Tortillas, but So Much More

Back in the states, I never, ever would have put down money for a corn tortilla. Before coming to Guatemala, my experience with corn tortillas had been pretty disappointing. They were always stale, tasteless, and far inferior to their soft, chewy flour counterparts. Basically they could ruin an otherwise good meal just by being there. I am a changed woman.

Keep in mind these are just observations and bits of interesting information I´ve learned along the way, and I´m sure many a cultural anthropologist could say all this better with more clarity and precision. However, I feel like I´ve devoured enough stellar corn tortillas, and spent enough time in the company of those who can make a mean one, in my three months here to be able to write a musing little blog.

As an Iowa girl, I know corn. I grew up literally surrounded by it, and ate it for dinner an average of three times a week, and that was in winter. However in Guatemala, corn isn`t just a diet staple, it`s a thing to be revered. Part of my pre-Guatemala studies also taught me that many Mayan groups perform extensive ceremonies asking permission of the earth before planting or harvesting the crop. I would like to see an Iowa farmer perform such a task before climbing into his combine.

According to the Popul Vuh, the Mayan sacred text which translates to The Book of the Community, the Mayan people are literally The People of Corn. The Mayan creation story explains how the gods tried several different materials including wood and mud during the construction of humanity, and found them lacking, until they built men and women of corn. This is a small exerpt-

¨They came together in darkness to think and reflect. This is how they came to decide on the right material for the creation of man. ... Then our Makers Tepew and Q'uk'umatz began discussing the creation of our first mother and father. Their flesh was made of white and yellow corn. The arms and legs of the four men were made of corn meal.¨

As they play such a crucial role in the Mayan cosmovision it`s not a surprise that, corn and corn tortillas aren´t just food sources in Guatemala, they´re cultural and spiritual icons. I´ve seen corn tortillas integrated into Guatemalan culture in a number of different ways over the past 12 weeks. In the Mayan-Catholic church in Chichicastenango they were brought up to the altar as an offering. In Guatemala City they were small, almost perfectly round, made of black corn, and were on the table at every meal. In Chamelco they were thick, soft, and the size of dinner plates. Here in Xela they often appear in the form of a tamalito, a small slice of husk-wrapped cornmeal. Working at Bezaleel School, I knew I´d finally arrived when I could down an entire bowl of soup using only tortillas. Corn is also present in the form of tamales, chuchitos, atol, and other local fare. I remember reading in ¨I, Rigoberta Menchu¨during my Guatemala preparations, that she and her large family subsisted almost entirely on tortillas and maiz atol, a thick, sweet, milky drink made of ground corn. If they were lucky they had some chile as well.

In some areas of Guatemala the word for tortilla in that region´s native language (there are 26 in Guatemala) is the same word for food itself. In the Kekchi language for example, the word for tortilla is ¨cua¨and the primary verb for ¨to eat¨is ¨cuac.¨ As some fellow volunteers, who speak quite decent Kekchi, explained to me, you can down an entire meal, but if you haven´t had tortilla yet, you haven´t actually eaten.

So, I´ve identified just one more way Guatemala has changed me. This isn´t a huge change, it`s more of a palate expansion than anything else, but maybe a little more than that. Guatemala`s culture and values have rubbed off on me a bit, and have yet again left me feeling a little more reverent of the world around me and my own connection to the earth, and I`m left wanting to learn more. Even if I can´t relate to corn and corn tortillas the same way a native Quiche or Mam Mayan would for example, I now have more context to understand and respect the connection they feel. Pass the tortillas please.

Thoughts on Xela, and What Comes Next

Today marks the end of my second week in the city of Xela, the second largest and most important city in Guatemala after the capital. It´s a beautiful, very European-styled, city midway between Guate and the Mexico border, and I absolutely adore it. Originally Xela was not part of the plan at all. Those who read some of my first entries will know that I started out the summer thinking that at this point I´d still be doing service, and presumably in Honduras. I am so happy I scrapped that plan and didn´t look back! Xela fits, very well in fact. It´s a sort of haven for American, Canadian, German, Dutch, and English travellers and basically every other nationality you can name. People from all over the globe come to seriously study Spanish, but yet at the same time Xela is very traditional and very Guatemala. Walking through the streets you still hear Spanish as well as the native Quiche, but Dutch, English and others are still common.

The city itself is quite pretty. Although it´s modern, it´s cleaner and more charming than the capital, but more realistic than Antigua, basically a perfect mix. The streets are cobblestone, the homes and businesses a rainbow of colors, and the buildings in the heart of the city are tall stone edifices that almost remind me of some of the Dublin streets I strolled down 8 years ago. The central park is flanked by restaurants, salsa bars, and shops and the city just has a very relaxed, casual, friendly vibe. I am lucky enough to be living only three blocks from the square and one block from my language school. It´s a great location from which to explore the city. My host family here is much more financially stable than my family in the capital, and it´s been very interesting observing the different lifestyle they lead. They have been equally warm and welcoming, and I even have a housemate from NYC named Sunny. She and I get along very well and it´s nice having another student in the house.

The quality of Spanish language education, in my case anyway, is also much, much higher. I feel as though I´m finally learning here, and regret spending so much time in the city to be honest. In two weeks I´ve been able to experience two different teachers, and I much prefer this method of learning. Before my second week they actually recommended that I change it up because people who do so also tend to learn at a quicker rate. After having the same sweet, but generally disappointing profesora in the city for seven weeks, this was a welcome change. Carlos, my first maestro, loved talking futbol and politics, was great at correcting me on my use of the preterite and imperfect tenses, and even took me to see the birthplace of President Arbenz Guzman. Ligia was very sweet and never let me get away with using masculine and femenine improperly, and indulged me when I wanted to spend class time visiting a famous Xela bakery. They have both been excellent for my progress, and I´m very excited to work with Jessica next week, which is also my final week in Xela and in Guatemala...for now.

After having travelled almost every weekend since I arrived in Guatemala, I decided my last one should be spent enjoying the present. I´m really looking forward to just spending the day exploring a little more of the city. I plan to attend mass at the beautiful cathedral, wander through the museum, maybe pick up a few things at the market, and possibly meet another student for dinner at one of the many restaurants that look so delicious. I also wouldn´t mind ending up taking a few spins on the dance floor as I discovered two days ago I´m actually a pretty good salsa dancer. Good to know those 13 years of ballet and jazz are still serving me well.

Although I love the idea of just spending a whole lazy, leisurely weekend enjoying Xela, I have to admit I have an itch to see Chichicastenango just one more time. I´m heading to the Chichi market with some other students early Sunday morning to tuck in just one last big Guatemala market experience. The first time I was pretty rushed, and I would like to enjoy a full Mayan-Catholic mass at San Tomas while I can. Since it´s just a day trip from Xela I don´t have to go through all the trouble of figuring out multiple busses and coordinating times and hostels, which is a nice change of pace.

Since my time here is quickly coming to a close I´ve also been trying to remind myself that, although it might feel that way, Guatemala is not my reality. Honestly thats a really hard truth to accept. I truely love Denver and the life I have there, but every day in Guatemala is an adventure, and that becomes very addicting very quickly. I´ve come close to tears several times in the past weeks thinking about the fact that I really do have to leave, and generally over insignificant little nuances of Guatemalan life. It´s not that I even prefer Guatemala over Denver, but I think I´ve fallen in love with the feeling I have being here. Three months isn´t a lifetime, but it´s enough to become more the kind of person I wanted to be, and thats equally addictive. I don´t want to over-romanticize my experience here, but I think anytime you find an environment that allows, or maybe encourages, you to become more fully yourself, you can´t help but feel like you´re leaving something terribly important behind when it´s time to go. I know that my Guatemala experience doesn´t end when I leave the country, but it sure feels like that from where I sit right now.

How I went to Coban and came back with blood stains, stitches, and two prescription antibiotics

It actually was a lovely day. The rains had stopped after twelve straight hours and there was a nice breeze blowing through Chamelco as I boarded the microbus headed to Coban. I was not actually planning to go to Coban, but the rains had left the famous pools of Semuc Champey looking like chocolate milk and not their usual startlingly clear blue, and I was told by many not to even bother. Hence, I changed my weekend plans and decided to explore the city of Coban.

It happened not even 100 steps into the city. After the torrential downpour of the previous two days, there was a considerable amount of standing water in the street, but I was not deterred! Like the locals, I decided to suck it up, take off my shoes and wade through the mire. At this point you´re probably assuming, well the bare-footed idiot probably stepped on something. Wrong! To be safe, I decided to reach out and hold onto a metal fence on the edge of the murky water, just in case it was deeper than I thought or I stepped on one of the many broken bottles that litter the streets. I´m still not sure exactly how it happened, but as I stepped in I felt a odd sensation in my fingers. When I looked down at my hand I realized I was also looking at two exposed medial phalanges...and a lot of blood. At this point, I´m standing in swirling muck, holding my shoes, dripping blood at an alarming rate, trying to keep myself calm, and praying I don´t step on something in the thirty some feet of standing water between me and help.

I managed to keep myself calm enough to get through the water, struggle back into my shoes, and stumble into the nearest tienda just as the pain was starting to get intense. In Spanish I was able to explain to the slightly perplexed owner just what had happened, and she brought me a little stack of napkins to try and stop the bleeding, which had left my favorite shorts with dark reddish brown splotches. Then she ran upstairs to get a nurse who miraculously lived upstairs and was home. The nurse gave me a preliminary cleaning and helped me keep my hand elevated as the shock began to set in. I don´t remember ever experiencing shock before, but holy shit is it a frightening sensation. Within minutes my limbs had gone completely stiff, I couldn´t slow my breathing no matter how hard I tried and my fingers were totally immobilized. I momentarily convinced myself I´d also developed lock jaw, but then realized even the name implied I hadn´t. At that point I began to consciously attempt to talk myself out of shock mentally in English, while trying to maintain conversation with the people assisting me in Spanish. I didn´t fully comprehend at that point that not only had I cut through skin, but nerves as well.

All of the sudden I found myself on a stretcher heading for an little Guatemalan ambulance. It might seem a bit ridiculous, but at that point my legs definitely were not taking me anywhere. My medic was named Jose, and I think he got a kick out of my attempt to appear calm, cool, and collected, and probably my Spanish as well. Before I knew it I was explaining the situation all over again to the dozen aids who surrounded my hospital bed the second I made it off the stretcher. Apparently gringas with superficial finger injuries are a curiousity. My doctor was actually very nice and very efficient, although the shot of pain medication straight into my raw and exposed muscle made me want to throttle her. She had me cleaned up, sewn up, and sent off with two prescription medications in under 30 minutes. I must say, they did a wonderful job with me, and I was thrilled to be making it through the experience. There was a tiny part of me that desperately wished someone was there, not to help me through it, but just to witness it. I mean the situation really was ridiculous, I sliced my hand open on a fence that shouldn´t have been able to slice bread and wound up on a rural Guatemalan hospital bed,when the plan was to spend a day casually strolling through the museum and eating a good meal. Not only that, but I was getting through it all by myself, in Spanish, and not freaking out. I was oddly proud of myself.

After leaving the hospital and passing five closed pharmacies (it was a Sunday after all), I realized my next task might be harder than I´d like. Finally I found an open pharmacy, and since I had not anticipated on spending almost 300 quetzales on prescription medication, I had to bargain with the pharmacist to allow me to get half the medication but still hold onto the prescription, all in Spanish again. Roughly 200 Q later, I walked happily away with a few days supply of prescription painkillers and antibiotics. Then, since I had to take my pills with food anyway, I stopped at a slightly fancy restaurant to blow my last 30 Q on a piece of german chocolate cake the size of my head, and it was totally worth it.

The rest of the day actually went quite well. I fulfilled my plans to walk up the hundreds of steps to the Templo Calvario, and made it there just in time for afternoon mass (during which I made sure to say plenty of prayers of thanks). Then I wandered around the city a bit, and tried to get used to my bandaged and basically useless pointer and middle fingers. As the initial pain meds wore off the injury, although relatively minor as injuries go, became achingly intense.

It´s now been over two weeks, and I can tell the scars will be small, but they´ll always be there. They didn´t heal as quickly as my doctor had anticipated, and the stitches had to remain in for almost a full week after the original estimate. After spending another hour in the Red Cross waiting room here in Xela, I decided to remove the stitches myself and despite a little pain was successful. The feeling is fine in both fingers, but the mobility will take time. The stitches were actually an interesting topic of conversation here in Xela and at Bezaleel School as well. They were an odd way to break the ice with the students in both locations, and I got used to living life with 8 fingers very quickly. Now that they´re gone it feels a little funny. It´s strange, but it´s one of those life experiences that, after the fact, I didn´t really mind having. I´ve given a little blood to Guatemala, and Guatemala in turn will leave me with two scars, one jagged and one smooth and straight. I can´t think of a better metaphor for my experiences here.

Leaving CASAS, Leaving Guatemala City

I´m writing this post from the small city of Chamelco in the Alta Verapaz department (similar to state) of Guatemala. I´ve been living just outside of Chamelco in a Mennonite-sponsored, Guatemala-operated boarding school for Kekchi students for the past week. This is a pretty extreme change from the life I lead in Guatemala City, and this actually was not the original plan at all. I decided to depart from the CASAS program a little early in order to give myself a little more freedom and flexibility with my time here. I realized before I came to Guatemala that I was enrolling in a structured program, but what I could not have known then was that remaining in the CASAS program would mean I wouldn´t have the opportunity to experience Guatemala the way I wanted to in my short time here. It´s a wonderful program and I have plenty of respect for the way it´s run, but if you´re not a college student earning credit for your time, it can feel a bit stifling. Thankfully the staff was understanding of my situation and feelings and helped me work out a new plan.

I left the program one week early and came to Chamelco (near Coban) to do two weeks of ¨service¨at Bezaleel School. The more I am here in Guatemala the less I agree with coming here with the idea of ¨serving¨the people here, so I don´t really like to use that term. My days this past week have mostly consisted of eating, helping students whose first language is Kekchi and second language is Spanish translate their English homework, learning Kekchi phrases, helping out in the huge vegetable and herb garden, and studying Spanish independently. It´s a great experience for me, and wonderful for my Spanish comprehension skills. At first I was crushed when I couldn´t understand a word anyone was saying, then I realized they were all speaking their native Kekchi. Then I realized I was always a little relieved when they stuck to Kekchi because it took all the pressure off me to keep up with what was going on. Then I became frustrated that I couldn´t understand Kekchi and wished they would just be nice and speak a little Spanish. One word that translated no matter what though, was ¨Gringa.¨

Leaving Guatemala City actually wasn´t the least bit sad, leaving the people I have been surrounded by for the last seven weeks definitely was. Luckily we were just coming off a wonderful weekend at Lake Atitlan, so I went out on a very high note. I still feel very lucky and grateful to have experienced as much of Guatemala City as I did. Had I chosen to study in the more mainstream Spanish study towns I would have missed out on a huge chunk of Guatemalan life. Guatemala City is the reality of more than 3 million people, and had I gone the Antigua route I would have had a very skewed perception of this country. Being in Guatemala gave me a very solid foundation for the exploring the rest of the country, and forced me consider the issues the average Guatemalan faces on a daily basis.

Bezeleel will be home for only another week, and then I´m on to Xela for two more weeks of language study with another school. Honestly, even though this is a beautiful place with a beautiful native culture, I don´t think I´ll be too sad to leave. Being around three hundred Guatemalan teenagers has made me realize that teenagers are teenagers no matter where you are in the world, and it´s even worse when they have two languages to use against you. Most are extremely sweet and welcoming, but others...not so much. I definitely value this experience despite, but part of me is thrilled that I am not staying here the entire four weeks I had planned on earlier.

The Things I´ve Seen

This post is an attempt to make up for all the things I have not yet written about during my time in Guatemala. I think now I avoided writing for the first month because relaying everything I was seeing, thinking, and feeling literally seemed exhausting. As a result, so much has happened that I have yet to record.

First of all, I must say one thing I really enjoy and appreciate about the CASAS program is the fact that it´s not just language, it´s social justice and human rights education. During our first week in the city we took a little field trip to Zona Uno to visit the National Cemetary, National Palace, city dump and Catholic Cathedral. At the National Cemetary we were greeted by both the simple shrine to President Arbenz Guzman, a true defender of the people and champion of shared wealth and resources, and the ridiculously ornate, and ironically Egyptian pyramid-styled, tomb of the Castillo family, arguably the most powerful family in the country with considerable land holdings. Only feet away stood rows and rows of stacked, rented tombs for those too poor for a more permanent burial plot. Only several minutes walk from this point, we came upon a large grave devoted to a former military leader which had been a favorite clandestine trial and execution spot of the paramilitary due to it´s close proximity to prime body-dumping sites. I realized I stood on the site where people, most like good, innocent, peace-loving people, had their last thought in the name of peace and justice.

We then continued on to the city dump where the bodies had been tossed for so many years, to see the bodies of the poor, ïnformal sector¨workers digging feverishly to recover recyclable, reusable treasures. They sorted through our garbage, amongst our used toilet paper - Guatemalans are not able to flush toilet paper due to bad pipe systems - and other horrid-smelling refuse to eek out an existence. Vultures circled overhead and the stench was overwhelming. It was only several years ago that the city mandated people could no longer live directly in the dump, and children were not allowed to work in it.

Then there was the National Palace, site of the signing of the historic - and largely ignored - Peace Accords, with murals depicting Mayan people as naked savages alongside beautiful stained glass representations of the 12 pillars of a just government. Directly across the square from the National Palace was the Cathedral where Monsignor Juan Gerardi declared guilty numerous military and government officials during the reading of the historic REMHI report, which also included the name of every known victim of every documented massacre or attack. He was bludgeoned in his garage three days later. ¨Presente¨was ringing in my ears.

Of course this is only an abbreviated version of these experiences. It´s only now that I´m beginning to feel I have the proper context and mental grasp of these places and events, and even this country, to process and write about them. Naturally there is so much more I have to say, as this was all just within the first week. Additional entries will come later, but in the meantime I will be seeing and experiencing even more. I thought this journal would end when my time in Guatemala ends, but I understand now that there is a considerable delay in terms of processing and understanding. These are things I´ll be puzzling over and straining to appreciate for months and years. It´s not possible to truly understand 400 plus years of oppression and cultural upheaval in just 12 weeks. I think this blog might end up needing a new name.

Crime Culture in La Brigada

There have been two violent murders within two blocks of my home within the past three weeks. Both victims were young boys, 12 and 16, and were both involved in local gangs. Both took place in the morning on a Saturday, and I unknowingly came upon each crime scene only minutes after the crowd had started to gather. I had never seen the dead body of a child before, and honestly I never imagined a situation in which I would. The first boy was wearing high top sneakers, which were poking out from beneath the small green blanket with which his body was covered. His ankles were so thin. I didn't even understand what I was looking at at first. By the time we encountered the second two weeks later, I didn't look.

The first one was gone in one shot that we heard that morning as we were getting ready to leave for a day downtown. The second was the same, but he had scrambled into a local shop hoping for sanctuary. Both were close range. The odd thing is how disaffected the community is. Within moments a crowd gathers within inches of the corpse to see what's happening, and most people know exactly who was holding the gun. The police take their time, even though the station is literally five blocks away. Only 3 out of 100 murders are ever even investigated in Guatemala City, .05% are solved.

Strangely enough, I don't feel scared to be here, but I do feel that I've been living under a false sense of security. I understand the desire of my program coordinators and my host family not to scare me, but no information or suggestions were ever given in terms of safety and security other than never take your eyes off your bag and don't flash your cash. We've been told that because we're not involved in any gangs we don't have much to worry about, except of course getting caught in a crossfire. Oddly enough it seems as though the killers take care not to get anyone else involved. The murders are generally very close range, early in the morning before the streets are full, and bystanders are not targeted, how nice of them.

These experiences have started me thinking about the amazing contrasts we've experienced here in Guatemala. On the day we encountered the first murder, we were leaving our extremely poor - in money, resources, and representation- neighborhood to have lunch downtown in the posh, very westernized Zona Viva neighborhood in the heart of the city. On the day we came upon the second, we were on our way to spend a quick weekend in the touristy, colonial city of Antigua because we were craving a certain restaurant. On the day we came back from a women's cooperative in Chichicastenango in which bullet holes are still visible in the walls, we went straight to the national theatre to see an opera with the Guatemalan elite, and sat across from President Alvaro Colom.

Although we are part of this place, we don't exactly factor in, if that even makes sense. We tell ourselves that this is our home for two months and try and act as though we belong here, but none of us can understand it and truly know it. We're peripheral. However, I don't think any of us have gone in with a grandiose plan to change the world starting with the community hosting us. We're pretty well set in reality and recognize that observation and understanding is better than service and western-ways evangelism. One thing I can say for this program is that I feel I have a deeper, more realistic understanding of what Guatemala is at this moment than any of the travelers I have met along the way. This post probably seems pretty disjointed, but when I think about these murders, the true face of my neighborhood, the silence of my program directors, the possible fate of my two little host brothers, and the two socio-economic extremes of Guatemala City, I can't help but feel scattered.

A Typical Day

After almost six weeks in the city, we CASAS students have developed a pretty regular daily routine. Even though I use the word regular, there are generally plenty of things that happen on a daily basis to remind me that this experience is like no other in my life thus far.

I have stopped waking up with the roosters and firecrackers, and now drag myself out of bed a few minutes after six. Learning a new language takes more mental energy than I ever could have imagined! If there is water available I shower, but if not I use the cold water out of a large basin in my family´s partially exposed sink area. My mother usually has a simple breakfast of beans, eggs, and sometimes pancakes ready for me at six thirty. After picking up the other students in my area, we are lucky to catch a factory bus a little after seven. I say lucky because when we first board the bus it is packed to the ceiling, but five blocks down the street the entire bus will empty as almost everyone on these morning buses is an employee of one of the large ¨fabricas¨in the neighborhood. After that we´re able to enjoy our own seats, which is lucky because we generally ride bus number 1 for about 40 minutes. We catch the second bus around 8 and get to CASAS around eight thirty, just in time for our first session of morning classes.

During class, Fjaere and I practice new vocabulary, reflexive verbs, indirect objects, and other grammar with our teacher Abigail. Although I'm not a huge fan of her teaching style, we get to do fun things like take trips around the city, watch movies, play games, cook, etc...all in Spanish of course. We eat lunch on site at the school after four hours of Spanish instruction. It's wonderful because everything is made from scratch on site, and we get delicious, fresh corn tortillas with almost every meal. I've really grown to love those things.

Afternoons are spent with the 9 other CASAS students either catching up in internet cafes, exploring the city, or taking little field trips to places like women´s cooperatives, museums, forensic anthropology centers, and other sites of cultural or historical importance. It´s one of my favorite parts of the program, and I feel I´m getting a very well-rounded idea of the current state of affairs in Guatemala. This program is geared almost specifically toward college students earning college credit, which sadly doesn´t apply to me at all. I think if I could do it over again I would have selected a more flexible program.

We catch the bus home around 4 or 5 in the afternoon and are lucky to get home about an hour later. I spend about an hour hanging out in the small living room of my family´s home doing homework with my little brothers. My mom usually has dinner ready around 7, and I´m generally famished. During dinner I pretty much just sit by while my family talks to each other at warp speed, but honestly after a long day of trying to speak Spanish my brain is fried. Sometimes we watch TV after dinner, usually the Guatemalan equivalent of E! or telenovelas. It´s actually really good for practice and learning sentence structure. After that it´s bedtime. Being here has kind of turned me into an old woman. Come 9 pm I can´t wait to crawl into bed. I barely even have those minutes to lay in bed and consider the day and the one to come before I´m out until 6 am.

I´m horrible at Blogging!

Wow, I didn´t realize I had let this thing go so long already! I have a lot to catch up on naturally, but I promise I´ll try and be succinct! Thanks for anyone out there who is reading!

First off, my new Guatemalan family! I have been living with the Gomez Gil family for the past four weeks, and have enjoyed it very much. I have two little brothers, David, who is eight and Pablo, who is 13. It´s really fun to be around kids again, it´s been a long time since I´ve had a ¨little¨brother around. My mother, Rosario, is very generous and extremely patient with me and my not so fabulous Spanish. We have breakfast together every morning and talk about the day ahead, and chat again when I get home. Luckily she´s had enough students in the past to know speaking slowly is absolutely essential. I rarely have to ask her to slow down or repeat anything. She also has an amazing knack for popping into the kitchen and pulling amazing meals out of thin air. She´s kept me on a diet of chicken, black beans in various forms, rice, tomatos, onions, a little beef or pork, bread and tortillas for the past four weeks and every meal is delicious and unique. My father, Jorge, is usually gone at work by the time I get up, he´s a mason and carpenter. The first day I was in their home he and I had a big discussion about US building techniques compared to Guatemalan, which was prevalent because they are also in the process of building an addition onto their home. I was secretly thrilled with myself for being able to carry on a conversation that long about something so random.

My little brothers are also nice to have around, especially in terms of my Spanish practice. They always point out when I say something incorrectly or misconjugate, which is great because it´s always in a very benign, sweet sort of way. We usually spend the evenings painting together, hanging out around the dinner table, practicing their English, or playing marbles. They are a very tight-knit family, and very religious. My parents spend an average of four nights a week at church and are also song leaders.

The home itself is small and my parents sleep in a corner of the family room, but it´s more than adequate for four or five people. My room is up some exposed stairs on the roof level, which I love! It´s defintely the nicest room in the house, which makes me feel a little awkward to be honest. My family obviously counts on the supplemental income of taking students from this program. My windows and front door overlook several other homes, and I can look down into the courtyard area of the house next door, where that family´s parrot lives. Between the squawks of the parrot, the bellowing of the dogs, the crowing of the roosters and the 4 am birthday fireworks that are so popular here, I rarely sleep up until my alarm. It´s actually kind of a nice way to wake up to be honest. I feel very safe and cozy in my home, my mother is a wonderful cook, my dad tries his best to make little jokes with me in broken English, and my brothers are a great source of comedic relief. Life at the casa de Gomez Gil is very good.

The Bus System!

Ok, I´m going to try and keep this simple because there are a ton of little details I could include. I´ll try to hold back and not write a novel every time I get on the computer!

First of all, the Guatemala City bus system! As a frequent patron of the Denver city buses I feel like a seasoned rider, but there is no comparison. The city buses are generally old school school bus style, and are in varying degrees of safety and repair. There are established routes, but not exactly established stops. There are always obviously places to load and unload, but if you feel like getting off between designated stops just whistle as loud as you possibly can. We haven´t mastered the whistle just yet. The buses are generally always very crowded, even to the point of people hanging off the back and front. However seats tend to open up quickly with so many people moving en masse.

When we all first arrived in the city we were able to enjoy this crazy, pack ém in like sardines style of transportation, and it was actually a great way to bond with each other. In one instance we made the unfortunate decision of hopping on a bus making scary, death throw kind of sounds. On the way up a small hill, all of a sudden we were rolling backwards gently. The bus driver threw the emergency brake, fiddled with the gears and got her moving forward again. However about 1000 meters down the road the same thing happened. Only this time about half a dozen men jumped off the bus, ran around the back, and actually started pushing the bus uphill! Amazingly it worked. They jumped back on and we were rolling again. A mile later, we´re on an even steeper hill, and we´re not just rolling gently backward, we´re lurching violently backward. At this point all us American kids used to padded seats and safety codes start freaking out, which I´m pretty sure really amused the locals. Our host mom, who was escorting us, made the decision that after the next lurch we all needed to scramble out the door. Naturally the second we made it on the ground, the bus sprang to life and continued rolling along. The native Guatemalans must have gotten a kick out of us. I felt a little foolish, but I was having visions of Guatemalan hospital beds and lost limbs.

That might have been a bit out of the ordinary, but for us thats been a typical bus experience. We were just getting comfortable with the system and where to get on and off, and were actually looking forward to the day our host moms would decide we were capable of riding on our own. However we all woke up two days ago to news that almost all the bus drivers in the city had gone on strike due to the outrageous gas prices and no increase in wages or rates. Currently the state and local government are working with the bus drivers union to try and reach an agreement. This leaves literally tens of thousands of people living on a very fixed income in a very precarious situation. GC is not the kind of metropolitan area where walking great distance is safe or even possible. In addition, taking a taxi to get where you´re going can cost as much as 100 times your bus fare. It makes it nearly impossible for people who live on one side of the city and live on the other to make it on time and not risk losing their job. Theres a lot more I could say about the social justice aspects of this issue, but I´d rather wait for it to play out and see how the gov handles things. Hopefully this matter is dealt with fairly and soon, I really miss the bus!

I made it!

Just wanted to write a quick note saying I made it just fine. The trip was a little stressful due to a delay that left me running for my next flight, but all ended well. I woke up to a lovely Guatemalan morning, it's cloudy, humid and actually very comfortable. The other students seem very nice so far, and I get to meet my host family in less than an hour. I found out they have two young kids, which should be fun. We had a very informal orientation this morning, and I'm feeling pretty relaxed about navigating life around here. However I might feel differently after my first public transportation experience. The food has also been great, and theres an avocado tree in the back garden! We start classes officially tomorrow, and it looks like I'll be studying one on one or with only one other student. The individual attention is pretty impressive, and we get to take lots of field trips! Anyway, thats about all for now. I'll be updating often though. Hope you're all doing well, and thanks for keeping up with me!

10 hours!

Well, almost ready to go!  It's past midnight now and I'm up doing last minute laundry with Dave, who has been nice enough to take me all over Wisconsin showing me the sites.  It seems funny that by tomorrow night I'll be living in Guatemala officially.  Honestly over the past week I've been so preoccupied with what was happening in that exact moment that I haven't had much time to really think about how quickly my departure date was approaching.  It's been a really wonderful week.  I was able to spend some time with family, revisit a few places I love, bbq with college friends, kayak with my little brother, hike with Dave, reconnect with a long lost friend at Brat Fest in Madison, and enjoy lots of very American foods and locally brewed beers.  It definitely feels like a summer vacation.  Part of me is enjoying this week so much I'm almost a little bummed this part of the journey is over, however I know life can't always be like this past few days, and I have a whole new adventure awaiting me.  

I arrive in Guatemala City tomorrow evening around 6:40 after layovers in Chicago and Miami.  Considering my horrible track record with O'Hare, I'm a little nervous about making the connection and am keeping my fingers crossed that everything goes smoothly.  There have already been a few hiccups in the plans because apparently my Guatemalan contact never received the flight information I sent over a month ago, and up until yesterday didn't know when I'd be flying in.  I found it a little odd that she waited so late to let me know this.  When I sent a reply email I received an out of office response instructing me to contact someone else.  I just really hope theres someone waiting to pick me up tomorrow evening!  

All right, on with the laundry.  I'll post more when I'm able!  Wish me luck! 

Wow, yesterday was my last day of work...and it was weird! I actually thought it would just feel like I was leaving for a long weekend or something, but it definitely did not. Three and a half months isn't really that long, but Empowerment could be a very different place to me when I get back. I know there will at least be a couple new people on staff for one, and I'm praying my office doesn't get moved while I'm gone! Plus I know it will take awhile for me to readjust, and there might be a degree of culture shock. For that reason I made sure to give myself a couple weeks between my return to Denver and my return to work. I think that time will be very helpful to settle myself back in. In addition it will allow me to catch up with the first week of school I'll be missing and participate in the Democratic National Convention (which I plan to both protest and volunteer for, I'm still trying to decide if thats hypocritical). Anyway, I didn't think work was something I'd miss. It's probably not the work as much as the people.

Now I'm just running errands all over the place before my subletter moves in for good this afternoon. Thanks to a good morning call from Jared I was up at 7:21, even though I could have easily slept another hour. Thanks buddy. I feel very accomplished already, which is good because the more I think about what needs to be done yet the more overwhelmed I'm getting. I probably shouldn't be blogging when my fridge still needs to be cleaned out, my floors swept, and my bag repacked, but this is a lot more fun than those things :) Wish me luck!

Maybe this is a good time to be leaving the country...

Reason number 1 why I'm happy to be leaving Denver is that I've suddenly developed an allergic reaction to...everything. Having never had allergies in my life before, I can suddenly empathize a bit with all those poor souls who go through this year after year. The puffy eyes, mouth-breathing, semi-sleepless nights, and ginormous sneezes are getting old quick. Maybe Guatemala will be a little nicer to my system...but then again I am confronting an entirely new ecosystem. I could be screwed.

Second, holy horrible economy! Maybe by the time I get back into the country things will have leveled out a little bit and I can finally afford to eat well again! Seriously, the vegan chicken nuggets I love have almost doubled in price. I just can't justify spending roughly 75 cents per nugget! (By the way, I haven't become a vegan, or even a vegetarian again, but these nuggets are amazing) Plus Ben & Jerry's is $4 a pint now, thats painful! True, I won't be around to do my part to stimulate the economy, but I know many good Americans out there who would be happy to pick up my slack.

Third, I love my apartment, I really do. However, as the weather gets warmer I'm suddenly having flashbacks to a year ago when it was a stifling 90 degrees at midnight and I had to camp out in front of my little window air conditioner to get any sleep. Using all that electricity killed me, and I'm just not a fan of conditioned air in general. They tell me Guatemala hovers around 80 during the day and is nice and cool at night, thats perfect! Plus its winter down there right now, which means the rainy season. I'll get to enjoy all the rain I've missed in Denver!

Fourth, I won't have to see the Auraria Campus for almost 4 months!!!! Taking five classes while working full time was just not a good idea, my brain needs a little break. I spent way too much time on that bloody campus over the past five months, and I'm done! Next semester I'm cutting back, and not going anywhere near math and science for awhile! My heart belongs in the humanities! Plus I lost my student ID yesterday, which is also my bus pass, grrrrr.

Anyway, just to clarify, there are also many reason why I'm excited to return. Denver is a great city and I love my life here, but it needs to be shaken up a bit. I think a summer in a place I've never experienced is just the thing I need right now. I do look forward to returning to Denver very much, and know there are tons of things I'll miss, but it's time for a little adventure.

Hello everyone! So I'm jumping on the blog bandwagon (because apparently thats what you do when you become an expat). I have to admit, this is probably the easiest way to share my experiences with all the people I'll miss, since Sprint tells me my cell phone won't work in Guatemala City, hehe.

For those of you who might not have had the pleasure of listening to me go on and on for hours about this experience, here are the details. On May 25 I'll be leaving the US to live and study in Guatemala City for 8 weeks, and do an additional 4 weeks of service (hopefully in Honduras). Although I'm traveling on my own, I'm studying through a Mennonite program called Central American Study and Serve, or CASAS. It's a well established program that serves mainly American college students, and it came very highly recommended by several friends here in Denver. I'll be studying with 8 other American students, and I'm looking forward to the small class size. Four hours each morning will be spent in small group language instruction, while the afternoons will include visits to peace and justice organizations, women's cooperatives, cultural and historical sites, etc. Although I'm not expecting to be 100% fluent by the time I leave, I hope to be well on my way.

As of today I have 8 work days left, 10 days til my subletter moves in, 12 days until I leave Denver for a whirlwind Midwest visit, and 18 days until I'm officially living in Guatemala! My ticket is bought, my apartment is in shambles as I attempt to pack up all my prized possessions, and my mind is in a constant frenzy of things I have to get done before I leave. I actually love life at this velocity, anticipation is probably just as wonderful as the experience itself. It's still kind of amazing to think that in only a few weeks I'll have an adopted Guatemalan family and will be speaking Spanish on a daily basis. The epicurean in me is also dying to try new foods, and hopefully bring home some new recipes and native Guatemalan spices. Hopefully my host family will indulge me!

I can already feel myself starting to fall in love with this country that I haven't even met yet! I can almost see the life I'll be living soon in my head. I know a book can't compare to an actual, tangible experience, but studying the history and culture of Guatemala has been both painful and wonderful. Honestly I knew very little about the country and people before I committed myself to this adventure. Once I became aware of the opportunity, and realized how little was actually keeping me from diving in, I just dove. Now, as I learn more, I'm certain this is the right direction to be heading. Guatemala, in many ways, is initimidating. From what I have read and learned, the people of Guatemala have been mercilessly exploited for centuries and have only recently regained stability. As a result, Guatemala City is still one of the most violent and dangerous parts of Central America. This made me very uneasy at first, but I still feel this is the place I need to be going. Rest assured I've done my research and taken all the warnings and precautions to heart.

Now I just need to keep myself organized and grounded enough to get through the next few weeks, which I know will be a challenge. Seeing this trip just over the horizon for weeks now has been very distracting. In many ways, I've already checked out of life here in Denver (which has made studying for finals next to impossible). I'm sure I'll be posting much more in the days to come!