Well, shit...

I should preface this post by saying this story is pretty gross but too amusing/bizarre to not tell.

I caught the 5 a.m. bus out of Salquil Grande this morning as I usually do whenever I head down to Nebaj. It was dark and cold and as we picked up more and more passengers the overhead racks quickly became filled with backpacks and the like. It was market day in Nebaj so lots of people were bringing down goods to sell. Mainly firewood but there were also vegetables and…chickens. The racks were packed.

So we’re riding along and I suddenly feel something hit my shoulder as it falls from the rack above my head. It was dark and I figured it was probably some vegetable that had fallen from a basket so I reached down on the seat to pick it up. In doing so I unknowingly dug my hand into a nice index-finger-size turd. Yep, shit. God I wish I could have seen the look on my face when it happened.

I’m guessing it was a chicken above me. To quote our 36th President Lyndon Baines Johnson: “Boys, I may not know much, but I know chicken shit from chicken salad.”

Regardless of what animal it was, I didn’t stick around to find out. I immediately climbed over the Guatemalan next to me and proceeded to a seat at the back of the bus. Needless to say the next hour sucked. But as I sat there fuming, with shit on my hand, crammed between two Guatemalans in a seat designed for elementary school children I couldn’t help but think about how much I’m going to miss all the crazy shit (pun intended) that happens to me here; the unpredictability of it all and the wild stories that have come out of my two year stint.

I got to Nebaj and finally washed it all off. That damn bird soiled my hat, jacket and hands. But then again he's being taken to the market to be sold and eaten so I guess all in all I probably had a better day. Deciding on the title of this post was just too much fun. “Shit Happens”, “A Shitty Situation”; the possibilities were endless.

World AIDS Day

I want to say a couple things about the fact that today is World's AIDS Day. AIDS was first recognized by the CDC in 1981 which means this year is the 30th anniversary. AIDS has killed more than 25 million people between 1981 and 2007. In 2007 the UN estimated that 33.2 million people have AIDS. Seventy-Six percent of AIDS infections are in Sub-Saharan Africa and for me one of the most staggering statistics is that AIDS has resulted in 14 million orphaned children in southern Africa alone. 14 million orphans.
The AIDS infection rate in Guatemala isn't terribly high but it does account for 1/6 of the cases in Central America. There was a fair in the park in Nebaj this morning and I made a couple posters at the office yesterday and put them up. One explaining ways in which you cannot get AIDS (kissing, toilet seats, food, etc.) and the other simply saying "If you're going to have sex, use a condom" with a joyful little condom caricature below it. It's not my project but it's something I think is very important and I'm proud to do whatever I can to support the cause. I'm passionate about many causes but to know me you should know that HIV/AIDS is something that I care most deeply about. Especially stopping discrimination.
I remember working at Harris Teeter and I was outside talking to a coworker while waiting to load bags into customers cars. This individual could be fun to joke with, he's a friendly enough guy but we aren't on the same page as far as social and political views go. He went to Liberty University and unfortunately fits into the stereotype of the narrow-thinking individuals that university produces. We were outside shooting the shit and I mentioned that I would like to do AIDS work in Africa. His response was Why? He told me that AIDS exists for a reason and that reason is to punish sinners. This was one of THE most insensitive things I have ever heard another person utter. At first I was shocked and then really pissed off. I should have laid into the prick but I didn't. It was a horrible thing but something good came from it because it propelled my passion for the cause. (Most of us) have come a long way since 1981 as far as awareness and for that we should be proud but we can always do more. That is all.

Workin' Day and Night

After the novel I wrote last time I’ll try to keep this entry shorter. Overall things are going quite well for me up in Salquil Grande. Returning from my Honduran adventure I knew it would be a challenge to get back into the swing of things and reassert myself in my work. You lose ground every time you’re out of site.

In recent months I’ve been doing more nutrition related work. We’ve been growing a lot of beets in the family gardens we’ve made. This is a new crop for these families and one day one of the women I’ve been working with – Dona Catarina – asked me how to prepare beets. I figured this was a good segue into cooking demonstrations and we made veggie burgers together with her harvest. I shared this recipe with Dona Juana, the PROMASA madre lider in Salquil.


Mmmm beets

Dona Juana frequently gives cooking demonstrations to the PROMASA beneficiaries and she took my recipe and ran with it. Together with Dona Catarina we made veggie burgers with groups of women and over a series of demonstrations one week, Dona Juana gave the demonstration to all 200 PROMASA beneficiaries in Salquil Grande. I’m proud that this recipe had caught on and I’ve been experimenting with other recipes since. In addition to cooking demonstrations I’ve been giving integrated farming presentations. I’m still making gardens with families with underweight children. This month I hope to begin my work with at least 10 new families.


Making veggie burgers


The new group of Food Security trainees arrived August 11th; exactly one year after my group did. I was asked to help out with training so I went down to the Peace Corps office in Santa Lucia for three days and gave a presentation on gardening and helped the trainees make tire gardens. It was funny being with them while they go through the same training that we all went through a year ago. I actually went through training twice in a year including Togo (that’s 5 months!) so I know just how miserable it can be at times. Last year I was the sole male in a group of 7 Food Security volunteers but this group is evenly balanced, 5 guys and 5 girls. Thankfully no one cut themselves making the tire gardens. I’ve a feeling they’ll make good volunteers; they seem very knowledgeable and comfortable in country after only 2 weeks.


Trainees cuttin' tires


I have a great relationship with my host family at the moment. We still watch a lot of movies together. Most recently I showed them all the Scream movies. I’ve always enjoyed that film series, except for dreadful 3rd. The first Scream was damn good in my opinion. A very clever film. When I was in Santa Lucia helping out the trainees I bought a bunch of movies, including all four of the Scream films. I figured it would be a nice scare for my little siblings. And it was. The youngest ones sat with their hands close to their eyes to shield them in case anything scary happened. My oldest host brother absolutely loved this.
When he sensed something scary was going to happen, Miguel, the youngest, would run out the door. He would wait there and then peak his little head back in. Then fearing something frightening was coming he would run back out. This happened over and over again. He’d run out come back in then run out again. By the end of all the movies they were quoting the killer, asking “What’s your favorite scary movie?” in a raspy voice (in Spanish of course).


Xhun and Miguel

The kids are a lot of fun to joke around with. They help keep me sane and other times drive me insane. But they definitely keep me entertained. In fact earlier today I was listening to music and looked over and there was my little brother Xhun in the doorway wearing a shirt that read “Social Butterfly” and dancing to Michael Jackson’s “Workin’ Day and Night”. He cracks me up. Xhun is a very bright 11 year old. In fact he’s in classes with older kids. Tuesday is market day in Salquil and after picking up supplies I always pass by the family store in the plaza to visit Xhun. He’s usually just sitting there bored. Last time I came by he was whittling a drum stick. I’ll sit with him for about a half hour and sometimes I’ll teach him geography. He appreciates my typing skills so he will have me type up his homework for him on the family’s Smith-Corona.

I’ve started giving English classes to my family. It used to be that during dinner they would ask me how to say certain words in English, but now things are more formal. After dinner my host father, my youngest sister and my two younger host brothers will pull up desk chairs before a dry erase board and I’ll teach them English. It’s difficult but I’m enjoying it.
And speaking of teaching, I’ve begun a new project: a school garden. Earlier this week I gave a small presentation, sort of an intro to gardening to a class of about 50 students, ages 13-14. Not only did they impress me with their knowledge but I impressed myself with my ability to conduct a class in Spanish. We’re going to make a garden come next week. I’m not a hundred percent sure how well this will work, making a garden with 50 some children. I imagine it’s going to be a mess but I think it’s great that I’m working with kids. Doing agricultural work with them is just as important as it is with adults and from the knowledge they displayed in our first session together I’m confident in their abilities. We’ll see how this garden turns out come Monday.

Over the past few days I’ve been collecting animal waste for composting purposes. The Guatemalans probably think it’s funny when they see me shoveling cow shit into a sack or hauling buckets of goat piss. I’m glad I amuse them. It’s messy work but I’d much rather be outside getting my hands dirty than sitting in an office typing away on a computer (as I’m doing now). Maybe part of me is still a kid who likes playing in the dirt.

Trip to Honduras

It’s August which means it’s the height of Guatemala’s rainy season. Tired of the endless showers and losing my clothes to the unstoppable mold I decided it was time for a vacation so I packed my bag and split for sunnier weather in neighboring Honduras.

My destination was Roatan, one of Honduras’s three Bay Islands. Back in March I met a Canadian backpacker named Mike who was traveling through Central America and we made a plan to meet up on the island. Well Mike was nearing the end of his travels and so by the time I got to Roatan we only had a couple of days together so my trip was basically a solo one. I have always wanted to go scuba diving and the Bay Islands are at the tail end of the second largest barrier reef in the world. The goal was to get my Open Water diving Certification and just enjoy some time in the sun on the islands beautiful beaches.
I wanted get to Roatan as quickly as possible but I wouldn’t be able to make it all the way there in one day. I left Antigua at 3:30 a.m. aboard a seriously luxurious bus that took my across the border and eventually all the way to La Ceiba, Honduras where I would pass the night and the next morning catch the first ferry to Roatan. I crossed the border no problem and added Honduras to my list of countries visited. Including the U.S. that makes 11. Honduras is the 5th Central American country I’ve visited. The only two I’m missing on the isthmus are Belize and El Salvador and they will be visited in due time. I changed currencies at the border from Quetzales to Lempiras. It’s about 18 Lemps to the dollar.
After 14 hours of traveling I arrived exhausted in La Ceiba. Someone had advised me to skip staying in La Ceiba (Honduras’s third largest city) and stay at a hotel right next to the ferry. I ended up spending about $20 for a room that night which was more than I had hoped to spend. I cracked open a beer in the humid night air and settled into my room. One of the pluses was that it had a television and it had been forever since I’d watched TV so I was able to catch up with the news. The rain began to pour (the only time during my trip) and after spending an amusing 5 minutes watching a Benny Hinn telemercial I landed on Al Jazeera (can’t believe they had that channel) and watched an interesting special about a female Arabic rapper before I passed out.

I awoke early the next morning, shaved, packed my bag, dropped my key at the reception and walked out into a beautiful sunny day. About 7,000 ft above La Ceiba towered the Pico Bonito, a beautiful pointed mountain (it’s all in the name) that’s worth looking up pictures of. It couldn’t have been a prettier day. The hotel was right next to the port so it was a quick walk to the ferry. I piled in line with excited, chattering, Hondurans who were beach bound. There are three Bay Islands: Utila, Roatan, and Guanaja. Utila is easily the cheapest option and super popular with the backpacker crowd and indeed I could see that its ferry was swarming with travelers. Guanaja is fairly undeveloped and therefore a pricier option. Its ferry departs from a different town. Roatan where I was headed is the largest and most populated of the islands. It has become a popular vacation destination for the growing Honduran upper-class as well as European travelers who stay at the islands numerous resorts but there are also backpacker budget options, most notably West End which was where I would be staying. I chose Roatan because my buddy Mike was there and he had been to Utila earlier in his travels and advised me that the reef was in better shape on Roatan and that the island was quieter but still had a nice night life. Plus Utila doesn’t have much beach while Roatan has some spectacular ones.
Although it’s only about 50km off the coast, Roatan is much more part of the Caribbean than it is part of Honduras. I was surprised to discover that Spanish is the second language on the island. Like the majority of the Caribbean, the island was populated by ex-slaves, Black Caribs known as Caracoles. I guess I would describe their primary language as some kind of English Creole. It’s an interesting version of English. They speak quickly and many times it sounds as though they are actually singing a sentence. I very much enjoyed listening to them talk, especially the woman who ran a food stand right next to the dive shop. The Spanish influence is a recent development as Ladinos from the mainland have arrived in the past 10 years finding work as taxi drivers and security guards.

The ferry ride took about an hour and a half and after picking up my pack from the baggage drop, which was complete chaos, I caught a cab to West End. On the way we passed a gas station and there was a Bojangles. It blew my mind. North Carolina’s very own, beloved chicken fast food restaurant which is found in only a handful of States has a location on an island in Honduras. Must be the work of some franchisee who has a house on the island. I wanted to stop sooo badly but we continued on. The cab dropped me off at the beautiful beach of Half Moon Bay in West End which is where I would be spending my vacation. I had made reservations to stay and complete my Open Water Certification with Coconut Tree Divers and there they were right in front of the bay. I was greeted by a super friendly British woman who runs the dive shop and she led me to the dorm where I would be staying. I had one roommate and he was Dutch, of course. His name was Ruben and he was from Rotterdam. He had spent the past three weeks in Boston studying medicine at the Harvard Summer School and decided to cap off his time abroad with a trip to Central America. He too was taking the Open Water dive course. Ruben was awesome. Great guy and definitely one of the best people I have ever met traveling. I was to begin my course the following morning so the dive shop scheduled me to go snorkeling with the afternoon dive on the reef off shore.

On a brief stroll through the simple strip that is West End I ran in to my good buddy Mike. I met Mike all the way back in March when he came to Nebaj after meeting my Dutch roommates Irina and Esther while they were on vacation in Livingston. Mike stayed in Nebaj for a couple weeks and came up to my site, Salquil Grande, for a day. We had some great experiences together beekeeping and he came with me to my friend Cara’s site where I killed a pig (still need to blog about that). When I went to Antigua to meet my parents he came with and we climbed Volcano Agua. This was quite an amusing experience. Agua wasn’t a very popular hike because it was fairly strenuous and undeveloped and after being warned of thieves along the trail we proceeded with next to nothing in our pockets. The 12,500 ft Agua is a beautiful cone shaped volcano that towers above Antigua. Mike had never been that high up before so by the time we reached the top he was drunk off the altitude. We didn’t spend too long up top but in his almost drunken stupor he was absolutely hilarious on the trek down.
Back in March Mike had a nice mop of blond hair but now his head was buzzed. He had picked up lice during a brief stint working at a school in Eastern Honduras. We took some time to catch up over lunch. He told me about his travels as he had worked his way from Cancun down to Panama over the past 7 months. It was great to see him again. After spending just a short period of time together I already know he’s a lifelong friend. He was nearing the end of his Central American adventure and would have to leave in a couple of days to make his way up to Cancun to catch his flight back to British Columbia so it was a shame we didn’t get more time to hang out but I’m sure we’ll end up traveling together sometime in the future. He’s that kind of friend.

Mike came snorkeling with me on that afternoon. The rest of the boat was diving and as we started snorkeling I found myself staring at the divers as they descended. I couldn’t wait to be able to go explore down below. Snorkeling was one thing but diving was a whole different experience. I had only been snorkeling once before (in Costa Rica) and I’d never been to a coral reef so I was just blown away. The reef was amazing and teaming with life. They say you’ll see more animal life in three minutes on a coral reef than you’ll see in three hours in a forest and that is certainly true. I saw all sorts of species of fish with no idea what they were called although I would learn more over the next week. The dive spot was named Turtle Crossing and true to its name we saw a Hawksbill sea turtle. That was really cool. We followed him for a while and watched him surface and then disappear into the blue.
The couple of days I had with Mike in Roatan were great. His last night we ate at Cannibal Café and he did their burrito challenge. If you can eat three of their burritos in an hour you don’t have to pay for them. By the end he was covered in sweat and on the verge of vomiting but he ate them all in time and got a free shirt. He came by early next morning on his way out and I wished him safe travels and he was off to Mexico.


Mike struggling with the burritos.


I started my Open Water certification my second day on Roatan. This included watching videos, doing bookwork, brief training dives in the bay and then four open water dives. My first dive was absolutely fascinating. Due to scheduling I had three different trainers during my course and they were all Canadian and all super friendly. That to me made a huge difference, diving with people you are comfortable with and that are fun to hang out with after diving. The majority of the divers at Coconut Tree were completing their dive master course. Accompanying me on my dives was a man named Bob who was working toward his dive master. Bob is a great guy, very helpful and was pleased to share the diving experience with newcomers like myself.

At night Ruben and I would hang out with another fun Dutchie named Cas. Cas was from Utrecht and had been diving all over the world and was working on his dive master course there in Honduras. We had one particular crazy rum-filled night. The next morning I woke up in my clothes still drunk from the night before. The video session that morning was miserable. Between heavy chugs of water I was cursing rum as my hangover kicked in hard. My fun night came back to bit me in the ass as it aroused my sinuses. That afternoon I had my final open water dive to complete the course but on descending I felt tightness in my face, ears and nose, the squeeze. It wouldn’t go away so I discontinued the dive. I surfaced with a nose bleed and waited on the boat and delayed my dive until the following day. As much as I wanted to complete the course I figured it was best to avoid further injury. Plus it hurt like shit.

I spent the night chugging water, chewing gum and popping ibuprofen and I awoke feeling much better. My dive wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon so I swung by the shop snagged a mask, snorkel and fins and took the hour long walk along the shore down to West Bay which is a popular resort beach. With white sand and fringed with palm trees, West Bay is generally considered the islands most beautiful beach. The shore was crawling with tourists roasting in the sun, the majority of whom seemed Italian. By the time I got to the beach I was sweating bullets and getting red quickly so I grabbed a snow cone, bought some sunblock and walked past the baking Italians all the way to the end of the beach. I was told the snorkeling at there was terrific and it did not disappoint. I swam out far from shore along the reef all the way to the wall where the reef sea drops off to 100 ft. I snorkeled along the coves and dove down for a closer view of the marine life. Just off shore in the middle of the reef there is a large rock. I dove down and was swimming around the rock when I came face to face with a Great barracuda. This threw me for a shock. Things appear larger underwater but even taking that into consideration this barracuda was easily more than four feet long. He was just hanging out by himself in the channel. I knew he wasn’t anything to worry about unless I was wearing something shiny but still swimming around the bend and running right into such a menacing looking creature gave me a bit of a jolt. I backed off a little ways and watched him for a while. After snorkeling I grabbed a sandwich in a wonderfully air conditioned deli and caught a water taxi back to West End. My afternoon dive went swimmingly (how appropriate) and I finished my Open Water course. A few days earlier I decided that since I was having such a great time diving I would stick around a couple more days and get my Advanced Open Water Certification. This would consist of five specialized dives (three of my choosing) and allow me to dive deeper, down past a 100 ft. My five dives for the Advanced Open Water Course were: a wreck dive, peak performance buoyancy dive (to improve my buoyancy since that’s what diving is all about), a night dive, a deep dive, and an underwater navigational dive.

Pleased with myself for completing the Open Water course I headed to a poolside bar on the shore to catch the sunset with a beer. I took my Advanced book with me to begin reading the chapters. The bartender was a friendly Texan named Austin (from Dallas) complete with a Stevie Ray Vaughn tattoo. I knew him from the dive shop as he was taking his dive master course there. I was reading through the deep dive chapter when I overheard a discussion on grunge music Austin was having with a patron. Ever opinionated on music I put down the book, took a stool at the bar and started a conversation about music with a guy named Jeff that would continue for several hours and several beers. Jeff was a former music critic from Colorado who moved to Roatan six years ago and had a radio show on the island. We had similar music taste, The Stooges, New Order, Jimi Hendrix, Prince, Public Enemy, etc, although we disagreed on the Grateful Dead (I’m a fan; him not so much). It was a great lengthy conversation and it was nice bringing up bands and talking about how much me we like them and he told me about some of the people he had interviewed. His most amusing being GWAR (makes sense) and the people who turned out to be just incredible assholes to interview: Black Francis from Pixies and John Cale. He left me with a list of bands to check out. He disappeared to take a phone call and feeling drained by my day in the sun I decided to call it quits, strolled back to the dorm and slept hard. I had three dives the following day and if there is anything I learned it’s that diving takes it out of you. It also leaves you incredibly hungry.

The next morning I began my Advanced Open Water course with a wreck dive. This would also be a deep dive although I would do my deep dive course the following day. I was super excited for the wreck dive. There is something thrilling about diving and exploring a shipwreck as if there is buried treasure inside defended by a giant octopus (not the case). The ship was called El Aguila and since 1997 it has been resting at 100 ft below. The ship is huge and was sunk intentionally by one of the islands premier resorts in order to increase the marine life. After its sinking the island was hit by a hurricane which broke the ship in three leaving it scattered in pieces. When we got in the water it was dark and there were huge grouper down below. I couldn’t see the wreck from the surface but as we descended to 100 ft the ghostly cargo ship began to appear.


The sunken El Aguila


We swam along the wreck and through the hull.


Swim through


At one point we swam into a room on the bow. The room was dark except for a stream of light from above that pierced through a hole in the bow. We went through the room and rose up through the hole in the bow. It was awesome. Bob brought his camera with and snapped some pictures.


Bear and I at the bow

After passing the wreck we swam along the wall of the reef ascending slowly. One of the cooler things I saw underwater was a moray eel swimming. They are usually tucked away in crevices. The ugly green beast’s body flowed through the water like a snake.


The snake-like eel


After my peak performance buoyancy dive I took a nap to rest up for the night dive. I was really looking forward to it since I’d heard coral looks completely different by flashlight than sunlight. Unfortunately I got stuck with a shitty flashlight. The thing could barely cast a beam so I tried to stay close to my instructor whose light was much more powerful. The ocean is very active at night and we saw lots of lobsters and the largest crab I’ve ever seen. Its arm was the size of my forearm.
The following day we did a deep dive. This turned out to be my favorite dive. We didn’t see as much marine life as on some of the other dives but the way the reef was formed was really cool. The dive site was the aptly named Spooky Channel. The reason it’s “spooky” is the way the light penetrates. The water is green and murky and you can’t see very far in front of you. We descended down cave like formations to a maximum depth of 94 ft. I finished my course in the afternoon with an underwater navigational dive at a shipwreck (unintentionally sunk; the engine exploded on this dive boat). I didn’t get a chance to observe the sea life on this one because I had to navigate with a compass and find objects. I wasn’t especially keen on having to play with a compass down below but I turned out to really enjoy the activity. It was my 10th and final dive. Back at the shop I bought Bob and Bear a beer and settled my bill with Coconut Tree. It had been an absolutely tremendous week. After a filling chicken dinner with Cas and Mike (a different Mike than my Canadian pal), I packed my bag, crawled into my sandy sheets, and was asleep by 9.
My week on Roatan was wonderful. Diving was a new experience for me and I had a blast doing it. I’m a bit of an airhog. I need to work on getting a nice breathing pattern so I can stay down longer and that will come with experience. Also this was the first time I had really traveled alone and it was a pretty cool experience as well. I was pretty much free to do whatever I wanted and I met some great people.
I took plenty of pics, the majority of which were of the epic sunsets. It was a nice escape from dreary Guatemala.


Sunset


A 5 a.m. taxi took me to the ferry and before I knew it I was back on the mainland in La Ceiba. From there I caught that luxury bus to San Pedro Sula. Unfortunately the brief layover didn’t allow me enough time to see Honduras’s second largest city and perhaps that was a good thing because of its gang problem it’s also considered one of the most dangerous cities in Latin America (which says something). Honduras has the second highest murder rate in the world although you wouldn’t know it if you took the tourist route to the islands like I did.
I had one more thing to see in Honduras before I returned to Guatemala: the Mayan ruins of Copan. I made it to Copan Ruinas after my layover in San Pedro Sula. Copan Ruinas is a pretty little cobblestone town although incredibly touristy. I stayed got dinner with a Swiss traveler who was staying in my dorm room. He had worked his way up from Chile and his country count was at like 54 which put mine to shame (although living in Europe affords easy travel to a lot of different countries). I picked his brain on his adventures over a dinner of the most delicious baleada I had in Honduras. Baleadas is the typical Honduran dish. As is common with so many other staples of Latin gourmet it’s an arrangement of ingredients inside a tortilla. It’s basically just a large flower tortilla filled with beans, cream, cheese and whatever other ingredients you so desire. I ate them daily on Roatan but none of them compared to the one I had in Copan. This one was huge and in addition to the beans, cream, cheese there was egg, avocado and meat. Great meal and I was in bed by 8.
I wanted to get back to Antigua the next day and I found a cheaper shuttle than the bus company I had been traveling with. It left at noon which gave me plenty of time to visit the ruins. Only a short walk away from the town are the ruins of the Mayan civilization of Copan. Copan is one of the most famous Mayan ruins and is at the very southern end of the Maya civilization. While it doesn’t have the impressive pyramids of Chicen Itza in Mexico or Tikal in Guatemala (“the mother of all Mayan ruins”) Copan is famous for its sculptures and detailed engraving which has led to it being nicknamed “the Paris of the Maya world.” The civilization flourished between AD 250-900 and the stone carvings are mighty impressive. My guidebook had a map and brief history of the ruins so I decided to save money and skimp on hiring a guide. The site is located in partial jungle complete with the scarlet macaws that the Mayas so adored. I spent about a couple hours walking around the site, admiring the sculptures and structures. The ball court is the second largest discovered and it’s pretty impressive. I’m not sure exactly how the game went but I believe the participants had to keep a heavy ball in the air without using their hands and the best player was sacrificed following the game as it was considered an honor. The highlight of the ruins was the Hieroglyphic Staircase which bears the longest inscription discovered in the Maya world. The staircase was covered by a tarp which takes away from its aesthetic beauty but it’s quite striking none-the-less.


Ruins


After exploring the ruins for a while I walked back to town and packed my bag. I turned out to be the only passenger on the Copan Ruinas-Antigua noon shuttle which was awesome. Plenty of leg room unlike the buses I’m used to traveling on in Guatemala. The border crossing was super quick and for some reason it felt nice to get back into Guatemala. Just like returning home. I’d missed Samantha during my trip so I was excited to meet up with her in Antigua. We had a lovely Saturday. We saw Inception, followed it up with a delicious meal at my favorite restaurant in Antigua and then topped the night off by having a couple drinks of absinthe at a classy French restaurant. There was butcher paper over the table cloth and we ended up drawing and writing back and forth on it. The owner came over and told us he saw that the absinthe had inspired us like it did artists in France back in the 19th century. It may sound silly but I gotta say that drawing and writing to one another while getting tipsy was one of the more fun times I’ve ever had on a date.
Though I had an amazing time in Honduras I’d say that I didn’t really get to know the country. I took the tourist route from the Bay Islands to Copan and never really got to interact with the people. The Hondurans who I did encounter were incredibly friendly as much as any country I’ve been to. I regret not interacting more with the people but who knows I may make it back there someday, after all its right next door. Overall I had a wonderful and well needed vacation. So now I’m back at Salquil and it’s cold and rainy. Figures.

My night in Copan Ruinas was August 11th, marking my one year living in Guatemala. The days can be really slow but the months have fly by. Looks like I’ve only got 15 more to go. It’s odd to think about but if I were still in Togo I would be completing my service right now.

Ixhil nunchuse'

I have yet to shave this month. My overgrown facial hair and an interest in Luddism are the only things I have in common with Ted Kaczynski. Come on, I hate math. What I’m saying is that just because I haven’t shaved doesn’t mean that I’ve been a recluse this month (or been mailing bombs to people). With the exception of spending countless hours in my room obsessed with watching The Wire, it’s quite the opposite. I’ve been out and about visiting my beneficiaries and trying to get work done. Emphasis on the word “trying”. My work is rather stagnant at the moment and that doesn’t sit well with me. Part of being in the Peace Corps is having a tremendous amount of patience and constantly having to adapt and change with what’s going on. I came into this month excited with a plan of where I wanted to go with my work but as I’ve realized in the past week I’m going to have to refocus my work from making gardens (everyone has already planted) to doing more nutrition and compost work. I’ve focused a lot on composting the past few months. It’s been a hard concept to get across to the people in the towns where I work but I have had some success stories that I’m proud of. It’s a good thing that I’ll be doing nutrition work because that’s the area in which I have the least amount of expertise. In my last blog post I mentioned the rainy season was beginning. Well now it is fully upon us. That’s downpours every afternoon. The rain can be a pain with work but the good news is I’ve got beets, onions, radishes, and carrots growing in my garden. Carrots are difficult to cultivate up here but radishes grow like crazy. Just taught my host brother how to play solitaire.

Salquil Grande is 99% indigenous. The only person living there who is not Ixil Maya would be yours truly. In a way I’m special in that I am the only Peace Corps volunteer who lives in a predominantly Ixil speaking town. It has gotten to the point where it’s strange for me to hear people speak Spanish. I never hear it at my site unless people are talking to me. As a result I began taking Ixil lessons in April. I’m not the best at learning languages (i.e. my still sub-par Spanish) and Ixil is not an easy language to speak. The pronunciations are tricky and sometimes guttural but I’m enjoying learning it and little by little it will come. I don’t expect to be proficient but I would eventually like to get to the level of being able to converse. People just light up every time I say even the simplest thing like “thank you” or “goodbye”. They’re thrilled I’m at least trying to learn their language even if I butcher it and smiles from Guatemalans are always welcome. The title of this blog post is “I’m learning Ixil” in Ixil.

A rain dog at Easter

I’m staring at my blog for the first time in ages and trying to compose a narrative of all that has happened in the past few months. There’s so much to tell, I’m not sure where to begin so I think I’ll come back to those happenings in subsequent posts.

The rain is pouring outside and some old Isaac Hayes album is playing on my iTunes. It’s odd mixture, his smooth voice against the beating rain. The current downpour signals the start of the rainy season. Great. I arrived in August last year (that’s 8 months in country!) and caught the last third of the rainy season which runs from April/May – October. Last year Guatemala was deluged by the most rain in its recorded history. This leaves a lot to be expected for the upcoming wet months. Travel will be difficult on these muddy, landslide-prone roads. I was returning from the Lake at the beginning of December and got stuck behind a landslide that had just occurred along the road descending into Nebaj. What was unnerving about the whole thing was that it hadn’t rained in several weeks. I’m guessing the soil was so saturated from all the rain of the previous months that eventually hillside crumbled. It will be interesting to see what goes down this rainy season and also how the constant rain will affect my work as I’ve noticed that Guatemalans aren’t exactly excited about doing work when there’s even a light drizzle.

Last week was Semana Santa (Holy Week) which is the country’s largest holiday outside of Christmas. The schools that weren’t already closed because of the lengthy teacher strike, shut down for the week (as did most businesses) and it was nice to see the streets filled with people. It was a festive time and Nebaj was filled with carnival booths, street vendors, a couple of rickety ferris wheels and of course plenty of bolos (drunks). The strangest thing I saw was an effigy (of who I have no idea) hanging in the central park in front of the Catholic Church. I spent most of the week leading up to Easter in Nebaj by myself, taking a break. I lounged around, worked out, read, watched a bunch of The Wire and wandered the muddy streets. I’ve got to admit it was good to have some alone time. Sometimes living with 5 siblings up in Salquil Grande can be trying and I’d spent a lot of time with Peace Corps volunteers in the past month so it just felt nice (and a bit lonely), to take a break from everything. That being said I did have a wonderful wine filled night with other volunteers at Passover Seder on Wednesday night. I hadn’t seen my good friend Noor in a long time so it was great to spend time with her and of course our terrific host Nicole.

Most of the major U.S. holidays have passed since I’ve been in country. Thanksgiving and New Year’s were celebrated in grand fashion with other volunteers and that was nice. It’s great to get together in big groups for such celebrations because while I come from a small family, it’s nice to experience that same sort of camaraderie. Christmas was a small event. I spent it with my two dear Dutch girls who had just arrived for their two month volunteer stint in Nebaj. I had planned on getting together with other volunteers for Xmas but I decided to spend it in a small setting, getting to know my new European friends. While I miss everyone back home, in regards to Christmas and Easter, it has felt nice to take a break from the usual madness that comes with holidays here in Guatemala and especially in the U.S. It may not seem preferable to hunting for eggs or microwaving Peeps but spending a quiet couple of lonely days was a nice change.

Overdue Pics

It has been far too long since I put some pictures up so here are some recapping the events of the past several months. Some are from training and some are at my site.


With my host brother back during training.



Giving a capacitation (presentation).



Shaking hands with the U.S. Ambassador to Guatemala.



With Justin one of my good friends.



View from my room when the weather is nice.



View from my room when the weather is not so nice. (most evenings)



View of Salquil Grande from the hills.



Group of friends who came up to Nebaj for Thanksgiving and we did a hike.



With my dear Dutch friends who threw a birthday dinner for me.



My carrots!



Out on the job



Giving wine making a shot.

Huehue and Prostitutes (not to create an association between the two)

Anyone notice the earthquake count has gone up? They aren’t as frequent up here as where I was living during training but the other morning we had quite the shake. It’s been a while (a month!)and I’ve got plenty of material to update the blog with, especially about my travels and I promise more soon but here’s a little for now.

Last week my business took me to Huehuetenango, on a mission to buy seeds because they cost less there. Huehuetenango is the capital of the department of…Huehuetenango. The department has some of the tallest mountains in the country, the Cuchumantanes range. My site is located in the eastern edge of the mountain range which extends into western Quiché. Anyways, for some reason I had it in my mind that Huehue (“way-way”) sat on relatively flat terrain with a gigantic wall of mountains looming in the background. In this way it resembles Denver. And while the later is true the former certainly is not. Huehue is as hilly a city as I’ve ever visited; kind of like San Francisco. There you go, it’s a cross between Denver and San Fran, only a lot smaller. The trip to Huehue was very short but I was able to grab lunch with my good buddy Frank whose site is located 20 minutes from the city and that was a pleasure.

I suppose the highlight of the trip was on the way back I was waiting to catch the last bus to Nebaj from Sacapulas when I was propositioned. Standing there on the side of the road waiting for the bus to arrive a group of whoreishly (?) dressed women sitting nearby tore me apart yelling their offers to me. I just shook my head, gave a laugh to amuse them, wore a grin and focused on the road. They were nice enough to promise me a “buen precio” and the whole thing was fairly flattering although I guess it’s just business to them. This was the second time I’ve been propositioned in my life. The first was in Costa Rica where prostitution is legal. I remember trying to watch the UNC-Duke game in a sleazy ex-pat bar crawling with prostitutes (it was the only place that showed college basketball) when a woman took a seat next to me. I kindly turned her down and made an apologetic expression to who I thought was her Madame standing on the other side of the bar. I felt bad turning her down because it must feel even more degrading to be rejected on top of selling your body. Maybe that’s not the case. It’s a conscious decision she’s made and who am I to judge her profession? I mean at least due to the legality there aren’t any pimps. Still it’s a sad (if not awkward) encounter. Maybe I’ve seen too many movies with the “hooker with a heart of gold” theme in them: Pretty Woman, Trading Places, Lonesome Dove, Taxi Driver, L.A. Confidential, Risky Business, Leaving Las Vegas, and Les Misérables. It’s a theme I always find moving.

Anyways it’s not exactly a pleasant topic to discuss but the whole thing is just an interesting experience that one may run into traveling abroad (or in counties in Nevada with populations less than 100,000). It’s something that makes you stop and think and it’s definitely worth a thought or two so I felt like mentioning it.

Work

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).