September 21, 2010
I woke up today feeling refreshed and content. After class, I planned to visit Cerro de la Cruz (basically a ginormous cross in the outskirts of Antigua) with other students from La Union. The teachers were going to guide us to the area near the cross, which is supposed to have the best views of Antigua, but it started raining so the trip was canceled. Apparently, when booking the trip, "somebody" forgot to thoroughly research the weather here and landed herself in the middle of the rainy season. Oh well, I suppose I can't complain much when the ticket was free, right?
Instead, I just hung out in my room until Miranda got home around 6, and we ate dinner together. She talked to me a lot about feeling grounded, being in the moment, feeling the present in my bones. At 6:15 pm on a Tuesday evening, my feet were in Antigua and my head had to match that. I thought a lot about what she said and decided in that moment to embrace the rest of my trip that way. No more missing home and thinking too much about what's going on there. Instead, I will be present. I will be here.
After our conversation, we went to Cafe No Se with Linda. I found this bar to be my favorite place in Antigua so far. It was really quaint, lit nearly only by candles and it was filled with the sound of slow, live music and chuckling patrons. The only problem is that the menus were in English, and nearly everyone in there was an expat. I get enough of the US while I'm there; and I really don't need more while I'm here.
We bought the largest sized Gallos they served, and the conversation quickly turned to awkward hook-ups. We went around the table, exchanged stories, squealed with laughter and competed to see whose story was the best (and by best I mean most horribly awkward and laughable). Because I want to protect the "innocent" on here, I won't reveal the stories, but I will say the winning account involved a very poorly-timed nosebleed.
I was shocked by how quickly the time passed, but the conversation was easy and my head felt a delightful, tingly warmth with every sip. So I happily stayed until 1:00 am. After having some rainy solitude, connecting with people and laughing at all the silliness that comes with having humanity was exactly what I needed.
To view pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
My trip to Guatemala - Day 9
September 20, 2010
Holy crap, my body is not what she used to be! I woke up hung-over, and Spanish class was a definite chore to get through. I sincerely hoped Yaneth couldn't smell the alcohol that I'm positive lingered on my breath.
After class, I planned to attend salsa and merengue class, but my tired, hung-over booty slept through it. So instead, I just did some homework and fell asleep for the night. I felt bad for wasting the day, but I suppose I am on vacation. And the day was not entirely wasted as Estela made the most kick-ass vegan mashed potatoes I've ever had in my life!
To view pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
Holy crap, my body is not what she used to be! I woke up hung-over, and Spanish class was a definite chore to get through. I sincerely hoped Yaneth couldn't smell the alcohol that I'm positive lingered on my breath.
After class, I planned to attend salsa and merengue class, but my tired, hung-over booty slept through it. So instead, I just did some homework and fell asleep for the night. I felt bad for wasting the day, but I suppose I am on vacation. And the day was not entirely wasted as Estela made the most kick-ass vegan mashed potatoes I've ever had in my life!
To view pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
My trip to Guatemala - Day 8
September 19, 2010
This morning, I woke up fairly early and headed to Central Park to study and write. In between conjugating verbs and detailing my travels, I people-watched. I saw several Mayan women attempting to sell jewelry, Americans lugging giant backpacks and reading maps, and a local teenager walking the cutest little puppies I’ve ever seen.
After an hour or so in the park, I returned home and took solace on the roof. I closed my eyes, took several deep breaths and got completely lost in my music. It was really peaceful, but I got a terrible sunburn. It’s pretty wicked, and I look rather tomato-like.
When Miranda got home from her hike, we went to the Rainbow Café to go see her friend, Juan’s band play. Linda and Annie (Linda’s roommate and a fellow American who works in La Union’s office) met us there. The band, La Raiz, was really good. Mellow. I enjoyed their music, but it also left me with an unexpected sense of melancholy. Perhaps I’m a bit homesick for my friends and family back in the States, or maybe my brain is tired from all the deep-thinking I’ve been doing about my life lately. Or maybe when I hear sad songs, it makes me sad, too. After all, I’m the person who can’t listen to Delilah without having at least one crying session.
After Juan’s band finished their set (and I ingested the most delightful hummus/avocado sandwich), we chatted them up, and Miranda invited them over to our place. Before we headed over our way, we walked a few houses down so Linda could pick up her wallet. On our way back, a man, standing in his doorway, hissed at us. I thought he was attempting to ’shh’ us and silence our giggles. Boy, did I think wrong! Turns out, he was trying to get our attention as he was standing there, BUCK NAKED! Dios mio! I didn’t want to stare as God forbid he might think I was interested in what he had to offer, so I tried to avert my eyes as best I could. Not sure what he was hoping to accomplish other than more laughter and a bit of sexual harassment, but mission accomplished on both fronts.
After getting over our shock, Miranda, Linda and I piled into the back of Juan’s pick-up truck along with Cholo and Luis (the other band members). It was definitely my first time riding in the back of a truck, and feeling the wind in my hair as we plowed through the streets of Antigua was extremely liberating (although not for my backside as I felt every bump!). We all headed to the guesthouse, with beer in hand, and climbed up on the roof as soon as we arrived. The guys busted out their guitars and we had a short-lived sing-along before we were told we were being too loud and had to leave.
So we piled back into the truck and headed to Juan’s place. His apartment was so cool - like a loft you’d see somewhere in a US city. It was filled with artwork and a massive music collection. He also had two hammocks in the living room, and a fancy toilet in the bathroom that actually (gasp!) flushed toilet paper, unlike the other toilets in Guatemala.
A quick note: not sure if I’ve mentioned it before or not, but the toilets in Guatemala cannot handle toilet paper. So basically, when you wipe, you can’t flush it. Instead, you have to throw the paper into a trash can next to the toilet. It might not sound like a big deal (and after a while, it isn’t), but at first, it's a bit difficult to get used to. And it’s amazing how at home you feel when you can actually flush the paper in the toilet.
It wasn’t long before Juan busted out some “firewater” and we all began doing shots. Facebook-style photography then ensued. We shared many laughs, and I even told Juan about the greatness that is Melissa Ferrick. Conversation between the six of us was a combination of Spanish, English and drunk-speak, and it flowed quite easily. I was struck by how easy it is to connect with complete strangers - especially when liquor is involved.
We drank and lounged at Juan's place until our sleepy eyes began to betray us. So we grabbed some late night street food and headed home. I drunkenly rambled to Linda for a few minutes before laying my head on the pillow and becoming one with my bed.
The aforementioned facebook-style photos:
Smiley in the back of a truck.
Linda showcasing Guatemala's most popular beer.
Post-Gallo.
Hammock fun.
The key to making alcohol taste better: plugging your nose.
Have some Gallo.
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
This morning, I woke up fairly early and headed to Central Park to study and write. In between conjugating verbs and detailing my travels, I people-watched. I saw several Mayan women attempting to sell jewelry, Americans lugging giant backpacks and reading maps, and a local teenager walking the cutest little puppies I’ve ever seen.
After an hour or so in the park, I returned home and took solace on the roof. I closed my eyes, took several deep breaths and got completely lost in my music. It was really peaceful, but I got a terrible sunburn. It’s pretty wicked, and I look rather tomato-like.
When Miranda got home from her hike, we went to the Rainbow Café to go see her friend, Juan’s band play. Linda and Annie (Linda’s roommate and a fellow American who works in La Union’s office) met us there. The band, La Raiz, was really good. Mellow. I enjoyed their music, but it also left me with an unexpected sense of melancholy. Perhaps I’m a bit homesick for my friends and family back in the States, or maybe my brain is tired from all the deep-thinking I’ve been doing about my life lately. Or maybe when I hear sad songs, it makes me sad, too. After all, I’m the person who can’t listen to Delilah without having at least one crying session.
After Juan’s band finished their set (and I ingested the most delightful hummus/avocado sandwich), we chatted them up, and Miranda invited them over to our place. Before we headed over our way, we walked a few houses down so Linda could pick up her wallet. On our way back, a man, standing in his doorway, hissed at us. I thought he was attempting to ’shh’ us and silence our giggles. Boy, did I think wrong! Turns out, he was trying to get our attention as he was standing there, BUCK NAKED! Dios mio! I didn’t want to stare as God forbid he might think I was interested in what he had to offer, so I tried to avert my eyes as best I could. Not sure what he was hoping to accomplish other than more laughter and a bit of sexual harassment, but mission accomplished on both fronts.
After getting over our shock, Miranda, Linda and I piled into the back of Juan’s pick-up truck along with Cholo and Luis (the other band members). It was definitely my first time riding in the back of a truck, and feeling the wind in my hair as we plowed through the streets of Antigua was extremely liberating (although not for my backside as I felt every bump!). We all headed to the guesthouse, with beer in hand, and climbed up on the roof as soon as we arrived. The guys busted out their guitars and we had a short-lived sing-along before we were told we were being too loud and had to leave.
So we piled back into the truck and headed to Juan’s place. His apartment was so cool - like a loft you’d see somewhere in a US city. It was filled with artwork and a massive music collection. He also had two hammocks in the living room, and a fancy toilet in the bathroom that actually (gasp!) flushed toilet paper, unlike the other toilets in Guatemala.
A quick note: not sure if I’ve mentioned it before or not, but the toilets in Guatemala cannot handle toilet paper. So basically, when you wipe, you can’t flush it. Instead, you have to throw the paper into a trash can next to the toilet. It might not sound like a big deal (and after a while, it isn’t), but at first, it's a bit difficult to get used to. And it’s amazing how at home you feel when you can actually flush the paper in the toilet.
It wasn’t long before Juan busted out some “firewater” and we all began doing shots. Facebook-style photography then ensued. We shared many laughs, and I even told Juan about the greatness that is Melissa Ferrick. Conversation between the six of us was a combination of Spanish, English and drunk-speak, and it flowed quite easily. I was struck by how easy it is to connect with complete strangers - especially when liquor is involved.
We drank and lounged at Juan's place until our sleepy eyes began to betray us. So we grabbed some late night street food and headed home. I drunkenly rambled to Linda for a few minutes before laying my head on the pillow and becoming one with my bed.
The aforementioned facebook-style photos:
Smiley in the back of a truck.
Linda showcasing Guatemala's most popular beer.
Post-Gallo.
Hammock fun.
The key to making alcohol taste better: plugging your nose.
Have some Gallo.
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
My trip to Guatemala - Day 7
September 18, 2010
I woke up fairly early this morning and headed to the market, set on buying a new shirt or hat. The mercado is a large area past the park where all types of merchants set up. You can get a new DVD, purse or a pizza. It's kind of like the Walmart of Antigua (only hopefully not nearly as oppressive).
I walked by most of the stores before seeing a t-shirt shop that sold both Che shirts and ones with the Gallo beer logo. I poked my head in and asked how much the shirts were. "Q50" (a little over $6.00) was the answer from the merchant. I smiled and nodded. Then the shopkeeper said something in Spanish, and I looked at him with a confused expression on my face. "How much do you want to pay?" he continued in English. Oh! He wanted me to barter with him. But, I quickly realized I didn't know the protocol for proper bargaining. So I just smiled and said, "no se."
Then he asked where I was from and how long I was staying. Before I knew it, he invited me to sit at his store, and we ended up talking for over two hours. He told me his name was Carlos, and that he was 26. He lives in a nearby town with his family (an older sister and a younger brother), and they own a couple of stores around town.
Before long, he asked me if I had a boyfriend. I quickly found out that, in Guatemala, if you're not currently in the market for a new boyfriend, it's best to say "yes," whether you have one or not. Otherwise the next question usually involves getting asked out on a date. But, if you say yes, you can generally just move on with friendly conversation.
He asked me if I had dated in the past, and I told him about my six year relationship. He asked what happened, why we broke up. And in my limited Spanish, I simply said, "queremos cosas diferentes" (we want different things), which, I suppose if you get down to it, that's probably what leads to the demise of every relationship: wanting different things. Sometimes you want to be in a different state, and sometimes you want to spend your time differently. And sometimes you just want to make-out with strippers.
He told me how he had dated a girl in Guatemala City (about an hour away from Antigua) for three years. They met when he was in high school, and she didn't like that he had to work all the time in the store. So they broke up. He said he would like a girlfriend again in the future, but for now, he thinks it's better to be single.
Then he asked about sex, which kind of took me by surprise. But, perhaps because it was in a different language, and he seemed pretty harmless, I didn't find it that strange. So I listened to his question and tried to provide some insight. He wasn't propositioning me in any way; I think he just wanted to know my perspective on sex and culture. I asked if he meant premarital sex (or as I asked in my elementary Spanish "sex before the wedding"). He nodded. I think he wanted to know what it was like in the US, how people view premarital sex (since it's fairly taboo in Guatemala, but yet something a lot of people seem to take part in). So I said that it's fairly informal for some people in the US, but that some people still take it pretty seriously. He nodded and said that, for him, there has to be love before it happens. Then he added, "well...it depends on the situation." I laughed and agreed. Had we been speaking English, I would have joked and said something along the lines of, "well, it depends on how hot they are and how much alcohol has been consumed, right?" But, instead, I just smiled. I'm learning to do that a lot when I don't know what to say...just smile. And it generally works.
We spoke about comedy and what my job is like before we moved on to discussing discrimination against indigenous people. He said that there's so much discrimination against them that it's hard for them to find employment. He explained that they usually end up selling crafts or doing other similar jobs, and they make less than a dollar per day. It's so sad to me that no matter where you go, one group always seems to find a way to wield power and oppress another.
Before I left, I taught him several English words to use at his store. I also got to witness how you're supposed to barter when two native Spanish speakers came into his store to purchase shirts. Oh yeah, and I did what I set out to do and I bought a shirt from him. I was torn between the revolution star shirts and ones with the Gallo logo on them. I ended up selecting a blue Gallo t-shirt and explained that I would come back for the Che one. After all, what revolution can start without having a beer first?
I left with a big smile on my face. One because Carlos was so forgiving of my incorrect Spanish, and also because it was the first time I really connected with someone in another language. And I suppose being the proud owner of a new beer t-shirt made me grin as well.
To view pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
I woke up fairly early this morning and headed to the market, set on buying a new shirt or hat. The mercado is a large area past the park where all types of merchants set up. You can get a new DVD, purse or a pizza. It's kind of like the Walmart of Antigua (only hopefully not nearly as oppressive).
I walked by most of the stores before seeing a t-shirt shop that sold both Che shirts and ones with the Gallo beer logo. I poked my head in and asked how much the shirts were. "Q50" (a little over $6.00) was the answer from the merchant. I smiled and nodded. Then the shopkeeper said something in Spanish, and I looked at him with a confused expression on my face. "How much do you want to pay?" he continued in English. Oh! He wanted me to barter with him. But, I quickly realized I didn't know the protocol for proper bargaining. So I just smiled and said, "no se."
Then he asked where I was from and how long I was staying. Before I knew it, he invited me to sit at his store, and we ended up talking for over two hours. He told me his name was Carlos, and that he was 26. He lives in a nearby town with his family (an older sister and a younger brother), and they own a couple of stores around town.
Before long, he asked me if I had a boyfriend. I quickly found out that, in Guatemala, if you're not currently in the market for a new boyfriend, it's best to say "yes," whether you have one or not. Otherwise the next question usually involves getting asked out on a date. But, if you say yes, you can generally just move on with friendly conversation.
He asked me if I had dated in the past, and I told him about my six year relationship. He asked what happened, why we broke up. And in my limited Spanish, I simply said, "queremos cosas diferentes" (we want different things), which, I suppose if you get down to it, that's probably what leads to the demise of every relationship: wanting different things. Sometimes you want to be in a different state, and sometimes you want to spend your time differently. And sometimes you just want to make-out with strippers.
He told me how he had dated a girl in Guatemala City (about an hour away from Antigua) for three years. They met when he was in high school, and she didn't like that he had to work all the time in the store. So they broke up. He said he would like a girlfriend again in the future, but for now, he thinks it's better to be single.
Then he asked about sex, which kind of took me by surprise. But, perhaps because it was in a different language, and he seemed pretty harmless, I didn't find it that strange. So I listened to his question and tried to provide some insight. He wasn't propositioning me in any way; I think he just wanted to know my perspective on sex and culture. I asked if he meant premarital sex (or as I asked in my elementary Spanish "sex before the wedding"). He nodded. I think he wanted to know what it was like in the US, how people view premarital sex (since it's fairly taboo in Guatemala, but yet something a lot of people seem to take part in). So I said that it's fairly informal for some people in the US, but that some people still take it pretty seriously. He nodded and said that, for him, there has to be love before it happens. Then he added, "well...it depends on the situation." I laughed and agreed. Had we been speaking English, I would have joked and said something along the lines of, "well, it depends on how hot they are and how much alcohol has been consumed, right?" But, instead, I just smiled. I'm learning to do that a lot when I don't know what to say...just smile. And it generally works.
We spoke about comedy and what my job is like before we moved on to discussing discrimination against indigenous people. He said that there's so much discrimination against them that it's hard for them to find employment. He explained that they usually end up selling crafts or doing other similar jobs, and they make less than a dollar per day. It's so sad to me that no matter where you go, one group always seems to find a way to wield power and oppress another.
Before I left, I taught him several English words to use at his store. I also got to witness how you're supposed to barter when two native Spanish speakers came into his store to purchase shirts. Oh yeah, and I did what I set out to do and I bought a shirt from him. I was torn between the revolution star shirts and ones with the Gallo logo on them. I ended up selecting a blue Gallo t-shirt and explained that I would come back for the Che one. After all, what revolution can start without having a beer first?
I left with a big smile on my face. One because Carlos was so forgiving of my incorrect Spanish, and also because it was the first time I really connected with someone in another language. And I suppose being the proud owner of a new beer t-shirt made me grin as well.
To view pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
My trip to Guatemala - Day 6
September 17, 2010
I'm really liking class, and today was no exception! Sometimes I wonder which I enjoy more: learning Spanish or just having the opportunity to converse with someone (who is starting to feel like a friend). Probably both. Today we discussed the United States' contribution to training child soldiers in El Salvador. And we talked about protest music and how music is such a powerful and important tool to disseminate information to the masses. I sincerely wish my Spanish was better just so I could speak about issues of justice. Right now, I'm limited to saying that I think all people are equal and Capitalism is not just. I suppose that's more than I knew when I came here, but still, it's frustrating. Of course, we briefly departed from our conversation about protest music to discuss the merits of Daddy Yankee's songs. It remains my contention that "Gasolina" is some of his best work.
In the afternoon, I went to visit a jade factory with two other students (a woman from Switzerland and another American). Manuel and Claudia, who work at the school, served as our guides. The trip required us to go on the public buses (or chicken buses, as they're called here), which was quite the experience! Before we boarded, Manuel explained that the buses (which appear to be old school buses that were painted like circus cars) seat three people in each seat. Wow! I don't even think we sat three to a seat in kindergarten. I suppose most people are rather small here, but still, it was quite crowded and my long (33" inseam) legs felt really cramped and out of place.
When we boarded, I immediately felt the deep sounds of bass. I was surprised to find an external sound system strapped to the front of the interior of the bus (It was kind of like a stereo with giant speakers duct-taped to the area right above the driver's head). I felt more like I was at a dance club than on a bus, but I kind of enjoyed it, especially because they played a mixture of salsa, reggaeton and techno. On chicken buses, there are no maps nor ways to indicate that you'd like to exit. In fact, at one point, we picked up another passenger, and I don't even think the driver stopped all the way for her before he nearly floored it again. The buses also have an attendant that practically hangs out of the bus and yells where the bus is headed. When someone with luggage boards, the attendant ties the luggage to the top of the bus, while the bus is still moving. How they don't fall off is beyond me, but they appear to have some serious balance.
The tour of the jade factory wasn't really much of a tour. In fact, it was a five minute presentation about how they mine the jade and then a ten minute presentation of the gift shop. I felt bad as I didn't buy anything, which I think was kind of the point. But, I really don't have the cash to be dropping on fancy jewelry. I did see a really nice chess set made of jade, but I didn't even dare ask how much it was.
In the evening, Miranda introduced me to her friend, Linda (a recent grad from North Carolina State who is here for four months before she attends medical school), and we all headed over to the Rainbow Cafe. The Rainbow Cafe is a combination of a bar and coffee shop, and it features live music and used books. It was really tranquil, and it reminded me a lot of a place in Ann Arbor. In other words, it's the place I've been looking for down here. We stayed for a couple of beers and listened to a guitar player named Sergio perform everything from Kings of Leon to slowed-down salsa songs. We shared a lot of laughs and time discussing whether facebook has made dating harder or easier. The jury's still out for me as to whether I think facebook has made dating easier or more difficult, but it's definitely made stalking a piece of cake! I really enjoyed Linda's company, although without access to a phone, I have no idea how to contact her. I suppose this trip is also a lesson in contacting people the old-fashioned way and not being so reliant on texting.
The jade factory.
Examples of things I can't afford.
No, this is not part of the evil Ringling Brothers' entourage; it's a city bus.
As is this.
Miranda and Linda.
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
I'm really liking class, and today was no exception! Sometimes I wonder which I enjoy more: learning Spanish or just having the opportunity to converse with someone (who is starting to feel like a friend). Probably both. Today we discussed the United States' contribution to training child soldiers in El Salvador. And we talked about protest music and how music is such a powerful and important tool to disseminate information to the masses. I sincerely wish my Spanish was better just so I could speak about issues of justice. Right now, I'm limited to saying that I think all people are equal and Capitalism is not just. I suppose that's more than I knew when I came here, but still, it's frustrating. Of course, we briefly departed from our conversation about protest music to discuss the merits of Daddy Yankee's songs. It remains my contention that "Gasolina" is some of his best work.
In the afternoon, I went to visit a jade factory with two other students (a woman from Switzerland and another American). Manuel and Claudia, who work at the school, served as our guides. The trip required us to go on the public buses (or chicken buses, as they're called here), which was quite the experience! Before we boarded, Manuel explained that the buses (which appear to be old school buses that were painted like circus cars) seat three people in each seat. Wow! I don't even think we sat three to a seat in kindergarten. I suppose most people are rather small here, but still, it was quite crowded and my long (33" inseam) legs felt really cramped and out of place.
When we boarded, I immediately felt the deep sounds of bass. I was surprised to find an external sound system strapped to the front of the interior of the bus (It was kind of like a stereo with giant speakers duct-taped to the area right above the driver's head). I felt more like I was at a dance club than on a bus, but I kind of enjoyed it, especially because they played a mixture of salsa, reggaeton and techno. On chicken buses, there are no maps nor ways to indicate that you'd like to exit. In fact, at one point, we picked up another passenger, and I don't even think the driver stopped all the way for her before he nearly floored it again. The buses also have an attendant that practically hangs out of the bus and yells where the bus is headed. When someone with luggage boards, the attendant ties the luggage to the top of the bus, while the bus is still moving. How they don't fall off is beyond me, but they appear to have some serious balance.
The tour of the jade factory wasn't really much of a tour. In fact, it was a five minute presentation about how they mine the jade and then a ten minute presentation of the gift shop. I felt bad as I didn't buy anything, which I think was kind of the point. But, I really don't have the cash to be dropping on fancy jewelry. I did see a really nice chess set made of jade, but I didn't even dare ask how much it was.
In the evening, Miranda introduced me to her friend, Linda (a recent grad from North Carolina State who is here for four months before she attends medical school), and we all headed over to the Rainbow Cafe. The Rainbow Cafe is a combination of a bar and coffee shop, and it features live music and used books. It was really tranquil, and it reminded me a lot of a place in Ann Arbor. In other words, it's the place I've been looking for down here. We stayed for a couple of beers and listened to a guitar player named Sergio perform everything from Kings of Leon to slowed-down salsa songs. We shared a lot of laughs and time discussing whether facebook has made dating harder or easier. The jury's still out for me as to whether I think facebook has made dating easier or more difficult, but it's definitely made stalking a piece of cake! I really enjoyed Linda's company, although without access to a phone, I have no idea how to contact her. I suppose this trip is also a lesson in contacting people the old-fashioned way and not being so reliant on texting.
The jade factory.
Examples of things I can't afford.
No, this is not part of the evil Ringling Brothers' entourage; it's a city bus.
As is this.
Miranda and Linda.
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
My trip to Guatemala - Day 5
September 16, 2010
I feel like I'm making so much progress in my Spanish classes. I'm remembering a lot from high school, and I've also been recognizing new words that I've recently learned on tv or in conversations. I wish I had more time here, and I wonder how fluent I could be if I got to be here for six months. I'm pretty much convinced I'd be a Spanish-speaking machine (una Espanol-hablando maquina) if given more time. Silly work and having to earn money...urg.
In the afternoon, I watched a movie at La Union called "El Norte." It's about a brother and sister in Guatemala, who are forced to flee the country during the civil war. It traces their journey through Mexico and finally, into the United States. Throughout the film, their dreams of finding riches in the north are consistently crushed as they face continued discrimination and hardship. The movie (while probably quite low-budget and with really shoddy special effects) does a thorough job of showing why people immigrate illegally. For the main characters in the movie, leaving Guatemala is their only choice to escape certain death by the military in their country and certain death by starvation in Mexico. I really believe that every conservative person in the US, who is anti-immigration and anti-immigrant, should be forced to watch this movie. It provides so much insight into why people flee their homelands and also accurately argues that everyone in the main characters' positions would do the same thing.
I didn't do much in the evening other than homework. As I was flipping channels on the television, I stumbled upon "Death on a Factory Farm" on Cinemax. It's a documentary that follows cruelty charges, that are filed against a pig farmer in Ohio, through the court system. While it was extremely difficult to watch the undercover videos, it made me realize that I need to spend more time advocating for animal rights. I still spend time working on their behalf, but I need to do more. Not only do animals clearly need more human advocates, but I feel the happiest when I'm helping others. If I look back at my life, the times I've found the most satisfaction and meaning are when I've been advocating for causes I believe in. Telling poop jokes in bar basements is fun, but I want my life to be about more than just that.
Note: in my actual journal, I did a lot more life reflection here, but I omitted it as it's somewhat personal, and I also didn't want to bore anyone who might be reading this to death.
This trip has given me a lot of peace and time for reflection, and I am so thankful for that. The internet has been out at the guesthouse house, and while difficult at first, I am quite grateful for the gift of being present and not using my time to check email or twitter updates (I would hate to think I missed out on opportunities because I was too busy reading what complete strangers had for breakfast).
So I spend a lot of time thinking here. I go up on the second terrace of our roof (ours is the highest in the area), and I listen to music, stare at the clothesline-covered dwellings and just think. I feel above the world and like I could reach out and touch the mountains that surround us, and that feeling of solitude makes me feel way more tranquil and comforted than I ever thought possible. One of my good friends talks about being alone, but not lonely, and I honestly didn't know what she was talking about until now. I have bouts of loneliness here, but they pass quickly. While I wish those close to me could experience it here, I wouldn't trade being here by myself for anything.
A view from our roof:
On our roof. Taken pre-singing, dancing, meditating and other miscellaneous ways of embarrassing myself in front of the neighbors.
Another view from the roof.
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
I feel like I'm making so much progress in my Spanish classes. I'm remembering a lot from high school, and I've also been recognizing new words that I've recently learned on tv or in conversations. I wish I had more time here, and I wonder how fluent I could be if I got to be here for six months. I'm pretty much convinced I'd be a Spanish-speaking machine (una Espanol-hablando maquina) if given more time. Silly work and having to earn money...urg.
In the afternoon, I watched a movie at La Union called "El Norte." It's about a brother and sister in Guatemala, who are forced to flee the country during the civil war. It traces their journey through Mexico and finally, into the United States. Throughout the film, their dreams of finding riches in the north are consistently crushed as they face continued discrimination and hardship. The movie (while probably quite low-budget and with really shoddy special effects) does a thorough job of showing why people immigrate illegally. For the main characters in the movie, leaving Guatemala is their only choice to escape certain death by the military in their country and certain death by starvation in Mexico. I really believe that every conservative person in the US, who is anti-immigration and anti-immigrant, should be forced to watch this movie. It provides so much insight into why people flee their homelands and also accurately argues that everyone in the main characters' positions would do the same thing.
I didn't do much in the evening other than homework. As I was flipping channels on the television, I stumbled upon "Death on a Factory Farm" on Cinemax. It's a documentary that follows cruelty charges, that are filed against a pig farmer in Ohio, through the court system. While it was extremely difficult to watch the undercover videos, it made me realize that I need to spend more time advocating for animal rights. I still spend time working on their behalf, but I need to do more. Not only do animals clearly need more human advocates, but I feel the happiest when I'm helping others. If I look back at my life, the times I've found the most satisfaction and meaning are when I've been advocating for causes I believe in. Telling poop jokes in bar basements is fun, but I want my life to be about more than just that.
Note: in my actual journal, I did a lot more life reflection here, but I omitted it as it's somewhat personal, and I also didn't want to bore anyone who might be reading this to death.
This trip has given me a lot of peace and time for reflection, and I am so thankful for that. The internet has been out at the guesthouse house, and while difficult at first, I am quite grateful for the gift of being present and not using my time to check email or twitter updates (I would hate to think I missed out on opportunities because I was too busy reading what complete strangers had for breakfast).
So I spend a lot of time thinking here. I go up on the second terrace of our roof (ours is the highest in the area), and I listen to music, stare at the clothesline-covered dwellings and just think. I feel above the world and like I could reach out and touch the mountains that surround us, and that feeling of solitude makes me feel way more tranquil and comforted than I ever thought possible. One of my good friends talks about being alone, but not lonely, and I honestly didn't know what she was talking about until now. I have bouts of loneliness here, but they pass quickly. While I wish those close to me could experience it here, I wouldn't trade being here by myself for anything.
A view from our roof:
On our roof. Taken pre-singing, dancing, meditating and other miscellaneous ways of embarrassing myself in front of the neighbors.
Another view from the roof.
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
Some advice this Halloween
Halloween is just around the corner, and as we all figure out what costume to purchase (Should I go as the sexy cat, slutty bunny or skanky nurse? Decisions, decisions.), I figured I would share some Halloween wisdom I’ve learned over the years. Sadly, these ten tips are all from personal experience.
It is my one hope that all of you fine folks in cyberland can learn from my misfortune and not make the same mistakes I did.
1. Going as a mermaid will make you unable to walk. Going as a television set will make you unable to move your arms. Both costumes will subject you to ridicule from other children and leave you in tears by the end of the night.
2. Dressing up as Madonna (during her cone-bra era) in the sixth grade will likely get you suspended.
3. If you hand out pennies instead of candy, your house will be toilet-papered.
4. Most costumes for pets are tantamount to animal cruelty.
5. Dressing up as Sarah Palin at a Halloween party for leftist vegans will also get you toilet-papered.
6. Covering yourself with boxes of Kellogg’s, carrying a knife and going as a “cereal killer” is not nearly as clever as you may think.
7. Asking strangers (who are clearly in costume) if they “dress that slutty everyday” is generally not advisable.
8. Wearing a sweater vest, khakis and a nametag and going as a “Gap employee” is not a real costume. Put some thought and creativity into it, Lazy.
9. If you’re looking to be unoriginal and/or to get lucky, dressing as Lady Gaga or Snooki are excellent choices.
10. Drinking and bobbing for apples don’t mix. Vomit never made any party game more fun.
This piece is also posted at Zoiks Online.
It is my one hope that all of you fine folks in cyberland can learn from my misfortune and not make the same mistakes I did.
1. Going as a mermaid will make you unable to walk. Going as a television set will make you unable to move your arms. Both costumes will subject you to ridicule from other children and leave you in tears by the end of the night.
2. Dressing up as Madonna (during her cone-bra era) in the sixth grade will likely get you suspended.
3. If you hand out pennies instead of candy, your house will be toilet-papered.
4. Most costumes for pets are tantamount to animal cruelty.
5. Dressing up as Sarah Palin at a Halloween party for leftist vegans will also get you toilet-papered.
6. Covering yourself with boxes of Kellogg’s, carrying a knife and going as a “cereal killer” is not nearly as clever as you may think.
7. Asking strangers (who are clearly in costume) if they “dress that slutty everyday” is generally not advisable.
8. Wearing a sweater vest, khakis and a nametag and going as a “Gap employee” is not a real costume. Put some thought and creativity into it, Lazy.
9. If you’re looking to be unoriginal and/or to get lucky, dressing as Lady Gaga or Snooki are excellent choices.
10. Drinking and bobbing for apples don’t mix. Vomit never made any party game more fun.
This piece is also posted at Zoiks Online.
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