Food, fashion, and forecast

While most of my past blog posts have been about different experience and out-of-the-ordinary adventures, today I thought I’d do a little catching up on Guatemalan norms. If you have been wondering what the typical food, fashion, and forecast is like here in Xela, this is your chance to learn!

First, fashion. There are two main types of style, as different as night and day. The first is my favorite: traditional.

The traditional Mayan traje is my favorite because its wearers are clothed head-to-toe in vibrant colors of every hue, a mixture of soft and strong textures, and richly unique patterns. This type of style is all about the play between textures and layers. Braids and twists adorn their hair, wrapped intricately around deep purple sashes or rainbow-patterned head wraps. The ancianos weave the sashes as the third part to two three-part braids hanging down their back and the mothers pile all of their jet black hair into a bun encircled by a halo of ribbon. The younger girls tie their hair half-up and decorate their locks with rhinestoned and sequined hair clips in the shapes of butterflies, hearts, and swirls.

Hand-woven blouses boast embroidered patterns of parrots, people, harvests, suns and moons, zig-zags, and flowers around the neckline. Some are made of thick cotton material while others are made of shiny silk and accented with lacey ruffles and swirls of rhinestones. The blouses are tucked into high-waisted skirts that fall to the ankle. The skirts are made of the same thick cotton in navy blue, woven into a pattern of stripes with a rainbow of metallic thread. Thick belts of even more intricate handiwork cinch the skirt and the blouse together at the natural waistline, creating an hour-glass figure in all the young women. To finish it off, women of all ages (from 2 to 102) wear satin high heels, embellished with ruffles and rhinestones.

While the everyday display of such vibrant colors in itself is stunning, the beauty I find in this wonderful ensemble is the fact that it has survived the infiltration of Western modernization that has touch almost every other aspect of life.

In Xela it isn’t just the elderly or the people from tiny villages who dress in the traditional Mayan traje. It is quite common to see representatives from the entire age spectrum dressed in el traje tradicional browsing the aisles of the supermarket, eating in fast food restaurants, walking the mall, coming from school, and enjoying live music in the park.    

However, it is sadly only the women’s traditional dress that has survived the influx of the European and American style. In my almost two months here, I have yet to see a man, young or old, dressed in traditional Mayan clothes.

The second type of style seen in Xela is a carbon copy of the “hip and modern” style one can find in any mall in the United States. This trend is all about the scarves, solid-colored layers, and yes, skinny jeans. Even the deep man V-neck (unfortunately) hasn’t escaped the closets of Guatemalans. Here, skinny jeans are worn in every color, from neon to black, and are worn so tight one might mistake them for a second skin—not to be confused, of course, with the even tighter leggings worn under everything else. Neutral cardigans are paired with richly-colored flats or sandals to complete this look.

Second, climate. First of all, it’s important to note that the climate of Xela vastly differs from other places in Guatemala. In fact, Xela is known as one of the coldest cities in all of Central America, largely due to the high altitude.

The months of September and October are practically interchangeable in Xela. Average daytime highs reach 68 degrees Fahrenheit, while the nights dip down into the 40s. And just like the two completely opposite types of styles, the climate has two starkly different sides to it.

The Dr. Jekyll of Xela’s climate are beautiful sunny days during which the sun’s intense heat can make 68 feel more like 85. One of the greatest feelings in the world is when I leave the orphanage around noon and can roll up my pant legs into capris and remove my jacket to soak in the sunshine on my way back to the house. These afternoons are mostly spent blissfully roaming the streets and hanging out in the many parks catching up with friends or studying Spanish vocabulary and grammar. Bright blue skies are dotted with soft white clouds and the clear sky offers a view of the beautiful Guatemalan mountainside up to many miles away.

The Mr. Hyde of Xela’s climate are days of chilly rain and gloomy dark clouds that hide the sun and all of its warmth, making 68 feel more like 45. On these days, rolling my pants into capris is one of the worst feelings since it is usually done out of necessity, not pleasure, when puddles trade their place on the streets to my ankles. Fog and day-long misty rain covers the landscape and makes even the closest mountain giant disappear from view. These afternoons are usually spent inside, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot tea or frantically running to only completely necessary places.

I’ve been told that most September and October days are normally a happy medium of these two extremes, warm sunny mornings followed by daily showers in the late afternoon and clear nights. However, this year has been a year of the unexpected in Xela weather patterns. November normally brings a close to the rainy season and opens up to a cold, yet dry holiday season. I’ll let you know how that turns out!      

Third, comida a.k.a food. Every Guatemalan meal revolves around four basic foods, huevos, frijoles, tortillas, y arroz (eggs, beans, tortillas, and rice). A normal breakfast consists of one large fried egg or plantain served with black beans, either whole or mashed into a smooth paste. Another common breakfast item is eggs scrambled with chopped unions, diced tomatoes, and sliced hot dogs. Cornflakes with milk are also a popular choice in my home-stay, inverted style—meaning you dip separate spoonfuls of cornflakes into a small bowl of milk and repeat until the milk is gone, although I haven’t figured out if that is culture-wide or only the kids I live with.

Lunch is the biggest meal of the day as opposed to dinner in the States, which originally took some getting used to. Lunch is also by far the meal that varies the most from day to day and contains the most daily varied ingredients. Every lunch offers some kind of vegetable, usually a mix of vegetables. Most common is diced carrots, potatoes, and green beans mixed together with mayonnaise to create what the Guatemalans call an ensalada. At times, boiled chicken or breaded and fried patties of ham or ground beef balance out the vegetables, although it is common to go a few days without ever eating meat. We also eat rice, carrot, potato, and pea soup with homemade croutons regularly for lunch.

Dinner is very similar to breakfast, usually a fried egg with black beans and tortillas on the side.

Coffee is the most popular drink in Guatemalan culture. Adults and kids as young as five drink coffee with almost every meal. Sugar is the only thing every added to coffee, although many people drink it without adding anything. Fresh juice made from lemon, pineapple, papaya, oranges, and every other fruit available is a great choice for lunch on sunny afternoons.      

Recap of week six

Going on my sixth week in Guatemala and there are still new things to write about every day! The semblance of a semi-routine I had going from the past five weeks mixed up a bit this week. Friday was my last day of Spanish classes, leaving my afternoons completely free. I still volunteer at the orphanage in the mornings, but come two o’clock I have the whole day to explore the city, practice my Spanish, and catch up with friends. And I definitely made the most of this first week of tardes libres. Here are my weekday adventures from this previous week.

Monday. Autumn here feels colder than Texas winters. At first I thought I just needed a few weeks to get accustomed to sub-100 degree temperatures, but after six weeks of wearing two jackets at a time and still shivering I finally decided to buy another jacket. Luckily, Xela is the perfect place to find a nice warm jacket for a nice cheap price. Hundreds of second hand stores, called pacas, line the avenues and fill the street corners. At these pacas, one can find anything. Seriously, eh-nee-thing.

They are fun to wander into if you feel like immersing yourself head first in piles of shirts, jackets, pants, and everything in between—yes I even found adult footie pajamas. If you are really lucky, like I was hoping to be, you can even find brand name apparel, I’m talking Columbia and Ann Taylor, for under $10. You really never know what you are going to get. If you have something in particular you are looking for, however, it is a pretty hefty task.

So Monday Jessica, Maria, and I browsed the entire afternoon away in nearly twenty different pacas (covering only two streets!) in search of a warmer jacket. After trying on tons of way-to-large jackets and a maybe just a few silly what-was-that-designer-thinking tops, I finally found a nice Northface fleece for only $6! Glad I found such an awesome deal, but even without the amazing find I still would have counted it a win to spend a good afternoon laughing over the interesting ropa we encountered and the still-developing Spanish we conversed in.       

Tuesday. Upon arriving back at the house for lunch after my morning at the orphanage, I was greeted with an official yellow piece of paper with an urgent message. At first glance, I thought it was a telegram—because those things are common place these days?—or maybe I just secretly wanted it to be. After further examination I realized it was a notice from the post office that I had packages ready for pick-up. I’m not sure why they held them there this time instead of delivering them to the school like the previous time, but nonetheless it gave me the chance to explore another part of Xela I hadn’t yet!

I had about an hour to kill before meeting my friends, so I headed that way after lunch. It took me a little longer to find the post office oficina de correos than I was thinking. I knew the general area it is located in, so I took off figuring I would just make my way over there and stop when I found the official looking government building with the classic (American, duh! What was I thinking?) logo. It took me a few wandering passes down the street and back to realize the post office was just another chink in the brown-brick chain of stores. My feeling of triumphant was soon deflated, however, when the clerk told me he couldn’t help me and I had to come back an hour later.

The hour delay turned out to be a blessing in disguise because when I arrived the second time, I had three other people in tow to help carry the two heavy packages from my mom and sister. And  the heaviness turned out to be a blessing too, because it was caused by the likes of peanut butter, Nutella, a beautiful new journal and photo album, and many more amazing things. Gracias familia! Te amo!

After we dropped off the packages, Marjorie, Jessica, Maria, and I spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out, eating chocolate donuts! (okay, maybe that was just me), and speaking entirely in Spanish. It was exciting to see how far we have all come in our ability to speak Spanish. Although we still have a long way to go, we were able to converse more or less easily about our lives in Guatemala and back home, goals, favorite stories of families and friends, and even make jokes like any conversation one would expect four chicas to have in their first language.

Later that night, the Spanish school hosted a showing of the Argentinean movie Historias Mínimas (English title “Intimate Stories”). This multiple award-winning movie is said to follow three seemingly insignificant characters who’s day of seemingly insignificant tasks intertwine to create an underlying story of great significance.

We started off confident choosing to watch it in Spanish without any subtitles, and after about an hour clash between our pride and our severely lacking understanding we finally all caught each other’s glances and erupted in laughter realizing none of us had any clue what was going on. Even with the last half hour of subtitles and piecing together what we each happened to catch in the beginning of the movie, we all still left a little confused but no doubt thoroughly cultured in the art of Argentinean movie making.  

Wednesday started off with a whole lot of a rain and a whole lot of bad luck. First, I woke up late, ate breakfast late, got ready late, and arrived at the orphanage way late. Second, on the hurried walk to the orphanage I found myself the victim of someone else’s lateness too when a car sped past me without regard to the huge puddle-river on the side of the road and completely soaked me from the waist down. Third, when I finally arrived at the orphanage late and dripping no one answered the door bell or my knocking, leaving me standing in the rain for ten minutes until I decided to walk back home, take a warm shower, and change into dry clothes.

Luckily, my luck was so bad it was too comical to be frustrating and the rest of the day only went up from there! After a nice long shower, I spent the afternoon filling my walls with last-minute-packing forgotten and long awaited pictures of home I had received in my care packages. Surrounded by beautiful familiar faces and memories, I couldn’t help but be hopefully for what the rest of the day, and weeks, had in store.

And what was in store was a very interesting night. Our newly dubbed weekly guitar and cross cultural songs jam session was joined this week by another (American) classic campfire companion—smores! Ashley, Marcie, and I introduced the Guatemalans Javier and Julio and the Spainard Christina to the wonderful sticky yumminess of smores after a little bit of coaxing. The outcome? Julio loved them, while the other two “appreciated” them. And then they introduced us to the Guatemalan and Spanish names for marshmallows. In Spain, people call marshmallows nubes, which literally means clouds and in Guatemala they are called angelitos, which literally means little angels—interesting thing to think about next time you are snacking on some of that fluffy white goodness!  

   

Once again, our song selection varied across languages, decades, and music styles. But my favorite memory of the night, and one of my favorite memories of Guatemala so far, was the hilarious scene of three gringas and two heavily Hispanic-accented wannabes belting out We Are the World by Michael Jackson.   

Thursday started off with an exciting yet bittersweet moment in the orphanage. The youngest baby, Jaime, crawled for the first time! I have grown so close to all the sweet children after six weeks of working with them, and getting to witness such a big moment in one of their lives filled me with so much pride and excitement. However, the excitement was tinged with a bit of sadness knowing that these first few crawls went unnoticed by the people who brought him into this world and that the only person who took joy in his accomplishment is going to leave his life for good in just a few short weeks.

Later in the afternoon, the sun decided to finally grace Xela with its presence. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder; after so many days of chilly clouds my skin welcomed the kisses of the warm rays like it had never known such love. It’s crazy how 68 degrees can really feel like 90 after a few days of temperatures in the 50s. I celebrated the return of this long lost friend by passing the afternoon away in el parque central studying Spanish vocabulary and grammar. Now that I don’t attend Spanish classes every day, I have to make a conscious effort to keep up the studying and practicing so my pace of improvement doesn’t slow—or worse, stop. But sunny days like Thursday make it easy to grab a bench outside and spend a few hours with my Spanish book and journal.

That night, I went to El Cuartito to finally catch the live music. Supposedly every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, the café hosts local live artists spanning a number of different genres. However, the past three times we’ve tried to check it out, no band was on schedule for that night. The only time I’ve caught a glimpse of the promised nighttime entertainment, was a last Thursday night when I had gone to the café to Skype expecting some peace and quiet. So this Thursday I went ready to hear the self described “Latin vibes” band.

The band consisted of an acoustic guitar, bass guitar, trumpet, a set of large bongo drums, and lead electric guitar and the vibes were definitely Latin! This band of guatemaltecos also had attracted a crowd of local university students and professionals and for once the foreigners were heavily outnumbered, so the café took one a whole different, and much enjoyed, atmosphere.        

On the way home, I grabbed a chicken sandwich from the fast food place Pollo Campero and thoroughly enjoyed my first Guatemalan fast food experience!

Friday I started a second volunteer project at a local church. The project provides a free hot lunch to ancianos, or elderly people, in the community five days a week. After a morning of working with the children in the orphanage, I walk about thirty minutes on the other side of town to the church where I help serve the food and just provide company for the thirty or forty men and women who come.

Although I have only visited for one day, I am already excited about getting to know this sadly forgotten age group that has so much to offer to their community and to volunteers like me in the process of shaping the way I see the world and the different but beautiful people in it.

I also had two pequeño mundo experiences with the two other volunteers in the lunch program. When I first showed up, I was surprised to see the English woman I had met previously in El Cuartito there for her first day of volunteering as well. In addition, I found out the second volunteer is from Texas and she knew even where Rogers was! That is definitely a first since being here.

A rainy weekend

All the rain from the past week, along with the rain that continued this weekend, turned the carretera, highway, leaving Xela into a muddy mess. Carving the main highway into the side of a mountain makes for breathtaking views, but it is also, unfortunately, only one rainstorm away from avalanchas de lodo (mud). Needless to say, our weekend trip to Lake Atitlan and the markets of Chichicastenango was postponed and I spent the weekend in Xela.

Ashley and I decided five weeks of complete Guatemalan immersion topped off with spending four days wading through slushy brown streets accompanied with a constant drizzle meant it was time for a nice long day of blanket-assisted relaxing with some familiar comforts from home. And thus the idea of American-food-movie-watching day was born.

We spent the early afternoon browsing the aisles of a corner supermarket waiting for that aha moment of the perfect snack we’ve been missing. Mine, of course, was bacon. And yellow Gatorade. We also stopped by a local produce stand to grab some avocados to complete the ultimate craving of the past five weeks—bacon, avocado, and tomato sandwiches!

Ashley has the perfect set-up for lazy afternoon cooking adventures. For the three months she is down here, she is renting a small house complete with a living room, kitchen, and Wifi all to herself. We fried bacon, sliced tomatoes, snacked on oranges, sunny side up-ed eggs, peeled avocados, brewed tea, and laughed the afternoon away catching up on all-things American we had been missing.

Conveniently, Netflix just extended their coverage to Guatemala last weekend which meant we had tons of movies at our downloadable disposal. We decided to challenge ourselves a bit with a familiar movie in Spanish subtitles and ended up with Anchorman. It was pretty hilarious to see how un-funny the jokes became with the all-too literal translations. After a little more snacking we also watched Once and we both had an incredibly hard time understanding the Irish and Czech-accented English of the lead characters after spending so much time used to Hispanic accents.

Ashley’s friend Julio came over later with his acoustic guitarra and we spent the next few hours trading off Youtubing, playing, and singing songs in Spanish and English. In my opinion, the best memory of the entire day was belting out and cracking up to one of the few English songs Julio knew, “Save Tonight.” It’s been so long since I’ve heard that song, I almost forgot how fun it is to sing at the top of your lungs! I also found out that it is super hard to sing in a language you only half-way know.          

Saturday night we went to El Cuartito to meet up with another friend and were surprised to see another one walk in after us. So Ashley, Allison, Pedro, and I spent the night eating nachos, tasting Gallo—Guatemalan cerveza, and discovering how small of a world it is to meet such random people in a place that feels like half-way across the world with so much in common.

Church today was an incredible blessing once again. I found myself sitting in the section of the ancianos, the Spanish term for older people, today instead of the jovenes. The older ladies always have a kiss on the check and warm hug to greet me every Sunday and today I got to know one of them more personally. Señora Julie—or Mama Julie, as everybody calls her—sat next to me this morning with her petite coat and giant purse.

To my surprise, she asked me if I spoke English. I was so caught off guard, that I answered “solamente un poco” thinking she asked if I spoke Spanish. Even though she was asking in English. Once my brain finally sorted out the strange mix-up, I told her I did in fact speak English and could only speak a little Spanish.

She didn’t just speak English. She spoke English really well. She told me how she used to live in California with her husband until he passed away from a heart attack. She told me how they had only been married for five years when he died. She told me how she came back to Guatemala to be with her family.

And then she shared her song book with me, her strong voice showing me where the notes were while her finger pointed to where the words went. During the fellowship time of the service, women young and old came up to Mama Julie and shared hugs and kisses, and I was so glad to have gotten the chance to know just a little piece of the heart of this wonderful woman who has touched so many lives.

When the service ended I asked how I could pray for her this week and she shared with me that her niece passed away this past week and her in her family were in need of comfort. If you would like, you can pray for her along with me! 

I spent the rest of this rainy Sunday hanging out with my host family, catching up with people back home, and praying for sunshine tomorrow. And my American-flavored weekend wrapped up with an unexpected but welcome dinner of steak and potatoes, spiced up with salsa picante and tortillas of course!

Rain drops

Today was another first: emergency weather warning!

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. The rain has shown up every afternoon like a faithful friend—well, maybe not friend. Let’s say acquaintance—not matter how sunny it appears to be in the morning. It makes a grand entrance, beginning suddenly and falling forcefully, and then simply lingers for the next few hours.

But yesterday the rain over stayed its welcome. Rain in the morning, rain in the afternoon, and rain all throughout the night. Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain.

This morning we were awoken to the sound of a truck driving through the streets with a siren and loud speaker announcing schools and businesses were closed and canceled for the day. We were later caught up to the news of the inundaciones, or floods, by the radio announcer at breakfast. Many neighborhoods were up to their second stories in water and the streets were transformed into mini rios, rivers.

Xela is situated high above sea level and isn’t in the path of any major rivers. But here, floods are just a few extra raindrops away because of the crowded streets and old, too-skinny pipes. The family I am staying with is located in a part of the city that was safe from the floods’ destruction; however everyone was still advised to stay inside and wait out the rain, which meant no orphanage or Spanish classes today.         

Interesting side note: Apparently I came in a year that just keeps making history. This rainy season is one of the longest and strongest Xela has seen in quite awhile. Normally the rainy season comes to an end with the close of the month of October. Keep your fingers crossed!

Catching up on a week full of the usual and, of course, more unusual

Tuesday, I got caught in the rain. I’m actually surprised that today was the first time this has happened since it rains every day here! I’ve cut it close a few times, ducking into the door frame mere seconds before the sky opens up and finally pours out its pent-up frustrations of the day. Not this day.

It wasn’t completely horrible though! I met a really interesting old man with a really big, and thankfully hospitable, umbrella. What luck to see a giant black circle bloom from out of nowhere as he was leaving his hostel the moment I was walking past the doorway, right before the heaviest downpour began. His name is Roberto and he is from New York, although he has been living in Mexico for the past few years. The extra ten minutes he walked out of his way was full of stimulating conversation and made the rainy walk to school much drier and enjoyable. Necesito comprar una sombrilla muy pronto! (I need to buy an umbrella soon!)

Wednesday, my Spanish school took a trip to a local chocolate shop, or chocolateria, here in Xela. Doña Pancha began a chocolate shop out of her home many years ago and has grown her business into the thriving internationally-known store and chocolate history museum it now is today. When we showed up at the shop, we were escorted to a back room decorated with fancy golden curtains and royal tapestry tassels. The room was also equipped with a humongous flat screen television, definitely the first I have seen of those in Guatemala. Like many businesses in Guatemala, the upstairs of the building was the family’s house. Our table was stationed right in front of the ornately carved wooden staircase.

I was sitting on the left side of the table and had a perfect view of the tiny shy faces peering through the handrails for a few seconds until they lost their courage and disappeared from sight giggling. However without fail, the pointy chins and flashing eyes would appear once again. At one point, when I guess they deemed it safe, one boy and one girl sprinted down the staircase and jetted into the adjoining room. A few minutes later the boy reappeared, slowly scooting along with his back straight against the wall in his four-year-old attempt to be invisible.

Although I spent a good amount of time watching and laughing at these adorable niños, I did catch a lot of the video on the history and importance of chocolate in Latin America. In the period of the Mayans, cacoa (pronounced as “kah-KOW) beans were used as currency, and the hot chocolate “drink of the gods” that was made from them was reserved for royalty. Later in Guatemala’s history, hot chocolate become common among all people and was used to “gladden, freshen, console, and invigorate” the partaker. Hot chocolate is still a huge part of Guatemala culture today, and many cafés and families make their own straight from the cacoa bean.

During the presentation, la Doña served us chocolate fondue with fresh fruit, peach yogurt topped with melted chocolate, and the “drink of the gods” itself in handcrafted vases with tiny spouts and handles. I think those Mayans were really on to something, because the best way I can think to describe the homemade chocolate was celestial (heavenly).  

Later that night, I had made plans with Ashley to check out the free Salsa lessons at the local discoteca La Parrada. Discoteca literally translates to the English word “disco,” although a more accurate description of La Parrada is a modern-day dance club. Flashing lights, large screen television, sleek white bar, smoke machine-created fog, blasting music, fist-pumping jovenes, hip wall art, a bunch of gringos who can’t dance…you name it, it was there.

Unfortunately, Ashley and I had different ideas about where we were meeting up so after a few minutes of searching for her in the park I walked to the coffee shop we visit often to try my luck there. I never ended up finding her, but I did stumble across Caroline, a woman I knew from the Spanish school in the coffee shop with one of her friends, Sarah. Caroline and Sarah are both from England, although they have spent the past twenty years living in an array of different countries. I joined them for dinner and heard story after story of their separate times in Africa, Thailand, Australia, China, etc. I also found out that they were planning on going to La Parrada that night as well, so we went together.

We danced to tons of American pop songs until they finally started the Salsa lesson. Everyone lined up in line-dance style behind two instructors who signaled various types of steps while everybody followed along. The different types of Salsa were all pretty easy to follow along, until we got to the spins. With only one foot of space in between dancers on the packed dance floors, it was hard to tell whose flailing arms were who’s with everyone was falling into each other. But at least I knew I wasn’t the only one completely lost!

After the lessons, I stayed for a few more dances with some guys from the local college and then headed home. The lesson I learned from my first Salsa lesson: I need more Salsa lessons.    

In other news, we made the Guatemalan television news Thursday! The orphanage was occupied by an entire film crew hauling gigantically complicated and amazingly complicated equipment and a few men and women wearing fancy suits and practiced smiles. The kids were all dressed up, showered up, and hyped up and in matching t-shirts, combed hair, and cheesier-than-normal personalities. They had all the kids old enough to walk gather on the backyard playground to recite some cutesy phrases while I stayed upstairs with the few babies and toddlers who couldn’t join. But these babies definitely didn’t miss out on their fifteen minutes of fame! They actually got some coveted close-up time when the film crew hauled their cameras upstairs to film action shots of the babies playing. Looks like my Guatemalan television debut will be random frames of me making silly faces at the babies to make them laugh.

And the excitement didn’t end there! Friday, the national reining Princess of the Independence Festival (which I later found out carries as much weight as Miss USA is the States) visited the orphanage with piñatas and pan dulce (sweet, cake-like bread) for the children. Miss Guatemala wore a beautiful white gown embroidered with golden flourishes and wrapped with a silky golden sash, golden toe nail polish, four-inch high heels, and an intricate diamond crown nearly a foot tall. The children, and most of the workers, spent most of the time in awe of her extravagance. It was such a privilege to meet her and shake her hand, because this princess is history in the making. She is the first black-skinned woman to win this title.

Miss Guatemala also brought with her a posse of cameras and reporters and gave a touching speech of how she believes every day should be un dia de los ninos. Quite inconveniently, however, the piñatas were both full of nothing but chicle, or gum, and by the end of the day most of the under-four children I work with had chicle-filled pelo (hair).

Later that day, my Spanish teacher Oscar and I walked around el parque central during our Spanish class, which once again was spilling over with hot food, balloons, people, streamers, bands, and trinket peddlers for yet another celebration. Friday the 7^th was the official day honoring Quetzaltenango’s patron saint Rosario, and by “official day” they mean another day of the same day-long community-wide music-filled market frenzy. Luckily el parque central is on the (long) way to my Spanish school, so I get to enjoy the festive atmosphere and learn about the plethora of holidays Xela has to offer. After my Spanish class was over I met up with some friends at a nearby coffee shop and we made plans to spend our Saturday exploring the natural hot springs around Xela.   

     

 Finally, a weekend free of parasites and never-changing scenery! Here is the short version of nuestro viaje (our trip): The place? Las Fuentes Georginas. Natural sulfur hot springs on the side of a mountain located thirty minutes from Xela. The group? Me, Ashley-a volunteer from Arizona, Maria-a student at my Spanish school from Denmark, Pedro-a student at my school from Arkansas (or as the Guatemalans pronounce it Ar-Kansas), and John-a random guy we met on the bus ride there also from Denmark (el mundo es pequeno!) The mode of travel? Round trip travel in a chicken bus to Zunil, back of a pick-up truck up and down the mountain. The cost? $5 total transportation, $7 to enter the springs, $5 for lunch on top of the mountain. The hot springs? Hot. The view? Breathtaking. Biggest bummer? Broken camera meant no pictures. Favorite part? Building friendships with such unique people.   

Now that you have the who, what, when, where, why, and how, feel free to move on to Sunday. However, if not reading the details is killing you as much as not typing them is killing me, enjoy the next few paragraphs.

We all met Saturday morning at centrally-located coffee shop and began the trek through downtown Xela to find the bus. Once boarded, we were squished three-to-a-seat for the next twenty minutes gazing out at the rugged country side frequently interrupted by small pueblos of crumbling buildings and vibrant citizens. The bus stopped at the town of Zunil where we wandered around the city until we found the central market loaded with vegetables, raw meat, handicrafts, and pick-up trucks headed to the Fuentes. We climbed in the back of a truck and bounced up the rough winding road headed towards the top of the mountain.   

The driver let us off underneath a huge cave carved out of the mountainside spewing smoke. A little man sitting inside the cave left his sauna to greet us and hand us tickets. The entrance to the hot springs was just a few more miles from there, and the walk was populated with leafs bigger than humans and flowers of every color and shape. Our first sight of the hot springs was the misty steam that obscured anything not twenty feet in front of you. After walking through this steam for a few minutes, the pathway opened up into the actual Fuentes Georginas. A tour company had cut out three different piscinas, pools, from the rocky ground and had built changing rooms, restrooms, and a casual bungalow-styled restaurant.

Although the construction and layout of the place was a bit touristy, the atmosphere of the springs was nothing short of natural beauty. The minerals from the springs turned the ordinary water into greenish-blue glass and the natural rock sides and bottom of the pool were mirrored above the pools in the cliffs of rock and tropical trees that went up as far as the eye could see. Steps were carved into the side of the pools as the perfect place for relaxing.

Two hours of the hot water and rising steam gave us a glimpse of what our skin would look like seventy years from now with deep wrinkled crevices swirling around our fingers and toes. We couldn’t handle much more than two hours, so we changed back into our clothes and ate a bite of lunch in the restaurant. The restaurant was made completely out of deep brown wood with a covered roof and open walls. The steam rose from the pools and into the restaurant to moisten our skin in there also. On the way back, we had to walk halfway down the mountain until a pick-up truck finally showed up and drove us the rest of the way down. We arrived back in Xela around 5:30 and we went our different ways for a long siesta and dinner with our host families.        

This Sunday was both uniquely beautiful and surprisingly similar to home. I started off the day spending some time in parque central before church reading, writing, and praying. For the first time in a long time, the sun was smiling in the sky and tickling my skin with its much-missed golden rays. While in the park, I met some nice old men, one of who used to be a teacher in a Spanish school, and spent some warm minutes with the warmth of conversation as well. I was also approached by a group of students conducting research and participated in their picture study. Our conversation was light and breezy, and I understand and responded to all they were asking. I don’t think they even knew I couldn’t speak much Spanish! The weather was beautiful and the people so friendly I decided to make it a Sunday morning tradition.

I arrived at church a few minutes before the service began and found an empty seat. Just a few seconds later the nice old man and one of the students, Freddy, filled up the seats beside me and asked to hear all about my week and weekend. Their friendship and hospitality was as refreshing as the beautiful weather in the park. They also invited me to the jovenes (young people) worship and fellowship time that happens on Saturdays. Hopefully I can check it out this weekend.

For the past two weeks the pastor has challenged the congregation to memorize Acts 2:42, a verse about the fellowship of the first church. The topic for the lesson this Sunday was gathering in each other homes to live out the message of the Bible. It sure did make me miss my homegroup!

After church, Ashley, Pedro, and I decided to check out the more modern side of town-home to the Wal-Mart, movie theater, and shopping mall. We asked around for the right microbus and hopped on one right before the rain began again (I knew the gorgeous weather was too good to be true!). Twenty minutes and 1.5 Quetzales later, we found ourselves standing right in the middle of what could have been any town in America. The blue and yellow Wal-Mart sign had made the trip down to Central America completely unchanged, the shiny clean mall had its own parking garage and two stories of row after row of retail, and Cameron Diaz and Matt Damon stared down at us from the movie theater posters.

One interesting difference was the Wal-Mart was actually inside the mall! And, much to our dismay, the prices were in most cases identical to (and in other cases higher than) their American counterparts, making this Wal-Mart slogan “always the highest prices” here in Xela. However I did make one purchase. There is just something about four weeks without peanut butter that will convince even the most economical person to spend 36 Quetzales ($6) on a sixteen ounce jar of Peter Pan’s finest matequilla de manía.  

While at Wal-Mart, I also bought some papas fritas, or French fries, and a chocolate donut from their prepared foods section to snack on while Pedro and Ashley split off to do some more intense shopping. I sat down at the only open table and was joined by a nice older Guatemalan couple a few minutes later. We spent the next thirty minutes chatting in Spanish about our jobs, families, hometowns, languages, travels, and religion. We also discovered a random coincidence: when Daniel found out I lived in Texas he told me the two cities in Texas he had visited and one of those towns is Bryan/College Station, home of the Fightin’ Texas Aggies! Once again, el mundo es pequeno (have that phrase memorized yet?). I love the blessings of good conversations, new friends, and opportunities to practice Spanish.

My travel companions and I met up after Wal-Mart for window shopping and mall gazing. It was not what I was expecting though. I couldn’t wait to see how Guatemalans put their unique flair on the cookie-cutter blandness of shopping malls, but what we really witnessed was the complete absence of culture in this all-too-familiar retail blur. It was also plain to see that this mall was only frequented by the upper class elite. The stark difference between working-class families and the upper and middle class is almost as far apart as two different worlds.  

And last but not least, I can’t wrap up this week-long report without the most exciting news of all. I got my first package in the mail this week! It’s amazing how the appearance of something so routine, so impersonal, and so square can excite some of the most euphoric and deeply personal feelings. And of course opening the box multiplies those feelings tenfold! Especially when I behold a beautiful journal from mi prometido (fiancé). He knows my heart so well. Side note to all you lovely readers: it took three weeks to get here. Which means you only have five weeks left to send me something if you want it to arrive before I leave ;)

Observations from a wide eye

Well, I took my medicina guatemalteca today. I have been told by multiple people that the side effects of this bacteria-killer is that it feels surprising like there is something killing bacteria in your stomach. Which translates into another day of an upset stomach for me. However, this upset stomach is much easier to embrace knowing it may be the last one for good!

Luckily, another day of an upset stomach translates into a day home from work and a few extra hours to blog about church and the party in el parque central yesterday.

Church this week was filled with sweet moments and sweet sweets! There was no Bible study for jovenes this week at the church, so we joined the adult Bible study, which was lead by a different teacher. I had a much harder time understanding the teacher this Sunday compared to last, but then again the main service was easy to follow! I guess I can settle for a trade-off, not as bad as getting worse. The teacher also wrote a bunch of stuff on his whiteboard, so I copied it down for further study later.

The first sweet moment of the service took place during the class. The Sunday school teacher was talking about putting theory into practice, using the general topic of “love one another” as an example (I could understand that much). He then challenged the class to participate in an activity that I unfortunately didn’t understand, but turns out witnessing it was just as powerful. From what my fluent-in-any-language eyes could gather, people were supposed to spread out within the group and find one person to practice “loving.” Looking across the room, I saw the simplest picture of amor. A young pair of arms wrapped around an elderly body, one young and one old man lifting each other up in prayer.

I also personally felt the sweetness of community when an older man who I met last week came up to me and asked me how my Spanish was going. Although I fumbled through our resulting conversation, he gave me the most encouraging grin and told me I had made good progress.    

A sweet smile also greeted me a few rows back from one of the sweetest little girls I have seen. Sporting sky-high pigtails, a polka-dotted shirt, striped leggings and a gigantic fuzzy dog backpack, this little girl kept peering over her mother’s lap to flash a sassy smile my way. It pretty much made my day.

Although this was only my second visit, I knew I had found a church to stay when the pastor announced the new study theme for the month of October—la iglesia. If you remember from my previous post, a big part of my decision to come to Guatemala is to gain an understanding of church culture in Latin America. What better way?!

Much to my surprise, my usual walk back from church brought me straight through the belly of culturala guatemalteca. Every first domingo (Sunday) of the month, vendors come from all over Guatemala with their handmade textiles, paintings, and trinkets in tow. Let me tell ya, these people are pros! From the time I walked through el parque central to go to church and the time I made my way back, the sidewalks became choked with tables, stands, and shelves, all under a rainbow of tarps and umbrellas with just enough space to squeeze your way through.

If you were one of the few lucky ones to squeeze your way through in one piece, and equally congestive challenge awaited you with individual walking vendors waiting at the other end carrying their crates full of candy and arms full of balloons amidst live blaring music and crowds of people pressing in from every side.

Once again, I found out that I am here during one of the luckiest holiday times. I found out that this domingo in particular was not only just the regular craft market, but it also happened to be the weekend of el dia de los ninos and the beginning of the October-long celebration of Quetzaltenango’s patron virgin Rosaria—three culturally rich festivities all crammed into one mega fiesta.

After a brief lunch, I armed myself with my journal, arsenal of pens, and carefully inconspicuous wardrobe to take in this fiesta the best way I know how—people watching. Below are some of the observations I made from my afternoon and evening immersed in this sensory hotbed. I hope my experiences can splay across this page as beautifully as they did my vision.

I also saw that, here, it is impossible to sing or play an instrument without using your entire body. Every member of the band on the enormous stage, from the backup singer down to the marimba player, moved their feet, hips, legs, shoulders, and heads to the vibrant beat. Most impressively, their feet, hips, legs, shoulders, and heads were usually never going the same direction! The blend of the many different instruments and the sway of the different bodies created a beautiful fusion where the experience of the music was greater than just the sound alone could ever produce.  

I witnessed smoking’s cultural place in the community of Xela. I haven’t seen many cigarettes in the three weeks I’ve been here so I was beginning to think they didn’t bother with smoking here. However now I think the reason for the absence of smoking in my experience so far was I haven’t been around the type of people who do. I noticed many people smoking during the festival and every single one was a young, affluently dressed and postured male. With this group, it was easy to pick up on the persuasiveness of cigarettes—the style and luxury of being young.  

After a few not-so-coincidental occurrences of the same nature, I realized my personal tower of observation was located right next to a popular meeting spot. I watched countless hopefuls sit in anticipation, checking their watch and glancing around anxiously, and saw many a happy couple reunite at the edge of the big stone dome. Sometimes it wasn’t just but a few seconds one couple found each other that another person filled the concrete waiting bench to wait for their significant other. I saw everything from the casual “fancy seeing you here” stroll up to the passionate “it’s been so long” running embrace. It was a sweet reminder of how love is central to all of humanity.

What’s a street fiesta without rides? One of the side streets was home to a dozen or so children’s rides crawling with ninos y ninas. These rides resembled many of the rides I’ve seen growing up at state fairs and city carnivals. Merry-go-rounds, carousels, miniature Ferris wheels, and the like carrying their passengers in cars, cabooses, ships, animals, and mini airplanes. But these rides were also unlike any I have ever seen before because they were mostly manually-driven. No machines or motors, only strong men pulling and pushing them along their circular, horizontal, or vertical paths.   

Above all, the most unique thing painted before me was the striking blend of old and new. From the architecture of the houses and buildings to the customs and food families consume every day, the Guatemalan life is a mosaic of old Mayan ancestors, converting Spanish conquistadores, and modern Western figures. My time at the fiesta in parque central yielded a perfect example of this in the form of a tiny old woman and what appeared to be her two grandsons. The woman, dressed in a full traje tradicional, head to toe in hand-woven fabrics wrapped around her frail body, was walking arm-in-arm with her grandsons on each side dressed in their trendy skinny jeans and name-brand hoodies. What was most striking about this picture was this trio appeared as opposite yet natural as the silver grey streaks interwoven in the jet black thickness of her long braid.       

happy Dia de los Ninos!

To help you celebrate this festive Latin holiday, here are some of my favorite short stories from the definitely Latin-flavored orphanage. Disfruta! (Enjoy!)

I have already mentioned in a previous blog post how the little girls loved to play with my hair and try out new and interesting ideas on my head. In addition, they also love to make me give them new and usually ridiculous hairstyles with their hair! Catarina definitely has her own sense of style and is very particular about the way I can fix her hair. One day, she found an extra ponytail holder on the ground and demanded I add an extra ponytail to her already half-up hair do. The place she insisted I place it? Just above her ear, sticking out like a spurt of water from a whale. The rest of the day Catarina walked around with the air of a princess, feeling so beautiful in her new updo.

While Catarina definitely marches to the beat of her own drum with her unique sense of style, she also dances to the beat of her own salsa! She is one of the oldest girls that I work with, and is therefore pretty self-sufficient at most things. When it comes to bath time, Senora Rosita gives her a towel and lets her walk to the showers and bathe herself. One day after receiving her towel, Catarina takes off down the hallway swinging her hips and shaking her little booty, completely in her own world, completely unaware that anyone was watching, and completely overcome by the urge to baila! I would have loved to hear the song that was playing in her head…   

Continuing with the hair theme, another one of my favorite moments involved one precious little girl, a lost ponytail holder, and a blast from the past. This little girl in particular was Julieta and at this moment in particular she had taken out her ponytail and tossed it outside the crib and across the room. When I turned around and caught a glimpse of this little trickster I died laughing at the sight my eyes beheld. She was grinning from ear to ear with pride at capturing my attention, and the only thing bigger than her smile was her foot of hair sticking straight up in the air. Her hair looked exactly like the little troll dolls we used to play with when we were kids. Refresh your memory here: http://www.thefunkyapple.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/trolls.jpg Never thought I’d see that hairstyle in person!

One of the best things about working with kids under four is the pure ingenuity and downright illogical courage that comes with that age. One day while the rest of the kids were building with Legos, Juanito and Daniel had moved some of the toddler beds away from the wall and pushed them together. When I happened to look over, they had created an entire gymnastics routine on their new personal playground climbing up the headboards, thrusting their bodies over the side, dangling upside down with only their feet for a few seconds, and then flipping over to land backside down on the mattress on the other side. The best part was seeing their mischievous little grins pop up above the headboard when they bounced back up to do it again.    

In other news, today was also a dia de enfermedad (sickness). I have spent much of the past two days in my room sick once again with an awful stomach bug. Since this is the third time in the past three weeks I’ve had these problems, Vilma suggested I go to a clinic today and see if it may be something more than just normal adjusting to the new food. Together we walked to a clinic only three minutes away from the house and found out that I may have a bacterial infection. Nothing a good dose of antibiotics can’t fix though! Hopefully that will do the trick and this will be the last blog you have to read about getting sick. It is such a blessing to have a host family who takes care of me so well. Vilma’s brother-in-law also happens to be a doctor, so he was able to interpret the results of the test and help me figure out what to do next. Thankful that my first time being sick in a foreign country is so easily treatable!  

My second Guatemalan holiday

Today (Thursday) we celebrated el Día de los Niños in the orphanage. Continuing the idea behind Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, Latin American cultures also celebrate Children’s Day! Wish you would have known about this as a kid, right? The actually Dia de los Niños isn’t until Saturday, but the orphanage began the festivities early.

side note: Similarly, they celebrate a day for every relative, profession, sport, etc. imaginable. Vilma told me a reoccurring joke here in Xela is that today is el dia de la pluma!—translating into Pen Day to celebrate all the wonderful specialness of the everyday desk mate—since almost every day is celebrating something.  

Long story short: tons of candy, hyper kids (as you might have guessed). But my favorite part of a story is all the moments that happen in between the once upon and time and happily ever after, so if you are like me feel free to read on!

The orphanage was buzzing with excitement as soon as I walked in. All of the older kids knew what was going on, and even the youngest ones that I work with seemed different this day, like they could sense the expectations hovering thick in the conversations and stealing glances of the older ones. The niñeras were flying around at double speed trying to get all of the children bathed and dressed for the occasion.

When the preparations were finally finished, we took all the kids downstairs to join the other seventy+ children in the middle room. A lot of the little kids went straight to some of the older ones who gave them gigantic hugs and let them sit in their lap. It was precious to see how the children take care of one another and show the love that is so desperately missing in their lives. The faces of the little ones lit up immediately when they knew they were sought after.

All the kids were seated in a circle, with three colorful piñatas floating over their heads. Each piñata was for a different group of kids—one for the children under six, one for the older boys, and one for the older girls—so they would all have a chance to take a swing and fill their pockets with dulces (candy, or literally, sweets) small trinkets, and mini soccer balls. Whenever a child would step up to the piñata, everyone sang and clapped along to an upbeat song, which I later found out is the traditional piñata song that serenades many a piñata in Guatemala to its spectacular demise.

Seeing a two-year-old who just recently mastered the art of walking trying to swing a decorated stick at a rainbow-covered donkey twice their size is sure to brighten anyone’s day. But if that doesn’t do the trick then I’m sure your weight in candy will! After breaking open and collecting the treasure of the three piñatas, the kids were then given cake and what I am sure can be nothing less than 275% sugar fruit drinks. Each child was then given their own “surprise,” a bag filled with a small toy, chips, and yes, more candy.

Needless to say, my last hour at the orphanage was full of chasing down children, opening plastic packaging, wiping chocolate off many eager (or possibly crazed?) faces, and all together enjoying my first Dia de los Niños.      

New church and new friends

I was still sick on Saturday, so no new mountain-climbing, volcano-hiking, or city-exploring adventures to share. I did get very acquainted with my warm blankets and monotone walls, but I won’t bore you with the, although few, details.

Thankfully, I was better on Sunday. This week I tried out a new church—completamente en espanol! (Yep that translates to exactly what you are thinking…) Everything about the church, from the name Rios de Aguas Vivas to the sermon given by Pastor Juan Carlos, was one hundred percent in Spanish.

A little bit of research, a little bit of luck, and, I believe, a lot of pre-planning from above led me to Rios de Aguas Vivas. What began as a simple email to Central American Missions International, ended up as an invitation to the church and home of a missionary family currently located here in Xela.

I showed up for the Bible study class for jovenes at 9:15 to later find out it is best to add at least twenty minutes to my still-American watch in order to show up on Guatemalan time. Nevertheless, by the time the pastor began to speak around 9:45 the room was filled mujeres y hombres right around my same age. Their paths in life were as different as the personalized Bibles they carried--students at the local universities, chefs at local restaurants, sons and daughters of church workers, and the list goes on. However, there was one common characteristic that tied them all together, which also set me apart. A characteristic also personified in the Bibles we carried. While all of our Bibles spoke the same truth, theirs spoke of gracia, la redención, y la alegría while mine spoke of grace, redemption, and rejoicing.

It was a little intimidating being the only foreigner in the room, there is something strangely comforting and less bewildering about being confused beside someone just as lost. But to my (pleasant) surprise, I followed everything the pastor said. I didn’t understand everything, many words flew straight over my head, but I comprehended all of the content.

Most excitingly, I experienced a small little glimpse of what I think signifies a strong grasp of a new language. To put it pictorially, there were no tiny translators working a mile a minute in my brain receiving the Spanish word at one end and spitting out the word in English on the other for me to then process the meaning. Instead, the words entered my brain in Spanish and formed together to reveal the meaning of the sentence without ever nearing their English counterparts. (…I hope that makes sense, it’s really hard to describe!) Although I am definitely still limping along, losing the necessity of my English crutches is at least one small step in the right direction.                   

The service, however, was a different story. It started at 11 (meaning 11:30…) and the next hour and a half was a struggle. Continuing with my previous analogy, imagine climbing up a steep mountain the very hour after you lose the crutches you needed to walk with your entire life. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. I was able to pick up on the topic and general idea of the sermon and could understand most of the songs once I made my way there; it was keeping up that was the problem. Fortunately, my new friends from the Bible study helped me survive the rapidly-fired hymns and scripture references.          

Although it was challenging, I couldn’t help but feel excited knowing that one day I could be serving in a church just like this one understanding what the pastor was saying just like my other brothers and sisters in Christ sitting next to me. While the English service I attended last week was definitely more in my comfort zone, I have decided that I am going to make Rios de Aguas Vivas my church home for the next nine weeks so I can grow in my ability to speak Spanish, my understanding of church culture in Latin America, and my vision of the worldwide body of Christ.  

After church, the missionary family with CAM International invited me to their house for lunch. Brandon and Jenny Scott have been living in Guatemala for the past four years doing informal pastor training with local pastors. They have three adorable little kids—Deacon age 5, Madeline age 3, and Keagan (almost) age 2. And they are Texan! Brandon is originally from Flower Mound and Jenny is originally from Lubbock.

The Scott family is incredibly gracious, and a spent a wonderful afternoon eating bacon for the first time since leaving America, building Lego ships with Deacon, playing princesses with Madeline, hearing all about Brandon and Jenny’s heart for missions, and reading “Goodnight Moon” over and over to three sleepy kids curled up in my lap.

Through hours of conversation about our backgrounds, married (and soon-to-be married!) life, ministry, and living in a foreign country, we discovered many random things in common and some pretty crazy coincidences; I will share with you the coolest. Jenny spent some of her fondest memories of her childhood in Seminole! (for those of you who don’t know, that is a super tiny town in West Texas where my twin sister just moved.) In Spanish, the phrase for that would be ¡El mundo es pequeno!     

I was sick again on Monday, this time with the traveler’s archenemy, stomach problems. While my immune system valiantly fought this formidable foe, my mind was left with a slightly less romantic adventure, journeying the monotonous tan of my bedroom walls and endless white of an always-increasing word document. It was nice to slow down and have a little break from the orphanage and Spanish classes, though. My days have been really busy lately, filled with tons of palabras espanoles y ninos activos. And thanks to my new friend Jenny introducing me to the ever-interesting website Pinterest over the weekend, I spent a lot of my down time with a slightly more romantic adventure after all figuring out the website and daydreaming a little about my and Colton’s upcoming wedding.