Pausing Here and There

Xela, darling Xela, feels like home now. I am glad to be back, and in the full swing of cooking. We started up lunch club again, and I was the chef del dia today. I went to make a very simple pasta with spinach and tomato sauce and mozzarella. As I was dumping the pasta into the almost boiling water a whole bunch of dead bugs floated to the surface. We spent a lot of time discussing whether or not we should attempt to salvage the pasta. However, when I discovered larvae, we decided it is best to forgo the pasta and we used some leftover rice to make “risotto.”

Right now I am waiting for my bread to rise and also avoiding writing a Spanish composition, the subject of which is “mujeres.” That´s right, please write an essay about women. Hmmm. Seems just a little broad.

Finally, I have acquired the nickname of gordita at Sakribal, the school I am studying at. My cheeks apparently are healthily full, although when I suggested to Dona Olga, the owner of the school, that my face looked like the moon she said, no, but I need to be careful. Thanks Olga, muchisimo gracias.

Oh, I´m teaching English to a young man here. It´s going well…no other exciting news.

According to PADI this is what I am now certified to do. Thanks to many ridiculous videos and several wonderful dives.

Diving: When you scuba dive it feels nothing at all like the delicious nakedness of swimming. Instead of letting yourself move freely through the water you are encased in a thick suit and hindered by some 50 pounds of equipment which requires that you move very slowly through the water and give over all sense of control of movement to three things: your bcd or inflatable live vest which connects to a steel tank and helps you go up and down, your flippers which give you some sense of being able to slowly, astronautically control your direction, move right or left up or down, and the ocean currents themselves, which seem to stay in your body for days afterwards making you feel like you are constantly swaying whenever you find yourself sitting still. Regardless, you do see incredible things..brilliantly colored fish, fan coral as big as your fins waving hello in the water, a spotted eagle ray majestic and giant drifting across what looks like a crater in the coral, hence the name of the dive site Moon Hole.

Sand Fleas: As a child I was occaisionally fascinated by a big green medical reference book that my mother kept in the spare room. It had pictures of all kinds of diseases, but particularly repulsive were the skin diseases. Having visited the land of sand flees (cursed jejenes) and jellyfish (wicked medusas) and other insects that Im sure have just as repulsive monikers, I think I am now a good candidate to appear in that book. My calves and hands are covered with itching red welts that drive me wild in the heat. While leaving Utila is a bit sad, (we met some really great people including a certain Britt named Giddeon who did a wicked American accent), I will not miss the evening dosage of flea bites.

Jake and I managed our way to San Pedro on Lake Atitlan and enjoyed a few days relaxing, taking hikes through the hills, and observing the vistas. It was so delightful to spend quality time with the brother boy, and hilarious to see the same little tiffs weve had since children resurface through travel. No worries, we overcame them.

I am now back in Xela and it certainly seems like a return to home! It was so nice to walk into yoga house, abuzz with activity and cooking and feel like I have a place here. I have already done my shopping and am ready to cook up a delicious veggie curry tonight. I have a month more here of Spanish study and who knows what else, before heading to Costa Rica in February. From there it is Ecuador and then who knows.

We’ve started our course and today we had our fist open water dive! Despite my skepticism and nervousness about completing more skills I did it, yay. Today: green moray eel, stargazer, parrot fish, lots of fish I have no idea what they are but that are really really pretty, gorgeous brilliant coral, sharing a regulator with a buddy and ascending, descending to 40 feet, and swimming sans mask and also pretending to ascend without a regulator. Que bueno! Also on the menu: sand flies, a final exam, and people playing dominoes out in the street slapping the tiles on the glass table with gusto. Island tradition I suppose.

So I’m in Antigua, and awake in my bed all tingly and giddy. It’s Christmas morning and my brother is arriving (his plane having landed at 6:45 am)! At 8 I wander outside with my book, enjoy the beautiful light shining on the cobbled Antigua streets with very few people about, sit on the stoop outside the locked hotel door and wait cheerfully. Around 9 I think that perhaps my time will be better spent inside the hotel. I pen a quick note and tack it on the door for Jacobboy. I make some new friends who have also been studying in Xela and exchange Feliz Navidads with other hostel folks over steaming cups of hot chocolate and an omlette the size of my head. I cheerily tell them that my brother is arriving today and isn’t that grand.

Around 10 I start to question where Jacob could be. With the help of aforementioned new friend I discover ¨flight tracker.com¨and determine that, yes, indeed his plane landed on time. I figure there are few taxis at the airport and he was struggling to find one to Antigua. The folks I’ve met tell me not to worry. Around 11:30 I begin to panic in earnest and talk to the hotel people who paste a bigger sign reading “JACOB” on the door and tell me to wait. I go call my parents and burst into tears. My brother has disappeared and it’s all my fault because I didn’t want to go to Guatemala city to pick him up. I meander around the central park and fountain looking, in vain, for my lost bro, but only see the throngs of tourists foreign and Guatemalan enjoying Christmas in Antigua (complete with three santas!).

Back at the hotel, I check my email for news but nothing, when, all of a sudden I get a phone call and it’s Jake. What the hell happened? I shreik. I’ll telll you when I get there he replies and we arrange to meet at the fountain. Well, alls well that ends well, eh? The brother finally arrived bearing those mini pecan pie cookies that I love so much (as well as many other very kind gifts!) Thanks Mama and everyone else for all the little travel goodies, they are wonderful!

This morning we enjoyed another 4 am ride to the town of Copan Ruinas, Honduras, which is very very cute, has very interesting ruins, and is surprisingly freezing. We saw mackaws and lots of big trees. Copan is a very different site from Tikal, much smaller both in area and in terms of the heights of the monuments, but I really enjoyed seeing all the intricate hieroglyphs on the statues there.

I spent the rest of the day reading Into the Wild, which is an AMAZING book that I stole from my brother and that makes me think a lot about the idea of a constantly changing life, that ebb and flow of being permanently transient. Tomorrow morning we head to La Ceiba, and hopefully Utila where we’ll take a dive course and celebrate the coming new year.

I’ll leave you with a quote from Everett Russ, a 20 year old who ventured into the desert, to Davis Gulch in Utah in 1934 seeking an exteme that I am pretty sure I am not seeking, but still empathize with. He writes in a letter to his family, after describing some wild adventures he had recently had, ¨But then I am always being overwhelmed. I require it to sustain life.¨

So, I left the states at midnight to arrive in Guatemala in the early morning. My mission was simple: get to Antigua and meet my sister by the fountain. She expected me around 9 since this would allow a reasonable amount of time for travel between the capitol of Guatemala city and the tourist town of Antigua. I stepped out of the airport run over with that similar attack on the senses I got when I arrived in Dheli in 03 and Yaounde in January of this year. After asking several taxis, I found that no one was willing to leave the city. I don’t blame them. It was christmas day after all. So I looked for another option. This too failed as the shuttles to Antigua wouldn’t leave for several hours. Little did I know, they would have gotten me there before my delayed arrival at 1pm.
What did I do during all that time you might ask. Well, I got me a ride…
I walked back into the airport finding two familiar faces of some gentelman that were on my flight. I asked where they were headed, and was pleased to hear Antigua. Naturally, I asked if I could hitch a ride. They accepted without revealing that there was some other buisiness along the way. About an hour into the trip I asked, ¨how far is it from here?¨ The response. ¨Oh man, Antigua? that´s the other direction. We have to go see our mother first. Then we will take you.¨ We went up into the highlands passed rolling green hills and small subsistence farms. We wrrived at the house, where I was greeted with hugs and ¨feliz Navidad¨ The family was very excited that I had come to join them and upon my arrival brought me beans rice and tortillas.
We only stayed a short while, as there was much to be done on this christmas day. Riding in the back of the pickup´s cab, I gazed out the window excited to be in a new country, anxious to see my sister. We made on more stop before going to Antigua. It was a little sketchy, but who was I to contest. My driver, wearing a shirt with Carmen from south park, went into a buisness building with one duffel, and came out with another. The switch was quick and to most unnoticed. Don´t ask me, because I don´t know. But my theory is the Guatemalan Mafia gave me a ride.
We got to the fountain, where I was encouraged not to get out. My new friends wanted me to join them for the festivities at the track. Drinking and horses were the only promises. So, I gracefully turned them down, and left them there to find Elizabeth.
Jacob

Then we left Semuc and went onwards to the little town of El Remate, where we were blessed to find a clean room and kind folks to help us get to Tikal (Mayan ruins, only 20 percent of which are excavated.) We were a day after solstice, but this did not stop us from seeing the beautiful misty sunrise, or from later marveling over the fact that those ingenious Mayans constructed their temples so that the solstices and equinoxes shone over significant points on their buildings. The jungle around Tikal was beautiful. The giant ceders and ceiba trees–the national tree of Guatemala and the Mayan tree of life–kept us from feeling the heat. When we became tired of our solo wandering, and hungry, we searched out some panqueques.

After breakfasting in the park of Tikal, we wandered back into the jungle with our guide Miguel. He pointed out many medicinal plants (even giving Sarah a remedy of honey and lemon for her cold), told us that papayas are sweeter when picked during a waning moon, and showed us termites nests. We also saw jocotes (funny furry mammals with big furry tails that they stick straight up into the air to help them balance as they search for bugs and things in the ground), tucans, howler and spider monkeys, brown jays, woodpeckers, and lots of other birds (Miguel is an ornothographer). We also smelled the sap and leaves and fruits of lots of good smelling trees like the incense tree and the chewing gum tree and the allspice tree (which smelled like cloves stuck into an orange, which made me homesick for christmas).

Miguel also claimed at every temple we came to that “This is certainly the best view of the whole of Tikal.” And so encouraged, we climbed many many nearly vertical stairs up to the tops of temples and saw lots of tree tops and “best views of the whole of Tikal.”

One of the interesting facts I learned is that Guatemala means “tangled vines” in Quiche. Indeed there were lots of tangled vines, and many fig trees or arbols de amor, strangling other trees to death.

Other exciting events in my journey include two beautiful sunsets in the lake town of El Remate. Also, yesterday morning I said farewell until Bolivia to Sarah and Megan and began my viaje back south to Antigua. I spent an evening in Coban which began by me being led by a nun through the streets of Coban to a good posada she knew of. She saw me walking down the street and asked me where I was going and if I was travelling alone, and when I answered affirmatively insisted on taking me to a hotel she knew of. Turns out it was a nice little place. They had pine needles all over the floor in the reception area so it smelled really nice. This morning I took many buses to get to Antigua and successfully found some Christmas tamales (yum). Apparently, my adventures through eating have not stopped.

Here, I wait for my brother, happily spending my Christmas Eve solo in The Yellow House, which has, thank goodness, a kitchen. Happy Holidays to all!

1) I left the comfort and luxury and licuados and tofu of San Marcos via a bumpy bumpy road on many many buses crowded and smelly to get to the wonderland they call Semuc Champey. The day we journeyed to Semuc we had over 12 hours of travel! Delightful.

2) Natural beauty: summer camp usually has it, semuc definitely did. Semuc Champey is a national park and it is the place where a natural rock bridge has formed above a river. At the same time, it is the entry point of a second river and so, on the top of this big rock bridge beautiful pools have formed, emerald, turqouise, and gorgeous. There were so many brilliant vines hanging tangled about and aerial roots and big beautiful leaves.

3) As I’ve done many other times in my life, I acted the klutz on this adventure. I was venturing onto a slippery log to look at some interesting fungi and I fell off. I think it is necessary for me to have one accident on every trip I take, more or less, whether in Semuc or at Camp.

4) However, there was a friendly counselor in the form of a park guide who took great interest in my fall. Our conversation went like this: You fell? Yes, I fell. You fell? Yes, I fell. You fell? Are you having pain in your arm? Yes, I fell and now my arm hurts. It continued like this, and he repeatedly, very kindly, called me back over to him to repeat this conversation, always beginning with: You fell? He offered me medicine, I declined instead choosing to elevate and soak in icey water.

5) Moldy wet dorm room beds.

6) Rain. Lots of rain.

7) Rope swing. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to take a picture of me on it, because by the time I busted out my camera, I had nearly broken my arm.

8) Cafeteria style dinners including rice with corn in it in a molded form of a bowl. All that was missing was jungle juice! (We made do with Moza and Victoria, the beers of choice).

9) My clothes got moldy because they couldn’t dry out and now I smell, a little bit.

10) Learning new card games, meeting new friends who regaled us with stories of Utila (inspiring me to go do a dive course there with brotherboy), and enjoying every moment difficult and lovely of my experience.

In advance, this post is not for the faint of heart (at least when it comes to vulgarity…excuse my language)

The evening begins with a very nice family man offering to break open the cap of the rum bottle we have brought because the pour spout doesn´t seem to work. Instance one of “There are no rules in Guatemala.” We drink it with sprite because we are fabulous.

The evening continues with smoke, explosions, firecrackers, bombas, confetti, the xela-ju mascot (a ram, lynni, a ram) posing with half naked cheerleaders whose high heels keep getting stuck in the field, sparklers being lit and thrown into the crowd and on the field, a foam hand making the peace sign which has a retractable finger giving it that famous Spanish doble sentido. We participate in a “wave”. Sarah comments that it looks like a scene out of Les Miserables–what with the smoke and red white and blue flags.

The man behind us is incredibly inebriated and seemingly ready to passout. However, once the aforementioned fire display occurs, marking the beginning of the game, he wakes up and begins to yell “vamos equipo” and other things, in a voice I will never forget.

The opposing team walks out and “hijos de punta” (son of a whore) is shouted more times in unison than I care to count.

Whenever the opposing team´s goalie is about to kick the ball to the other side, the crowd shrills, whistles, and once the kick is made, in an operatic unison the crowd chants “hueco,” literally, “faggot,” but the way they chant it makes it sound more like a singsong “faaaaaagoooottttt.” I don´t know what to do but laugh at this. Later, they yello “hueco sarote,” “faggot pig shit,” or “huevos elotes,” which we find out is the p.c. version of the former, literally translating to “eggs green beans.” There are several small children around us. I laugh hysterically, embarassed at the intense amount of profanity. The children laugh at me laughing.

When the forty or so riot police in black with shields and helmets come out onto the field at the end of the game we decide it is a good idea to leave a few minutes early. Later I hear there was a big fight. Xela-ju, the city futbol team, wins the game, but looses their chance at the semi-finals because they don´t win by 4 points. Honestly, I barely watched the game at all. Is this what is meant by the term “cultural immersion spanish acquisition?”

On Sunday, I woke up late, made pancakes, helped a friend work on a mural, came home, made a giant dinner (bread, salad, soup, lasagna, cookie cake) for the house, and fell asleep happy. Today: my first big goodbye and more spanish….always mas espanol.

Pictures start here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/67808065@N00/

and continue here: http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=19ltfkzb.wx174l3&Uy=fuewjq&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&UV=137967390788_14193811711

I am adopting Sarah and Megan’s nifty numbering system as a way to give information.

1. I was skipping to Xelapan the other morning to buy bread and apparently people in pickup trucks don’t want you to be happy at 7:00 in the morning. Their response was to throw a spring onion at me. It did not hit me, and I continued to skip.

2. Awkward house moments can be made less awkward when followed up by sharing a very full liter of red wine, enjoying candles, and knitting.

3. I made bread. Even though a housemate told me it would need to rise several times and it would have to be for the morning he was wrong. The bread was delicious.

4. I am planning a cena for Sarah’s birthday for Friday. It will be extravagant.

5. I am planning to cook pancakes this weekend. I think I will make a mora (blackberry) and mango compote to accompany it.

6. I will be responsible for cooking dinner for the house (which is now 12 people!) on Sunday.

7. Conclusion: my life revolves around food and drink and food again. Woot.

PS: I have successfully completed my massive amounts of spanish homework both days this week. I win I win I win. I also now know the conditional and the futuro gramatical. I win again! I also carried a large sac of balls on my head from the market to Sakribal to donate to the ninos in the pueblo. That sounds a lot dirtier than it actually was. Stop being gross.

Hola todos! Soooo much has happened in the past week that I´m beginning to loose track of it all. Let´s see: On Tuesday night Trika and I made dinner for our group of friends and had quite the exciting adventure in La Democracia, the big market. We made a giant stirfry with beet greens and there was delicious canteloupe for desert. At the same time I was creating a chile quile cassy for lunch club on Wed. Wednesday, Sharon, my housemate, had her birthday and so I was able to partake of the DELICIOUS food she and her friend and other housemate, Molly made. There was gypsy soup a la moosewood cookbook, veggie potpie, salad, homemade challa with real butter, and cheesecake for desert. If you think that I couldn´t possibly be having any more adventures with food you are wrong…for on Thursday I made potato soup and sold it to El Cuartito for 50Q. I promptly spent it that night at Blue Angel on a chicken burito. Score. The eating and cooking did not slow for on Friday, Sarah, Darcy and I got on a bus, ate some tortilla, queso fresco, avocado sandwhiches, and sang our way to San Marcos. The bus ride took forever and ever and ever because of road construction, but we were blessed with some beautiful views, and also, with ingenuity. Sarah told us the riddle of the albatross and the canibal which amused us for at least half an hour. We then commenced creating new song lyrics to songs we already knew about the chicken bus, about how hungry we were, how squashed we were, how my left butt cheek was fully asleep. Darcy wins the prize for the most inspired:”In the chicken bus, the bumpy chicken bus the Mayans sleep tonight” and indeed, there was a Mayan women next to him, sleeping on him.

When we arrived at San Marcos Sarah and I were terrified that Darcy was going to eat us because he took us on a dark and windy path to a hotel he knew. Imagine the movie the labyrinth with all the crazy bushes growing everywhere, stone paths, no light, and a hungry anthropologist from new zealand who says he knows a place. But, when we finally did arrive it was not in vain, because we stayed in THE MOST BEAUTIFUL hotel ever ever. Everything was crafted from recycled glass and wood and holy shite was it increible. We spent way too much money on a delicious dinner that included wild rice and chard and olives and red rum. We spent way too much on the hotel that included the best shower I´ve taken in Guatemala and the most comfortable bed I´ve slept in here and spiders. The view was not bad either (actually I am being 100 percent sarcastic, the view was absolutely incredible and I couldn´t feast my eyes, or belly, enough). We ate a lot more (including organic fresh roasted coffee, delicious lago chocolate, and the best tofu burito ever), napped a lot, lay in the sun, chatted, repeated and on Sunday afternoon took a terrifying boat ride to Panajachel and then a bus back to Xela. On the bus back to Xela, which only took 2.5 hours instead of 5, we heard a song that told us that Jesus is more of a verb than a noun: Jesus es mas de un verbo de un sustantivo. Es la verdad, no? Also, apparently, there was an earthquake yesterday…but I didn´t feel it. I completed the week of eating by eating a cheese papusa from the market. Who knows if this need for food will continue or if it will wane, but regardless I am enjoying it!

In other news, I quit the volunteer gig (tant pis), finally have some hours working at the cafe, finally talked on the phone for the first time in 5 weeks, and am making exciting travel plans life plans world plans. Yay plans. Love to all.