I am not sure whether or not this will work, but the internet here is so dang slow sometimes that I am having a difficult time loading any of my pictures online. However, they seem to load on facebook just fine, so below are the links to (most of) the pictures I have uploaded thus far (none from the lake yet). I haven´t exactly had the time to edit or provide much explanation, so I apologize for the repetitiveness!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2141261&l=07150&id=19703062
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2141283&l=22218&id=19703062
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2141286&l=18bbc&id=19703062
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2141593&l=21783&id=19703062
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Bienvenidos...
... to San Marcos, a small magical lakeside village on Lago de Atitlan.
The attraction here? San Marcos is supposed to be a vortex of powerful spiritual energy, attracting those interested in meditation, alternative therapy, yoga and the like. You can´t walk down the narrow stone sidewalks without passing by offers on every type of massage you can imagine, Mayan saunas, courses in Reiki, Indian Head Massages, meditation and much more. Every day is filled purely with the sounds of nature (there are no cars here)--or of drum circles. A faint smell of insence wavers through the air. Everybody--foreigner and local alike--says hello to one another as they pass on the sidewalks. Vegetarianism is the norm here in the local restaurants. Free movies, such as ¨Love in the Time of Cholera,¨are shown every night. There is one bar in town, and one bar only. Happy, smiling children are everywhere. More species of butterflies that I have ever seen in one place flutter around the lush green jungle flora. Frenchmen, Frenchwomen, and French-children seem to make up the majority of travelers. The list goes on...
The entire village is interconnected only by these narrow stone pathways, and you are constantly surrounded by lime trees, or mango trees (it´s unfortunately not mango season), and other various fruit trees in which my eyes have never before been witness to. The mornings are the most beautiful time, as the lake is calm (great kayaking!) and the sun is strong, before the afternoon clouds and rain move in. So far, we´ve been lucky here and not had any rain, but I await its inevitable presence with open arms. Anybody looking for a somewhat exotic, peaceful place to turn your energy inward should consider this place... I know I will be back.
Tomorrow I move with Rachel into a place called Las Piramides (http://www.laspiramidesdelka.com) for one week and we will stay in a three bed, pyramid-shaped room. We are currently sharing a four-bed room with Scott and an Irish lad whose name sounds like Kieron, but I know is spelled entirely different than that. My days during the week (or two, or three) at the Pyramids will consist primarily of the following... yoga at 7am, metaphysics at 10am, meditation at 5pm, day in and day out. I think I will throw some more Spanish language lessons in there, but only for a few hours in the afternoons. I am already losing what I learned in my two weeks of classes.
So, I suppose I have found my home for the time being. The sun is shining warm and bright, the sounds of birds chirping and drums pounding ring in the distance, and another mini loaf of freshly baked banana bread is calling my name...
Peace and love to all :)
The attraction here? San Marcos is supposed to be a vortex of powerful spiritual energy, attracting those interested in meditation, alternative therapy, yoga and the like. You can´t walk down the narrow stone sidewalks without passing by offers on every type of massage you can imagine, Mayan saunas, courses in Reiki, Indian Head Massages, meditation and much more. Every day is filled purely with the sounds of nature (there are no cars here)--or of drum circles. A faint smell of insence wavers through the air. Everybody--foreigner and local alike--says hello to one another as they pass on the sidewalks. Vegetarianism is the norm here in the local restaurants. Free movies, such as ¨Love in the Time of Cholera,¨are shown every night. There is one bar in town, and one bar only. Happy, smiling children are everywhere. More species of butterflies that I have ever seen in one place flutter around the lush green jungle flora. Frenchmen, Frenchwomen, and French-children seem to make up the majority of travelers. The list goes on...
The entire village is interconnected only by these narrow stone pathways, and you are constantly surrounded by lime trees, or mango trees (it´s unfortunately not mango season), and other various fruit trees in which my eyes have never before been witness to. The mornings are the most beautiful time, as the lake is calm (great kayaking!) and the sun is strong, before the afternoon clouds and rain move in. So far, we´ve been lucky here and not had any rain, but I await its inevitable presence with open arms. Anybody looking for a somewhat exotic, peaceful place to turn your energy inward should consider this place... I know I will be back.
Tomorrow I move with Rachel into a place called Las Piramides (http://www.laspiramidesdelka.com) for one week and we will stay in a three bed, pyramid-shaped room. We are currently sharing a four-bed room with Scott and an Irish lad whose name sounds like Kieron, but I know is spelled entirely different than that. My days during the week (or two, or three) at the Pyramids will consist primarily of the following... yoga at 7am, metaphysics at 10am, meditation at 5pm, day in and day out. I think I will throw some more Spanish language lessons in there, but only for a few hours in the afternoons. I am already losing what I learned in my two weeks of classes.
So, I suppose I have found my home for the time being. The sun is shining warm and bright, the sounds of birds chirping and drums pounding ring in the distance, and another mini loaf of freshly baked banana bread is calling my name...
Peace and love to all :)
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Been a while..
... and I have a lot to catch up on but the present is too good to pass up right now. Besides, I can´t say that I am too concerned with chronological time here in Guatemala.
Yesterday my friend Rachel and I were picked up at 7am from our hostel for a 2.5 hour ride to Lago de Atitlan. The lake, surrounded by volcanoes and lush green mountain sides, with small villages dotting the shorelines around the entire lake, was lovingly deemed by Aldous Huxley as ¨the most beautiful lake in the world.¨ Probably not too much of an overstatement, if you ask me.
We were meeting Scott, a friend I made on my volcano hike in Xela who has been staying with people he knows in a nearby village on the lake, and the three of us were planning on just hanging out for a few days in a place that is known not only for its beauty, but also for the relaxing energy it emits and excess amounts of hippies and weed. No wonder I feel right at home here, coming from Eugene...
So, as it seems to happen a lot here, as Rachel and I are stepping off our shuttle van at the dock in the lakeside town of Panajachel (this one known for being a gringo-filled tourist haven), I hear my name being called by a woman. Low and behold, here is our friend Becki who was dealing with a misunderstanding between her and a guy working at the tour company who was supposed to take her to the city of Antigua at 9:30am, but who were now telling her she had to wait until 1pm. So it goes in Guatemala. This worked out nicely, seeing Becki one last time before she heads home to NY, as Rachel and I had to wait for a while for Scott to get to Panajachel anyway.
Once on the boat to San Pedro, I could almost feel the healing energy sinking into me (I know, probably my imagination because of what all I had previously heard about the lake, but I´ll take it regardless). During the ride, somehow, someway, we befriended an ex-pat from Canada who owns a restaurant in San Pedro and also coincidentally rents out rooms in his house. He gave us a deal for two bedrooms and open use of anything else in his house... we are paying approximately $2.50 per night each. So, we take up his offer to check it out upon arrivel to San Pedro, and although it is a bit of a jaunt uphill (which only means a better view of the surroundings) and a 15 minute walk from the main part of town, we decide to give it a go for a few days. The view from the house is incredible, and this man is a gardener so once on his hillside property you feel like you are in some sort of fanasy land...
This Canadian man, David, is a small friendly man who hates U.S. foreign policy and who I am pretty sure is always stoned. He´s got a great house--all things considered--complete with an abundance of books and movies, washer and dryer, at least four cats, a dog, chickens, a rooster, his own flock of geese along with a few ducks, and a little gecko who seems to have adopted a wall in David´s house for his current home. The front deck faces the lake and volcanoes out toward San Pedro, and the back faces a neighboring town called San Juan. In fact, once in the ´backyard´if you can call it that, you pass through a wooden door (kind of like the Secret Garden) and you actually are in San Juan. This place is stunningly beautiful, and the abundance of varieties of plants would be well appreciated by my father (wish you could see it dad!). As we are sitting on the San Juan side wrapping up our ´tour´of the place, listenng to the music of a San Juan funeral march echoing through the hillsides, David makes sure to let us know we are free to wander, but not to go too far without a tour guide becuase the ground is filled with baby marijuana plants. I mean, nobody would ever want to crush those now, would they?
So, we´ll likely spend 2-3 nights at David´s place. Yesterday we followed him to is restaurant when he went to open it up and were given three beers on the house. Tonight he´s got live music that I´m sure we´ll check out (which, coincidentally, while we were eating at The Burrito Factory yesterday we happened to meet the man who is performing at David´s restaurant tonight). When he came home from the restaurant last night he joined us in watching Ice Age, and it was only a matter of minutes before he was rolling and passing around the joint. When in Rome, right mom?
I´ll work on the past two weeks of my life one of these days...
Love and miss you all!
Yesterday my friend Rachel and I were picked up at 7am from our hostel for a 2.5 hour ride to Lago de Atitlan. The lake, surrounded by volcanoes and lush green mountain sides, with small villages dotting the shorelines around the entire lake, was lovingly deemed by Aldous Huxley as ¨the most beautiful lake in the world.¨ Probably not too much of an overstatement, if you ask me.
We were meeting Scott, a friend I made on my volcano hike in Xela who has been staying with people he knows in a nearby village on the lake, and the three of us were planning on just hanging out for a few days in a place that is known not only for its beauty, but also for the relaxing energy it emits and excess amounts of hippies and weed. No wonder I feel right at home here, coming from Eugene...
So, as it seems to happen a lot here, as Rachel and I are stepping off our shuttle van at the dock in the lakeside town of Panajachel (this one known for being a gringo-filled tourist haven), I hear my name being called by a woman. Low and behold, here is our friend Becki who was dealing with a misunderstanding between her and a guy working at the tour company who was supposed to take her to the city of Antigua at 9:30am, but who were now telling her she had to wait until 1pm. So it goes in Guatemala. This worked out nicely, seeing Becki one last time before she heads home to NY, as Rachel and I had to wait for a while for Scott to get to Panajachel anyway.
Once on the boat to San Pedro, I could almost feel the healing energy sinking into me (I know, probably my imagination because of what all I had previously heard about the lake, but I´ll take it regardless). During the ride, somehow, someway, we befriended an ex-pat from Canada who owns a restaurant in San Pedro and also coincidentally rents out rooms in his house. He gave us a deal for two bedrooms and open use of anything else in his house... we are paying approximately $2.50 per night each. So, we take up his offer to check it out upon arrivel to San Pedro, and although it is a bit of a jaunt uphill (which only means a better view of the surroundings) and a 15 minute walk from the main part of town, we decide to give it a go for a few days. The view from the house is incredible, and this man is a gardener so once on his hillside property you feel like you are in some sort of fanasy land...
This Canadian man, David, is a small friendly man who hates U.S. foreign policy and who I am pretty sure is always stoned. He´s got a great house--all things considered--complete with an abundance of books and movies, washer and dryer, at least four cats, a dog, chickens, a rooster, his own flock of geese along with a few ducks, and a little gecko who seems to have adopted a wall in David´s house for his current home. The front deck faces the lake and volcanoes out toward San Pedro, and the back faces a neighboring town called San Juan. In fact, once in the ´backyard´if you can call it that, you pass through a wooden door (kind of like the Secret Garden) and you actually are in San Juan. This place is stunningly beautiful, and the abundance of varieties of plants would be well appreciated by my father (wish you could see it dad!). As we are sitting on the San Juan side wrapping up our ´tour´of the place, listenng to the music of a San Juan funeral march echoing through the hillsides, David makes sure to let us know we are free to wander, but not to go too far without a tour guide becuase the ground is filled with baby marijuana plants. I mean, nobody would ever want to crush those now, would they?
So, we´ll likely spend 2-3 nights at David´s place. Yesterday we followed him to is restaurant when he went to open it up and were given three beers on the house. Tonight he´s got live music that I´m sure we´ll check out (which, coincidentally, while we were eating at The Burrito Factory yesterday we happened to meet the man who is performing at David´s restaurant tonight). When he came home from the restaurant last night he joined us in watching Ice Age, and it was only a matter of minutes before he was rolling and passing around the joint. When in Rome, right mom?
I´ll work on the past two weeks of my life one of these days...
Love and miss you all!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
The Mercedes Benz´s of Guatemala
Well, I had my first chicken bus experience yesterday. The ¨chicken buses¨ are literally old school buses like those we rode as children (and I do believe they are actually from the U.S.), but painted wildly with crazy bright colors. Some say things, usually having to do with Jesus; I´ve seen others that have a fake Mercedes decal the size of a basketball on the back of the bus. The Mercedes Benz of Guatemala. Sweet, I´m riding in style here. Chicken buses are famous for offering their patrons wild rides, whether through the streets or through the mountains. Although yesterdaý´s ride was quite calm and uneventful, the bus drivers are still crazy as they zoom around the streets, barely stopping to let passengers on before accelerating again. The buses yesterday were relatively empty, and there were no live chickens or other animals (hence the appointed name). Oftentimes these buses (just take a moment to recall how little room there was on your 2nd grade school bus) are so jam-packed full of people that there are three to a seat, sometimes more if there are children involved. This is in addition to the people crowding the aisle--and don´t forget the chickens! I can´t wait to have my first true chicken bus experience.
I also waded through my first real market in a little village outside of Xela called Salcaja. Standing on average at least a foot taller than the majority of individuals around me, I was truly enjoying the moment. Magnificently colored and patterned cloth, baskets full of produce or beans or dried shrimp, it was a sight to see! However, I think my favorite part was being surrounded by the indigenous Mayan women there. Their dress is unlike anything anywhere else in the world...
After strolling through the market we headed to an old church (the oldest in Central America according to my Spanish teacher, but it´s definitely possible I misunderstood what he was saying--it was in Spanish, after all). Either way, it was built in the early 1500s. I can´t believe I was standing next to such a beautiful structure that is 500 years old! Our next stop was in a small building that I think was actually somebody´s home, but where there were two men weaving some type of Mayan fabric on top of the roof (rooster with a string tied to his leg and dove in a small cage on the roof included). We got to sit and observe these men weave a beautifully patterned black, white, purple, teal and gold fabric using their ¨machines.¨ Whoever had the brains to figure out how to construct a machine strictly from wood that would produce such detailed designs using various colors was a genius! On the way out, we were given the pleasure of tasting a homemade alcohol (rum, fruit and sugar that had formented for 5 months prior)--and we got to eat the apples, cherries and plums that came straight from the bottle! It was extremely strong, but quite delicious nonetheless.
I also waded through my first real market in a little village outside of Xela called Salcaja. Standing on average at least a foot taller than the majority of individuals around me, I was truly enjoying the moment. Magnificently colored and patterned cloth, baskets full of produce or beans or dried shrimp, it was a sight to see! However, I think my favorite part was being surrounded by the indigenous Mayan women there. Their dress is unlike anything anywhere else in the world...
After strolling through the market we headed to an old church (the oldest in Central America according to my Spanish teacher, but it´s definitely possible I misunderstood what he was saying--it was in Spanish, after all). Either way, it was built in the early 1500s. I can´t believe I was standing next to such a beautiful structure that is 500 years old! Our next stop was in a small building that I think was actually somebody´s home, but where there were two men weaving some type of Mayan fabric on top of the roof (rooster with a string tied to his leg and dove in a small cage on the roof included). We got to sit and observe these men weave a beautifully patterned black, white, purple, teal and gold fabric using their ¨machines.¨ Whoever had the brains to figure out how to construct a machine strictly from wood that would produce such detailed designs using various colors was a genius! On the way out, we were given the pleasure of tasting a homemade alcohol (rum, fruit and sugar that had formented for 5 months prior)--and we got to eat the apples, cherries and plums that came straight from the bottle! It was extremely strong, but quite delicious nonetheless.
Monday night I had my favorite dinner yet, probably only because it didn´t contain chicken or beans, but I´ll take it! It was as simple as this: three crisp round yellow corn tortillas slightly larger than the size of the palm of my hand (like a large corn chip!), each with a different spread (salsa, guacemole and a black bean dip--okay, so there were beans), and each with one ring of white onion on top. Refreshingly delicious. Dinner and breakfast usually also consist of coffee and some type of bread from a nearby bakery that is supposed to be the best in town. I have yet to make it there to see for myself, but soon, very soon... Oh, and I am going to promplty remove milk from my diet again. Now I remember why it wasn´t part of it to begin with... not that you wanted to know that. While I´m on the topic of food--some of you know just how much I do love food--today´s lunch was chow mein! Haha, I ate home cooked stir fried noodles, veggies, meat and soy sauce in Guatemala. Again, a nice change of pace.
When going to school and staying with a host family, families are required to provide students with three meals per day, usually 6 or 7 days per week depending on the school. My days usually go as follows: I wake up around 6:30 and if it´s a shower day (I am doing the every other day thing here), then I fight my way for bathroom time in a household of around 8 people. If I get lucky on a shower day, I get a nice, refreshing cold shower. I am not talking luke warm like we might consider in the States as a ¨cold¨ shower; I am talking cold!!! Then, it´s to the kitchen table for some cornflakes, coffee and pan. Class begins at 8am, I get a half hour break at 10:30, then class resumes until 1pm when I then walk back home (about a 10 minute walk) for lunch. My afternoons usually consist of either studying a bit in my room, sitting in a cafe somewhere back near the park, using the internet, or just sitting in the central park people watching. It gets dark here around 7-7:30pm and dinner is at 7pm, so I am back home by then and usually in for the night. This is a safe place during the day to wander alone, but I am told being out alone past 8:30pm is not a good idea, so I don´t do that :)
What about my Spanish language skills? Today was my fifth day of actually Spanish class, and although I am nowhere near capable of making comlete sentences without some type of error in them, I am actually quite surpised at what I can do after such a small amount of time. Thinking about how much I have learned completely reinforces what everybody already knows is true--living in a place that speaks the language is the only way to go.
More sights and sounds: Small men in banks and jewelry stores looking mean holding their large guns. ADORable children with ADORable smiles. Trucks and vans that drive by either blasting some intense Latin music or speaking words I don´t understand on a loudspeaker straight from the vehicle. Automobiles, motorcycles and buses that drive so fast through in the streets that you are immediately aware of the fact that pedestrians here do not have the right of way. Constant honking from those automobiles, motorcycles and buses at each intersection, letting everybody else know that they do not plan on slowing down. More fireworks at all times of the morning, day and night. Mayan women in their traditional dress... wearing heels. Well, at least the clunky-type...
Time to be on my way. After all, the sun is shining here so I need to take advantage of another rainless day!
Ciao!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Xela: An Introduction
A warm and grateful hello to my dear friends and family.
Each time I sit down to begin writing here, I can´t seem come up with what to write (strange, I know, given that I have been in a fascinating foreign country for going on six days now). These six days have had their ups and downs (but mostly ups)... a real Guatemalan futbol game (the home team, the Xelaju Super Chivos, tied the other team 0-0 but there was still no lack of celebratory fireworks), a treacherous hike up to the top of a mirador (lookout) to watch a volcano eruption, a wonderful host family, a great Spanish teacher...
Guatemalans loooove their fireworks, let me tell you. It´s not a rare occasion for me to be woken up at any given hour of the night or early morning to a stream of pop pop pops! And as I previously mentioned, the futbol game I went to on Saturday night was packed with bumbas (isn´t that a great name fire fireworks?!). Fireworks, allowed. Large drums, fire extinguishers (I won´t complain about that), trumpets, and a various assortment of other large unknown metal objects, allowed. Plastic water bottles, not allowed. My assumption is that it keeps the fans from throwing too many things at each other. We sat right next to this large group of teenagers, who were yelling an assortment of chants throughout the entire game, many of which included one specific hand gesture that I can´t imagine meant anything good, and the Spanish word puta (or punta--I am not entirely sure, but either way I do believe it is the equivalent of ¨bitch¨). Some of the girls I was sitting with joined in for the fun of it and got some good laughs from the Guatemalan people sitting around us.
Sunday morning I was picked up around the corner from my host family´s house at 4:30 in the morning to make the trek up Volcan de Santiaguito. I was with a group of three others plus a guide. I only happened upon this to begin with because on Friday I was behind this young Texan couple in line at a tour company and they needed more people in their group in order to be taken up the volcano. I stepped in and gladly came to their rescue; or rather, they came to my rescue as I was beginning to wonder what on earth I was going to do with my first weekend in Xela with no friends (not to solicit pity from anybody, of course). We arrived to the base of the trail a little after 5am, and began the journey up. Three hours of nothing but steep, uphill climbing. I honestly believe that I have not had to push myself so hard physically (and therefore mentally) in a long, long time. Well worth it, however, because of what we found at the top. A 360 degree view of the surrounding land, which included the city of Xela and a line of volcanoes reaching all the way to those near the city of Antigua, probably around a 3-4 hour bus ride from Xela. Oh, and let´s not forget the 9am eruption of the volcano right below us!!! This particular volcano erupts about every two hours... crazy! With the daylight we couldn´t see the lava, only the large plume of steam (and ash?), but apparently at night you can see the glow of hot lava coming from the crater. Incredible. On our way up, we encountered a group of Indigenous people coming down the mountain who, once per month, make the trek up to stay the night and carry out their rituals and sacrifices (I have no idea what those are). Then, awaiting our arrival at the top and providing us with a warm welcome was a herd of beautiful black and white cows. Even though it is not the coldest time of the year, apparently these cows climb to the top of this mountain for this season to ´stay warm´and then climb back down again afterwards. My group and I still can´t figure out how this possibly makes sense, since it gets much colder in the winter months!
The only reason I actually did anything fun over the weekend was because I all but invited myself along to both the futbol game and the hike. You see, as much as I like everything else about my school, I am the ONLY student right now! Actually, a retired woman from Washington DC showed up today, but she doesn´t come across as the type who would want to tag along with me for the things that I want to do; she seems to be making her trip a more luxurious one than I. Good for her; I only hope I can do the same during my own retirement. The majority of foreigners here in Xela establish their social networks via the school, since everybody is in the same situation and friendless upon arrival. Therefore, as you have probably just concluded on your own, it makes for a difficult time for me to find friends in this unfamiliar city full of people who speak an unfamiliar language and whose unfamiliar culture I am still trying to grasp. So, the only option I can come up with is to put myself out there to start a conversation and that´s what I did. Most of you know that´s not usually my style. I guess I found out, however, that it gets this poor lonely girl from the States invited to join in on the fun. May the adventure and personal growth continue.
I still haven´t figured out my host family, but I am getting closer. The mother and father, I understand. It´s the rest of the people who come and go who I can´t quite follow... a daughter who is also the mother of an adorable three year old girl but who seems to be doing the parenting thing entirely solo, an assortment of nieces and nephews who come and go (apparently their families live far away), others whom I assume are just friends over for a visit, and then there are an Indigenous man and woman who I believe work for the family. The showers are cold, the food is already getting repetitive. Lunch and dinner generally include rice with peas and carrots (a few pieces of onion and tomato if you´re lucky), a piece of chicken (the type where a whole chicken is probably cooked and your piece torn off, broken bones and all... yum), and over the chicken some type of beans with a bit of sauce in the bean concoction. That pretty much sums it up. Oh! How can I forget the tortillas?! The first time I ate one of these tortillas, a flash of hesitation whirled through my head because the color of these tortillas resemble the color of mold on bread. Then I remembered that not all corn is yellow. Good job, Stephanie. Breakfast is either eggs of some style (and I don´t mean fried, overeasy or scrambled) or Cornflakes. This morning was Cornflakes with bananas. And, guess what? Those of you who know me well might be pleasantly surprised when I disclose to you that I eat these Cornflakes with milk. Yes, real milk. (Those of you who don´t know this about me, with the exception of coffee drinks, I have not consumed a glass of milk or milk in my cereal for as long as I can remember). I hesitate to say this in front of all you milk-lovers, but it´s not that bad! I am already a little sick of the repetitiveness of my meals at home here, but I don´t feel that I have the right to complain. So, I will stop there.
I absolutely adore my Spanish teacher. He´s a 23 year old university student and is studying civil engineering. I enjoy him so much as a teacher because we talk about things like social and cultural issues, politics and just Guatemalan life in general. It is so fascinating to hear his perspective on things like the machismo culture here (men don´t live alone often until they have a wife to cook for them; until then they live with their mothers), the lack of values that are taught to children at home (those who are lucky enough to go to school--and therefore obviously only those in urban environments--learn such values as not to steal, in school) and of course, just how much the United States can impact countries like Guatemala when even just one thing starts to go awry. He makes me want to buy him a place ticket to any place of his choosing where he can use his engineering knowledge and actually make a livable salary. The other day he said he´d never be able to leave Guatemala because it costs too much money... money that a lot of people here don´t have.
The list goes on, but instead of long paragraphs here´s a small glimpse into what I am seeing and experiencing:
Noise. There is sooo much noise here, as I know some of you have at one point or another had to become accustomed to living in larger cities. Honking. Dogs barking. Fireworks. Cars. Motorbikes. Buses. Loud buses. Very loud buses. Yelling. Yelling things I don´t understand!
Dogs. What is it about places like this and their masses and masses of stray dogs? They´re EVERYWHERE!!! Despite the fact that they probably could take over Xela if they had the desire-not to mention the brain capacity--they tend to leave us humans alone and instead stick to their own kind. A huge thank you to the canine species in Xela.
Rain. Thursday, my first full day in Xela, it rained... and rained... and rained. Starting early in the afternoon, it rained well into the night. Here, the rain turns the uneven cobblestone streets into rivers. Aside from Thursday, it rained Friday afternoon right on schedule. Thankfully, Saturday and Sunday were without. So far today there have only been a few brief and light showers.
Racism. Although I should not be, I am surprised to find such intense segregation between the Indigenous people here and the Ladinos, or Mixtos (those who are not of indigenous origin). As my teacher explained today, Ladinos are the ones who become professionals and who start, own and operate businesses. The Indigenous people here are the vendors in the streets and in the markets--they sell shoes, cloth, produce, various types of food and drink--nothing of which they can make enough do anything with but hardly survive.
Pollution. No question about it. Xela is a polluted place. My throat is usually scratchy by every afternoon. Black clouds, and I mean black, come out of the cars and buses here. People litter. Dogs need a place to defecate.
Mountains. Xela is in the highlands, and therefore surrounded by green mountain slopes. It´s beautiful.
Poverty. Enough said, you can use your imaginations for now.
This is all I can muster up at the moment, more to come in the passing days, weeks and months, I assure you.
I wish you all well!
Each time I sit down to begin writing here, I can´t seem come up with what to write (strange, I know, given that I have been in a fascinating foreign country for going on six days now). These six days have had their ups and downs (but mostly ups)... a real Guatemalan futbol game (the home team, the Xelaju Super Chivos, tied the other team 0-0 but there was still no lack of celebratory fireworks), a treacherous hike up to the top of a mirador (lookout) to watch a volcano eruption, a wonderful host family, a great Spanish teacher...
Guatemalans loooove their fireworks, let me tell you. It´s not a rare occasion for me to be woken up at any given hour of the night or early morning to a stream of pop pop pops! And as I previously mentioned, the futbol game I went to on Saturday night was packed with bumbas (isn´t that a great name fire fireworks?!). Fireworks, allowed. Large drums, fire extinguishers (I won´t complain about that), trumpets, and a various assortment of other large unknown metal objects, allowed. Plastic water bottles, not allowed. My assumption is that it keeps the fans from throwing too many things at each other. We sat right next to this large group of teenagers, who were yelling an assortment of chants throughout the entire game, many of which included one specific hand gesture that I can´t imagine meant anything good, and the Spanish word puta (or punta--I am not entirely sure, but either way I do believe it is the equivalent of ¨bitch¨). Some of the girls I was sitting with joined in for the fun of it and got some good laughs from the Guatemalan people sitting around us.
Sunday morning I was picked up around the corner from my host family´s house at 4:30 in the morning to make the trek up Volcan de Santiaguito. I was with a group of three others plus a guide. I only happened upon this to begin with because on Friday I was behind this young Texan couple in line at a tour company and they needed more people in their group in order to be taken up the volcano. I stepped in and gladly came to their rescue; or rather, they came to my rescue as I was beginning to wonder what on earth I was going to do with my first weekend in Xela with no friends (not to solicit pity from anybody, of course). We arrived to the base of the trail a little after 5am, and began the journey up. Three hours of nothing but steep, uphill climbing. I honestly believe that I have not had to push myself so hard physically (and therefore mentally) in a long, long time. Well worth it, however, because of what we found at the top. A 360 degree view of the surrounding land, which included the city of Xela and a line of volcanoes reaching all the way to those near the city of Antigua, probably around a 3-4 hour bus ride from Xela. Oh, and let´s not forget the 9am eruption of the volcano right below us!!! This particular volcano erupts about every two hours... crazy! With the daylight we couldn´t see the lava, only the large plume of steam (and ash?), but apparently at night you can see the glow of hot lava coming from the crater. Incredible. On our way up, we encountered a group of Indigenous people coming down the mountain who, once per month, make the trek up to stay the night and carry out their rituals and sacrifices (I have no idea what those are). Then, awaiting our arrival at the top and providing us with a warm welcome was a herd of beautiful black and white cows. Even though it is not the coldest time of the year, apparently these cows climb to the top of this mountain for this season to ´stay warm´and then climb back down again afterwards. My group and I still can´t figure out how this possibly makes sense, since it gets much colder in the winter months!
The only reason I actually did anything fun over the weekend was because I all but invited myself along to both the futbol game and the hike. You see, as much as I like everything else about my school, I am the ONLY student right now! Actually, a retired woman from Washington DC showed up today, but she doesn´t come across as the type who would want to tag along with me for the things that I want to do; she seems to be making her trip a more luxurious one than I. Good for her; I only hope I can do the same during my own retirement. The majority of foreigners here in Xela establish their social networks via the school, since everybody is in the same situation and friendless upon arrival. Therefore, as you have probably just concluded on your own, it makes for a difficult time for me to find friends in this unfamiliar city full of people who speak an unfamiliar language and whose unfamiliar culture I am still trying to grasp. So, the only option I can come up with is to put myself out there to start a conversation and that´s what I did. Most of you know that´s not usually my style. I guess I found out, however, that it gets this poor lonely girl from the States invited to join in on the fun. May the adventure and personal growth continue.
I still haven´t figured out my host family, but I am getting closer. The mother and father, I understand. It´s the rest of the people who come and go who I can´t quite follow... a daughter who is also the mother of an adorable three year old girl but who seems to be doing the parenting thing entirely solo, an assortment of nieces and nephews who come and go (apparently their families live far away), others whom I assume are just friends over for a visit, and then there are an Indigenous man and woman who I believe work for the family. The showers are cold, the food is already getting repetitive. Lunch and dinner generally include rice with peas and carrots (a few pieces of onion and tomato if you´re lucky), a piece of chicken (the type where a whole chicken is probably cooked and your piece torn off, broken bones and all... yum), and over the chicken some type of beans with a bit of sauce in the bean concoction. That pretty much sums it up. Oh! How can I forget the tortillas?! The first time I ate one of these tortillas, a flash of hesitation whirled through my head because the color of these tortillas resemble the color of mold on bread. Then I remembered that not all corn is yellow. Good job, Stephanie. Breakfast is either eggs of some style (and I don´t mean fried, overeasy or scrambled) or Cornflakes. This morning was Cornflakes with bananas. And, guess what? Those of you who know me well might be pleasantly surprised when I disclose to you that I eat these Cornflakes with milk. Yes, real milk. (Those of you who don´t know this about me, with the exception of coffee drinks, I have not consumed a glass of milk or milk in my cereal for as long as I can remember). I hesitate to say this in front of all you milk-lovers, but it´s not that bad! I am already a little sick of the repetitiveness of my meals at home here, but I don´t feel that I have the right to complain. So, I will stop there.
I absolutely adore my Spanish teacher. He´s a 23 year old university student and is studying civil engineering. I enjoy him so much as a teacher because we talk about things like social and cultural issues, politics and just Guatemalan life in general. It is so fascinating to hear his perspective on things like the machismo culture here (men don´t live alone often until they have a wife to cook for them; until then they live with their mothers), the lack of values that are taught to children at home (those who are lucky enough to go to school--and therefore obviously only those in urban environments--learn such values as not to steal, in school) and of course, just how much the United States can impact countries like Guatemala when even just one thing starts to go awry. He makes me want to buy him a place ticket to any place of his choosing where he can use his engineering knowledge and actually make a livable salary. The other day he said he´d never be able to leave Guatemala because it costs too much money... money that a lot of people here don´t have.
The list goes on, but instead of long paragraphs here´s a small glimpse into what I am seeing and experiencing:
Noise. There is sooo much noise here, as I know some of you have at one point or another had to become accustomed to living in larger cities. Honking. Dogs barking. Fireworks. Cars. Motorbikes. Buses. Loud buses. Very loud buses. Yelling. Yelling things I don´t understand!
Dogs. What is it about places like this and their masses and masses of stray dogs? They´re EVERYWHERE!!! Despite the fact that they probably could take over Xela if they had the desire-not to mention the brain capacity--they tend to leave us humans alone and instead stick to their own kind. A huge thank you to the canine species in Xela.
Rain. Thursday, my first full day in Xela, it rained... and rained... and rained. Starting early in the afternoon, it rained well into the night. Here, the rain turns the uneven cobblestone streets into rivers. Aside from Thursday, it rained Friday afternoon right on schedule. Thankfully, Saturday and Sunday were without. So far today there have only been a few brief and light showers.
Racism. Although I should not be, I am surprised to find such intense segregation between the Indigenous people here and the Ladinos, or Mixtos (those who are not of indigenous origin). As my teacher explained today, Ladinos are the ones who become professionals and who start, own and operate businesses. The Indigenous people here are the vendors in the streets and in the markets--they sell shoes, cloth, produce, various types of food and drink--nothing of which they can make enough do anything with but hardly survive.
Pollution. No question about it. Xela is a polluted place. My throat is usually scratchy by every afternoon. Black clouds, and I mean black, come out of the cars and buses here. People litter. Dogs need a place to defecate.
Mountains. Xela is in the highlands, and therefore surrounded by green mountain slopes. It´s beautiful.
Poverty. Enough said, you can use your imaginations for now.
This is all I can muster up at the moment, more to come in the passing days, weeks and months, I assure you.
I wish you all well!
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