enjoying Food Security, I find the information really interesting and I'm looking forward to working with the Guatemaltecos after swear-in. We've got a garden set up right now and we've been tending to it. We're growing some basic crops that will harvest within the couple months we're in training like root crops (radishes, beets, carrots), some tomatoes and then three cousins (broccoli, cauliflower, and cabbage). So far so good, we're seeing sprouting although we need to do some thinning (or "purging" as Stalin would call it). The only problem has been that some chuchos (street dogs) did some digging in one of our beds the other day.
Something I would like to address are the landslides that recently caused a national emergency here. Some of you probably heard about it some of you may not have. The major American media programs (CNN, FOX, MSNBC, etc.) spend very little time on international news so you have to look elsewhere to find out what's going on in other parts of the world. I recommend BBC.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, Guatemala is ripe for natural disasters and landslides are among the most prevalent. This rainy season has been the most powerful in Guatemala's history. The country has received more than three times the normal amount of rainfall. Last week torrential downpours caused several landslides throughout the country. In Nahuala in the state of Solola (north of where I'm located) along the Pan-American Highway two landslides occurred. The first took out a bus. When help showed up there was a second landslide. The current estimates are 46 people dead. It's awful, thousands have had to evacuate their homes. These disasters come after the devastating Tropical Storm Agatha that hit Guatemala in May. Remember pictures of that sinkhole? According to BBC.com the president estimates that roughly 263 have died so far this year as a result of the rain. The bad news is their predicting it will only get worse. It's tough with such tragedy happening all around.
Here are some photographs from BBC.com: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-11193592
It was a good weekend. Saturday we took part in a traditional Mayan ceremony. I'm looking forward to learning more about the Mayan culture and since my program is Food Security it's likely I will be in a more rural, Mayan village. It was very interesting. It's been an amazing year experiencing different religious ceremonies. In the past year I've been to a Jehovah's Witness service, a Christian service, participated in a voodoo ceremony, an informal Jewish event, a Pagan/Wiccan solstice party and now a Mayan ceremony. It's been awesome to take part in such a wide array of sacred events. I'm completely fascinated with different cultures, ways of life, beliefs, etc. It's a desire to understand one another through learning and absorbing different cultural aspects.
I spent this past Sunday up at the farm with my family. When we got to the farm we found their guard dog Rex lying lifeless. It turns out a coyote had gotten him. It was a little sad but we dug a grave and buried him under the corn. We hung up plastic bags to scare birds away from the avocado trees and we cut down some corn to sell. It was a great to spend the day with the extended family and not have a tech or Spanish session to attend. I've been playing some soccer which has been good exercise especially up here at 7,000 ft and I'm going to have a nice tush by the end of training thanks to the steep hill that leads to my house.
We're taking a field trip next week which should be quite the outing. Yup that will be me and eight girls. I may commit seppuku before I make it back. I'm enjoying Food Security, I find the information really interesting and I'm looking forward to working with the Guatemaltecos after swear-in. We've got a garden set up right now and we've been tending to it. We're growing some basic crops that will harvest within the couple months we're in training like root crops (radishes, beets, carrots), some tomatoes and then three cousins (broccoli, cauliflower, and cabbage). So far so good, we're seeing sprouting although we need to do some thinning (or "purging" as Stalin would call it). The only problem has been that some chuchos (street dogs) did some digging in one of our beds the other day.
Something I would like to address are the landslides that recently caused a national emergency here. Some of you probably heard about it some of you may not have. The major American media programs (CNN, FOX, MSNBC, etc.) spend very little time on international news so you have to look elsewhere to find out what's going on in other parts of the world. I recommend BBC.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, Guatemala is ripe for natural disasters and landslides are among the most prevalent. This rainy season has been the most powerful in Guatemala's history. The country has received more than three times the normal amount of rainfall. Last week torrential downpours caused several landslides throughout the country. In Nahuala in the state of Solola (north of where I'm located) along the Pan-American Highway two landslides occurred. The first took out a bus. When help showed up there was a second landslide. The current estimates are 46 people dead. It's awful, thousands have had to evacuate their homes. These disasters come after the devastating Tropical Storm Agatha that hit Guatemala in May. Remember pictures of that sinkhole? According to BBC.com the president estimates that roughly 263 have died so far this year as a result of the rain. The bad news is their predicting it will only get worse. It's tough with such tragedy happening all around.
Here are some photographs from BBC.com: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-11193592
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Some pictures
Morning fog settles in the mountains from the view of my house
Cobblestone street in Antigua
With Justin a Municipal Development volunteer
Eerie ferris wheel in town for feria
Working in the garden
Carlita and I
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Hoop Dreams
8/22/10
On Sunday the festival was in full swing. Lots of bombas and fireworks, a bicycle race, the ferris wheel turning and Guatemaltecos eating street tacos. The town was full of excitement by the time I waltzed in. A lot of people were gathered around the basketball court where two teams were about to play. I mentioned to Eric's father that I wanted to shoot around a little and the next thing I know, he's told a coach and I'm being sent home to change clothes. Just like that San Bartolome drafted me.
I thought we were going to just be playing an informal game but it turned out it was a four team tournament. I guess they just picked me because of my height (I was easily the tallest person on team). It was fun playing center. I always wanted to do the tip off. All of the teams had uniforms (some with the players’ names on them). My favorite was the "Blakers" who wore Cavaliers colors. I was the only player on my team who didn’t have a uniform on. We were definitely the worst team in the tournament but I had a lot of fun. I didn't play as well as I'd liked but it's difficult just coming in without knowing plays or anything. There is a bit of a show being the only gringo on the court. Every time I blocked a shot or stole the ball I would receive a loud applause, while a missed shot or bad pass would generate laughter. I had only thought we'd be shooting around. I didn't realize I had been enlisted in a tournament and after a full day of hoops I was completely wiped. It was great fun and hopefully I'll get a chance to play some more. It was good to start to establish a reputation in the town as someone who wants to come out and interact and play with others.
That night I dragged my tired body into bed and escaped to America, drifting off with some tunes (currently it’s been nothing but Prince, I’ve listened to “I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man” probably 20 times in the last 3 days). I passed out quickly under the warm ponchos. I can say this for my time here so far: there are no wasted days, and I love it.
On Sunday the festival was in full swing. Lots of bombas and fireworks, a bicycle race, the ferris wheel turning and Guatemaltecos eating street tacos. The town was full of excitement by the time I waltzed in. A lot of people were gathered around the basketball court where two teams were about to play. I mentioned to Eric's father that I wanted to shoot around a little and the next thing I know, he's told a coach and I'm being sent home to change clothes. Just like that San Bartolome drafted me.
I thought we were going to just be playing an informal game but it turned out it was a four team tournament. I guess they just picked me because of my height (I was easily the tallest person on team). It was fun playing center. I always wanted to do the tip off. All of the teams had uniforms (some with the players’ names on them). My favorite was the "Blakers" who wore Cavaliers colors. I was the only player on my team who didn’t have a uniform on. We were definitely the worst team in the tournament but I had a lot of fun. I didn't play as well as I'd liked but it's difficult just coming in without knowing plays or anything. There is a bit of a show being the only gringo on the court. Every time I blocked a shot or stole the ball I would receive a loud applause, while a missed shot or bad pass would generate laughter. I had only thought we'd be shooting around. I didn't realize I had been enlisted in a tournament and after a full day of hoops I was completely wiped. It was great fun and hopefully I'll get a chance to play some more. It was good to start to establish a reputation in the town as someone who wants to come out and interact and play with others.
That night I dragged my tired body into bed and escaped to America, drifting off with some tunes (currently it’s been nothing but Prince, I’ve listened to “I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man” probably 20 times in the last 3 days). I passed out quickly under the warm ponchos. I can say this for my time here so far: there are no wasted days, and I love it.
A trip to Antigua
8/21/10
It's time I tell you about the other four Food Security volunteers that live in San Bartolome with me. Cara Allan is from southern Jersey, we’re talking Cape May south. She did crew at Rutgers and she’s very smart when it comes to agriculture which will be a great help. Eric Womack (no relation to Bobby Womack) is from Virginia Beach and went to Old Diminion. He sports a thick handlebar mustache and knows a bunch of crazy biological facts about all sorts of animals. He does bird and insect calls. Yea, it's pretty sweet. The other two girls in our group are both from Washington. Britini (or Margarita) Port is a Huskie and is definitely a hipster regardless of what she says (she wears flannel and listens to Yeasayer, point and case). She's really cool to talk music with and has traveled all over the world. Also she looks like Lindsay Lohan (I'm not saying that to be insulting, she's very pretty. The resemblance is just uncanny). Jaron (or Elizabeth) is also from Washington but went south for school (she's a Sun Devil). She's very athletic and played water polo in college. She's very smart and well read. I've made a list of awesome books she's recommended. We're not exactly the Breakfast Club but we're a pretty diverse group all brought together by a similar passion. It's interesting having two West Coasters around because they always ask me about the East Coast as if it's some foreign land. Luckily we're all on about the same Spanish level so if I completely butcher a word, I don't feel too much shame.
We took a "Spanish field trip" to Antigua this morning. It’s an interesting place. The first sentence about Antigua in my Lonely Planet Central America travel book reads as follows: "In all the long, boring discussions about where the 'real Guatemala' is, you can be sure the word Antigua has never come up." While I'd say that's a bit of a harsh statement, after visiting I can understand what they meant. Antigua is definitely not like anywhere else in the country. It's clean, well regulated, and touristy. And while I don't particularly like being a part of the whole tourist trap scene, Antigua is definitely a place to see. It's the center of colonial Guatemala, cobblestone streets lined with 18th century churches and municipal buildings, the whole deal. With all of this great colonial architecture under the shadow of four huge volcanoes, it's not surprising that Antigua is one of the country’s biggest tourist/expat spots. We saw so many other gringos walking around that it felt kind of awkward. It was a mix of American families on vacation, Europeans and travelers drifting through wearing shirts emblazoned with that famous image of Che Guevara, the great Argentinean doctor who led revolutions all over the world but whose face is sadly now more of a fashion icon than a symbol for revolution. Cliché Guevara if you will. Anyways, Antigua is beautiful and definitely a place to see if you're visiting Guatemala. It reminded me of Grenada, Nicaragua only busier.
It was interesting to see the colonial historical sites. Guatemala has such a rich history. Much of that is the history of the Mayans. I almost feel like I should have seen Apocalypto before I came here (even though it was made by a psycho). Unlike the Incans and the Aztecs, the Mayans weren’t killed off, they were more decentralized. The other day I was listening to Neil Young’s epic “Cortez the Killer,” about the European who did the Aztecs in. Cortez actually had some interaction with the Mayans but not to the same bloody extent. About 60% of Guatemala’s population is indigenous (almost 40% of that Mayan) giving it the highest percentage of indigenous peoples in Central America. The other 40% of Guatemalans are Ladinos (a term specific to Guatemala). I’m looking forward to becoming more familiar with the Mayan culture as most volunteers are placed in the Western highlands which is where the highest concentration of Mayans are found.
It's time I tell you about the other four Food Security volunteers that live in San Bartolome with me. Cara Allan is from southern Jersey, we’re talking Cape May south. She did crew at Rutgers and she’s very smart when it comes to agriculture which will be a great help. Eric Womack (no relation to Bobby Womack) is from Virginia Beach and went to Old Diminion. He sports a thick handlebar mustache and knows a bunch of crazy biological facts about all sorts of animals. He does bird and insect calls. Yea, it's pretty sweet. The other two girls in our group are both from Washington. Britini (or Margarita) Port is a Huskie and is definitely a hipster regardless of what she says (she wears flannel and listens to Yeasayer, point and case). She's really cool to talk music with and has traveled all over the world. Also she looks like Lindsay Lohan (I'm not saying that to be insulting, she's very pretty. The resemblance is just uncanny). Jaron (or Elizabeth) is also from Washington but went south for school (she's a Sun Devil). She's very athletic and played water polo in college. She's very smart and well read. I've made a list of awesome books she's recommended. We're not exactly the Breakfast Club but we're a pretty diverse group all brought together by a similar passion. It's interesting having two West Coasters around because they always ask me about the East Coast as if it's some foreign land. Luckily we're all on about the same Spanish level so if I completely butcher a word, I don't feel too much shame.
We took a "Spanish field trip" to Antigua this morning. It’s an interesting place. The first sentence about Antigua in my Lonely Planet Central America travel book reads as follows: "In all the long, boring discussions about where the 'real Guatemala' is, you can be sure the word Antigua has never come up." While I'd say that's a bit of a harsh statement, after visiting I can understand what they meant. Antigua is definitely not like anywhere else in the country. It's clean, well regulated, and touristy. And while I don't particularly like being a part of the whole tourist trap scene, Antigua is definitely a place to see. It's the center of colonial Guatemala, cobblestone streets lined with 18th century churches and municipal buildings, the whole deal. With all of this great colonial architecture under the shadow of four huge volcanoes, it's not surprising that Antigua is one of the country’s biggest tourist/expat spots. We saw so many other gringos walking around that it felt kind of awkward. It was a mix of American families on vacation, Europeans and travelers drifting through wearing shirts emblazoned with that famous image of Che Guevara, the great Argentinean doctor who led revolutions all over the world but whose face is sadly now more of a fashion icon than a symbol for revolution. Cliché Guevara if you will. Anyways, Antigua is beautiful and definitely a place to see if you're visiting Guatemala. It reminded me of Grenada, Nicaragua only busier.
It was interesting to see the colonial historical sites. Guatemala has such a rich history. Much of that is the history of the Mayans. I almost feel like I should have seen Apocalypto before I came here (even though it was made by a psycho). Unlike the Incans and the Aztecs, the Mayans weren’t killed off, they were more decentralized. The other day I was listening to Neil Young’s epic “Cortez the Killer,” about the European who did the Aztecs in. Cortez actually had some interaction with the Mayans but not to the same bloody extent. About 60% of Guatemala’s population is indigenous (almost 40% of that Mayan) giving it the highest percentage of indigenous peoples in Central America. The other 40% of Guatemalans are Ladinos (a term specific to Guatemala). I’m looking forward to becoming more familiar with the Mayan culture as most volunteers are placed in the Western highlands which is where the highest concentration of Mayans are found.
Trodding along
8/20/10
It's night in San Bartolome and I just got back from Margarita's house where four of us met up to hang out for an hour. My walk was memorable and worth a vivid description. Right now the town is covered in clouds which sprinkle rain upon the slick, shiny, stone streets. Hiking into San Bartolome from the hills in which I live I get a full view of the town, perched upon the mountainside. There is a big festival at the beginning of this week and the town is starting to gear up with food and game stands. It's particularly dark tonight with the clouds blocking out the night sky but the center of town is bright. Standing tall above the church is a rickety ferris wheel which has been brought in for the celebration. The empty ferris wheel sits stationary. Lit up in faded neon colors, it shines eerily in the misty night haze. The whole damp atmosphere felt like something out of a dream. Walking the steep, bleak avenues in silence under the orange glow of an occasional streetlight it felt kind of like I was in the setting of a Dickens novel. Nope, just a dreary night in a small, shady town in the Guatemalan highlands.
I like San Bartolome a lot. The layout, the scenery, the steep winding streets and I'm afforded the luxury of the full experience with my daily hike into and across town. We've been in Saint Barts (as we jokingly call it) for one week now. The next ten will fly by. The days are full as Peace Corps Pre-service training requires technical sessions and language classes all day. It was the exact same in Togo. I feel as though my Spanish comprehension has improved greatly in a week. There was an earthquake in class yesterday. Not a big one but everything trembled for a few seconds. It's my second earthquake of the year after the one in D.C. earlier this summer. Guatemala has the great distinction of resting upon the junction of three different tectonic plates: the North American, the Cocos, and the Caribbean. The confluence of these plates means plenty of earthquakes. It seems the Earth is constantly reminding Guatemaltecos just how small they really are. The country is incredibly prone to all sorts of natural disasters: volcanoes, landslides, earthquakes, tropical storms, monsters(?), and of course sinkholes. They all wreak havoc on poor, beautiful, Guatemala.
It's night in San Bartolome and I just got back from Margarita's house where four of us met up to hang out for an hour. My walk was memorable and worth a vivid description. Right now the town is covered in clouds which sprinkle rain upon the slick, shiny, stone streets. Hiking into San Bartolome from the hills in which I live I get a full view of the town, perched upon the mountainside. There is a big festival at the beginning of this week and the town is starting to gear up with food and game stands. It's particularly dark tonight with the clouds blocking out the night sky but the center of town is bright. Standing tall above the church is a rickety ferris wheel which has been brought in for the celebration. The empty ferris wheel sits stationary. Lit up in faded neon colors, it shines eerily in the misty night haze. The whole damp atmosphere felt like something out of a dream. Walking the steep, bleak avenues in silence under the orange glow of an occasional streetlight it felt kind of like I was in the setting of a Dickens novel. Nope, just a dreary night in a small, shady town in the Guatemalan highlands.
I like San Bartolome a lot. The layout, the scenery, the steep winding streets and I'm afforded the luxury of the full experience with my daily hike into and across town. We've been in Saint Barts (as we jokingly call it) for one week now. The next ten will fly by. The days are full as Peace Corps Pre-service training requires technical sessions and language classes all day. It was the exact same in Togo. I feel as though my Spanish comprehension has improved greatly in a week. There was an earthquake in class yesterday. Not a big one but everything trembled for a few seconds. It's my second earthquake of the year after the one in D.C. earlier this summer. Guatemala has the great distinction of resting upon the junction of three different tectonic plates: the North American, the Cocos, and the Caribbean. The confluence of these plates means plenty of earthquakes. It seems the Earth is constantly reminding Guatemaltecos just how small they really are. The country is incredibly prone to all sorts of natural disasters: volcanoes, landslides, earthquakes, tropical storms, monsters(?), and of course sinkholes. They all wreak havoc on poor, beautiful, Guatemala.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Amongst the tall corn
On Saturday I arrived at San Bartolome Milpas Altas (literally Saint Bartolome Tall Corn), my home for the next 3 months. Located just west of the capital in the central highlands of Guatemala, San Bartolome is a city of about 8,000, five of whom are Peace Corps trainees. The town lies along the Pan-American Highway (how appropriate) which runs all the way from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego. The weather up here is cold and it rains everyday. San Bartolome is nestled in the mountainside and sits at about 7,000 ft above sea level. Needless to say the town is very, very hilly. I live in the steep hills just outside of the city, about an eight minute walk to the center of town. It's a hike to mi casa from San Bartolome but I like it up there, it's muy tranquilo compared to the inner city where the other four volunteers live. In fact the only noise I hear are the numerous "bombas" which are shot off continually throughout the day and night.
Let me try and paint a picture of the property on which I live. Like all homes in Central America, there is a gate at the entrance. When you enter there is a drive at the bottom of a hill that leads past four houses which are located up the hill. These four houses belong to my family and extended family. The drive is bordered by avocado, lime, and pear trees and continuing down the drive leads to pasture, a pig sty and a small soccer field. All of this property belongs to my family. It's very, very nice and I have an incredible view of the highlands from my doorstep.
I live in a house with a family of four: Mi madre Olivia (35), mi padre Raul (31), Carmen (5), and Carla (2 1/2). They are a very warm and welcoming family and I'm the fourth trainee they have put up. It's fun to have siblings. Whenever I come home Carlita will yell "Daniel!" and run up and immediately lock herself around my leg (she goes up to my knee), prompting Carmen to do the same thing. Yea, I feel the love. Raul does party planning. Kinda like Zach except he hasn't gotten into the tents yet so Zach if you're reading this, and you want to expand your business southward in your mission to tent the world, I know a guy you can talk to. My first night in the hills of San Bartolo two kids asked me to play soccer with them on that small field. They're about 13 so I towered over them and could speed past them with my long legs. They called me the Hulk and I called them Shrek and Donkey. It was Shrek and Donkey vs. the Hulk which if you ask me wasn't fair. After running around for 10 minutes I was completely out of breathe, I'm not used to playing soccer at 7,000 feet. Still it was a lot of fun.
Sunday I spent with the family. They're Catholic and as is custom on Sundays, they lit a candle to burn all day in front of their shrine of some saint. In the afternoon the whole family piled into the car with Eminem blasting on the radio and Raul drove us further into the hills all the way up to the my family's farm. Raul is a reggaeton fan and Olivia likes Marco Antonio Solis (YES!). They walked with me up the terraced hills which bore the fruit of their labor: avocados, peaches, some vegetables I'd never heard of, and lots and lots of corn. It was a great family outing and a nice beginning to my three months here.
Let me try and paint a picture of the property on which I live. Like all homes in Central America, there is a gate at the entrance. When you enter there is a drive at the bottom of a hill that leads past four houses which are located up the hill. These four houses belong to my family and extended family. The drive is bordered by avocado, lime, and pear trees and continuing down the drive leads to pasture, a pig sty and a small soccer field. All of this property belongs to my family. It's very, very nice and I have an incredible view of the highlands from my doorstep.
I live in a house with a family of four: Mi madre Olivia (35), mi padre Raul (31), Carmen (5), and Carla (2 1/2). They are a very warm and welcoming family and I'm the fourth trainee they have put up. It's fun to have siblings. Whenever I come home Carlita will yell "Daniel!" and run up and immediately lock herself around my leg (she goes up to my knee), prompting Carmen to do the same thing. Yea, I feel the love. Raul does party planning. Kinda like Zach except he hasn't gotten into the tents yet so Zach if you're reading this, and you want to expand your business southward in your mission to tent the world, I know a guy you can talk to. My first night in the hills of San Bartolo two kids asked me to play soccer with them on that small field. They're about 13 so I towered over them and could speed past them with my long legs. They called me the Hulk and I called them Shrek and Donkey. It was Shrek and Donkey vs. the Hulk which if you ask me wasn't fair. After running around for 10 minutes I was completely out of breathe, I'm not used to playing soccer at 7,000 feet. Still it was a lot of fun.
Sunday I spent with the family. They're Catholic and as is custom on Sundays, they lit a candle to burn all day in front of their shrine of some saint. In the afternoon the whole family piled into the car with Eminem blasting on the radio and Raul drove us further into the hills all the way up to the my family's farm. Raul is a reggaeton fan and Olivia likes Marco Antonio Solis (YES!). They walked with me up the terraced hills which bore the fruit of their labor: avocados, peaches, some vegetables I'd never heard of, and lots and lots of corn. It was a great family outing and a nice beginning to my three months here.
The Land of the Eternal Spring
It's the peak of the rainy season here in Guatemala and we flew through dark clouds when we landed in Guatemala City with lightning striking just off our wing. From the air Guatemala City looks like a sprawling mess (which it is) with houses stacked on the edge of cliffs. It's easy to see why landslides are so deadly here. Guate, as it's commonly referred to, is the country's capital and largest city. It's overgrown, dirty, and one of the most dangerous cities in Central America, which is really saying something. Not surprisingly Peace Corps advises against spending time in Guate and some of the city's zones are completely off limits. The mere sight of Guate from the air displays the dynamics of life in Latin America which has the largest wealth gap of any region in the world. There are skyscrapers and modern buildings bordered by the slums of the rural poor who flock to the city for potential opportunity but instead find harsh reality. Guatemala's airport is much nicer than I expected and it stands as a testament to Guatemala's number one industry: tourism. Covering the walls are pictures of stereotypical, smiling white families having fun at Tikal and other Mayan ruins.
The Peace Corps met us at the airport and immediately drove us out of the city and into the mountains. It's been difficult not to compare everything to Peace Corps Togo even though I know it's a completely different country, set up and experience. But staring out the bus window at Guatemala City it's was tough to comprehend how life with the Peace Corps in Africa was and how it would be in a country with modern U.S. looking malls. After a short drive into the hills we arrived at the Peace Corps headquarters in Santa Lucia Milpas Altas. Santa Lucia is a small town surrounded by three giant, sometimes-smoking, cone-shaped volcanoes which stand over 13,000 ft tall. The view early in the morning is phenomenal but because of the altitude by the afternoon clouds descend upon Santa Lucia.
We spent our first three days in Guatemala doing more orientation (culture, safety, health, etc.) and learning fun facts like how of the 67 countries around the world in which the Peace Corps currently operates, Guatemala is #1 in theft. They broke down and explained Guatemala's crime problem very clearly and it's pretty fascinating. I won't go into it but a lot of it has to do with remittances and 36 year civil war (1960-1996). There is a lot of impunity with something like 3% of crimes being solved. We lived with a host family for those first three days in Santa Lucia. My family consisted of a grandmother, her daughter, and her three grandchildren: Andrea (13), Allen (9?), and Daniella (1). Like every host family I've lived with they were shocked when I explained how I'm an only child. I mainly spent time playing cards with the kids (UNO is a great and fun way to practice a new language) and watching Mexican soap-operas (telanovelas). If you think the drama in U.S. soap-operas is ridiculously over the top (I´m talking to you James Franco) then you have no idea. I´ve been surprised with my Spanish. I´ve been able to understand almost everything that has been said to me. It´s just the speaking which is difficult for me, but it will come.
Our pack of gringos tramped around tiny Santa Lucia for a little bit and I got involved in a pickup game of hoops in the park. It's so awesome being taller than everyone else. A tall, goofy, white guy I feel like Shawn Bradley sometimes. I'm 6'1'' and so not only do I stick out as a white American but also as the tallest person around. Our last day in Santa Lucia some of us took a hike into the hills which was pretty cool. Saturday the 14th we said goodbye to our families in Santa Lucia and headed to our training sites to live with a new family for the next 3 months.
The Peace Corps met us at the airport and immediately drove us out of the city and into the mountains. It's been difficult not to compare everything to Peace Corps Togo even though I know it's a completely different country, set up and experience. But staring out the bus window at Guatemala City it's was tough to comprehend how life with the Peace Corps in Africa was and how it would be in a country with modern U.S. looking malls. After a short drive into the hills we arrived at the Peace Corps headquarters in Santa Lucia Milpas Altas. Santa Lucia is a small town surrounded by three giant, sometimes-smoking, cone-shaped volcanoes which stand over 13,000 ft tall. The view early in the morning is phenomenal but because of the altitude by the afternoon clouds descend upon Santa Lucia.
We spent our first three days in Guatemala doing more orientation (culture, safety, health, etc.) and learning fun facts like how of the 67 countries around the world in which the Peace Corps currently operates, Guatemala is #1 in theft. They broke down and explained Guatemala's crime problem very clearly and it's pretty fascinating. I won't go into it but a lot of it has to do with remittances and 36 year civil war (1960-1996). There is a lot of impunity with something like 3% of crimes being solved. We lived with a host family for those first three days in Santa Lucia. My family consisted of a grandmother, her daughter, and her three grandchildren: Andrea (13), Allen (9?), and Daniella (1). Like every host family I've lived with they were shocked when I explained how I'm an only child. I mainly spent time playing cards with the kids (UNO is a great and fun way to practice a new language) and watching Mexican soap-operas (telanovelas). If you think the drama in U.S. soap-operas is ridiculously over the top (I´m talking to you James Franco) then you have no idea. I´ve been surprised with my Spanish. I´ve been able to understand almost everything that has been said to me. It´s just the speaking which is difficult for me, but it will come.
Our pack of gringos tramped around tiny Santa Lucia for a little bit and I got involved in a pickup game of hoops in the park. It's so awesome being taller than everyone else. A tall, goofy, white guy I feel like Shawn Bradley sometimes. I'm 6'1'' and so not only do I stick out as a white American but also as the tallest person around. Our last day in Santa Lucia some of us took a hike into the hills which was pretty cool. Saturday the 14th we said goodbye to our families in Santa Lucia and headed to our training sites to live with a new family for the next 3 months.
Southwest bound
8/16/10
It's 8 p.m. and the rain is pouring outside of my window. A perfect time to write. Let's play catch-up. It's been a week since I last wrote and since then I've been thrown into the whirlwind of another country, culture, language, and lifestyle. Our staging for Guatemala was in Arlington, VA and was exactly the same as staging for Togo in Philly 11 months ago. The same activities, icebreakers, and skits. It was fairly exhausting. There are 32 of us, 24 of whom are girls (the Peace Corps tends to have a female majority). Our training group is divided into 3 areas of focus: municipal development, agricultural marketing, and food security (the program of yours truly). It's a pretty good group, of course it was awkward but we're all in the same boat so that loosened things up a bit. A few of us went out and had some drinks after dinner and my buddy Chris came across the Potomac to hang out. It was great to see him before I left.
We checked out of our hotel at 3:30 and boarded buses which took us to Reagan (I prefer to call it National). I've always thought National is a beautiful airport with it's old architecture. It didn't take long to get to Guatemala. We had a very brief layover in Miami but almost instantly we were back on a plane for the 2 1/2 hour flight west.
It's 8 p.m. and the rain is pouring outside of my window. A perfect time to write. Let's play catch-up. It's been a week since I last wrote and since then I've been thrown into the whirlwind of another country, culture, language, and lifestyle. Our staging for Guatemala was in Arlington, VA and was exactly the same as staging for Togo in Philly 11 months ago. The same activities, icebreakers, and skits. It was fairly exhausting. There are 32 of us, 24 of whom are girls (the Peace Corps tends to have a female majority). Our training group is divided into 3 areas of focus: municipal development, agricultural marketing, and food security (the program of yours truly). It's a pretty good group, of course it was awkward but we're all in the same boat so that loosened things up a bit. A few of us went out and had some drinks after dinner and my buddy Chris came across the Potomac to hang out. It was great to see him before I left.
We checked out of our hotel at 3:30 and boarded buses which took us to Reagan (I prefer to call it National). I've always thought National is a beautiful airport with it's old architecture. It didn't take long to get to Guatemala. We had a very brief layover in Miami but almost instantly we were back on a plane for the 2 1/2 hour flight west.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
And so it begins...
8/10/10
Well I'm sitting in a Holiday Inn in Arlington, VA waiting to start my Pre-Service orientation in an about an hour. We're here for the day and have a 3:30 a.m. checkout time and then it's off to Guatemala tomorrow. It's funny to think it's almost been a year since I was in Philly doing this very same thing before heading to Togo. When I think about my fellow stagiers then and how we were all awkwardly meeting one another and then 3 months later as close as family, it's kind of amusing as I meet my new friends and I wonder how well we'll all know each other by the end of training. It's odd, a year ago I would never have thought I would be where I am today. Togo was amazing and the best time of my life. I had always dreamed of going to Africa as a little boy and there I was telling the Togolese that "I'm literally living a dream". The country was incredible and the people were amazing and Togo will forever hold a special place in my heart. I miss it dearly. It's very unfortunate what happened but now it's time for a new chapter. A new country, new adventure.
Well I'm sitting in a Holiday Inn in Arlington, VA waiting to start my Pre-Service orientation in an about an hour. We're here for the day and have a 3:30 a.m. checkout time and then it's off to Guatemala tomorrow. It's funny to think it's almost been a year since I was in Philly doing this very same thing before heading to Togo. When I think about my fellow stagiers then and how we were all awkwardly meeting one another and then 3 months later as close as family, it's kind of amusing as I meet my new friends and I wonder how well we'll all know each other by the end of training. It's odd, a year ago I would never have thought I would be where I am today. Togo was amazing and the best time of my life. I had always dreamed of going to Africa as a little boy and there I was telling the Togolese that "I'm literally living a dream". The country was incredible and the people were amazing and Togo will forever hold a special place in my heart. I miss it dearly. It's very unfortunate what happened but now it's time for a new chapter. A new country, new adventure.
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