Pausing Here and There

Thanksgiving:

Imagine this: You are living in a house named “yoga house” and you might think, “Hmm. Yoga. Non-violence. Ahimsa. Peaceful hippie vegetarians.” In fact the reality is quite the opposite. I’ve successfully moved into my lovely new home and was pleased to discover that we had quite the lovely mix of people living here…most of whom eat meat. Some of whom are interested in killing the meat they eat. Pete and Pete, if you have not yet read Sarah and Megan’s hilarious blog, are two Minnesotan fellows who remind me a lot of Jake rolled into one. They are best friends and they kill turkeys. In fact, they killed our thanksgiving chompipe and it was definitely transcendent. I felt, simultaneously, repugnance and fascination, to the idea of these two lads martaring this bird for our dinner, so of course I volunteered to photograph the whole adventure! Thanksgiving ended up being lovely, big, boisterous, and wonderful. I spent the day telling my language teacher about this whole chompipe episode and marvelling at the fact that I saw the thing alive and then I ate it. We ended the night by drinking masses of mojitos at El Cuartito, where I apparently work, but don’t have any hours yet. Hmmm?

Y mas:
This weekend we did Fuentas Georginas Part Deux. It was glorious and lovely, again. We brought food and, as I was with two outdoor educators–Cori and Traika–we felt very confident in making a fire to cook it on. The man at the hotel asked if we wanted help in that condescending machismo way, and Cori told him no. But then, they tried to start it, and damn, did it take a long time to start! We gave in, asked the hotel guy who said, “Lo dijo” (I told you so). But, by the time he had arrived, Traika, who had dedicated herself to the fire had managed to get it going. Eventually we were able to precariously balance the veggie shishkabobs I’d prepared earlier on the mini stove and eat warm, but still a little raw potatos, tomatoes, red peppers, and onions. When the guy came we got him to start the fire inside the cabin and we threw our tamales in their to warm up. After sharing a bottle of chilean wine *extravagant!* we didn’t care so much about the semi rawness, and everything turned out delicious.

At night, the fog rolled out so we were able to see the millions of stars. We brought candles down to the pool at night and placed them all around, then turned out the lights because we were the only people swimming. It was delicious and magical…I really felt like I was in some kind of crazy fairyland.

I spent the rest of today relaxing, cleaning, and getting nervous for my first day at my volunteer gig tomorrow. Off to translate Montessori lessons into Spanish, or try to!

Hey all… I´ve got quite the life going on here, it´s pretty insane how one can come to a place and all of a sudden have friends, school, a job, a new house, etc… I moved into Yoga house on Friday and had a wonderful collective dinner last night. We´re planning a thanksgiving (i´m making mashies, though I might also attempt green bean casserole…so send me the recipe, eh mama?) My room there is pleasant, though a little dirty and with a very hard bed. A friend described its smell as that of the inside of an old ship. I did some cleaning this weekend, but the ship smell did not dissipate.

I had quite the beautiful weekend. I´ve met some wonderful people here, and quite a few from San Fran, who have told me stories that make me very excited to move there once I return. On Saturday, I went with Sarah and Megan´s school on a volcano trip. Soooo steep, but we were rewarded with views of a beautiful caldera lake, fog, and tropicalish vegetation. We lay on the pumice beach like seals for a bit, and listened to a gathering on the other side that may have been a batism or perhaps an exorcism. No sé.

That night we went and saw Buena Vista Social Club in an old military barracks. I wish I had been more awake, but I was pooped from the early morning hiking. Still, the music was delightful, and watching people dance, even more so.

Yesterday I succeeded in recopying two weeks of notes and getting a job at a café, so I´ll have a bit of money coming in. Also, on Tuesday I´m off to look at an after school program where they need volunteers…so I hope that works out.

The newest plan is to stay here in Xela until the end of January, make my way down to Costa Rica, then travel to Bolivia where I´ll study for perhaps another month, and then on to Peru and Ecuador for a little travel before returning to the us in mid-April. The ever morphing plan continues, but as of now this sounds good.

I miss you all…send me email updates…I want to know what´s happening in the states.

I´m sitting outside of my bedroom in my host family´s courtyard. (Okay, well not really, I´m actually in the school´s computer lab, but I wrote this on Sunday and am sharing so you all can get a picture of my life here).

Their dog is harassing me a bit, making sure that I know that this is his territory…and, he just pissed on the fig tree. Good job perro. The electricity is out, apparently in the whole city so I know I should be using these remaining few hours of daylight to study as I haven´t all weekend. I hear a baby´s cry from the next courtyard, buses, birds, the dog chewing on a nasty bone, firecrackers (someone´s birthday?) Its overcase, and was raining a bit in Zunil, the town I was in for a bit earlier today. Today is kind of the antithesis of yesterday. Saturday, I woke up, put my music on and by the magic of ipod shuffle happened on an excellent New Pornographer´s song. That put me in a better mood because I was itchy the night before (fleas, bedbugs, no sé). I was also awoken on Saturday very early by the damn birds and the early morning breakfast eaters.

A group of us got together the night before to drink mango mojito after mango mojito in a cafe which was grand as I hadn´t really gone out in Xela before that.

Saturday morning another group converged (there were seven of us) to take a bus to Zunil (a town about half an hour outside of Xela) and then a pick up to Georgenas Fuentas. The bus to Zunil was especially clean, new luggage racks and such. All the people on the bus that morning were women and children, okay, well mostly. The women were mostly wearing indigena clothing, including the brightly colored hair wrap that is common in the Xela highlands. The fog hadn´t come in yet and the sun was soooo pretty on the hills: patchworks of agriculture, spots here and there of flowers, purple and magenta all in a neat little square.

When we arrived in Georginas, it was amazing too. We had taken the pickup, and saw more gorgeous farmland, a volcan, and then we passed into the fog. Geoginas was misty, jungle ferns, huge plants, hot springs steaming out of the rocks. We stayed in a bungalow there, and spent the afternoon soaking up the calming waters of the hot springs…we read, became pruny, talked, floated, felt the varying temperatures of water, and when we became too warm, played uno till dinner. An evening swim was, of course, compulsary as well. Then we experienced the lovely box spring only no mattress bed for the evening. Yippee.

We walked back down the hill the next day to zunil, about two hours, killing the time by chatting, and not noticing that our calves were becoming incredibly sore. That we noticed later. I took lots of wildflower pictures. At one point, passing over a bridge, we saw a river of callallillies (sp.) As we grew closer to town, there were less people in their fields cleaning carrots, mounds of white white onions, bagging huge hills of beets, blood purple. There was more trash and the road turned to cobblestone.

We went and saw San Simon in Zunil, a local God? Actually, I don´t know too much about him so I shouldn´t say much. However, he is a figure and the figure looked like a doll dressed up in a suit with a cowboy hat and a scarf. People would take his hat or his cane and touch themselves with it or wear it, or feed him aguar diente (alcohol) or light candles, or offer money to ask questions. I don´t know any more than that, really that is not an assumption. I intend to find out more soon.

On our way back I noticed the loads of trash people threw into the river by zunil, the cabbages growing right next to it, and the ominous, giant black vultures watching the trash (to see if anything good is coming?)

We spent Sunday evening eating and pretending to study. And then, the next week began…

I just arrived back from an afternoon trip to a small town called San Andreas Xecul, which is famous for its beautiful and colorfully decorated church. The outside of it is bright yellow and there are statues of animals, and saints, and red flowers adorning the facade. Apparently, it was built during the Spanish colonization, but is representative of syncretic Mayan spritual traditions and Spanish Christianity. The yellow of the church represents maize, and the sun; the green represents the trees (which stand on the mountainsides surrounding the town–their trunks tall and skinny with a flame of leaves sitting atop, like in The Lorax); the red represents fire.

We walked up the steep slope of road to a smaller church, which is right next to a very ancient Mayan spiritual site. It is marked by two crosses and a big heap of black ash. Below, we saw heaps of corn drying in the sun to be milled into masa for tortillas and tamales. All around there are mountains and the most beautiful puffy clouds.

However, the most exciting part of this trip by far was the short pick up truck ride from the bus stop to the town. Yes, the ford truck was a rusting yellow thing with no guard rails to hang from, but that was not what made us squeal in terror and delight. Instead, it was the thirteen year old boy, who looked about ten, who so seriously drove us, blasting his horn more than he touched the breaks. I asked if I could take a picture of him. It will be up soon.

Howdy All. So I have just completed my third day of Spanish school, ever, and can successfully create sentences in the present using all kinds of verbs. Yippee. I also know some random vocabulary. My teacher is very kind and patient, explaining grammar and indulging me in my rambling, poorly constructed Spanish tirades about current events or teaching. Somehow I manage to get my point across, and she is very good at speaking in a way that allows me to completely understand all that she is saying.

My homestay is fine. The mom runs a small lunchroom from her kitchen, so I meet all different people every day and eat yummy food. Still, I miss hanging out with people in the evenings as I can´t really go out after dinner. This makes things a little boring as I have so far spent my evenings reading, studying, and going to bed by 9 or 10.

Yesterday, I put a down payment toward my room at yoga house starting next weekend. I´m stoked. The girl who manages the house was sure to tell me that ¨We´re not really a party house. Mostly we just hang out and cook a lot.¨ I was sold. My room comes with a private bathroom–no shower though–and a brand new matress. Score! I think I´ll definitely stay in Xela until Jacob, my bro, gets here in December. I´ll study Spanish until then, who knows.

I´ve posted some pictures, so take a look 🙂 Actually, I am not as cool as Sarah and Megan and haven´t figured out how to post flickr directly into the blog…so here´s the link.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67808065@N00/

Hola todos! Today I started my first day of school. On Sunday, Sarah and Megan and I went out and bought school supplies. It was quite cute. I also endured a 2 hour yoga class with some of the wierdest moves I´ve seen at a yoga class thus far, but hey, when in Rome.

Since Megan and Sarah are at a different school, I´m not sure when I´ll see them next, but I´m sure we will figure out a routine…perhaps studying at our favorite little cafe, La Luna. First, I´ll have to find out where they live!

My school, Proyecto Linguistico (or plq), is amazing! I´ve been placed in a homestay with a very nice woman, Dona Yolanda, her husband and her daughter, Yohanna (who is 21). I feel like I´ve already learned so much from my teacher, Laura, and have met some nice people whom I will hopefully befriend.

The house is organized around a courtyard where a fig tree (los higos) grows. There are also pigeons and turkeys in this courtyard, and a place to do the dishes. Dona Yoland is an amazing cook, who runs a little comedor for the teachers of the school at lunchtime. Once I get a little Spanish under my belt, I´ll see if I can learn a few Guatemalan dishes. My room is very big, but totally without windows. This morning, around 5:00 I awoke to the sound of the turkeys calling, totally disoriented. Everything was pitch black. I tried to ignore the Guatemalan bed–so many springs sticking into my back–and the turkeys and go back to sleep, but there was no doing it. Oh well, sleep is for the dead anyhow.

There is much to do here as every afternoon there are movies, conferences, trips, etc… scheduled, as well as a giant library full of books about Guatemala and Central American history. I´m very excited to begin learning more! Maybe I´ll finally read Bitter Fruit, as it was again recommended to me here.

I study Spanish every day from 8:00 until 1:00. Today I learned the verb ´ser´, to be, and described lots of people from Shakira to President Bush to Che Guevera using my newly learned verb and adjectives. Yippy.

We get a half hour break to sit and drink tea and coffee and eat bread and soak up the sunshine as it is somewhat bitterly cold here. I was SOOO happy I brought the sleeping bag after all last night.

All in all, I´m feeling much better about Xela. Kisses to all.

Xela. Oh, Xela. I have heard a lot about this town as many of my friends have studied here, or spent a significant amount of time here. I had a lot of expectations for Xela, and perhaps that is why I am slightly disappointed by it.

Arriving in Xela, we successfully navigated our way on to a city bus and into the central part of the city, also known as Zona 1. For anyone traveling in a country where you do not speak the language or know the lay out of a town, this can often be the most frightening part of arrival. Still, we made it and found a hotel, clean, but with very sunken matresses.

I was eager to explore my new home for the next few weeks–I think–and so I left Sarah and Megan to wander round the city. Xela is a gray place, with rundown buildings and stinging smog. The central park is not sunny and inviting like Antigua’s, but a little scary and surrounded by loud cars and many less trees. I located my language school, a large yellow building where I think I will learn a lot about Guatemalan culture and politics (I am very excited about this). I also located Yoga House and attended a class there. It was fine, though a little dank and dreary. It felt nice to be doing yoga again though. I looked into living there, and if I stay here, I may move in in two weeks. I need to give my language school and homestay a try.

What really has me down about the city, I think, is the harassment I have already experienced. Walking back from Yoga House at 8:30 (a mere 2 blocks from my hotel) two men on their motorbike stopped on the corner I was turning. One of them got off and got in my face. I yelled some obscenities and swung at him with Megan’s Nalgene bottle (yay water), then ran to my hotel. It definitely left me a bit unnerved and I will not walk around at night here alone in the future. It may have been men still drunk from the All Saint’s Day celebrations, or perhaps this is part of the norm. Regardless, it did not leave me with a good first impression of Xela. I’m sure once I begin my language schooling I will change my mindset entirely.

On a positive note, we discovered this little cafe/chocolate bar with delicious hot chocolate like none you have ever had.

The journey to Todos Santos, which is described by Lonely Planet as “bone rattling” was actually not too bad. There were times, however, that I thought the carriage of our chicken bus, an old Blue Bird school bus, would give way and something would shoot up from the floor to impale me. Luckily, we made it fine and in good spirits.

Todos Santos is a small Mayan village about 40 km north of Huehuetenango. All the men wear the traditional garb of the village, which includes red striped pants, straw bowler hats with blue string tied around them, and blue shirts with a woven collar. It was interesting to see all the different renditions on this outfit…many of the younger guys had adapted the look to be more akin to contemporary US styles. The red striped pants were baggy with lots of pockets, and the shirt/jacket was worn over tshirts. The occaisional collar was popped.

We, Megan, Sarah, and I arrived in Todos on Sunday and stayed til Thursday. A lot of this time was spent walking around watching the men of Todos Santos get ragingly drunk, as is the custom for the week of All Saint`s Day. We also went on a beautiful and adventurous hike that was supposed to be “relaxed,” but which, at 8,000 feet definitely had some very steep and slippery parts. We found out about this hike from someone we met in a cafe, and who drew us a map on a napkin. The mapkin turned out to be generally useful, and we made it to our destination, despite directions like “Turn right at the place where it looks like broccoli can no longer grow, but does.”

We also watched a beauty pagent/queen of Todos coronation which consisted of lots of women in various Mayan dress slow dancing down a big cement floor to Marimba music. We had no idea what was happening, but one of them was crowned at the end. It was definitely one big anthropological guessing game, made even more mysterious by the fact that we were incapable of asking anyone becuase of our lack of language skills.

The next evening was another puzzle as we watched men specially dressed in hats with feathers and shawls that had American flags on them drink and crack their whips to marimba music on the street. These same men participated in the horseback riding the next day, going up and down the same strip of dirt road while Marimbas played, people watched and whooped and ate treats.

All in all Todos was a nice town: We routinely were awoken at night by music and artillery fire sounding firecrackers, drunken men puking or arguing, chickens, dogs fighting, roosters; every morning the beautiful landscape would slowly be hid by the opaque fog rolling in; everyone smiled at you, even when one asked questions consisting of one Spanish word and pointing gestures; and we ate so much fried chicken and panqueques at Casa Familiar. Still, we were excited to leave and looked forward to Xela as this welcoming beacon of the big city living we were missing.