Pineapple Jam

One of my new projects is to support/work with the newly established Oficina de la Mujer (Office of the Woman). As women have found out that I will be helping, a lot have been asking for projects. Our first one was this week with the women’s association in San Jose. Ana, the woman in charge of the office, and I went to this community to teach them to make jam. We were given a ride in the ambulance (a dilapidated Jeep more or less) and told that when we want a ride home, we can hike a few minutes to find a signal to call. As we will see later, that didn’t work out so well.

We worked with 16 women, teaching them the whole process of making jam. The community grows pineapple, so that was a very cheap jam to make (and delicious). We cut up the pineapple while we boiled the jars, then started cooking the fruit. However, we encountered a little problem. For water to boil the jars in, the women had to walk about 15 minutes to the river to carry it back (they don’t have water in the town, or electricity for that matter). We had started boiling the first bit of water they brought back, but it wasn’t enough to cover all of the jars, so they went to get more. Obviously, though, it took them at least a half hour to bring it. When we added the cold water to the boiling water and hot jars, a few of the jars shattered. All the women freaked out and from that point didn’t think we should boil the jars. We got past that though. Overall, it went pretty well, and I really enjoyed meeting the women and getting to know the community.

We finished up around 1 p.m. While the jam was boiling in the jars, Ana and I went in search of a cell signal. Two little kids led us up a nearby hill. After about 5 minutes up there, I had enough signal for just a second to send a text message to the ambulance driver. However, the signal never came back to see if he could even come pick us up.

(Ana searching for a signal. I love the combination of Indigenous woman with a cell phone.)

We went back to the jam room where we chatted some more and took pictures with the finished product. While we were there, a microbus came and left to take people to San Fernando. Nobody bothered to tell us that it was leaving. Thus, we went in search of a signal again in a different location. No luck. Ana was getting very frustrated, but I have learned to just roll with it. I was relaxed, calm. It’s a beautiful place, no rush for me to leave.

Since we couldn’t find a signal and had no idea if or when we would get back to San Fernando, Ana and I went to the house of one of the women for eggs and tortillas. I was expecting a couple eggs, some beans and a plate full of tortillas. I received one hard-boiled egg and one tortilla. However, when the chicken stole half of my tortilla right off my lap, I did get a second one. I knew that the poverty was extreme here, but this was the first time I had really experienced it to this extent. And as a sidenote, when we walked into her house, we were greeted by the grandmother sitting in a hammock, topless, stoking the fire.

After we ate, I took a little cat nap in the hammock while the women chatted in Q’eqchi’. Around 3 p.m. we headed back to where the road passes to try our luck. We had perfect timing. Just as we found some nice shade to wait in, the ambulance pulled up to take us home.

(The community, San Jose)

I think this may become a weekly activity, heading out to communities to teach the women’s groups various things. Most people really don’t understand why I’m here, though. At the end of the afternoon, Ana was talking with them about what we (I) could teach them. All of the ideas were cooking-related. They want to learn to cook different foods (more than just eggs). I’m more than willing to do this, but I would also like to throw some environment in there, since that is my role here. I told her, yes, we can do that, but I would also like to teach them something about the environment, for example, how to make a compost pile (rather than just burning all of their organic waste). She translated that to them and that my job is planting vegetables. A little frustrating – that’s just my hobby – but I will teach them to plant a vegetable garden, considering their diets are highly lacking in the necessary vitamins and nutrients. But really, Ana is one of the people I talk to most, and she has no clue what I’m doing here! It happens a lot. For example, last Friday, I told another coworker in the muni that I was going to San Agustin that day to teach a class. She said something to the effect of, “Oh you’re going to go teach English?” “No,” I told her. Then I asked her what my job is here, trying to spark an idea in her. She was stumped. No clue. I finally had to tell her that my job is ecotourism, i.e. related to the environmental, and thus I would be teaching environmental education, and that my job in Chahal is not to teach English. She didn’t really seem that interested.

It’s a struggle, at all levels. The people I’m trying to help don’t want help in the area that I want to help in. And the people I need help from to do my job (a.k.a. the mayor), don’t put much interest in what I’m doing. Poco a poco (little by little). That’s the theme here with everything. Poco a poco I will become accustomed to life here; poco a poco I will learn Q’eqchi’; poco a poco I will start realizing projects.

My Garden

Yesterday I finished my garden! I was a little exhausted after nearly 7 hours straight of working in it, but it was well worth it. I began digging up the dirt last week, and at the beginning of this week I started planting. Before I even finished, those quick little radishes had already sprouted! In my cute little garden, I’ve got carrot, radish, cilantro, summer squash, cucumber, watermelon and acelga (not sure the English word, but some sort of leafy green) in the dirt trying to grow up to be big and strong to fill my tummy. To finish off the garden, I fenced it in to keep the stray chickens, dogs and pigs out, which was a lot more work than I had expected. After dinner, I watered it, not sure if the rains would come, but don’t you fret, they came. However, the tropical storm that is beating up the country has missed us. But I imagine that sometime during the rainy season, we will be inundated (literally). I just hope my garden is on high enough ground!

(The first part of my garden. It's much bigger now though and everything has sprouted!)

I’m very proud of my little garden – it’s my first. I’ve helped my parents some in the past, but this is the first time I’ve had my very own. I had a little help from the neighbor kids in stretching out the fencing, and just for some company. But I put in all the labor. It makes me quite happy, and it’s something to do that’s more worthwhile than watching TV. I’m reading Edward Abbey’s “Desert Solitaire” right now, and it could not be more perfect. He writes about reveling in the solitude and taking time to appreciate nature. I think that pretty much sums up my life right now. I decided that if I could talk with anyone, dead or alive, I would want to talk with Edward Abbey. I’d like to get converse with him, rather than just read his written word. However, this may be just because I’m reading his book right now; I’m sure it will change with the next good book I read!

(Not part of my garden, but beautiful flowers across the street that only bloom for a couple days each year, right after the first rain!)

And a little sidenote: I gave my first environmental education classes on Friday and loved it! It was pretty basic to start with: drawing pictures of what is in the environment, but that's just to get the ball rolling. I started out with an ice breaker of the human knot, which the kids got a kick out of. It's a fun secondary project, and I'm now doing something!

The Feria, continued

The rain ruined the feria. Torrential rains began on Thursday (tropical storm Alma) which caused them to cancel the rodeo, which was going to be the highlight of the week. But, even with the rains, basketball was not cancelled – kinda like track: rain or shine. Now you’re probably thinking that we were playing on an indoor court. Silly, silly you. The game was outside, with puddles all over the court. Basketballs don’t bounce very well in a couple inches of water, in case you were wondering. Also, Guatemalan women don’t know how to play basketball, yet they like to yell at me what I should be doing. They shoot the ball from their chest, play like maniacs and think it’s necessary that we cover our man even in the backcourt. Plus, the refs don’t know how to call the game right. Luckily, I can cuss in English and nobody can understand me. For example, when I went up for a shot and was clearly fouled, yet the ref gave the ball to them, I screamed, “Are you fucking kidding me?” Perhaps that wasn’t appropriate, but no one understood me and it calmed me down so that I didn’t knock someone over. I get a little competitive at times, in case you didn’t know.

We won our first game easily: they only scored one basket, yet the women I played with continued to backcourt press and take advantage of fast breaks. I eventually told the coach that we needed to play nicer.

The team was from Livingston, a mainly black town on the Caribbean coast which you can only reach by boat. I think I may go there this month with a new friend that I made in town yesterday. After the game we watched them perform some of their traditional folk dances. Later that evening, there was another dance. More creepy old men, more fighting, and thus me going home early. One of the creepy old men is a middle-aged Cuban doctor that will be living here in Chahal for two years as well. At first I thought, “Great, another foreigner to make friends with.” Plus he offered to cook Cuban food for my friend and I. Yeah, too bad he doesn’t just want to be friends with me. I’ve heard he’s been asking around if I have a boyfriend and if I go out alone at night. Maybe next time I see him I’ll tell him how much he reminds me of my father, see what he thinks of that! Yuck! (But don’t worry Dad, he really doesn’t remind me of you at all, I just want to get him away from me!)

Friday and Saturday were similar to Thursday: rain, basketball and dances. Except we lost these two games. I think I’m ready for a break from basketball. I skipped the dance on Friday, and Saturday was nothing special. Saturday morning, though, there was a procession for the patron Saint Fernando (who the feria is for). I dressed up in Indigenous dress for it. It was really fun having my friends dress me up in their clothes. There were about 4 women putting me together!

Sunday, though, was the highlight. There was a road race from San Fernando to San Agustin and back. I won. I was also the only female, but I beat a few of the guys also. I started out slow because I wasn’t exactly ready for another race yet. All the men took off, but eventually I reeled a few back in. I only picked it up the last few kilometers because I caught up to this guy that I really wanted to beat. Yet now I’m receiving texts from him about how much he loves me. Fantastic.

They say it was 14 km; I ran it in 1:08:52. They gave me a huge trophy and 100 Quetzales ($12). It was really fun. There was a big crowd at the finish and they had me give a speech! Everyone was so shocked that a girl was able to complete the race. One of my new projects is going to be starting a running/sports-in-general group with local girls. Hopefully I can get some of them ready to race in August in the next feria.

(Yup, that's a big-ass trophy in my hands!)
After the feria, life went back to normal, more or less. The rains have relinquished a bit, which is strange, because the rest of the country is getting beaten down by the storms. In time I’m sure it will happen to us too. One thing a bit abnormal, though, was the murder. On Saturday of the feria, a man died who had been shot in the neck two weeks prior while out at the bar in San Agustin (the town I used to live in). He had been in the hospital and in the end didn’t make it. No one really seems to know what the argument was about. Perhaps gang related. The man that died, plus another that was shot, are half brothers of my counterpart. The deceased also was the husband of one of my host sisters back in San Agustin. I never actually met him though, although I lived with the family. It’s quite sad for the families, yet at the same time, he was a drunk, didn’t work, and was somewhat abusive to his wife and five daughters. Not to sound too harsh, but perhaps, in the long run, it was for the better? But we won’t get into that now. And not too worry, this is a very rare occurrence here in Chahal, plus I don’t pass my time at the bars, so I’m not around where the problems are more likely to arise. Actually, I feel really safe here, and very content. I’ve been in site without leaving for a few weeks now, and honestly, have been immensely happier. Traveling four hours to hang out in Coban with other volunteers is just ridiculous. Yes, occasionally I’ll do it, but the less I go, the more I’ll appreciate each trip.

Feria and Other Anecdotes

With most of my experiences here in Guatemala, I end up trying to find an equivalent from home. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Here in Guatemala, each town has its own feria once a year to celebrate the patron saint of the town. While we don’t have that at home, back in Springfield we do have the Filbert Festival (hazelnuts to some of you). There’s a road race, an old car parade (I lack the proper English vocabulary at the point), music, and various booths set up throughout the park. Yeah, so that’s not quite what the feria is here in Chahal.

It started out last Thursday with the election of the Indigenous Queen. It was a beautiful event; very cultural. There were four contestants. They had to do the Baile del Venado (Dance of the Deer), show off their traje (indigenous clothing), and speak, among other things. My favorite won. (I liked her because she said that her aspiration is to be a doctor, which is damn big here.) Saturday was the election of the Señorita Chahal (Miss Chahal). Needless to say, it was not quite so cultural and I saw quite a bit more skin.

(Indigenous Queen)

Let’s back up to Friday. Foregoing my ecotourism duties for a morning, I went to the river with the contestants to be the photographer for their “photo shoot.” (Obviously it was a really big deal since I was the photographer.) Luckily, later I was able to go to the tree nursery with my counterpart for a bit.

The pageant was on Saturday for both the Señorita Chahal (ages 15 – 18) and the Reina Infantil (little girl queen). The pageant started with their “fantasy wear.” Basically, they wore bikinis with wings and/or huge head dressings. Then was some dancing, swimwear and evening wear (little girls and senoritas alike). It was the epitome of strictly a beauty pageant – no talent, no intellectual aspect. Well, I suppose they did have to give their “message” to the audience and answer a question at the end, but I wouldn’t call the responses intellectual. My favorite was when one was asked how she would promote/market Las Conchas (my park) so that more people would come. Her answer, “I would make it available to men and women.” Okay, great, but how? So maybe I’m being a bit judgmental, but with this pageant they’re not helping to improve the woman’s place in society here.

(She's 8 years old)

On top of all that, what intrigues me is how divided the community is. For the Indigenous Queen pageant, only other indigenous people came to watch, and the same with Señorita Chahal, only other ladinos. Although I guess it makes sense, people gravitate toward what they know, what is comfortable.

The official feria started on Wednesday with the parade. (Other major events, or realizations more so, took place between Saturday and Wednesday, but those are stories for later.) The parade wasn’t shocking by any means. The queens were in front, followed by the local authorities (me included!), then some military school that knows how to count to 8 really well (and backward too!), followed by all the local schools. The governor of Alta Verapaz even came to help us inaugurate the feria. When we all went to lunch, I asked for a picture with her because she’s dang cool. She’s a college-educated Indigenous woman as governor!

(La Gubernadora and I. I love that she is in her Indigenous traje with me wearing a Bazooka t-shirt. I wasn't quite expecting to be in a parade when I got dressed in the morning!)

(Aura and I in the parade. I imagine she will become one of my best friends here: she has no boyfriend, no husband, no kids, is studying at the university on the weekends, and wants to be my friend.)

(Yes siree, they can count to 8 forward AND backward!)

After a break mid-day to start my compost pile, I went to the basketball and volleyball games with my neighbors. The games were terrible, but I bought a sno-cone, so it was okay. The volleyball game was just ridiculous. It was a men’s game (here it’s a men’s sport). When they couldn’t get to the ball with their hands in time, they would kick it! And what’s more, the refs allowed it! I wanted to go up to them and explain that it’s like the opposite of soccer – only feet in soccer versus only hands in volleyball. Today and Saturday I get to play basketball, and I’m super excited! The last time I played on a team was freshman year in high school when we went 0 – 21. I’m hoping to improve on that.

Wednesday night was the first dance of the week, but it was not quite what I had hoped for. Hopefully the following three will be better. This first one started three hours late and then it was mainly only drunk guys, plus the two paid dancers (who might as well have been strippers). What disappointed me is that no one was just dancing on their own – only partners. Personally, I prefer to dance on my own with my own space if I’m not comfortable with any of the guys, but that was just not an option. I danced with middle-aged men, which was not fun. But at least I got a couple beers out of it (I never thought I’d be able to drink in site). We left early, though, because a big fight started and we didn’t really care to be a part of it.

While I was at this dance, I was trying to compare it to the Filbert Festival. What I came up with was one year when my brother, sister and I walked down to the park where a local folk band was playing. Some people were sprawled out in the grass, others were dancing and others were just enjoying the atmosphere. Nobody was being molested, nobody was fighting, and there were no near-strippers. Yeah, not quite the same.

I know that I shouldn’t even attempt to compare here and there, but sometimes I can’t help it; my mind often wanders. The differences can be quite interesting in some situations, but in others, it’s just too different to even be worth comparing. Don’t try to interpret my feria commentary as something negative. I love experiencing the feria, I just tend to be a bit sarcastic at times, and even more so now because I can’t let my sarcasm out with Guatemalans (they don’t get it, they just think I’m a bitch).

The feria continues through the weekend, so I’ll be sure to write about the rest of it. As I said, there will be more sporting events, the highlight of which will be the “marathon.” They call every road race in Guatemala a marathon, but this one is actually 13 km (oddly). It’s on Sunday and there’s prize money. Seeing as I may be the only female racing, I plan to earn a bit this weekend. Other exciting events will include a couple more parades (one of which I’m going to dress in Indigenous traje for), lots of rodeo action, and of course, more dances!


Sidenote

As most of you know, I have asked for emails. I need to specify a bit though. I’m not looking for a, “Hey what you’re doing is really cool;” I’m looking for a, “So this is what’s going on in my life,” even if it’s just every day details like going to the grocery store or coffee shop, because those have become foreign experiences to me and thus find them extremely interesting.

Also, don’t feel bad if I write you more than you write me. I do have a bit of time on my hands here. I would like to say that I’m so immersed in experiencing the culture that I don’t have time to write, but in reality it’s that I’m so immersed in experiencing the culture that I do have time to write. Life is laid back here. People relax, spend time with their families, watch t.v. Seeing as I don’t really care to watch t.v. and my family isn’t here, that leaves me with plenty of time for reading, writing, gardening and soon, playing with my new puppy. Although I’d like to travel more, that’s really not what Peace Corps wants of us, which makes sense. A lot of volunteers leave their sites quite regularly and travel/party with other volunteers, but I’d like to say I’m choosing to become a part of my community. I could also say that I live way to far away to travel that often and that I want to save money, but I like the first choice best. Really, I have two years to travel, but I think it’s really important to establish myself here in Chahal at the beginning of my service to become recognized as part of the community. Later (when you come to visit me) I’ll go experience what the rest of Guatemala has to offer.



Almuerzo para la Siembra

Some things are just said more simply in Spanish. More or less in English, this was a lunch to celebrate the planting of this year’s crops and to thank all of those who helped. The mayor and some of us from the muni were invited to partake as well. Of course, everyone spoke in Q’eqchi’, but I’m learning little by little and it’s fun to shock them with the gringa speaking a bit of their language.

It was a very special event to me. I feel honored to be included in such cultural experiences, especially when I’m invited into these people’s homes to share their food with them. To set the scene for you, I was the only woman in the room (since the meal was to thank those who worked in the field), but they welcomed me nonetheless. There were about 30 of us seated around the walls of the room on a low bench and the meal was placed at our feet on the dirt floor.

The traditional dish in Chahal for any important event is caldo (soup), which has been a problem for me. Soup’s never been my favorite, but I don’t hate it, except for this one. It’s just bad, but little by little, I’m learning to eat it. I can eat the chicken out of it just fine, but the broth doesn’t sit so well in my stomach, however, I feel terrible not eating the food that these people so generously have provided for me. In this lunch, though, I did much better. I didn’t grimace and I finished nearly all of it. The next step though, is to learn to eat it gracefully. It’s typically eaten without silverware, and I end up leaving with my fingers and face covered in a rust color (the color of the broth), but somehow everyone else leaves spotless. I am baffled.

The other amazing part of this meal was one of the people I met. He is a man who is over 100 years old, yet still is out working in the field. That’s an incredible age to live to in any society, and exceedingly so in rural Guatemala. It’s obvious that the reason he is still going strong is because he is out in the field working. I was able to speak with him for a moment, which was very humbling. Although we couldn’t really communicate, I managed to say a few greetings and thank you; I’m not sure what he said, though.

I really enjoy going out to the rural communities and meeting the people. Even if I can’t converse with them, I love being welcomed into their lives, albeit only for a little bit. I really need to commit to studying Q’eqchi’ in my spare time or else I’m never going to get a grasp on it, and it would help me so much here to integrate better.

Coban Half Marathon

This weekend I ran my first half marathon, and I loved it! The weekend started out a little worrisome, as we got an extreme flat tire on the way up when we were in the middle of no where. I tried as best as I could to have some patience and wait (it’s one of my goals). Eventually, we got a new tire and headed on our way. I arrived in time to pick up my number and all the goodies, go for a little run on the last couple kilometers of the course, and get to the pasta dinner, although I did not get to see much of the parade.

The pasta dinner was held at the convent. When Caitlin and I went, we waited outside in a mass crowd (Guatemalans don’t understand the concept of a line). It seemed like we were trying to get into a homeless shelter dinner. The pushing, the shoving, and then clearly, a good half of the people in line, were not runners. But when we got inside, it was set up quite nicely, with a band and everything. They had plenty of dinners and readily handed out as many plates of cold spaghetti as one’s heart desired, runner or not.

The race was a blast. There were 3250 registered runners, plus all those who couldn’t get in or didn’t want to pay. It was a big race, and even with chips for our shoes and everything (although mine didn’t come out accurate). It was an international event, with Kenyans winning both the men’s and women’s race (Elías Kemboi 1:03:59 and Neriah Asiba 1:14:41). The first Guatemalan man took 10th place.

The atmosphere was fantastic, with spectators all throughout the course cheering “animo” (spirit), “arriba” (up) and other general encouragements. The first half was pretty easy – a few up hills, but mainly flat or down hill. I kept a great pace, averaging about 5:10 per km. It hit me at kilometer 13, though. The hills were increasing, and my energy was rapidly decreasing. My spirits were raised, though, when I saw a man with his ice cream cart charging up the hill alongside us to get to his next customer.

I absolutely LOVED competing again. Oh man how I had missed it. I raced pretty well, especially considering it was my first half, and I had been extremely ill on Wednesday. I finished pretty strong, outkicking a woman in front of me and a few men at the end, to cross the line in 1:54:46. My goal was to break 2 hours, so I am quite happy! I was also the first Peace Corps female, 5th Peace Corps Volunteer overall, and the 32nd female overall! Not too shabby.

I’m going to take a week or so off, let the random swelling in my ankle go down, and the start training for the next half that is in Antigua in July! Aww, running makes me oh so happy.

Today Was a Good Day

(Chicken fight at Uspantan's feria)

When I write in my journal, I always start with one of the two following sentences: “Today was a good day,” or “Today was a bad day.” Well, today (Friday) was a good day. In fact, I would even call it fantastic. It was a picturesque day in the life of Peace Corps Volunteer. I’ll tell you about it, but first I’ll back up a bit and tell you about my week, to give a little background.

Last weekend, I went to help out at the bottle school in Uspantan that I mentioned in my last blog. The project was amazing. The building is solid, yet with a frame of plastic bottles filled with trash. I would love to do a similar project here in Chahal because there are a lot of rural communities without schools. It was beyond difficult getting permission from my mayor to go help at this project, and it shouldn’t have been. This is something that I need to work on, because I’m can’t live here for two years having to deal with this kind of extreme supervision. I’m just a volunteer.




Wednesday came along, and I woke up extremely ill. The works: diarrhea, vomiting, nausea, dizziness, weakness, fever. It was not a fun day. Plus, with my half marathon four days later, I was a bit freaked out. I have been looking forward to that more than anything else, and if I couldn’t have run it, I would have been devastated. I rested in my house until it was too hot to survive, then I went up to the main house. The hike almost killed me, almost. It was about 11am, pretty hot, and by the time I got to the house, if I hadn’t found a chair immediately I would have fainted. I was seeing spots. At this point, I was glad my mom wouldn’t let me go to work in the morning. After I threw up I called her and told her I felt better and wanted to go to work. She said no.

So I laid down and rested in the bed in the living room, alongside the three-year-old girl Jimena, because she was going through the same thing. It was adorable, and I didn’t even care if I would come out of it with lice. So this day I was supposed to move to my new house. Obviously, that didn’t happen. The afternoon was similar to the morning. I couldn’t eat a damn thing and felt like I was on my death hammock. One happy moment came, though, when I was watching TV. and a program came on with beautiful scenes of winter wonderlands. Of where, you ask? None other than Yellowstone and the Tetons! It didn’t even bother me that the scenes were accompanied by religious songs. Nor did it bother me that I had a 102º fever with the air temperature the same, and snow was dancing around in my face. It made me happy, not even a bit homesick, oddly enough.

Thursday I woke up feeling like a brand new person; what a relief that was. But I took the morning off, nonetheless, to rest up and to pack up my stuff and clean the house. I went to the office in the afternoon and really didn’t do anything. Although I did finish my book. That’s something. I also had a nice afternoon walking around town, buying vegetables in the market (finally!). And to top off the day, as I was leaving the market, some little kids popped their heads around the corner and shouted out my name. I hadn’t even met them! That completely reinforced that San Fernando is the right town for me to be in. A friend of mine had asked me a month or so ago if I’m a celebrity in my town: if kids just shout out my name. Well, no, they hadn’t. So it made my day that I finally reached celebrity status. I spent a few more hours waiting on my friend Juan to give me a ride to my house to move all of my things. It started out frustrating, but then I reminded myself that it is the last time I’ll have to sit around waiting like that, because I will be living two blocks from the muni and not having to catch a bus home and get home late.

(My new house)

So Thursday night I moved into my new house and COOKED DINNER. I’m so happy to be cooking for myself finally. And the house is wonderful, although immediately I got ahead of myself wondering if I would stay here for two years, or want my own place eventually. There are clear advantages to this house: the safety provided by having others live here; not having to buy furniture; the presence of a washing machine. But, then I started remembering how nice it is to have my own place where I can do what I want when I want and decorate how I want (I won’t have to have pictures of random Jesus scenes all over my walls). But I told myself I would wait and feel this out for awhile, since I can’t move out until July anyway. Well, of course I didn’t stop thinking about it. I even had a dream about having my own house.

(My backyard)

As it turns out, though, it was good that I let my mind run away with me this time. When I was sitting around bored in the muni today (Friday), bummed that Don Rudy hadn’t invited me to go out to some communities for an important event, I was chatting with a coworker and told him about my idea of having my own place, and mentioned the only decent house I know of that’s available to rent. He said it was a great place, but that someone else had already inquired, so that I needed to hurry if I wanted it. Immediately I went to talk to the owner, and now I have a house if I want it. I’ve only seen the outside so far, and it’s cute. I’m going to check it out on Wednesday when the daughter who owns it comes back. But that means I have to make a decision then whether I want to rent it in July or not, because they have another person interested. I wanted to see what I think of the place I’m at now first. But I think that in the end, I will want my own house. I just didn’t want to have to decide so soon!

So that was point one of my good day. Point two was riding my bike around town! It was magnificent. It is exactly what I pictured my life to be. Riding my bike through the dirt roads of my quiet little rural town. Back up a sec, point one would actually be that I successfully went for a run. Point two, finding a house. Point three, riding my bike. Point four, going home for lunch. Point five, on a whim, creating a new project with my counterpart. In my environmental education class, I want to make a tree nursery with the kids. My counterpart is a forestry technician and wants to do a reforestation project in the forest reserve. Why not combine the two? So now we have this whole event fomenting in our minds. To top it off, we’re going to invite the mayor to plant a symbolic tree (and help me get back on his good side).

Finally, for the next few weeks, I have something planned to do every day. I have this project to develop; I have a meeting in Coban with other volunteers and tourist sites to create a community tourism committee in the area to create a circuit; I’m starting to work with the Office of the Woman (it sounds better in Spanish) to work with some of the women’s committees in the communities to make and sell artesanias in Las Conchas and the market, and perhaps teach them how to make jam and sell it in the market; as well, there are other small projects and meetings going on. I’m feeling a productive spell coming on! I know it won’t last forever, but I’m going to soak it up while I can.

A Month in Site

(My wonderful hammock!)

I left home and arrived in Guatemala in January; I moved to my site at the end of March; and now look, May’s here. How did this happen? My friends back home are finishing up the track season and the school year; my Yellowstone buddies are moving back to the park; my parents are looking forward to a summer full of fishing and dogs and getting rid of the snow that is strangely plaguing their garden; and me? Well, I’m adjusting quite well to life in rural, sub-tropical Guatemala.

(My current house)

May, and the ensuing summer months (they call it winter here due to the prevalence of rain, even though we’re still north of the Equator), should hold some excitement, but not too much, as I also enjoy the tranquility of just being in site.

* This weekend, I’m back at the training center and Antigua for the Gender and Development committee meeting, during which, the new trainees will just be arriving. I will be a wise, experienced volunteer in their eyes, or at least I’ll pretend.
* Next week, I’m going to visit a project that other volunteers in Uspantan, Quiche are working on: a bottle school. It’s built out of plastic bottles stuffed with inorganic trash and lined with cement. I’m interested in constructing a similar building, but as a Visitor’s Center for Las Conchas.
* May 18th is the International Half Marathon in Coban. It’s huge. I’ve been training hard and I cannot wait to race again; it’s been a year since my last, dreadful race – when I pulled my hamstring in the WU Invite and hobbled off the track. This will be my first half marathon, and I plan to kick its ass.
* A week later, my town has its annual Feria, with rodeos, dances and who knows what else. Probably a lot of tasty, slightly dangerous, street food. Yum!

Another New Home

In the midst of all this fun and mayhem in May, I will be moving, before planned, but it’s time. It’s not me; it’s not them; it’s the water. Doña Edna and I had a chat yesterday and she said that they just can’t support me there for much longer. There’s already 14 people in the family (living in 3 houses), and we haven’t had water for a week. It’s just too much of a strain on the family. After being here for even a short time, it’s almost impossible for me to imagine turning on a faucet anytime of the day and always having water, and drinkable water at that. In San Fernando, where I’ll be moving, there’s reliable water, I don’t have to commute to work, I have more friends, and I don’t have little kids screaming and yelling and asking me incessant questions in my house all day long. (It’s not that I don’t like these kids, they’re adorable, but I just don’t like living with them; I will go crazy if I don’t get to hang out with people my own age more.) Also, I thought that I would become great friends with the two girls in the house that are around my age because they’re into sports, they study at the university, and they’re not married. But whenever I talk to them, it seems more like they’re patronizing me. I’m finding better friends in San Fernando, the town I will be moving to.

(The pila)

The house I’m likely going to move into belongs to the mother of one of my coworkers. Technically, she lives in the house and I’m just renting a room, but she’s rarely there, usually visiting family. The house is completely furnished, which means I can spend my move-in allowance on a dog. Plus, the backyard is plenty big enough for my future best friend, as well as my garden-to-be and a hammock in the shade. So I may move as early as next weekend, or as late as the end of the month. I’m excited … I’m ready to cook my own food!

The one problem is the son that is the co-worker. Total sketchball. He’s married, but makes passes at me all the time, just like half the guys I work with. I am fed up with it. I think I will talk to the mayor about this. These men need to understand that I’m a professional, not just an easy gringa or a ticket to the States. The other day I ran into a guy I know that works in the health center. He offered to buy me a pop; I accepted because it’s rude to decline, but I think he interpreted as a date. Then the next night, he sent me a message that said, “Hola, I hope have a wonderful night and that you dream with the angels.” I did not respond. Why can’t I just make platonic friends?! Gosh.

Success as a Volunteer

After only a month in site, I feel like I’ve been pretty dang successful. My counterpart and I have developed a great working relationship as well as friendship. We completed a proposal with the Hispanic American Development Foundation, an NGO from Los Angeles. The proposal is for a multi-million dollar project to build a market in Chahal. We worked really well together and finished it in time, but it was a very frustrating process. It was supposed to be the mayor’s project, me solely helping as a facilitator to urge the process along. However, he did not do a damn thing to help us in completing it, and we didn’t know the details of the project to properly fill out the forms. As well, right before it was due, when we had a million questions, he left to the capital. I wanted to scream or cry or both. But somehow we managed, and hopefully in the next year I will see a new market built in town.

On Monday, my counterpart and I drove out to Las Conchas and finally formally met with the park administrator. We walked the whole park, taking note of problems and formulating ideas for new projects. Then we sat down and hashed it all out. We came up with some great ideas, and they’re both really gung-ho to work! (Assuming we can get the mayor’s approval, and he actually has time to talk to us) we’re going to build a suspension bridge to the other side of the river and construct an interpretative trail (probably about 2km). I’m also really interested in building a visitor center out of plastic bottles (some other volunteers built a school out of bottles) and putting a museum inside as well as working with the women’s associations to sell artesanias in it. Since my counterpart is the forestry technician for the municipality, we’re also planning on making a tree nursery and selling the trees at a symbolic price for reforestation projects. I could go on and on about my ideas, but I’ll leave it at that for now, and explain more when I start realizing them.

Daily Life

Not quite daily at my house, but pretty often, we knock some coconuts out of the tree, hack them open with a machete, drink the water out of them, then grab the machete again to split it in half and get the fruit out. I’ve tried twice and am really no good at it, but I want to learn, both how to handle a machete, and how to quickly and cleanly break into a coconut. When we were having our coconuts the other day, the 1 ½-year-old boy knocked the 3-year-old girl in the head with the machete. The lack of discipline and the lack of concern is absolutely ridiculous, but no worries, he didn’t do any damage. The other excitement was when we were knocking the coconuts out, a strange growling sound came from high up in the tree. The whole family freaked out, some yelling at the animal to get away, others screaming in fright. I don’t know the name of it, it’s a small mammal, supposedly it eats their chickens, but I don’t think it would eat anyone in the family. I personally thought it was pretty cool – my first wild mammal in Guatemala (except squirrels and bats). But just as with the barba amarilla snake in the park, they tried to kill it. Luckily, this time, it was a failed attempt.

All in all, I’m happy. Life can be a roller coaster here, but I could never even imagine ETing (early termination), because I know I would get home and think, “What the hell was I thinking?!” I love the moments when I’m walking down the road, and remember, “Hey, I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer and completely on my own out here.” I love it. Sometimes, though, it’s rough because I’m in a new site, I get hit on by co-workers and any other machisto guy in town, work can be frustrating, and the closest volunteer is 2 hours away. But I’m making friends with the locals, and I think I’ll be really happy in my new place – I’ll have much more freedom. And once I find myself a puppy…! As well, the river will be a short bike ride away, and won’t be a trip for doing laundry!