TravelStream™ news feed for member ckervina on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/ckervina en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Tue, 07 Aug 2007 16:45:27 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1186518180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1186518180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1186518180/tpod.html Tue, 07 Aug 2007 16:45:27 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

I've fallen into a routine here in Xela. Most mornings, I wake up for the first time at about 4:30 or 5:00 am. The only noises that I hear at that point are the dueling roosters and the occasional territorial dog. I tend to doze for another hour before I get up. By then, there are the sounds of people in the neighborhood getting ready to leave and the birds are in full voice. If I have homework that I haven't finished the night before (which I will admit happens more than I would like, but I tend to get a couple hours worth of homework most days), I get up and finish it.

At 7:30, I go downstairs and have breakfast. Albina gets up at 7:00 every morning and has only slept late once since I've been here. She says that she just wakes up at the same time every day. I can see how that can happen given my new habits here. In any case, my typical breakfasts are pancakes with honey and a bowl of mosh (a corn-based cereal) with a banana. It sounds like a big breakfast, but I need it because we don't eat lunch until 1:30.

By 8:00, I'm at the school. Most mornings, I'm a little early, so I have time to drop off my laundry with Hugo, the guy that owns the lavanderia on the way to school. He's a nice guy and does a good job. After the first time that I brought my laundry to the school, I've gone to Hugo every other time, except once when he opened a little late. He's a bit more expensive than other laundries, but he's still less expensive than the school's service and I feel like I have a relationship with him. The one time I brought my laundry somewhere else, I felt like I was cheating on him. It was weird...but I absolutely couldn't wait another day.

At school, I study one on one with a teacher for 4.5 hours a day. We meet from 8-10:30, take a 30 minute break, then go again from 11:00-1:00. The first two weeks, I was overwhelmingly tired, but I've built up more mental stamina now, I guess.

After school, I go straight home, stopping only to pick up my laundry from Hugo if I left it there. Albina has lunch ready at 1:30. For the first two weeks, I would take a nap after lunch, then go back to the school for the afternoon activity or to a cafe to study (sometimes both). Now, I don't need the naps quite so much.

Dinner is at 7:30 and I tend to go back up to my room and get ready to sleep after that. Sometimes, I work on homework, other times, I read a little bit. But in any case, I'm usually asleep before 9:30, which is very early for here. There have been a few times that I've gone out after dinner (which I will or have detailed in other entries), but it's certainly not every night.

Overall, I feel like I've learned quite a bit of Spanish in the last 3 weeks that I've been here. On one hand, I feel sad that I will have to leave, but on the other, I can't wait to get back home and see Eric, our friends, and our cats.

I know the last may seem strange, but people in Guatemala have a very different relationship with animals than in the U.S. Here, there are pets, but most of the dogs that I've encountered have been street dogs that seem to have no owner. Most of the dogs are quite submissive to or dismissive of people. They don't seem to have much use for us here, actually. I'm sure that someone feeds these dogs (Albina saves chicken bones for this purpose) and I've yet to encounter one that is vicious, even when traveling in small packs. But, most of them are clearly not pets in the way that we understand that concept in the U.S. This is even more true for the cats here. In all the time that I've been here, I think I've seen a total of 5 cats--3 were younger cats (6 months or a year old at most) that were more like outdoor pets and two more that I've seen walking the calle de gatos (the rooftops) in the mornings. So, I miss my furry little bedwarmers back home.

I know that I need to do more updating and I have much more in my head than I have on paper. But, once again, I have an afternoon activity today (a cooking class this time) and quite a bit of challenging translation (2 actual letters to the school from families applying for aid) ahead of me.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185312060/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185312060/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185312060/tpod.html Tue, 31 Jul 2007 17:22:24 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

Monday, I started school again and had a new teacher. Antonieta is older than Julia and has about 11 years experience as a teacher. She gave me homework every night and some great explanations of grammar points. We talked about politics, Mayan culture, and teaching. I felt like I was starting to understand even more the second week, especially after the intense Spanish immersion of the first weekend.

Tuesday, I went with a group from the school to Zunil, which we rode by in the pickup on Sunday. In Zunil, we went to a women's cooperative that makes woven goods and sells them to help feed and clothe local orphans. I bought a couple of small gifts for friends and family. I expected to score a few more in Panahachel and Chichicastenago later in the trip, so while the work was amazing, I didn't want to blow my entire budget the second week.

We also went to the local church, which isn't the oldest in C.A., but it is the oldest that has never been renovated. It's a huge structure that dominates the whole town. I took some photos of the outside and the inside. The inside is amazing because of the various niches that contain icons and artifacts of saints. I was amused by the confessional that sits right next to some pews-there's no such thing as a private confession in that church!

Then we went to see San Simon, who Susie (another student from Atlanta) called the O.G. (Original Gangsta) because he is apparently the first San Simon (I think there are three or four in all). Of course, I had to pay the Q10 for a picture, but it was worth it for the tourist value alone. Honestly, I had to see at least one of the San Simons!

We also passed through the market, which is only a vegetable market on Tuesdays. I swear that I have seen some of the biggest carrots that I have ever seen here in the markets. They are amazing. They also had huge cauliflowers and heads of cabbage. Apparently, some of the produce in the local area is exported to other countries, and it was easy to see why.

I have more to write about, but no more time because I have more homework to do. I will try to add photos to the last couple of entries soon.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185052140/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185052140/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185052140/tpod.html Tue, 31 Jul 2007 17:10:39 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

The first weekend that I was in Xela, the school offered a unique opportunity to visit a local Mayan community. A representative of the community, Francesa, gave a lecture on Thursday about her experiences in the war. Unfortunately, I was sick that day, but my classmates told me some of her story. Like many other Mayan communities in Guatemala, Francesa's community suffered at the hands of the Guatemalan army. The army massacred many communities. Francesca was a teenaged girl whose community was murdered in front of her. She was shot in the knee when she tried to flee. When the soldier came to kill her, his gun malfunctioned. So, the soldiers decided to beat her severely instead. Then they forced her and the other survivors to bury the dead and those who were too wounded to flee. Francesca and other survivors from their community fled to Mexico and repatriated after the war.

Of course, their journey back was no easier than their exile, where they worked for a pittance on a Mexican farm. They worked farm to farm and eventually found land to buy. Because I wasn't at the conference, this part is a bit confusing, but I think the community was able to scrape together enough for the land, but they lived under tarps for a while. A group of 12 women got together and formed an association dedicated to creating woven goods to help the community. The women got a micro loan for 20 dollars, which was enough for them to buy a back strap loom and the materials for one handbag. They sold that one for 14, which bought them the materials for 3 more bags. In turn, they sold those, repaid the loan, and started to amass enough money for all of the women to eventually get their own looms.

These women still work in the afternoons and evenings weaving. But, their work enabled the community to get running water, electricity, and materials for building houses. A couple of students from Celas Maya put them in contact with students in the US and a church (I think) that helped them build a school for the children. So, even though the story has a horrific beginning, it's getting better and better.

A group of eight students, including me, signed up for the trip to the community. One of the women from the community came to escort us on a chicken bus to San Martin, in the Retalhuleu department, which is closer to the Pacific coast. From there, we rode in the back of a pick-up to San Alfonso, where the cooperative lives. THAT was a blast, but is probably not something that my mother would approve of me doing. (Sorry Mom...).

Once we got to the community, we were treated to lemonade and fresh fruit, the women divided us up into small groups of 1 to 3 and invited us to stay in our homes. I was pared with Ethan and we went to Juana and Pasqual's house. Neither Ethan nor I speak much Spanish. I had only taken classes for a week and Ethan had just arrived at the school. But, Juana and Pasqual were very nice and patient with us. They even gave up their beds for us to sleep in.

Now, I mentioned that the community has buildings with electricity and running water and our hosts' house was typical of the community. They live in a three room cinder block home with 5 children. Ethan and I took up two of those rooms and I suspect that if we had more Spanish between us, we might have insisted that they were being too generous. The kitchen is actually outside of the parents' bedroom and the only water is there in a sink that functions as the place where the family brushes their teeth and washes both laundry and dishes. The sink is a three-basin affair that is still found in many more modern Guatemalan homes as well. My host family in Xela has one that is very similar, though they use it only for dishes and laundry. The bathroom, on the other hand, is a squat toilet with a cement cover. So, while this community is in much better shape than it was, it is far from a modern, jungle paradise.

After everyone got settled, we reconvened at the association presidents' house for lunch (which would be where we'd eat dinner and breakfast as well) and took a walking tour of the community. When we saw two or three children playing soccer on the football field, Trina, my housemate in Xela, suggested that we try to get a game started with them. Soon, six of us were playing with three kids. Word got out and more children appeared. The game was about an hour long and was a great icebreaker with the local kids. Afterwards, we always had an escort of children and they took great pleasure in playing with us and in seeing our photos. Kari, another intermediate student here, showed them how to work her camera and some of the children took pictures with it.

In the afternoon, the association took us to their meeting house (salon) and gave us a history of their community and then a tour of the local flora that they use for food and medicine. When they explained the history, we learned that there are about 80-90 families in the community and about 15 of them are involved in the cooperative. Honestly, I didn't have enough Spanish to ask questions. It was enough for me to get the gist of the conversation. Kari and Trina did a tremendous amount of translating because they were the ones among us with the most experience. But they often had large chunks of information to digest and rephrase into English. Additionally, the Mayan women in the community speak indigenous languages as their first languages, so they were translating into Spanish and we were trying to follow along. It was incredibly tiring, but very interesting.

Afterwards, we returned to Elsa's home for dinner. Lunch had been a modest but delicious soup with shrimp and the day had been very hot. Add to that the effort of football with kids who were between 8 and 11 years old and the concentration of trying to understand all that Spanish and we were famished. We weren't at all certain what would be offered, but we knew we'd eat it. The women amazed us with the food they brought. We literally feasted on atoll of corn (a hot drink), fried plantains, beans, bread, tortilla, and the best guacamole that I have ever eaten in my life. Now, I've had some good guacamole here, but that was hands down the best, freshest guacamole that I will probably ever eat. They overwhelmed us with their generosity. I know that every family contributed to that meal and that the kids probably helped collect the avocados for the fabulous guacamole.

That night, we slept in the houses of the communities, most of us on beds that were little more than wooden tables with blankets. But we were all so tired that we were able to sleep in conditions very different than we were used to. I fell asleep listening to Juana and Pasqual speaking to one another in their kitchen in a mixture of Mam and Spanish. It was almost hypnotic to smell the scent of the wood fire in the kitchen and listen to the rise and fall of their conversation that held only the occasional familiar word.

Sunday, we met again for breakfast and again went to the salon. This time, the women presented various traditional dances that represented the values of their culture and their struggles as a community. Once again, I didn't have enough Spanish to completely understand the symbolism that they conveyed in their music and dance, but I got the gist. Afterwards, Maria, another of the women of the community, demonstrated the process that they use to weave. I recognized some of the steps because I have seen people weave with looms similar to the backstrap looms that these women use.

The women also had items that we could buy, which we all cheerfully did both because their work is absolutely beautiful and because we all wanted to support this community that has worked so hard. However, we noticed that often, the women would have one cloth that could be used as a placemat or a napkin and no others. Trina helped us tell the women that they might be even more successful selling to people from the U.S. if they made those items in sets of 4 to 8 because Americans like to have matching settings for their tables. The women did not know this about our culture and thanked us. I hope that helps them make even more money from their work.

At about 11, it was time for us to return and we got into a pick-up for the ride back to the chicken bus. Along the way, the eight of us started talking about how cool it would be if we could just take the pickup back to Xela. It would be faster, less crowded, and far more fun. When we got to San Martin, we decided that we would each chip in an extra Q10 and offer the driver Q250 to take us back to Parque Central in Xela. He agreed. Maria (the Maria that had escorted us to the community, not the one that demonstrated the weaving) was concerned that it was so expensive, but Trina told her that it was ok because we like spending money in Guatemala. I think she said something about us having more than we needed and being happy to share it, which made Maria laugh. The pick-up driver switched trucks for one that was more reliable and the eight gringos locos were on our way back to Xela.

The trip was a blast! We saw the scenery and were able to take better pictures than we would have on the bus. Even though it rained a little on us, we still had much more fun than we would have. The truck went a different way to Xela and we were able to see different communities and passed through a community called Zunil that I would return to later in the week. About an hour and a half later, we were in Xela devouring pizza at Guisepe's and planning dinner later that night.

It was a fantastic trip!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185232920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185232920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1185232920/tpod.html Mon, 23 Jul 2007 19:24:19 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

My Guatemalan Family

Since the first Sunday in Xela, I have lived with a small family in their home. The mother's name is Albina. Albina has 4 sons who are between 17 and 28, but only the two youngest, Eric and Diego, still live at home. Albina's oldest son, Luis, lives in the house next door with his wife and two children and the second son, Jose lives somewhere else in the city with his wife and children. Her husband died 10 years ago, so Albina has been a single mother for quite a while. Fortunately, her entire family lives in Xela and her mother at sister, at least, live nearby. I'm sure that has helped tremendously.

So far, I don´t know much about Diego, aside from that he´s 17, speaks very softly, and doesn´t like vegetables. It seems that he´s a bit shy to me, but I still don´t have a good read on him. He doesn´t have breakfast or lunch with the family because he goes to school at some distance from the house. Diego leaves every morning at 6am to catch two buses to go to school. Because he´s so far from home, it´s easier for him to eat lunch closer to the school.

Eric is 21 and is a medical student. This is his last year of coursework before starting a 3 year internship. Last week, he had midterm exams every day, so he was a bit tired at lunch. He´s a nice guy and is more open than his younger brother. He has been studying English for about 8 years and loves American music and television. It´s not unusual to see him trying to eat and watch The Simpsons-he tries to open the door to the living room to see the TV. I don´t think Albina really approve, but she seems to indulge him a little. He does work very hard on his studies, so I can see why she would be inclined to let him get away with a little. Plus, he´s very charming and there seems to be a healthy dose of boyish mischief in his eyes. I like him. I wish he was around a bit more, though. He missed dinner for 3 days the first week because he´s part of a football league that had a rough schedule of games.

Albina herself is amazing. She was a teacher before she had children. Over the last week, I´ve learned more of her story by listening to her talk to another, more advanced Spanish student who moved in on Thursday. Apparently, she taught Spanish to Mayan children in a small town during the war. The Guatemalan army would come to the school, looking for the guerrillas. They would accuse the teachers of hiding the guerrillas and accuse the students of helping the guerrillas because the children would try to hide from the soldiers. She knew several teachers who disappeared from schools and were presumably tortured and killed. Her story resonates with another that I heard on a trip to a local community on July 22 and 23, but that deserves its own entry. It´s enough for now to say that the more I learn about Guatemalan history, the more I want to learn because I think it´s important that these stories are not lost. I suspect that I will go to the next historical activity offered by the school.

The final member of the family is Trina, a student from Seattle who moved into Albina´s house last Thursday. Trina´s first week was last week, too, and she´s had a serious stroke of bad luck. First, her bag didn´t make the connection to Guatemala, so she was living out of her backpack for the first 5 days she was here. She had very little warm clothing (most of it was in her bag) and was placed in a relatively poor family´s house. The room that she stayed in was literally made out of particle board and got very cold at night. Unfortunately, she also go a bacterial infection and by Wednesday, the cold and the infection combined to make her miserable enough that the school had to arrange for a taxi to the doctor and helped her find a hotel for the night. The next day, she moved in to Albina´s and got her bags; the new environment and medicine have helped her recover fairly quickly.

Trina is here for two weeks to study Spanish and Guatemalan history. She´s a much more advanced student than I am and I think I´ve gotten a lot out of just listening to her and Albina talk. She encourages me to talk and complements me on how much more it seems that I am understanding. She went with us on the trip this weekend, which is good because she and another student, Carrie Anne, bore the brunt of the translation duties. But I´m getting ahead of myself again. Trina is 30 and is a singer as well as a student. She has two incredibly cute kids who are 10 and 6. For her final weekend, this weekend, we´re planning to go to Panahachel together, which should be a blast. Trina has so fear and is a total extrovert. I love watching her interact with people and facilitate groups of students. I´m really glad that she came to live with Albina.

My room is upstairs from the main house and has a little concrete patio, where Albina hangs the laundry to dry. There are two other rooms there, one of which belongs to Eric and the other to another student. There´s also a bathroom upstairs that is for the students to use, which is pretty nice because many students have to share one bathroom with the entire family. My room is fairly cosy and I really like it. Though at first, I didn´t really understand how to work the shower, now that I know the secret of using the electric heater (which looks like it might be a little dangerous, but seems ok), I´ve had short, but relatively warm showers every morning. By short, I literally mean a 3 minute or less shower. If I leave the water on for more that than, I risk burning out the heater. So I keep it short. I guarantee that the one thing that I will do when I get home is take a long hot shower that empties our water heater...

Trina and I eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Albina Monday through Saturday. She is an excellent cook and is used to cooking for boys, so we get plenty to eat. She was so incredibly nice about cooking mild food when we were both sick. She´s just a wonderful woman and I feel very lucky to have been placed in her home. I hope that by the time Trina leaves that I have enough Spanish to have more engaging conversations with her. I´m afraid that my basic Spanish often isn´t up to the task to carrying on a deep conversation, though we have talked about American dietary habits, our families, and teaching.

I know that I have much more to write about, but I have homework to do and I really need to get back to immersing myself in it. It can be very easy to speak to my fellow students in English because I have so few words. So I really need to study the hundreds of words that I have definitions for and get use to using them.

I´ll add photos of the house when I get a chance. I have a ton of photos to sort through, yet, but that´s another day´s work.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184880840/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184880840/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184880840/tpod.html Thu, 19 Jul 2007 18:34:02 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

Monday - Wednesday

On Sunday, I found out what happened. Apparently, my host family went to the bus terminal to meet me, but the bus was late. The taxi they had hired left for a minute to get gas. In that time, the bus arrived and Mary and I got off the bus, got out bags, and took a taxi to El Puente. When my host family came back, they couldn't find me. They called the director and everyone went to the school to see if I was there. Then they walked around the block to El Puente. Of course, by that time, Mary and I had already set off to find a hotel for the night. Everyone was a little worried about me, but it all turned out ok. The whole situation sounds like the plot of a slapstick movie, but that's really what happened.

I spent Sunday night hanging out in my new room and getting ready settled. On Sundays, I fend for myself for dinner, but I wasn't really all that hungry and I wasn't sure I could find my way back to the house if I left because we had to take a taxi from the school due to rain. I plan to make a separate entry about my host family (Albina, Eric, and Diego) and their house at some point soon, but it's enough to say that I'm pretty comfortable here and decided within about a day to stay another week.

Monday was the start of school. My teacher for the week is Julia (the school changes instructors each week unless you ask them to do otherwise so that you hear a variety of accents). She's quite patient and has a great sense of humor. Even with my broken Spanish, we've talked about movies, books, our cats, and even a little about politics. Every night, I have a little homework to practice what I learned that day. In the first three days, I've blown through the first three weeks plus of my conversational Spanish class and have even picked up a few new conjugation types.

Honestly, there is so much Spanish in my mind now (Wednesday) that I'm exhausted. Julia says that's pretty normal for new students and that next week should be easier. That gives me something to hope for. In the meantime, the local bookstore is going to make more quetzales off me as I buy two more sets of 100 flashcards so that I can try to learn all of the vocabulary that I've gotten in the last 3 days. Honestly, they aren't that expensive at Q4 per pack. Another student told me that I can get them cheaper, but I honestly don't think it's really worth it to wander around looking to save Q1, which is about 12 cents.

The school itself has been pretty cool, too. The staff is friendly, as are the other students. I get 5 hours of free internet per week, which is working out well for me because it allows me to read a little of what's going on at home. I write a bit on my palm and take the card with me so that I make the most of the time. Wednesdays is laundry day and if you bring in a bag of laundry, they will send it out to a local Laundromat to be cleaned. At Q20, it's not the cheapest laundry serve, but once again, it's worth the 50 cents or so to drop it off at 8 and have it by 1.

In addition to classes and the other services, the school has at least one event Monday through Sunday. Some have a small cost associated (for transportation or materials), but they aren't that expensive. Monday's extracurricular trip was to Salcaja (for about Q10 in bus fare), which is a nearby town. The town has the oldest cathedral in Central America. But, I didn't go because it was raining pretty heavily by the time I got back to my house for lunch and I felt like resting. Tuesday, the school arranged for a demonstration of the process of making the local hot chocolate. We bought the coco beans and shelled them at 1/2 hour break and then brought them to a local grinder in the afternoon. There, the beans were ground, which produces almost a coco mash that is shiny and sticky from the released oils. They mix that with sugar in a 2 parts sugar to 1 part coco ratio and grind it two more times. After the grindings, it becomes a grainy, sticky mass and it is divided into portions by weight. To make the end product creamy, you put the mass of soft chocolate onto a reed mat and beat on it until it is shiny, which means its releasing the oils. THAT is a workout because anytime you lift the now flattened chocolate up from the mat, it crumbles apart and the back isn't shiny. So, as best we can figure, you beat on it until you're tired of beating on it. Then you shape it into a shiny brick, and if you're smart, you score it with a knife to make it easier to break later. That brick sits out to dry for about 10 minutes and starts to get pretty hard. Then it gets wrapped in some brown paper. To make the chocolate, you boil water and break some of the brick into the water. As far as we can tell, there's no real recipe; it's more of a to taste thing. Bring the water back up to a boil and serve.

Unfortunately, I overslept after lunch, so missed the actual trip to the grinders, but some of the other students showed me pictures and explained the process. They brought the chocolate back to the school for us to beat it into submission and made some for us to try. As you can imagine, it's incredibly sweet, so much so that most of us couldn't finish even what was in our small coffee cups. Even with my sweet tooth, one was all I could manage. When I talked to Albina, my host mother, she said that she can't even drink it because it's too rough on her stomach. So, I'm not sure what to do with this brick of chocolate. It may not make it home with me, but it was fun to learn how it's made.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184880720/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184880720/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184880720/tpod.html Thu, 19 Jul 2007 18:15:46 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

A taxi driver was waiting at the station and once I had convinced Mary to come with me so that she could at least call her school from the guest house, we hopped in. I gave the driver an index card that had the address of the guest house and the school and told him they were near each other in Zone 1. Of course, what I didn't do was negotiate the price beforehand, which Mary and I both realized as we zoomed down narrow, dimly lit streets. Stupid tourist penalty was assessed at 150 quetzales. But at least the guy helped us with our bags and made sure we were let into the guest house before he left.

In El Puente were three very helpful people, a Nigerian and two Americans, who had no idea we were coming and didn't work there. After some conferring, they offered us the use of the open dormitory, which had been painted that day. However, they couldn't even find the light switch and there was only one bed. Mary and I were dubious, to say the very least. The Nigerian man, Joseph, had been at El Puente for 5 weeks and was a friend of the owner (who also owns the school), so he tried to call him. Meanwhile, Mary consulted her guidebook to see if she could figure out how to find a different hotel. After a couple of minutes, Joseph still was unable to reach the director, so Mary and I thanked the others and took our bags and headed out into the Xela night.

We knew we were close the center of town, which had plenty of hotels. Mary figured out how to get to Kiktem-Ja, a budget place about 3 blocks away. At that point, I was ready to follow someone with a plan because it was past 8 local, which is 11 EDT. I'd been up since 4am EDT and I was tired. As we walked, we ran into 3 students from Brandeis who told us about Casa Argentina, but it was farther away and the directions sounded complicated to us both, so we pressed on.

When we arrived at Kiktem-Ja, we found a closed and locked door. Neither of us saw a bell in the dark, so we knocked on the metal door and soon a very nice man who worked there opened it. He said they did have rooms, and quoted us a price of Q135 for a single. After a brief conference, Mary agreed to take a double room with me for Q160. I had paid for the taxi because she, too, missed the bank in the airport. So, she figured she'd pay me back by paying for the hotel. When we got to the room, we discovered that it included a private bathroom, which was a welcome surprise. The man explained that the shower has hot water all the time, but only for two minutes at a time (fairly common in Xela because the water is heated with an in-line electric heater). He left and came back a couple of minutes later with towels, soap, and toilet paper and let Mary use the office phone to try to call her school (she had no luck). When I was better able to see it in the morning, I discovered that Kiktem-Ja is actually a cute little hotel, with about 20 rooms around a courtyard/car park. I'm not sure I would stay there the entire time I was in Xela, but it seemed like a little slice of heaven at the time and I'd probably stay there again because the rooms are clean and the shower is actually hot.

After we got settled, we decided to head out to find food. It was near 9pm and neither of us had had much to eat since we got to Guatemala City. We were starved. Since the LP guide said we were close to the central park, we went there to look for food. We ended up in a bar/restaurant called Salón Tecún, which is in a covered alley just off of the central park. The place was crowded, but there were tables outside of the very loud bar. Mary and I sat next to two Brits, Pete and John, and ended up sharing our table with Matt and Katie, two Americans who had spent a week in Antigua but found it too full of tourists to learn Spanish, and Brad, a Canadian who was also on our bus, though neither of us had spoken to him there. I had the best ham and cheese sandwich (though I honestly couldn't find evidence of actual ham) that I had ever had.

We got to into some good conversations with our tablemates and the Brits. John and Pete were Royal Marines and had arrived in Mexico around July 1. They had been traveling along since then. Pete is about to start med school and John is going back into the RM (it wasn't clear if he was on leave or was out and going back in). Neither of them speaks Spanish and both were truly embracing the spirit of adventure. They had decided to stop in Xela to rent motorcycles and tour around Guatemala. Having seen some of the insanity on the roads, I think they are a little crazy, but that didn't stop me from helping them by giving them an ad for a motorcycle rental place when I saw them knocking about town on Sunday. Katie and Matt are siblings from LA who came here to learn Spanish. They plan to spend about 4 weeks in Xela and travel for another 2 before going back home. Brad is from Vancouver and this is his 3rd or 4th trip to Guatemala. He was interested in studying Spanish for a week, but was otherwise unclear on his plans. He did advise me to check out the market at Momotenango, which he said had great blankets at fabulous prices.

We spent about an hour there when the Brits invited us to go salsa dancing with them. They and a fairly drunken Frenchman that they had befriended were planning to go to a local place that the Frenchman knew about. Mary was up for it, but it was 10:30 and I was wiped out. Mary walked me back to the hotel. The night manager told her that she could go out one more time, but should be back by one. She took the only key and I settled in. At first, I thought I was going to be too keyed to sleep, but I actually fell asleep pretty quickly. She got in at about one and immediately crashed.

Honestly, even though it was a bit stressful at first, I was pretty glad to have spent my first night in Xela with Mary. She was great company and I was glad to have an ally and a familiar face on my first morning. The next day, she was able to find her host family and we exchanged emails, hugged, and went our separate ways-she to her new family and me to the school to wait until 5pm to meet mine.

I have since run into Mary at a cafe and she's quite happy now that she's settled. But, so far, she's the only one I've seen. She tells me that the Brits should be back in Xela this weekend. I hope I run into them so that I can hear about their motorcycle adventures in Guatemala.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184448360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184448360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184448360/tpod.html Thu, 19 Jul 2007 17:59:53 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

Once I had my luggage, I knew it was time to exchange dollars for quetzales and I followed the flow of traffic. Unfortunately, because the Aurora airport in under construction, it's not well marked and I ended up following traffic right out of the door. Outside was a large crowd of people waiting and several people had signs with specific names. I had arranged with the school to have someone pick me up, so I scanned the crowd to see if my name was on any of the signs. It wasn't. So, there I was, in Guatemala City, outside of the airport, with no cash and no ride that I could see and my rudimentary Spanish didn't seem like it would be much help. I wondered if it was karma for chickening out and not talking more to the very kind señora and thanking her when I got off the plane. For a minute, I thought I was going to start crying.

Before I could have a total meltdown, I decided to try to tackle the money problem. Just inside a security post, I could see people in line holding money. The entrance was separated from the exit, so I walked right past the unmarked bank, which was little more than a window with two teller positions. I went to the security guard and asked if he spoke English. Of course not. But, luck was on my side because one of the airline employees came over to talk to the guard and he spoke English. I asked hi if I could come back in to change money. The guard had to ask someone else, but apparently they took pity on me because they let me back in.

There was only one teller at the window and there were about 10 American missionaries and one Latina in front of me with whom I had a brief, but pleasant conversation in English about Xela and Guatemala. The missionary women were part of a large group that was waiting on their bus to arrive to go to Antigua. Because each and every one of them had to exchange money (ever hear of pooling the cash and dividing it later, ladies?) it took about 40 minutes for me to get to the teller. I would later think several unkind thoughts about the oblivious American ladies in line ahead of me.

At this point, it was 12:15 before I made it outside. Even though Patricia was waiting for me and Roberto came to pick up us at almost the moment she called him on her cell, there was no way I was going to make the 12:30 bus to Xela. As Roberto would tell me, Saturdays are paydays in Guatemala City and everyone was out shopping. Traffic was awful and as soon as we left the airport, it started raining. Cars crept down the roads and motorcycles made their own lanes along the lane divides. I find myself thinking that Dan would be horrified at these cyclists with obvious death wishes--but at least most were wearing helmets. It's the little victories in the name of safety in that sort of chaotic environment, I guess.

It took us about 30 minutes to get to the bus company's terminal. Roberto helped me get my bags into the terminal in the rain and bought my ticket. Of course, as soon as he left, it stopped raining. Figures. The next bus was at 3:00 and was scheduled to arrive in Xela at 7:00. I would have about two hours to watch people out-walk the traffic on the congested street outside and listen to the cacophonic chorus of honking that seemed to happen at random intervals.

The terminal itself was a small building that I would have missed if I had passed it on the street. It was set back from the street to allow the bus to back into a space about one and half times its size. The waiting area contained three small rows of seats (25 in all), a counter area, and two bathrooms. One the wall, a sign warned that thieves were known to steal bags. (I'm including a picture of the sign so that you can see its dire warning. The Spanish version is much shorter than the English.) On the floor near the wall sat a large pile of boxes, which would grow larger as people brought more in as the departure time approached. The private, first class buses apparently do a fair business in packages, though I have no idea how the claims system works because the package labels were sometimes little more than a name and "Xela."

When I arrived, there were only a handful of people in the terminal: a man and his son, two workers, an armed security guard, and a guy sending a package. It was 2 hours before the bus was to leave and I was starting to get hungry. At Dulles, I had eaten a scone and bought a 33oz bottle of water and some trail mix. I had also saved the bagel from my in-flight meal, which I ate at the station. That didn't stop me from briefing considering mugging the sandwich delivery guy who brought lunch to the clerk or the guy who came up on the Pollo Campenero motorcycle to deliver chicken to the man and his son (apparently they called out for delivery on their cell phone). I would later briefly entertain a wish for a very large stick to use against another chicken delivery guy that I saw while on the bus. I didn't want to chance walking around Guatemala City with both of my packs on. Let's face it, a white girl so covered in black backpacks that she looks like some mutated black canvas turtle would not fit in. So, I ate my bagel and nibbled on the trail mix and I was ok. That trail mix that I carried with me from DC would turn out to be the best investment I'd made that day because it was all I would have to eat all the way to Xela.

In the bus station, I met two Americans, Kenny and Mary. I didn't end up sitting next to either of them on the bus, but I got chances to talk to both in the terminal and during the trip. Kenny breezed into the station at about 1:40, went up to the counter and started speaking fluent Spanish. He looked calm and confident. He told me later that he was from Boston and had gone to Xela about 13 years ago to study Spanish. When he left, he had a wife, too. She was already visiting her relatives in Xela and he was going to meet her, spend a little time in Xela, and then go the the Cays. Mary is from New York and is about to start medical school. She took about 3 years "off" from her degree studies to work and attend Harvard's post baccalaureate program because her Latin American history degree didn't include the courses she'd need for pre-med. She was traveling to Xela for 2 weeks of Spanish class at Juan Sisay School.

At about 2:30, a reincarnated Greyhound bus stops traffic and backs into the drive in front of the station. A man who I'd later realize was the mechanic/assistant/ticket collector popped open the back engine compartment and shut off the engine by hand. He then checked the fluid levels, filled those that needed it, and started loading the now sizable pile of boxes. The bus is fairly prompt and at 3:03 we are underway. We get about halfway out of the drive and stop for about three minutes while we wait for the light at the end of the block to change. When it turns green, I understand why I kept hearing the car horn choir--the green light lasts about 30 seconds and changes again. In that cycle, we made it almost to the gas station at the end of the block. So, when the light turned green and the car-horn choir made its 25th encore since my arrival at the station, we were able to make it onto the main road, despite almost being broadsided by a reincarnated school bus that was desperately trying to make it out of the gas station and make the light, too.

Traffic out of the city was heavy, but still moving. I was like a kid on her first trip into the city, looking everywhere at once. In addition to the many camionetas (school buses used as inexpensive buses here, a.k.a. chicken buses), a box truck in front of us held about a dozen oxen stuffed onto its railed-in flat bed. The ox truck and our bus would pass each other several times in the next hour. Mary was sitting two rows ahead of me, reading, but I managed to get Mary's attention and point that out to her because I knew we'd never see that in an American city. Also, I saw the first of several police roadblocks that I would see on the trip. The police take over one lane and flag down random cars to presumably question the drivers. I couldn't ever figure out what their criteria were, but I did see them frisk at least one guy at a stop.

About 15-20 minutes into the trip, a woman at the front of the bus got up and started what was obviously a sales pitch for the small bottles of perfume that she pulled out of her handbag. Though I didn't understand everything she said, I caught that the basic price was 36 quetzales per bottle and I'm pretty sure she offered a deal for two or more. She was obviously quite practiced and also seemed to know the driver. However, in the middle of her speech, I was almost struck with a fit of giggles because the oxen truck passed us yet again. The juxtaposition of the smell of cows and the woman selling perfume seemed quite funny, probably because I was tired, but I managed to keep myself from giggling like a madwoman as she approached me with the perfume. She probably took my wide smile and "no gracias" as a friendly denial, and that's ok with me. After she made a few sales, she returned to the front of the bus and sat of the driver's armrest until she got off of the bus at Chimaltenego. She probably caught a camioneta back to Guatemala City after making a couple hundred quetzales. Not bad for about 15 minutes work on a two hour round trip. I suspect that she didn't even have to pay for our bus, so it was almost pure profit. The spirit of entrepreneurship lives in Guatemala!

The road seemed to keep going up and we would pass many towns along the way. Some were little more than crossroads stops for camionetas while others seemed to be a bit larger. In between was the most amazing farm land. It seemed that every acre was used, even if the slope was impossible. Men with hoes slung over their shoulders walked along the road, as did a few men leading donkeys that carried baskets of crops. Given the slopes of some of these fields, I would imagine that manual farming would be more efficient, even if the farmers could afford more modern equipment.

The men obviously returning were not the only ones along the road. .Families walked along side the road and I saw several men on bicycles as well. Some of those bikes were in rough shape, but the riders pushed them up and down hills and mountains--those guys were in serious shape, I bet. Perhaps the most surprising things that I saw along the road were the animals. I saw more than one man taking a cow for a walk, the cow conveniently trimming the grass as they went. I saw several cows, goats, and a few horses tied down right next to the road--no fences, just staked to the ground. Now, given how fast some of the vehicles went along the road and some of th3ee absolutely insane passing maneuvers by camionetas and motorcyclists with death wishes, I would think twice about putting livestock that close to the fray. People, at least, have a chance of getting clear of entanglements. But, I saw livestock staked near the road time and again.

Central American Highway 1 is the primary road that we took between Guatemala City and Xela. This road is under some pretty serious construction. I'm not sure what they are hoping to achieve. In some areas, it seems that they are just improving the road bed, while in others, they are obviously widening the two lane road to four lanes. However, the Guatemalan method of road construction is quite different than back home. There are long stretched of road that is stripped down practically to dirt, with no evidence that the construction crew is closely following the destruction crew. In some places, it seems that the objective is to move tons of rock around; in others, it seems that the need one lane closed. In the later, the road becomes one lane and access points seem to be several kilometers apart. This results in huge traffic backups. We got caught in one of those for at least 30 minutes. There must have been an accident, too because an ambulance came back up the road and headed to the nearest town; however I never saw any evidence once we got underway again.

The road destruction and the inability of our reincarnated greyhound to climb the sleep slopes with any speed (seriously, several old school buses passed us) made the bus late. At 6:30, full darkness had almost fallen and Xela was nowhere in sight. I began to think several unkind thoughts about the missionaries who could have changed their money about 5 times over in Antigua, which is only about 45 minutes from Guatemala City. They were probably comfortably ensconced in their hotel after an afternoon of sightseeing while I was wondering how I was going to get to my hotel in the dark and rationing trail mix to keep myself from feeling hungry.

It wasn't until 7:15 that I would see glimpses of a town with enough lights that it might be Xela. At first, I couldn't tell for sure because we went around several mountains that blocked the view. Even though I finally saw the city, it would be 45 more minutes before we got into town. The road winds almost all the way around the valley as it slowly descends into Xela and the surrounding towns. (I use the term valley here only in the sense that Xela is surrounded by mountains. The city itself is by no means totally flat and I walk up and down small hills here all the time). As we drove through the city, I couldn't really see much of it or get my bearings. Even though the city has some streetlights, the streets are narrow and uneven and the lights are quite dim by American standards.

A little after eight, after 5 hours of sometimes teeth rattling travel, we arrived at a small terminal like the first, except that the bus had no driveway to back into. Xela was dark and no one was there to meet me or to meet my new friend Mary. Neither of us speaks much Spanish and the dark and our lack of a good map made impossible to figure out how to get anywhere.

Thus began Chris and Mary's excellent adventure in Xela, which I will write more about in part 3.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184881140/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184881140/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184881140/tpod.html Thu, 19 Jul 2007 17:41:08 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

On Wednesday afternoon, my body decided that it needed to rebel over this sudden change in environment and I got sick. I slept in the afternoon and walked to the school to see if a bit of air would help. At dinner, Albina asked if I had eaten any street food, which I haven't since a brief encounter with some fruit cooked in syrup on Sunday. We both figured that was too much time and she speculated that maybe it was the chocolate becauce it's rough on the stomach. Even though I felt a little better after a light dinner, it was soon clear that I would be making frequent trips to the bathroom and I took some imodium.

Well, for the first time since I've tried imodium, it didn't really work. I maxed out on the 24 hour dosage and was still up every couple of hours all night. In the morning, my stomach felt sore and I decided ti would be a better idea to try the cipro that I brought with me and skip school to actually rest and recover. I can only imagine how distracted I would have been had I gone to class. I took the cipro and wrote Albina a note to let her know I was still sick. I asked her to call the school for me so that they wouldn't be worried. Then I went back to bed and slept for 3 solid hours, a first since Tuesday night, and I feel much better. I was a bit skeptical when I read that most people with bacterial traveler's diarrhea feel better in one to two doses, I'm a believer now. Cipro the wonder drug to the rescue! I'm not at 100%, yet. Tomorrow, I'm pretty sure I'll be back at school and will be able to go on the trip this weekend.

Although I'm disappointed that I didn't make it to school today because a representative from the community that we will visit is going to be at the school, I think I made the right decision to take it easy. I'm already feeling like I want to get back to my Spanish studies and start working on the homework that I didn't feel well enough to even look at yesterday. So, it's one step back, two forward, I guess.

Once I got up ang got showered, I talked a bit to Albina. She told me that when she called the school, she was told that several other students were sick today. That brick of chocolate is going to go bye bye for certain. In the meantime, I'm going to take another dose of the wonder drug tonight. Going to that travel clinic in Manassas was money well spent.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184802600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184802600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184802600/tpod.html Wed, 18 Jul 2007 19:58:17 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

I promise I am alive and I am writing on my palm about what´s going on. I´ve got three entries in the works. But I managed to forget my data card back home. It´s about a 10 minute walk and I´m not feeling all that well, so I´ll have to post it tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a banner day for entries, I think.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184439120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184439120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ckervina/guatemala-2007/1184439120/tpod.html Sun, 15 Jul 2007 14:56:13 -0400 Plunging into the deep end: my first trip out of the US and into the broader world.

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Guatemala City, Guatemala

I had a tough time sleeping the night before I left because I was so keyed up about the trip. It really hit me that I was going on the day before. Eric ended up talking to me for about an hour and he had trouble getting to sleep after that. I had no trouble getting to sleep, but staying asleep was another story. I woke up for good about an hour before the alarm went off.

The airline advised arriving 3 hours before the flight. I made it through check-in and security and walked to the gate in about 35 minutes. To be fair, I think I was in the wrong line for check-in. TACA's gates were interrupted by Lufthansa's and I didn't see that the Guatemala check-ins were on the other side. But the TACA agent didn't tell me that I had to wait in the other line. Honestly, I felt like I had cut the line and was a bit guilty.

As I waited near the gate, I thought I might be the only American on the plane. Then a group of 12 Asian kids (late teens to maybe college, if that) came to the gate area. They were obviously traveling together as a group and had a male and female group lead who began to talk to them about their lunches and the flight. I gathered that they were a church group when the female leader mentioned that they should "eat their lunches with joy" because the lunches had been made for them by their team members. She would later tell some of the others to spend time memorizing songs from the mission songbook. I'm guessing they are a prayer team on a mission to Guatemala. In a way, I was disappointed that they showed up because I had been listening to people speaking Spanish. When they came, my ears kept tuning to their English conversations. They would hardly be the last missionaries I would see.

Also in the waiting area, there was a woman and about 4 kids who sat right behind me. The 4 or 5 children were between 4 and about 11 (they were typical kids--most of them in constant motion, so I didn't get an exactly count. I did NOT want to stare). The kids had obviously been in the U.S. a while because all spoke unaccented English. From the conversations I overheard between the kids, not all of them were her children, so I'm guessing that some were nieces or nephews that she was taking back to visit family. I listened in amazement as the children switched effortlessly between Spanish and English, depending on who had spoken to them or the most recent language spoken. It's good to be a kid!

By the time the flight boarded, the group of obvious Americans included me, a family of four with teen kids, two older couples and a backpacker guy, and two white women traveling together. I sat next to none of them. Instead, I ended up next to an elderly Guatemalan couple. The woman was in the seat next to me and immediately tried to engage me in conversation. I think I may have understood a word or two. But we smiled at one another and I think I told her that I was going to study Spanish. She hugged me and touched my arm as she spoke--she had the softest hands and the warmest smile.

When the flight attendants brought the customs forms, the señora did not fill them out. I finished with mine and offered her my pen, as she didn't seem to have one. She cheerfully told me that she couldn't read. I think that was what she was talking about when I first got on the plane and started reading the emergency card--she was asking if I could read then and had probably told me she couldn't. I wondered how she'd manage. She, on the other hand, didn't seem at all concerned. An hour before the flight landed, the attendant came and took the forms and the passports of the couple and the señora across the aisle who traveled with them. In a few minutes, he brought them back filled out. I thought that was pretty cool of them and I bet they do that often.

During the flight we continued to smile and nod at one another through the breakfast service (a nice surprise) and as we watched the mostly cloudy skies. It wasn't until we were over the Gulf of Mexico that I got the courage to try to speak to her. I told her that we were over the water and that the tall clouds we had seen before were thunderstorms over Texas. She was delighted and hugged me again. I told her I was speaking one by one. Her response made me feel so much better about trying and I think I will be sure to greet people as much as possible while I'm here. They genuinely seem to appreciate a simple good morning, even from someone with as broken speech as mine.

Once I had started to talk to her, we had a good conversation. I told her that I lived in Virginia. She and her husband live in Guatemala City and had been visiting the U.S. They have 3 children in Virginia and 1 in Washington. Through speech and pantomime, she told me about there trip. While they were visiting, her husband broke his hip. He was hospitalized in the U.S. for 3 months. Poor guy! Neither of them speaks English and they can't even read their native language. It must have been a rough time for him. I think I told her that the U.S. has good doctors--she agreed. All in all, it was my first successful conversation, if more than a bit one sided. Still, the señora was gracious, warm, and patient.

In the end, I chickened out again. We sat in the 4th row of the plane, right behind first class. So, when the flight landed, I was able to get my bag and get off quickly. I said only a simple "adios" to the señora and left. I felt like an ass. Karma would make me pay--first off the plane, almost the last bag on the belt, it seemed. That and problems with the bank would make me miss my 12:30 bus and cause this trip to become the long day's journey into night (more about that in part 2).

Though I kept looking for the couple, I never saw them in baggage claim. However, the woman with them was there. Once I had my bags, I went over to the señora and asked her to say to the other señora thank you for everything and I am pleased to meet her. The lady seemed very touched by that and thanked me. But she was also trying to find all of their luggage with the help of one of the attendants, so her attention was divided. I smiled at her, nodded, and turned to make my way into Guatemala.

More to come in Part 2: Getting to Xela and Part 3: Mary and Chris´s excellent adventure.
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