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.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
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.
My trip to Guatemala - Day 4
September 15, 2010
Today is Guatemala's Independence Day. Yaneth and I spent our class time near Central Park, and we watched all of the high school marching bands play. I was shocked by the shear number of bands that exist in this area. There had to be at least twenty. It's not like in the US where marching bands play at sporting events and have a season. Apparently, here, they practice for months just for this one day. According to Yaneth, ever since there's been peace in the country (which is still relatively new), bands no longer march as that's an act that's thought to appear too militaristic. So instead, a lot of the bands dance down the street as they're playing their instruments. Their style is kind of a mix between line-dancing and rhythmic stepping, and it was truly enjoyable to watch.
After two hours of listening to the bands play, I started to feel really dizzy and like I was going to pass out. It's been a long time since I've experienced a feeling like that, but Yaneth was so sweet to me. She sat me down in a restaurant before walking me back to the school. I think it's because I hadn't eaten anything, didn't sleep much the night before and was standing in the hot sun for hours. After I returned to La Union and ate a banana, I was fine though.
At school, I found out why Estela wasn't at the house today. Apparently, her nephew was riding in the back of an old pick-up truck (with several other kids) and the gas tank spontaneously combusted, which threw several of the kids to the ground. Her nephew, who was eleven, died in the accident. It's amazing the lack of safety standards here. There's constantly people in the backs of pick-up trucks and you'd be hard-pressed to find anybody on a motorcycle with a helmet. I think the US is a little too consumed with safety, but there seems to be a lot of preventable accidents (like Estela's nephew) here. I wonder if people have a different attitude about these sorts of things, like that they're sad, but they just sort of happen. They are, in a way, inevitable. I'm not sure, but I do know I feel really bad for Estela. Family seems to mean everything here, and I'm sure the loss of a child is almost unbearable.
In the evening, Miranda, Nery and I went to Central Park to watch the bands play again (some of them even played American music, including a group that performed their rendition of Lady GaGa's "Bad Romance"). There were so many people there! Of course, there was no shortage of balloons and fireworks either (which, as those who know me well, know I'm TERRIFIED of), but thanks to some Xanax and ear plugs, I wasn't terribly bothered by any of it.
Some pictures of the bands and festivities in the park:
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
Today is Guatemala's Independence Day. Yaneth and I spent our class time near Central Park, and we watched all of the high school marching bands play. I was shocked by the shear number of bands that exist in this area. There had to be at least twenty. It's not like in the US where marching bands play at sporting events and have a season. Apparently, here, they practice for months just for this one day. According to Yaneth, ever since there's been peace in the country (which is still relatively new), bands no longer march as that's an act that's thought to appear too militaristic. So instead, a lot of the bands dance down the street as they're playing their instruments. Their style is kind of a mix between line-dancing and rhythmic stepping, and it was truly enjoyable to watch.
After two hours of listening to the bands play, I started to feel really dizzy and like I was going to pass out. It's been a long time since I've experienced a feeling like that, but Yaneth was so sweet to me. She sat me down in a restaurant before walking me back to the school. I think it's because I hadn't eaten anything, didn't sleep much the night before and was standing in the hot sun for hours. After I returned to La Union and ate a banana, I was fine though.
At school, I found out why Estela wasn't at the house today. Apparently, her nephew was riding in the back of an old pick-up truck (with several other kids) and the gas tank spontaneously combusted, which threw several of the kids to the ground. Her nephew, who was eleven, died in the accident. It's amazing the lack of safety standards here. There's constantly people in the backs of pick-up trucks and you'd be hard-pressed to find anybody on a motorcycle with a helmet. I think the US is a little too consumed with safety, but there seems to be a lot of preventable accidents (like Estela's nephew) here. I wonder if people have a different attitude about these sorts of things, like that they're sad, but they just sort of happen. They are, in a way, inevitable. I'm not sure, but I do know I feel really bad for Estela. Family seems to mean everything here, and I'm sure the loss of a child is almost unbearable.
In the evening, Miranda, Nery and I went to Central Park to watch the bands play again (some of them even played American music, including a group that performed their rendition of Lady GaGa's "Bad Romance"). There were so many people there! Of course, there was no shortage of balloons and fireworks either (which, as those who know me well, know I'm TERRIFIED of), but thanks to some Xanax and ear plugs, I wasn't terribly bothered by any of it.
Some pictures of the bands and festivities in the park:
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
My trip to Guatemala - Day 3
September 14, 2010
I discovered today why there is only one knob on the shower: according to Yaneth, the majority of people in Guatemala don’t have hot water. I find it interesting that they get pay-per-view cable for free, but hot showers are an impossibility. For now, getting the shivers occasionally is okay, but I wonder how cold it will get as September draws to a close.
Class went well today; it was mostly talking and laughing with some new vocab thrown in. I realized that my brain learns my repetition and word association, and I’m having a hard time learning all the new words at once. For instance, the word for “shit” is “mierda” and the word for afraid is “miedo.” So, since they sound quite similar, I think to myself, “I’m afraid of shit” (Tengo miedo de mierda) to remember. If you’ve heard my sexy-devil-Halloween-costume story, then you most likely know this to be true. P.S. If you buy me a shot (or seven), I’ll tell you the story, complete with gruesome details.
In the afternoon, I decided to take a stroll to Central Park. I was told there would be a lot happening for Independence Day (which is tomorrow), but all I could see were people setting up a speaker system. So I decided to park myself on a bench and work on my homework. That didn’t last long as the sun was really hot, and people kept approaching me and trying to sell me earrings, bracelets and necklaces. I did get approached by a two-year-old boy who stared at me with a fascination that resembled (clichéd joke alert) the Amish in Best Buy. When his mom finally pulled him away, he blew me a kiss, and it was the cutest thing ever! So cute it made my ovaries hurt.
I find that the past two days have passed by slowly. It’s amazing how much time you have when you’re not running life’s daily errands. Not cooking, cleaning or grocery shopping frees up an incredibly amount of time. I don’t know how that makes me feel. On one hand, it makes me think there’s a reason food preparation take time, that it’s work to feed and nurture our bodies. However, sometimes, I think that I should cut my food prep time down so I can devote more time to other things in my life. But, that would probably mean eating Ramen and/or tv dinners every meal, and I don’t think I’m so down with that.
I discovered today why there is only one knob on the shower: according to Yaneth, the majority of people in Guatemala don’t have hot water. I find it interesting that they get pay-per-view cable for free, but hot showers are an impossibility. For now, getting the shivers occasionally is okay, but I wonder how cold it will get as September draws to a close.
Class went well today; it was mostly talking and laughing with some new vocab thrown in. I realized that my brain learns my repetition and word association, and I’m having a hard time learning all the new words at once. For instance, the word for “shit” is “mierda” and the word for afraid is “miedo.” So, since they sound quite similar, I think to myself, “I’m afraid of shit” (Tengo miedo de mierda) to remember. If you’ve heard my sexy-devil-Halloween-costume story, then you most likely know this to be true. P.S. If you buy me a shot (or seven), I’ll tell you the story, complete with gruesome details.
In the afternoon, I decided to take a stroll to Central Park. I was told there would be a lot happening for Independence Day (which is tomorrow), but all I could see were people setting up a speaker system. So I decided to park myself on a bench and work on my homework. That didn’t last long as the sun was really hot, and people kept approaching me and trying to sell me earrings, bracelets and necklaces. I did get approached by a two-year-old boy who stared at me with a fascination that resembled (clichéd joke alert) the Amish in Best Buy. When his mom finally pulled him away, he blew me a kiss, and it was the cutest thing ever! So cute it made my ovaries hurt.
I find that the past two days have passed by slowly. It’s amazing how much time you have when you’re not running life’s daily errands. Not cooking, cleaning or grocery shopping frees up an incredibly amount of time. I don’t know how that makes me feel. On one hand, it makes me think there’s a reason food preparation take time, that it’s work to feed and nurture our bodies. However, sometimes, I think that I should cut my food prep time down so I can devote more time to other things in my life. But, that would probably mean eating Ramen and/or tv dinners every meal, and I don’t think I’m so down with that.
Friday, October 29, 2010
My trip to Guatemala - Day 2
September 13, 2010
I woke up and met Estela, the woman who cooks for the students and looks after the guesthouse. She made me vegan pancakes that were quite delicious, and I also had a nice helping of fresh fruit.
After breakfast, she walked me to La Union, where I started my first day of class. After the first hour, it felt routine and like I'd been studying and living there for much longer than 24 hours.
My teacher's name is Yaneth. La Union features a one-on-one teacher/student program, so Yaneth and I spent the first hour conversing freely in Spanish. We talked about everything from the length of Catholic weddings to what one can do when her/his friend is dating someone who is clearly bad news. At one point, we even got into the topic of media bias. Granted, my teacher was speaking very slowly, but I was still shocked by how much I could understand. My Spanish is still very elementary, but what I do know came back quickly.
I did learn that when attempting to say the main industry in Detroit is auto production, don't use the word "coche" (which means car in some Spanish-speaking countries) while in Guatemala as it has a different meaning there. Apparently, I told my teacher that everyone in Michigan works "in pigs."
I was struck by how friendly people are in Antigua. While I had a break from school, I walked around a bit. An older man on the street immediately struck up a conversation with me when he pointed at my jacket and declared that it was too hot to be wearing such things. I smiled and attempted to explain that I get cold easily. He then told me he was originally from Spain and asked where I was from. When I told him the United States, he said, "Ah, the country without a name. The United States of what?" I answered, "America," to which he responded, "America is not just for the US. It's not a country; it's a continent. We're Americans, too. Your country has taken over that name."
I nodded my head in agreement and thought, "Yes, that's kind of what the US does...take things over."
After class, I went to an information session about volunteer opportunities the school has. It was supposed to be a group trip, but I was the only one who showed up. I was taken to a place that was a combination school and home for children with severe mental and physical disabilities. The children were out of school due to it being the week of Guatemala Independence. However, the project director gave me a tour of both the school and home.
Apparently, the majority of children at the home were abandoned by their parents and spend their nights in giant cribs (with ten kids to a room) and days lying on mats on the floor. One of the rooms we went in must have had 30 children in it, all on the floor, unable to move. It was such a sad sight, especially knowing that many of them have no families and this is all their lives are most likely going to be. I was comforted by the fact that the staff seemed to be very caring, but still, the evidence of the lack of resources for people with disabilities in poor countries was abundantly clear.
In the evening, I met my third housemate, a 28-year-old guy named Nery. His family is from Guatemala, but he grew up in the Bay Area of California. He knows Spanish already, so he's in Guatemala to, as he puts it, "learn the culture."
We chatted for a while before he suggested we go on a walk around town. He showed me where Central Park was located and also pointed out several bars and restaurants. I actually saw quite a few vegetarian joints along with a cute place called the Bagel Barn (a coffee shop full of people with their noses in books) that plays Spanish movies every night. It looked quite tranquil and like a lovely place to study. Coffee shops, studying and foreign films - wow, it feels like I'm in college again!
When we returned back to the house, we ate dinner and had a rather lengthy chat about MMA. Apparently, UFC pay-per-view is free and available in our rooms at the guesthouse. Between that and the Much Music Channel (Canada's equivalent of MTV that actually - gasp! - plays music) that Guatemalan cable features, I'm watching more tv here than I do at home. Stop the insanity!
Some shots of my school:
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
I woke up and met Estela, the woman who cooks for the students and looks after the guesthouse. She made me vegan pancakes that were quite delicious, and I also had a nice helping of fresh fruit.
After breakfast, she walked me to La Union, where I started my first day of class. After the first hour, it felt routine and like I'd been studying and living there for much longer than 24 hours.
My teacher's name is Yaneth. La Union features a one-on-one teacher/student program, so Yaneth and I spent the first hour conversing freely in Spanish. We talked about everything from the length of Catholic weddings to what one can do when her/his friend is dating someone who is clearly bad news. At one point, we even got into the topic of media bias. Granted, my teacher was speaking very slowly, but I was still shocked by how much I could understand. My Spanish is still very elementary, but what I do know came back quickly.
I did learn that when attempting to say the main industry in Detroit is auto production, don't use the word "coche" (which means car in some Spanish-speaking countries) while in Guatemala as it has a different meaning there. Apparently, I told my teacher that everyone in Michigan works "in pigs."
I was struck by how friendly people are in Antigua. While I had a break from school, I walked around a bit. An older man on the street immediately struck up a conversation with me when he pointed at my jacket and declared that it was too hot to be wearing such things. I smiled and attempted to explain that I get cold easily. He then told me he was originally from Spain and asked where I was from. When I told him the United States, he said, "Ah, the country without a name. The United States of what?" I answered, "America," to which he responded, "America is not just for the US. It's not a country; it's a continent. We're Americans, too. Your country has taken over that name."
I nodded my head in agreement and thought, "Yes, that's kind of what the US does...take things over."
After class, I went to an information session about volunteer opportunities the school has. It was supposed to be a group trip, but I was the only one who showed up. I was taken to a place that was a combination school and home for children with severe mental and physical disabilities. The children were out of school due to it being the week of Guatemala Independence. However, the project director gave me a tour of both the school and home.
Apparently, the majority of children at the home were abandoned by their parents and spend their nights in giant cribs (with ten kids to a room) and days lying on mats on the floor. One of the rooms we went in must have had 30 children in it, all on the floor, unable to move. It was such a sad sight, especially knowing that many of them have no families and this is all their lives are most likely going to be. I was comforted by the fact that the staff seemed to be very caring, but still, the evidence of the lack of resources for people with disabilities in poor countries was abundantly clear.
In the evening, I met my third housemate, a 28-year-old guy named Nery. His family is from Guatemala, but he grew up in the Bay Area of California. He knows Spanish already, so he's in Guatemala to, as he puts it, "learn the culture."
We chatted for a while before he suggested we go on a walk around town. He showed me where Central Park was located and also pointed out several bars and restaurants. I actually saw quite a few vegetarian joints along with a cute place called the Bagel Barn (a coffee shop full of people with their noses in books) that plays Spanish movies every night. It looked quite tranquil and like a lovely place to study. Coffee shops, studying and foreign films - wow, it feels like I'm in college again!
When we returned back to the house, we ate dinner and had a rather lengthy chat about MMA. Apparently, UFC pay-per-view is free and available in our rooms at the guesthouse. Between that and the Much Music Channel (Canada's equivalent of MTV that actually - gasp! - plays music) that Guatemalan cable features, I'm watching more tv here than I do at home. Stop the insanity!
Some shots of my school:
To view more pictures of my trip, go check out my album on facebook.
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