¡Adios July!

I’m over Antigua, yet I must continue to go there. I like that I’m 11 hours from the Peace Corps office, but I don’t like it when I actually have to make the trip, which seems to be quite often lately. I had been a site rat (I don’t like the negative connotation of this name because I think it’s a good thing to spend time in site – it is the reason we’re here – but that is the name that has been given to us) for quite some time, but lately it’s been a week in site, a week out of site, and it’s getting old. However, that does not mean that I’m not looking forward to showing Allison, Eefje, Jeanne and Erin around Guatemala. That will be worth it. I foresee many adventures. I’m also just excited to share my life with people who knew me before I came here and who aren’t already accustomed to life in rural Guatemala. You could say that I’m hoping to shock them a little bit.

I broke this last trip to Antigua into two days, mainly because of the half marathon – I didn’t want to be sitting in micros and buses for 11 hours straight right before racing. I stayed in Rio Dulce on Friday night, which should be a 3 hour trip (ideally 1.5 – 2, but drivers suck here). I left San Fernando at 1:30 pm and got to Rio Dulce at 6 pm. You can do the math on that one. The main problem was that about 45 minutes outside of town, there’s a 20-foot-deep ditch that bisects the road. The surrounding houses were being inundated by the stream that could not pass through the clogged culvert, so they removed the culvert and are currently constructing a bridge. Originally they announced that it would take three days. Welcome to road construction in Guatemala: it has been three weeks. Anyway, the micro drivers knew about this going in, so their plan was for one to leave San Fernando and the other to leave Cadenas (the junction with the next highway) at the same time and switch passengers at the road block. Sounds perfect, except that the driver coming from Cadenas didn’t show up. So after getting out of the first micro and walking across the ditch on a narrow concrete wall, I waited. But don’t worry, I learned the skill of patience back in January, although I have honed it down to an art over the past 6 ½ months.

After maybe an hour, I piled into some random micro, escaping a creepy and very talkative construction worker, and eventually made it to Cadenas after we changed the tire that exploded while we were driving. In Cadenas I found my next micro pretty quickly, however, this character drove beyond slow. He also shared with me that he had been in the States for three months a few years back (without a visa but not even working) and got put in jail for a year. He now does not like the U.S. he told me. Obviously. But I’m thinking he probably had to do something a little bit worse than just not have papers. I did not ask, though. That was the main excitement of the trip. 4 ½ hours the first day plus 8 hours the second day equals 12 ½ hours total (including waiting), which is a new record my friends! I think I win as being the furthest volunteer from the training center; during the workshops, one of my friends went to her site and came back to the office within the same afternoon. I could do that … if I had a plane. Speaking of planes, a few “crashed” in Chahal a couple weeks ago – drug planes.

The half marathon was definitely the highlight of the week. Although not very organized (start line not marked, for example) and pacing was impossible (kilometer markers were few and far between), I ran the first 10 km in 47 minutes and finished in 1:42:09 (7:47.9 mile pace)!! My time in Coban was 1:54:46 – 12 minute PR! This course was a lot flatter, as well, I wasn’t gravely ill four days before, and I had more training under my belt. I think I could’ve dipped under 1:40, though, had the course not been on cobblestone for a few kilometers. It is very difficult to sprint on. It’s also not so good for the ankles. I had a bad ankle going into the race (it’s hurt for about a month), but told myself I would ignore it until after the half. You know how I am. So I didn’t break it during the race, but it definitely was sorer and I found out from the nurse that my Achilles tendon is slightly torn, but only a 1 on a scale of 1 – 4. I suppose it’s time for a break. Despite the ankle, though, I was the 19th woman – next year top 10! They gave prizes to the top three women and top SIX men. Que machismo. But at least they allow women to run, right?

The rest of the week really wasn’t that exciting. Yes, I got to see my PCV friends, but I just saw them at the 4th of July party, and really, I didn’t come here to make friends with gringos. I have enough of those back home, right guys? I left the training/Spanish workshop early, though, to observe an HIV/AIDS taller (workshop) that some other volunteers were giving to teachers in one of their sites. It was fun, and very important – the HIV rate in Guatemala is extremely high and education about this is lacking. Now I’m considered trained to be one of the presenters, so that’s pretty cool.

The trip home was quite long, of course, but at least I got to see a new area of the country. The department of Baja Verapaz is beautiful! But Coban to Chahal is no longer a trip I enjoy making. With the rainy season, the road is even worse and the trip that once took 3 ½ hours on a good day, took 5 hours! And the whole time with only half a seat. Oh how my ass hurt at the end of the ride. They shoved 30 people in (and on) the micro that should hold 15!

I got home Saturday afternoon, which was important to me because I really wanted to spend Sunday in Chahal. The whole family went out to the finca (farm) of one of the son-in-laws. We ate lunch (I provided a delicious potato salad – my mom’s recipe), then swam in the river and just relaxed. When we got back to town we played a game of basketball. This time the court was fixed, so we played full court, 5 on 5. My team won, thanks to my two 3-pointers; although, I probably shouldn’t have played due to my Achilles, but I would tarnish my reputation here if I declined to participate in a sporting event. However, I will have to excuse myself from the road race that’s being held this week – too much pressure on the ankle … not that a basketball game is good for it either.

That’s all for now. A few days of work in site, then those of us involved in Las Conchas are making a visit to a very developed ecotourism site, Semuc Champey, to get some ideas from that municipality. Should be hard work :) Then off to pick up Allison and Eefje at the airport!

Out of Site

Where to begin? It’s been awhile since I’ve written, and I don’t really know where I left off, or what’s gone on in my life in the past few weeks. It has been quite eventful; I know that much.

Vacation anyone?

We’ll start at a logical point: my little vacation at the end of June. Kelly, another volunteer in Guatemala, showed up in Chahal on Thursday afternoon. She was the first person to visit me here; it was fun to be able to show off my town to her. She was jealous, but I do have the picturesque Peace Corps site (although I am slightly biased). We took off early Friday morning, hoping the ominous bridge about an hour outside of town would not be flooded. Luckily, it didn’t rain cows (that’s the phrase here) the night before, so we made it to Rio Dulce (Sweet River).

Here in Chahal, obviously, we have a nice river, but Rio Dulce is a large body of water, which I have missed, especially since a year ago at this time I was going out on Yellowstone Lake daily.

Aguas Calientes: becoming one with the bats

In Rio Dulce we went on a little excursion to Aguas Calientes (hot waters). It’s a thermal spring that becomes a creek and then a waterfall which joins with a cold creek below. It was beautiful; I felt like I was back in Yellowstone … aww the smell of sulfur. Before we took our hot showers, we followed the cold creek upstream until it disappeared inside a cave. As I’m sure you can easily guess, I went inside. How could I not? The guide told me that about 200 meters inside I would find a large waterfall. I had never seen a waterfall inside of a cave, so off I went. Kelly, however, did not feel the inclination to join me and the guide stayed with her.

Alone. Thrilling. I swam in with my headlamp. Within about a minute there was no longer daylight streaming in and with every stroke it became louder and louder with the approaching waterfall. I want to be brave and say I wasn’t scared, but I admit, my heart was racing a bit. Swimming inside a deep, dark cave alone with a huge waterfall (not knowing if any dangers related to that lay ahead), and bats flying in front of my face trying to eat the insects before I inhaled them – yes, it made me a bit anxious, but that made the experience that much better. When I got to the waterfall, I climbed up the rocks and stood next to it. I did exercise enough good sense, though, to not swim in it – who knows what kind of undercurrent it has, or if there’s a secret cave below where half the water flows into and where I would spend the rest of my days treading water and eating bats. Not exactly my idea of a good time.

When I reemerged from the cave, we hiked back to Aguas Calientes and relaxed there for awhile. I set off to hike on my own to the spring. I had climbed up to the top of the waterfall when the guide got up from his log to accompany me. I shouted across the creek that I wanted to go alone, but he followed anyway because some other tourists were interested in going. I disappeared into the woods in front of them and took off running on another trail – I wanted some time alone in the woods. After a bit, I headed back and took the trail toward the spring; they were long gone. I took it all in, then worked my way back to the waterfall, where I noticed some tree like vines which were just incredible. They were woody and thick, and each one intricately wrapped itself all around multiple trees. It was difficult to follow them from the beginning to the end. Anyway, I climbed back down and Kelly told me that the guide had come back on a completely different trail because he had gone off looking for me! I should probably feel bad, but I don’t. I’m so tired of having to have guides here. I’m not used to being guided on hikes. I needed that escape; he’ll get over it.

Friday night we spent in Rio Dulce at a hostel right on the river, danced a bit, of course, then took off in the morning to Livingston which lies at the mouth of Rio Dulce on the Caribbean Coast. Finally in a boat again! It’s about a 2 hour boat ride, and gorgeous the whole way. There are a few scattered villages, but not much development. The broad river eventually narrows into a steep, narrow, breath-taking canyon, then widens again as it approaches the sea. Despite being soaked by the rain, it was beautiful.

Livingston: back on the water

In Livingston we experienced a bit of the Garifuna culture. Garifunas are black-latinos: escaped slaves that settled on the Caribbean coast throughout Central America. They have their own language and some awesome music and dancing.

On Sunday we hopped into a boat that took us up the coast to Siete Altares (7 Altars), the site of the first Tarzan film. It’s a sparkling blue waterfall in the jungle, but just a 15 minute hike from the beach. Despite the hoards of people, it was beautiful, and fun to jump off of! Then we continued in the boat up the coast to Playa Blanca (White Beach), where we relaxed in hammocks underneath coconut trees for the rest of the afternoon.

We stayed in Livingston until Tuesday, not doing much, just relaxing until we had to be in Antigua for meetings. On Monday, though, I walked up the beach to go back to Siete Altares; it was just that beautiful, and I needed more time alone in the woods. Along the way I met some little boys who were scooping up little crabs and clams in the sand. They were so excited to show me how many they had gathered up and offered to give me some, saying how delicious they were. I politely declined, telling them that I didn’t have a stove to cook them on. “You can buy one,” they told me.

Tuesday morning we left on a boat heading south along the coast to Puerto Barrios, described to us as “a toilet,” but the cheapest way to get out. It’s the port where the infamous railroads full of bananas led to back in the days when Chiquita Banana was trying to rule Guatemala. (If you’re interested in the coup that the U.S. CIA helped to facilitate of the democratically elected Guatemalan government in 1954, I suggest that you read Bitter Fruit: The Story of the American Coup in Guatemala. Some other good books about Guatemala are The Art of Political Murder: Who Killed the Bishop? and I, Rigoberta Menchu.)

From there we went to Antigua for meetings, and more importantly, the Peace Corps 4th of July party. I have to say, it was the best 4th of July party I’ve ever been to … and it wasn’t the USA!

Volcan Pacaya: playing in lava

Saturday very well could be the highlight of my week. I finally went backpacking again. It’s been since OCTOBER! A group of us went to Volcan Pacaya, an active volcano near Antigua. It’s a pretty easy hike up, at least once you get through the children renting hiking sticks and the teenagers who have graduated from sticks to renting horses. We set up camp next to the lava field with a perfect view of the spewing cone. Once it was dark, we packed our bags with our dinners and plenty of marshmallows and set out for our trek across the lava. Maneuvering was a little difficult in the dark (even with headlamps), especially when we got to areas with hot flowing lava underneath the cool lava we were walking on top of. Some of us hiked up to a small cone that was somewhat active to check it out. However, once we made the ascent, it became more active! Perhaps it didn’t like us. (Here’s another near-death hiking story to add to my repertoire, even though I wasn’t in Yellowstone with Caleb.) It started shooting the lava closer to us. Then add in the sound of the escaping gas, it was enough to make me scurry back down to “safety.” After that, it was time to go to the river of lava to poke it with a stick. By this point, I had had enough of red hot lava and was content with waiting on the black, cool lava for marshmallows, but really, have you ever known me to refuse an adventure when other people are doing it? So I went, a bit freaked out, but it turned out to be amazing. If you were wondering, sticks don’t easily enter flowing lava. Although it’s moving, it’s still relatively solid. It takes a bit of force for the stick to break into it, and then pretty quickly it will catch on fire, just like it felt my shoes were going to do! After that, my adventure-bucket was filled to the brim and I was content to retire to the non-flowing, non-glowing lava and toast my tuna and roast my marshmallows, which were delicious. Eventually we made our way back to camp to relax around the campfire. (It was so refreshing to finally need a fire to stay warm.)

Camping on Pacaya was a perfect way to end the week, and exactly what I’ve been needing. I was ready to get back to site, though, after a long week away; however, I was not excited for the 10+ hour trip. But it’s worth it to live in Chahal!

Back to Chahal

In Chahal, I was back to work right away. Tuesday was the day I’ve been planning for a couple months to reforest with the school that I’m teaching in. I was a little nervous because I left all the final details for my counterpart to work out, but he was on top of it. I was quite impressed!

Sadly, all the trees in the tree nursery I made with my students died. I don’t think I have a green thumb, because also, most of my vegetables in my garden have died. Only the squash and cucumber have survived. However, I blame it on the hot days and the pounding rain at night, plus the dogs that hopped the fence. Anyway, even though all the trees died, we had reserves in the municipal tree nursery. We brought the trees to the school and walked with the kids to the reserve. The mayor and the school superintendent showed up, among other “important people.” Each said a few words (everything is a big production here) and then we planted our trees. It turned out well.

That was the highlight of my week, though. I felt like I had lost some ground in my relationships in the muni after being gone for so long, which made going to the office not much fun. Then, worst of all, I learned that a neighbor from my childhood (who was basically a grandmother to me) passed away. Things like that are hard anywhere, but especially when I’m away from my family and everyone who knew her, and alone here without anyone to get a real hug from. It made me wish I had a site mate. I was ready to get out of here for the weekend to go hang out with other volunteers, but at the last minute I decided to stay. It’s a long, expensive trip, especially after having just traveled. Being here in Chahal, though, was exactly what I needed. Saturday I went to a beautiful farm with part of my host family and brought home a fish to eat. That night there was a dance, and on Sunday the whole family came over to my house for a huge lunch and invited me to join them. Then, that evening, we all went and played basketball. It was a perfect weekend and now I’m back to being in love with my site!

Now I’m off again for Antigua for some training sessions. Sunday, though, I’m running my next half marathon! Wish me luck!

To put some images with the descriptions, check out my facebook album:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2028411&l=68020&id=27500355

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.