Life in my village is life in the spotlight. It's hard not to stand out when you're about a foot taller than everyone, you're one out of four white people in the town (me and the three other trainees), you're practically the only woman not wearing the traditional traje, and you speak English with your friends. When me and the other girls are walking around, small children have taken to running around us in circles and playing near us, just trying to catch our eyes. It's like a game for them to get as close as they dare to the gringas. We've grown accustomed to hearing "¡Mira! Gringas" wherever we go. As well as the trucks full of men that slow down to snails' pace, honking, commenting. Most charming of all is when they make this sort of whistling sound between their teeth ("psst") that makes them sound like a very large insect. Very attractive.
This became clear to me when I went to a store to put more minutes on my phone. The store clerk was convinced that I had given him the wrong number and paid for someone else's minutes. I had to leave in a hurry before I could convince him that it had in fact worked. The next day my friend told me that it had been the topic of conversation at dinner that night (I still have no idea how her host mom came to hear about it). It makes me wonderful how many other families were sitting around discussing me at the dinner table.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Camionetas
The first time I rode a Camioneta (or "chicken bus", as they're nicknamed in English), a CCR song was blasting, and I am sure that song will forever onwards bring me forcibly back to that moment. Camionetas are de-commissioned school buses from the US that have been painted with lurid colors and given lady's names (Elena, Esmerelda, Nena). Several naked-lady profile stickers, like the kind that grace mudflaps in the US, are usually stuck to the windshield. The inside, around the driver's cab, is usually a shrine to Jesus, with pictures dipicting holy scenes and signs proclaiming how this bus is blessed by God.
That first time riding, I got on to find that every seat was stuffed with three adult passengers (one of them half in the aisle), and the aisle was halfway filled up with standing passengers. The driver roared off as soon as the last entering passenger's foot left the ground. Me and my three compañeras (fellow trainees) squeezed into the aisle and hung on for dear life as the bus swung around mountain curves as break-neck speed. The 'ayudante' (man who collects fairs) was hanging out of the doorway before he managed to squeeze himself between the standing passengers stuffed into the aisles and the others hanging out of the seat, using his photographic memory to approach each new person that had gotten on for fares. I truly didn't think it possible for him to get past me, my backpack, and the two pairs of shoulders up against each of my hips, but he did. My compañeras looked pissed and annoyed, but I thought it was kind of fun.
Since then, I've had many experiences with the camionetas and gotten used to the unexpected. Once, a bus was so full that it was passengers that were hanging out of the open doorway, and the ayudante gripped with one arm the open window, his feet precariously balanced on a ledge on the side of the bus, and his other fist stuffed with fares. Another time I had the driver´s gear shift jammed into my butt. Once, when we were heading back from the market in the busy city of Chimaltenango, the camioneta driver got annoyed that he was stuck behind a slower moving bus (probably a more expensive, safe one geared at tourists), and he created a third lane by passing the bus in the middle, forcing on-coming traffic to drive in the road's shoulder. Other times, I have managed to get a seat to myself, and I've even seen a decently safe driver. But you never know what you'll get. In Guatemala, even the buses are an adventure.
That first time riding, I got on to find that every seat was stuffed with three adult passengers (one of them half in the aisle), and the aisle was halfway filled up with standing passengers. The driver roared off as soon as the last entering passenger's foot left the ground. Me and my three compañeras (fellow trainees) squeezed into the aisle and hung on for dear life as the bus swung around mountain curves as break-neck speed. The 'ayudante' (man who collects fairs) was hanging out of the doorway before he managed to squeeze himself between the standing passengers stuffed into the aisles and the others hanging out of the seat, using his photographic memory to approach each new person that had gotten on for fares. I truly didn't think it possible for him to get past me, my backpack, and the two pairs of shoulders up against each of my hips, but he did. My compañeras looked pissed and annoyed, but I thought it was kind of fun.
Since then, I've had many experiences with the camionetas and gotten used to the unexpected. Once, a bus was so full that it was passengers that were hanging out of the open doorway, and the ayudante gripped with one arm the open window, his feet precariously balanced on a ledge on the side of the bus, and his other fist stuffed with fares. Another time I had the driver´s gear shift jammed into my butt. Once, when we were heading back from the market in the busy city of Chimaltenango, the camioneta driver got annoyed that he was stuck behind a slower moving bus (probably a more expensive, safe one geared at tourists), and he created a third lane by passing the bus in the middle, forcing on-coming traffic to drive in the road's shoulder. Other times, I have managed to get a seat to myself, and I've even seen a decently safe driver. But you never know what you'll get. In Guatemala, even the buses are an adventure.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Contradictions
The view from my rooftop. 
One of my teammates and I in front of the Catholic church.
One of the many Evangelical churches.
A typical street, with the inevitable chucho (street dog).
My training town is located on a hill that slants down from the highway to a ravine below that divides it from the next town. The large white Catholic church is in the center of the town, where there is a small plaza and the simple municipal building. Scattered throughout the village are very small Evangelical churches where you can often hear live (though not quality) Christian music... honestly, it's more like wailing than singing. (In Guatemala, you are either Catholic or Evangelical, and which one you are is one of the first questions you'll be asked). We're just off the of the Pan-Americanhighway that runs from Alaska to Panama, and since I live on the street that parallels it, I can hear its roar constantly.
Besides the churches, Tigo, the most popular cell phone company in Guatemala, is one of the most prominent features of the town. About every other building is painted Tigo-dark-blue with bold white letters depicting the company's logo and slogans. Many families have their houses painted because Tigo will paint them for free, and almost everylittle tienda (store) is painted with Tigo. All this advertising in the same town where I regularly see women walking down the street witha bundle of firewood pefectly balanced on their heads, pass men carrying machetes back from the fields, and hear roosters crow everyhour (but more frequently at 4 a.m.). The town is a sleepy little village during the day, where everyone politely greets you with a'Good morning' or 'Good afternoon', but after dark (6 pm) it's prowling with groups of men that like to harrass the girls and has seen gang activity in recent years. It's just another example of the strange contradictions that seem to confront you everywhere you look in this country.
In my family, the unlikely mix of modern and traditional is especiallyclear. Every adult family member has a cell phone, yet I have never seen any of the women wear anything else but the traditional traje (even before or after bathing, before going to bed, etc.) The family has a microwave but does most of their cooking over a fire. For some meals we'll have pepsi alongside hand made tortillas. We watch tv with dinner (mostly b-grade voice-over American movies or even WWF wrestling... yuck), but in their rare spare time the women work on their pain-stakingly slow and elaborate weaving to make the traditional blouses. Everything here is a surprise.
Example of a Tigo building.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
La Familia
Me with three of my host sisters, my host brother, and my host mother.
Two of my host sisters, preparing tortillas.A lot has changed since that first post. I am now with the host family I will have for the next three months in a village in Sacatepequez. I´ve been here for a little over a week. Three other girls in my program are in this village as well (they split us into groups of four based on Spanish level and sent us to different villages near the Peace Corps center in Santa Lucia). We´re in an indigenous Mayan village where virtually every woman wears the traditional ¨traje¨ (a long woven skirt, tight beaded or embroided belt around the waist, and an elaborated woven or embroidered blouse). Many people speak both Spanish and Katchikel.
I am staying with an incredibley welcoming, wonderful family of 8. The six "kids" range in age from 5 to 21. The little girl and little boy are the light of my life. They literally beam every time they see me. Then there´s a teenage son, and two teenage girls, and a 21 year old woman who basically is responsible for me and most of the household needs. The father works long days in the campo (countryside) growing vegetables. The mother of the household on most days gets up at 2:30 in the morning to make the long commute to Guatemala City with several pounds of vegetables to sell them in the market. The thirteen year old daughter lives for most of the week with their cousins, working as a sort of nanny, and the 15 and 25 year old girls work hard from dawn to dusk managing the household. It turns out keeping a family happy and healthy without expensive machines and heat and serve meals is a lot of work. They amaze me.
The house is very different from any I´ve seen. It is constructed of cement blocks with a tin roof. In the center there is a small open coutryard which all of the rooms are off of. I have a rather large room (painted dark teal) that has a window on the street. The ¨bathroom¨is a toilet enclosed by a cement block hut with a blanket over the entrance in the courtyard. All types of washing is done in the pila, which is a sort of large sink with a very deep rectangular basin in the center that you fill up with tap water, and two shallow basins on each side where you do the washing. There are little bowls that you dip into the water of the center basin. Washing hands and face, brushing teeth, washing the dishes, getting cooking water, etc. is all done in the pila. For bathing, there is a the temascal. This is a beehive shaped hut constructed of cement blocks with a small hole to enter in and a small slot big enough to build a fire in. When preparing it, the women build a fire in the slot which heats up a huge iron pot of water inside the temascal, and additionally heats the temascal like a sauna. Once ready, it is very hot, dark and damp inside. There is a bucket of cool water, and you use a little bowl to dip in the pot the hot water until the bucket of water is to your liking. There is a little bench where you can sit and bath yourself using the little bowl and a hole in the floor where the water drains. It´s very soothing. I´ve told them how I like it, and the father says he will come to the US to build me one.
I´ve already built some ¨confianza¨ with the family. I had a break through the other night when I made them crack up for the first time (they´re a bunch of jokers). And I´ve been able to learn a lot about the town and traditions here from them.
There are certainly a few discomforts (flea bites, "stomach problems", and some adjustment to make. But overall, it is so nice to be here at last. Training keeps us busy with Spanish and technical assignments, but it´s a good pace of life. I still have plenty of time to talk with my family, and read and journal. And I´ve made some connections to the other trainees. This weekend, I´m going with a group to Antigua, the old imperial city that is more touristy and less conservative. I´m also hoping to climb a volcano soon. It´s nice to be settled here into my new life.
I am staying with an incredibley welcoming, wonderful family of 8. The six "kids" range in age from 5 to 21. The little girl and little boy are the light of my life. They literally beam every time they see me. Then there´s a teenage son, and two teenage girls, and a 21 year old woman who basically is responsible for me and most of the household needs. The father works long days in the campo (countryside) growing vegetables. The mother of the household on most days gets up at 2:30 in the morning to make the long commute to Guatemala City with several pounds of vegetables to sell them in the market. The thirteen year old daughter lives for most of the week with their cousins, working as a sort of nanny, and the 15 and 25 year old girls work hard from dawn to dusk managing the household. It turns out keeping a family happy and healthy without expensive machines and heat and serve meals is a lot of work. They amaze me.
The house is very different from any I´ve seen. It is constructed of cement blocks with a tin roof. In the center there is a small open coutryard which all of the rooms are off of. I have a rather large room (painted dark teal) that has a window on the street. The ¨bathroom¨is a toilet enclosed by a cement block hut with a blanket over the entrance in the courtyard. All types of washing is done in the pila, which is a sort of large sink with a very deep rectangular basin in the center that you fill up with tap water, and two shallow basins on each side where you do the washing. There are little bowls that you dip into the water of the center basin. Washing hands and face, brushing teeth, washing the dishes, getting cooking water, etc. is all done in the pila. For bathing, there is a the temascal. This is a beehive shaped hut constructed of cement blocks with a small hole to enter in and a small slot big enough to build a fire in. When preparing it, the women build a fire in the slot which heats up a huge iron pot of water inside the temascal, and additionally heats the temascal like a sauna. Once ready, it is very hot, dark and damp inside. There is a bucket of cool water, and you use a little bowl to dip in the pot the hot water until the bucket of water is to your liking. There is a little bench where you can sit and bath yourself using the little bowl and a hole in the floor where the water drains. It´s very soothing. I´ve told them how I like it, and the father says he will come to the US to build me one.
I´ve already built some ¨confianza¨ with the family. I had a break through the other night when I made them crack up for the first time (they´re a bunch of jokers). And I´ve been able to learn a lot about the town and traditions here from them.
There are certainly a few discomforts (flea bites, "stomach problems", and some adjustment to make. But overall, it is so nice to be here at last. Training keeps us busy with Spanish and technical assignments, but it´s a good pace of life. I still have plenty of time to talk with my family, and read and journal. And I´ve made some connections to the other trainees. This weekend, I´m going with a group to Antigua, the old imperial city that is more touristy and less conservative. I´m also hoping to climb a volcano soon. It´s nice to be settled here into my new life.
The temescal, where I take my sauna baths.
My bedroom.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Arrival
After a year of preparations, and the Peace Corps looming over my future like this black unknown, looking down on Guatemala from the airplane felt surreal. As we neared, I saw a country below of lush green mountains and deep ravines and clusters of tin-roofed buildings on precarious mountain tops or plateaus.
From the moment we got off the plane in Guatemala City, Peace Corps representatives were there to greet us and usher us on the buses. We traveled a ways to a small village in the mountains called Santa Lucia Milpas Altas, where the training center and Peace Corps office is located. It's very pretty here, lots of tropical trees and small thickly forested mountains all around. On a clear day you can see the volcano looming on the horizon. The training center has a beautiful courtyard surrounded by blooming plants.
Last night I roomed with another Peace Corps Trainee (PCT) with a host family near the village. The mother, father and three children were very welcoming. The eight year old daughter was especially taken with us. She loved to just sit in our room, even as we were doing homework. The little two year old boy was adorable. When we first arrived, he hid behind the tv, but he warmed to us pretty quickly. The house is simple but clean with cement walls, a tin roof, and few decorations on the wall. Me and the other trainee share our own room. It is located within this complex of other houses of relatives and they showed us around and we met almost everyone (other PCTs are staying with those families). They have fruit, coffe and avocado trees and several gardens with vegetables and flowers, as well as chickens, cows, and other animals. We both felt like we lucked-out with the family we were assigned. The first night, the hardest thing to adjust to was the noise-- cows mooing, roosters crowing, and sudden blasts that sounded like gunfire or bombs... turned out to be fireworks (Guatemalans apparently set off fireworks for the smallest of occassions).
On Saturday we will get our placements for the family we will have for the rest of training in a different village in the area (I'll be in the village with a small group of trainees in my program that have the same language level).
Today we had a Spanish interview, got some vaccinations, and sat through trainings on health and safety. I feel very good. It's beautiful here, and everyone I've met has been very friendly and welcoming. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed when I think about everything
that's ahead and everything I'll need to be cautious about. But I'm just trying to focus on one day at a time. So far, I´m just happy to have finally arrived.
From the moment we got off the plane in Guatemala City, Peace Corps representatives were there to greet us and usher us on the buses. We traveled a ways to a small village in the mountains called Santa Lucia Milpas Altas, where the training center and Peace Corps office is located. It's very pretty here, lots of tropical trees and small thickly forested mountains all around. On a clear day you can see the volcano looming on the horizon. The training center has a beautiful courtyard surrounded by blooming plants.
Last night I roomed with another Peace Corps Trainee (PCT) with a host family near the village. The mother, father and three children were very welcoming. The eight year old daughter was especially taken with us. She loved to just sit in our room, even as we were doing homework. The little two year old boy was adorable. When we first arrived, he hid behind the tv, but he warmed to us pretty quickly. The house is simple but clean with cement walls, a tin roof, and few decorations on the wall. Me and the other trainee share our own room. It is located within this complex of other houses of relatives and they showed us around and we met almost everyone (other PCTs are staying with those families). They have fruit, coffe and avocado trees and several gardens with vegetables and flowers, as well as chickens, cows, and other animals. We both felt like we lucked-out with the family we were assigned. The first night, the hardest thing to adjust to was the noise-- cows mooing, roosters crowing, and sudden blasts that sounded like gunfire or bombs... turned out to be fireworks (Guatemalans apparently set off fireworks for the smallest of occassions).
On Saturday we will get our placements for the family we will have for the rest of training in a different village in the area (I'll be in the village with a small group of trainees in my program that have the same language level).
Today we had a Spanish interview, got some vaccinations, and sat through trainings on health and safety. I feel very good. It's beautiful here, and everyone I've met has been very friendly and welcoming. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed when I think about everything
that's ahead and everything I'll need to be cautious about. But I'm just trying to focus on one day at a time. So far, I´m just happy to have finally arrived.
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