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!

Peace Corps Life: Living in a Mud Hut

In all of my time leading up to Peace Corps Guatemala, I pictured rural life to the extreme. Think “Peace Corps” and you probably imagine a mud hut without electricity. Well, it turns out, it’s not quite that intense, but in some ways it’s close.

In training, during one of our “Cultural Sessions,” our trainer discussed with us the shortage of potable water here in Guatemala (just like in every third world country; we Americans take for granted the availability of water), and reminded us to use it sparingly. Somewhat jokingly, but with a hint of sincerity, I asked if it would be okay and/or necessary to bathe in rivers at times. My fellow trainees got a kick out of this. Some of them even gave me the nickname “Rio” (River), and named a little creek on the way to their town after me. The trainer responded with something to the effect of, “No, there’ll be enough water to bathe.” Well as it turns out, he was wrong.

Saturday I woke up, went for a run, then headed to the main house for breakfast, not knowing what the plan for the day was. We had discussed a possible trip to El Estor, a town along Lago (Lake) de Izabal near the Caribbean coast, to visit the grandfather of the family perhaps one last time. The option of an excursion to the river had also been thrown out. However, at breakfast, Claudia (my sister) told me that because the water came today, we were going to do laundry instead. (When the water comes on the weekend, we drop everything to do laundry.) So we didn’t travel. But then the water stopped falling. (We use verb caerse, which means to fall, to talk about the water coming or not.) I was hiking up to the main house when Claudia told me:

“We’re going to go to the river to wash. The water stopped falling.”
“To wash clothes or bodies?”
“Both.”

I couldn’t turn down a trip to the river, but how could I wash my clothes in the river without feeling like I was violating the environment and everything I stand for? And how could I tell them that they were contaminating the river, without implying that their lifestyle is destructive, especially when they have no other option? I thought about washing my clothes at the house and just going to the river to swim, but then using their limited water to wash my clothes didn’t seem right either. So I went and I washed, while it ate away at my conscience.

It was quite a production. We brought boards, set up rock piles to place them on, and went to work. Each female age 11 and up had her own board or rock to wash on. Luis, age 10, helped for a little while, until he started crying. I washed with Angela, age 11, in the middle of the river on some rocks. We were making small talk, and she commented on the fact that I didn’t have too many clothes to wash, while she had to wash all of hers as while as those of her little sisters. I said that I would help her, except that she probably wouldn’t be satisfied with my wash job because I don’t like to use very much soap, especially in the river because I don’t want to contaminate it more than I have to. She told me not to worry, because there’s no one downstream from us. I pointed out all the little fish swimming around our legs. “Oh, don’t worry, they don’t care. They eat the soap.” Right, okay. Probably not the best time for an environmental education lesson. Better when we step a little bit outside of the problem so that it doesn’t look like I’m pointing fingers.

Even with the moral qualms, it was a fun day nonetheless. It’s a nice deep river to swim in, and we brought a tasty picnic lunch. The highlight of the day though, was when the family that was already there finished their lunch and came down to the river to bathe. The men were decked out in Speedos, while the women wore shorts and t-shirts. For some reason swimsuits aren’t acceptable for women, yet men can wear next-to-nothing. I don’t understand.

The first woman broke out her little package of shampoo and lathered up. Later I saw her brushing her teeth with river water. My favorite (note my tone of sarcasm), however, was the man in the black and neon green Speedo who lathered up his whole body, then proceeded to reach into his Speedo and scrub hard. Yeah, you heard me right. It was quite traumatic.

After this family cleared out, and while I was still waiting for the rest of the women in my family to finish washing, I took my turn to bathe. Now don’t worry, at least for this I brought my Dr. Bronner’s organic soap so that I wasn’t a completely terrible, hypocritical person. After I discreetly bathed, I went around the area and picked up all the trash. Sadly, I don’t know how much good this did because they just burn it later. There’s a landfill around, but it’s not sanitary, and I don’t think many people use it.

Later I texted my friend who gave me the nickname “Rio” to let him know that I lived up to the name. He responded with, “Audrey, you don’t know how happy this makes me. I just may call you later to follow up on this.”

Continuing with the theme of mud huts, I’m searching for a home right now. Currently, I live in San Agustin in my own house but in a family compound. I don’t have a bathroom. I have to hike up the hill to use theirs, and considering how much I hydrate, it has become quite the inconvenience. San Agustin is also a Q3 microbus ride to San Fernando where I work. That’s Q6 per day; Q30 per week. It adds up. And it’s just a pain. So I’m going to move to San Fernando once my required 3 months of living with a family is up. It’s also got a bit more going on – a bit more lively.

My friend Juan offered his family’s extra house to me. He talked it up a fair amount, and I had my heart set on it. Then we went to look at it…

Problem #1: It’s made of wood, which isn’t quite safe here. With the cracks between the wood, ladrones (thieves) can just pry it right open and steal my stuff and/or me. Also, snakes can enter. I’m not afraid of snakes, except that they tend to be poisonous here.

Problem #2: It doesn’t have a fence, thus even less safe. As well, my future dog will escape, and my future garden will be eaten by the countless roaming chickens, pigs and dogs.

Problem #3: The two rooms that we were able to enter have dirt floors; supposedly, the others have something more solid, but that is yet to be seen.

Problem #4: NO BATHROOM. It has a latrine in the middle of the yard and a pila, where I would have to bathe basically in public. Granted, he said they would build a bathroom, but then I would have to commit to this house on the assumption that the bathroom would be decent.

Many of these problems are fixable, but why not just find a house that’s already up to Peace Corps security standards and that I can live in comfortably for 2 years? It’s not that I feel I’m above the living standard of the people in this community, but I need someplace safe, and there are options of decent houses. I don’t have to live with a latrine in my backyard. So the mayor and others that work in the Municipality are going to help me find a concrete block house with bars on the windows and a metal door with a dead bolt. I told them my 4 requirements:

My own house – I don’t want to share with a family or another individual. We Americans are accustomed to living alone, just as long as there are neighbors close by for interaction and to watch out for me and my stuff. As well, I need some space and privacy for when friends come to visit.
A kitchen – I’m planning on becoming a master chef with all this free time I’ll have in the next two years. Plus I’m tired of greasy eggs and beans.
A bathroom – with the problems I’ve had up to this point, it’s a necessity, and I’m tired of sharing a bathroom with the family.
A yard – I need space for my future garden and dog.

I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I’ll keep you updated on how the house hunt goes!

p.s. Send me some emails, or at least leave some comments on my blog. It gets a little lonely here! Miss you all! Come visit!

The President and Gallo Beer Dancers

Right now, as I write this blog, this is the first time I’ve actually been cold in my site. I didn’t realize it was possible. It’s pouring and super windy. No sun anywhere. I love it! It’s like I’m back in Oregon.

The roofs here are made of lamina, so when it rains, the noise is intense. Last Monday night, I experienced the first storm here. I could barely sleep it was so loud! It rained all night long, with thunder and flashes of lightning throughout the night. Even though I don’t have windows, my houses stayed dry inside! I wasn’t sure if in the morning I’d be able to go for my usual run, because I assumed that the road would be a mud pit, but surprisingly, the ground wasn’t very wet. But it was wet and muddy enough that when I took a “shower” (i.e. dumped water over my head with a bucket), the mud from my shower shoes clogged the drain!

(Momentary break to go stand in the rain. BRB :) )

We just finished eating lunch, and it was amazing. My host mom, Doña Edna, made flour tortillas (we usually have corn) and put beef, lettuce and salsa inside. I ate three. As I finished, the rain started to come, so Angela (my 11-year-old “niece”) and I ran outside to collect all the laundry we had just washed. We had spent nearly two hours washing our clothes in the pila, then the wind came and threw our clean, wet laundry onto the dirt. Luckily, we salvaged most of it and moved it under the roof. That was the batch of clothes that we hung up at the main house, but the clothes that we have down at my house are getting completely re-soaked, but I’m not going to hike down the muddy, slippery trail to my house right now…I don’t need to make more dirty laundry by falling on my ass! The laundry can dry later.

As I said, lunch was amazing. During my three months of training I had become so antsy to have my own house and cook my own food, but now I’m having second thoughts. I am extremely tired of the greasy eggs, beans and tortillas that we have for breakfast and dinner and miss a lot of my normal food. But lunches are typically pretty good. The only problem is that I’ll be working a 20 minute microbus ride away from where I’m living, which will be a bit much of a trip to make daily, especially since it costs Q3 (about 40 cents) each way. I think I’ll bring sandwiches for lunch and buy some fruit and yogurt, and the days that lunch is going to be really good, I’ll come home for that! So anyway, the problem is that I need to figure out what I’m going to eat and thus what I’m going to pay the family for. And I also am not sure where I want to live after my first three required months here. I love this family and I’ve got my own little house, but it might be kind of nice to live in San Fernando, where the office is, because then I’ll be closer to more amenities, like the market and the internet. Who knows? I’ll figure it all out in time, but for now, I’m content.

The other day I wrote an email to some friends and in it I had no idea what to write. As I told them, right now, pretty much everything in my life makes for a good story, so I have no idea where to begin! But I’ll give it a shot anyway. It’ll probably turn out to be pretty long.

Inauguration of Computers

Last Sunday, I went to an event with Don Rudy at a local primary school. The school had just received 16 computers from the Ministry of Education and were celebrating. When we showed up the band was in full swing with little kids dancing in the grass. Those of us “authorities,” as they called us, sat in the shade and waited for it to begin. I checked out the new technology room. Each computer had two or three red crosses on the back. A man explained to me that at midnight they had a culto and blessed each computer with the blood of a chicken. When it was time, they paraded us across the school yard to sit in the shade on the other side where the stage was. We sang the national hymn, which is ridiculously long, then Don Rudy, the indigenous queen of the town, the superintendent, and some others spoke. There were even a few singers. To end the day, they fed us authorities (and only us). We ate the traditional food of the area: soup, which is pretty gross. In this country it is pretty much required to provide food at any event or meeting, so I get a lot of free meals.

(Don Rudy and the sacred computer)

Las Cuevas de Setzol

On Monday I finally visited my other site, The Caves (Cuevas) of Setzol. I went with Vilda, my 21-year-old host sister, and my counterpart, Heimer. Vilda is a pre-primary school teacher, but only in the mornings, so is going to come with me in the afternoons sometimes. Luckily, Heimer found us a vehicle of the muni that we could take. It didn’t have brakes, but those aren’t necessary.

The community of Setzol isn’t too far away. We parked the car there and walked 20 or 30 minutes through various private fields of cows and corn, which used to be forests, to get to the caves. When I saw them I was stunned. They are spectacular. The pictures do not do them justice at all. They appear out of no where and are huge. The temperature drops a good 15 degrees as you step inside, which is refreshing beyond description. El Rio Chiyu, the same river that makes Las Conchas, runs inside of these caves. I had no idea it was going to be so big… I had pictured a cave that we have to crawl through with a stream inside, and thus I did not bring a swimsuit. Next time. Supposedly there are about 10 caves. We only had time to see two of them, but they were incredible nonetheless. If any of you come to visit me, I’ll take you camping inside the caves if you’d like.

The caves are private property, although I don’t think that an individual should be allowed to own this natural wonder, but when they parceled out the land, I don’t think it was known that they existed. Or they didn’t care. So being private property, it could make ecotourism development a little difficult, but it if the owner is really gung-ho, it could speed the process up. Within the next few months I’ll meet with the owner and see where his interests lie.

While we were at the caves, we ran into Felipe, a gringo who has a little resort hotel in Las Conchas and does various hiking/backpacking tours in the area. One of his tours is to the caves. I started a conversation with him, wanting to know a bit about the caves and what he does in them. It turned into a very frustrating speech. Basically, he told me that he doesn’t want me working there because he wants it all for himself. And he wouldn’t let me get a word in. I realize that he supports the locals a bit with his tourism, but what I’m here for is to capacitate the locals to be able to have their own tourism, if they want it. Capacity building and sustainable development – that’s what the Peace Corps is all about. He told me, though, that he sees the Peace Corps as a cheerleader for two years, and when the volunteer leaves, the people revert to their old ways. Yes, I realize that this can happen. Not all volunteers are effective. Not all communities are receptive. But I’m going to try. My vision is to form the community into an association, so all benefit, not just the owner of the property, especially since the trail goes through the property of multiple families. They could have community tourism, where tourists stay with a local family, or start a little hotel, because there’s really no lodging in the area. We could train guides, and even register the caves as a park. Granted, they have to want all of this, but either way, I don’t care what Felipe wants. He told me he gets riled up about it because it’s his life; I told him it’s going to be my life for the next two years, and it’s the locals’ lives forever. So he can shove it. But I will try to stay on his good side, because it won’t help anything if we brawl, especially since he has a relationship with the owners.

Don Rudy and Doña Telma

The mayor and his wife have taken me in as one of their daughters, more or less, which I was originally really excited about, but now it can be a little annoying and frustrating. And it’s strange, I have my work relationship with Don Rudy, and my relationship as his “daughter” and the mixture of the two is complicated. In my last blog, I wrote how I got in trouble with Don Rudy for not being punctual – approximately two minutes late. Well, since then he has been over a half hour late multiple times. I guess my time isn’t important, only his. He also doesn’t like to advise me of things in advance. I like to have at least a little bit of a plan. For example, on Monday night, I still didn’t know if or when I was leaving for the capital on Tuesday. He just told me to bring my bag to the muni at 8am, and he’d call me. It turns out he had a driver for me from Chahal to Coban then put me on a bus to the capital. So it all worked out.

I went to the capital for an event with UNICEF that Don Rudy had been invited to: El Segundo Encuentro de la Primera Infancia, a two-day discussion about the importance of the first six years of a child’s life. It was a pretty big deal: the president and his wife came and spoke, and I even got to shake the first lady’s hand, and some say she’s the real brains behind the whole government.

I went with Doña Telma, who drove me crazy by the end of the week. The best way I can think to describe her is that she has an opinion about everything and no conversation she ever has is calm. I told her about the friends I made that took me swimming in the river. She told me that three of the girls are great, but one of them, Silvia, I guess isn’t. The rumor is that she’s cheating on her husband. But it’s just a rumor in my book, and she’s really nice. Doña Telma, however, told me that if Silvia invites me to go somewhere again, that I need to tell her no. There is no way that I’m turning down the possibility to have friends. No way.

To not draw out this story too much, because it’s probably more interesting to me than to all of you, the gist of it is that she continuously gossiped about her daughter-in-law, her own children, and whomever else, and proceeded to tell me what to do. She left half way through the UNICEF event to go tell her son that he needs to put his wife in her place, and then just never returned. Luckily, her daughter called to offer me a ride. Then, the second day, she decided we just wouldn’t go, we had heard everything they had to say, and we could get a ride with her nephew back to Coban in the afternoon instead of taking a bus. Although later, she was bummed that we didn’t get our diplomas. And what would we do with them, I ask? Saber (who knows). After waiting all day (I would’ve had enough time to go to the UNICEF thing, but at least I got an hour run in), we finally piled in the truck to head to Coban. She brought a ridiculous amount of things and the truck was really crowded, so she said to me, “Adriana, maybe it would be better if you stayed here tonight and took a bus in the morning.” I about smacked her, but before I could, her nephews told her no. The whole 4 hour ride to Coban, she was gossiping up a storm and I about screamed and jumped out the window. There are plenty more ridiculous stories pertaining to Doña Telma, but I will leave it at this, because I’m over it. If nothing else, I’ve learned how she is.

Creepy Co-Workers and Gallo Beer Dancers

Friday I spent in Coban. I waited for Don Rudy for about 45 minutes, then accompanied him to the CODEDE meeting, which is a meeting of all the mayors in the department of Alta Verapaz, the governor, and various other important people. Afterwards I was on my own for the afternoon. I registered for the half-marathon, chopped off all my hair, and bought some necessities. Around 5pm we were going to head back to Chahal. We had a private micro because a bunch of guys who work in the muni were in Coban for a training. Most of them are really nice, but it’s going to be a challenge working with literally all men. There’s one who won’t give me the time of day; doesn’t even say “Buenos dias” in the morning. There are two that are relatively young, married, with kids, but hit on me all the time. I was standing with Santiago, and he told me that I was beautiful before, but now with my new haircut I’m “divine.” Then he bought some red roses, luckily for his wife and not for me. Ted (another volunteer) and I were talking about how much more difficult the Peace Corps is for a female than for a male. It’s so true. Women have to work extremely hard to gain the respect of their male co-workers. Men come in and immediately are respected and looked up to. Even just with dynamics in the town, men become celebrities. Life is going to be a challenge, but I’m up to it.

Just before leaving Coban, I found out that a couple of my friends were in town – Kelly and Ted, so I decided to stay another night. When I told Don Rudy, he initially told me no. When he realized it was the weekend, he said I could, but wasn’t too happy about it, and said that he would call Flavio, my program director, to let him know. This is going to be a problem if Don Rudy calls Flavio every time I leave my site. It’s nice that he wants to make sure I’m safe, but it’s not his responsibility. I will have to fix this somehow.

Friday night was fun. Ted, Kelly, her boyfriend and I ate delicious Cuban food and then had some beers at a bar. The beer was good, and on tap, which is rare. The best part, though, was when the Gallo dancers and their pimp showed up. (Gallo = rooster and is the national beer.) They were all decked out in Gallo clothes and the three girls danced for us while their 5’ pimped shouted “cintura” (waist) into the microphone. The next day, we saw the four of them, in matching outfits of another product, eating in the mall with sunglasses on like they were movie stars.

Overall, I’m really glad I’m here, but as an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) described it to me before I left, “it’s a wild ride.” I could not describe it better myself. It’s incredible how quickly I go from my highest high to my lowest low, or anywhere in between. Sometimes I become nostalgic for the normalcy of life at home, in Yellowstone, or at Willamette: doing a workout with the team and taking an ice bath afterward; going for a hike with my buddies then gorging ourselves at Helen’s or the Merry Piglets and sitting around the campfire; playing fetch with my dogs and my dad; traveling with ease in my own car; going grocery shopping. And I especially miss my friends and family. Sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on life, but this is only two years, and they will go by in a blink of an eye. This has been and will continue to be a life-changing experience. Even though I miss plenty of things back at home, I remember that when I was back in the States, I would get bored and was ready to move on. One never remembers the negatives, only the positives. It’s like in a race, afterwards I never remember how painful it was, I only remember either how good it felt, or I chastise myself for not running faster, thinking that I wasn’t in pain and could’ve tried harder. I love my life here, and with time, as I start to feel more and more at home and figure out my work better, I’ll begin to feel like I have a normal life.


p.s. I tried to put pictures up, but the connection is too slow. I'll try again soon... but try checking out my facebook album, hopefully the new ones ended up there: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2025202&l=4a88f&id=27500355

A Big Big Change

(The ecotourism gang)

I arrived here in Chahal, my new home for the next two years, Saturday night, and oh how life has changed!

But let’s back up a few days. Thursday was Swear-In at the Ambassador’s house in the capital. It was huge and gorgeous with a gigantic lawn, a pool and a tennis court. And to top it all off, you can flush the toilet paper! I can barely even imagine that! So that was awesome. We all got dressed up in the “business casual” that Headquarters had insisted that we needed and got to shake hands or do the Guatemalan kiss on the cheek with Ambassador Durham. Then celebrations were had in Antigua over the weekend.

(With the ambassador; officially a volunteer!)

Saturday morning I parted ways with my friends, nearly all of whom will not be close enough for just a day trip. The group of us going to Alta Verapaz shared a microbus ride with a tour agency to Coban, then I headed out on my own to the far reaches of the country.

The driver dropped me off close to the mayor (Don Rudy)’s house since I was going to be staying with him until I found a more permanent home. He happens to live right by the only cantina (bar) in town, and thus my reception in town was from some bolos (drunkards) who asked me various somewhat rude questions in English, and when I didn’t respond yelled, “Kiss my ass mother fucker!” So the first thing I did in my site was cry a little bit. But don’t you fret, I got over it quickly. I knocked on the door of Don Rudy’s house. We relaxed in some hammocks and chatted, then he brought me to a Mayan ceremony mixed with some Catholicism to bless the children and the crops of a little aldea (village). It was really interesting and I felt very honored to be invited to it, but after traveling for 10 hours and being out the night before, I kept on falling asleep. But they gave us coffee…luckily I got the first cup because they reused the cups for everyone! Afterwards (at 1am) they served us dinner – chicken soup; once again, lucky to be served first.

Sunday, Don Rudy brought me to Las Conchas with some others from the muni (all men). We sat around, they shot the shit (I tried, but it’s a little difficult 1. being female, 2. not being a native speaker, and 3. not knowing the local gossip), we ate lunch, and then we went swimming. There’s a waterfall about 20 feet high that you can jump off of, and I wanted to do it, but each time I tried, Santiago, due to his machismo, wouldn’t let me. It’s because he was scared to do it and didn’t want me going first and showing him up. He never went, but by the time he finally let me go, I had waited so long because of him, that I had psyched myself out! Damn Guatemalan machismo. Next time.

Don Rudy also brought me to the house/lodge (Oasis Chiyu – its got a website) of a gringo that lives out at Las Conchas. We chatted for a bit and we’ll probably work together on some ecotourism things since he does tours and trekking trips and whatnot. It also may be a great place to stay when all of you come visit me!

Monday I found a home. I’m living in a family compound with a wonderful family. I get my own little house (the daughter it belongs to lives in the States now) but I eat with the family. Eventually I’ll get some gas for my stove and cook for myself, but for now, while I’m figuring things out and getting to know them, I’ll share meals with them too. There are plenty of little grandkids running around, which is wonderful yet a bit annoying. Two of the daughters are about my age and love to run and play sports, so it’s going to be perfect! The only problem is that I don’t have a bathroom in my house, which when I’m sick, as I was this week, it doesn’t work out too well. Their house is only 25 meters away, but I have to climb up a little hill, and in the middle of the night when I’m in a hurry, problems arise!

As I mentioned, I was sick this week… I think one of the juices I drank at a restaurant (or even in my own house) was made with tap water. For multiple days I had terrible diarrhea and was vomiting. But I am better now (let’s hope, because it was coming and going) and my family now makes special juice for me with pure water! This bout of sickness though, made me quite homesick for awhile and a little jealous of other volunteers who have site mates. But I’m over that now and am loving Chahal.

As far as work goes, I don’t have much yet. I’m mainly just formulating ideas. It’s a little frustrating working at the muni instead of with an association because ecotourism isn’t the muni’s only focus, so I haven’t received a lot of time from the mayor. But in the long run, this may be positive, because I can work more independently. However, right now, I’d like some time with the mayor to sit down and hash out what ideas he has so I can get some direction and share with him my ideas, but he doesn’t have time for me. Plus, he’s very strict as he’s ex-military (he was a colonel during the war in a very intense part of the fighting). On Wednesday, he was going to pick me up by the soccer field to bring me into town to work. We agreed on 7am. I was feeling really sick and thus was running a few minutes behind. I arrived at the field and he wasn’t there, so I walked up to his house to look for him. Not home. I called him:

“Hola, ¿dònde està?”
“I’m in the muni. You weren’t there so I left.”
“I was only 2 minutes late.”
“Well 7:02 isn’t 7:00. See you in the muni.”

Damn. I was expecting la hora chapina (Guatemalan time i.e. late). He at least could’ve called to say he was leaving, because I ended up missing other opportunities for rides and had to wait a half hour. Oh well, now I know. And I did mention better communication to him, on my part as well, when I saw him.

That day I helped out at a medical mission from the states that was doing surgical consultation, so I got to speak in English for the day and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich! It was amazing, especially with my upset stomach. At the end of the day, I asked for a ride home with the locals that work in the clinic, and I hit the jackpot. They took me swimming in the river and now I have a new group of friends! Que suerte.

I’m sure there’s much much more to share, but as I am dying of heat right now and really need to pee, I’m going to leave it at this. I hope you all are well, and feel free to leave comments or email me! I love hearing from you all.

p.s. I'll share pictures soon, but first I need to take some!