While I don't want to write a blog without anything to say, I also want to get one out before I head off to my first (hopefully of many) trips. Because I don't have a visa, I can only stay in Guatemala for 90 days at a time before I become an illegal, so I've decided to make my trip out of the country coincide with Thanksgiving. On Satuurday I will be taking a bus to El Rancho (little more than a few food stands on the side of the road), where I will apparently wait for up to an hour and a half to catch another bus to Cobán where I will meet up with the other two BVC volunteers who are staying there. We plan to hang around Cobán for a few days and then head to Belize to spend Thanksgiving on a beach! Needless to say, I'm looking forward to it.
That being said, I don't really have anything interesting to report from Esquipulas. Things are chugging along, I'm staying busy, and having a little fun in between. However, November has been a tough month for me so far. First, I'm finally beginning settling into my stay here at the Abadía Jesucristo Cricuficado which means that the excitement of the first month in which everything is new, and the learning of the second month in which I'm finally comfortable enough to begin noticing the cool things about the country, have faded away, and I'm now just living in Guatemala. Without much to do. Please don't hear me wrong, it is amazing that I've been given the opportunity to live in Guatemala for a year, for free, learning Spanish, experiencing a really cool culture, and meeting some awesome people. Also, I'm not the only BVC member going through this. The more I talk to my friends the more I realize that almost every BVC group is experiencing the feelings of not really being needed. A few of my friends have summed up this sentiment very precisely. A friend from Chile writes that living abroad is "much like how I think living in Antarctica would be, or spending a year sailing the ocean. There’s a lot of mediocrity in between the excitement." Another friend in the BVC in the Phillipines uses a quote from Arthur Conan Doyle to sum up his thoughts: “I never remember feeling tired by work, though idleness exhausts me completely” suffice it to say, I'm pretty tired.
The second reason for my November difficulties is that I've been unwillingly providing room and board for thousands of amoebas that have taken up residence in my GI tract. This has given me a constant stomach ache as well as making me feel tired and weak all the time. This Tuesday I went to the stomach doctor to get a check up and was introduced to the Guatemalan health care system. While I've said before that there is no hospital in Esquipulas, that should not be taken to mean that there is no medical care for the people of Esquipulas. In my search for an "internalista," I found that there are probably a hundred independent doctors in Esquipulas who all have clinics interspersed throughout the city. Beyond that, you can walk into any of the dozens of pharmacies, describe your problem, and the pharmacist will "prescribe" you medicine. While it doesn't have all the nice bells and whistles of the American system (and comes with the risk of two different pharmacists prescribing drugs that shouldn't be combined) it seems to work pretty well for the Esquipultecos, and is much, much cheaper. That being said, my particular doctor is a friend I met here at the monastery, and because of that decided to give me a free consultation! He set me up with some drugs, and sent me on my way. The treatment for amoebas here is the medical equivalent of using a napalm strike to start your Coleman grill. He basically gave me pills to kill everything in my stomach in one fell swoop, then a weeks worth of antibiotics and other pills to help me build back up the good stuff. A little more than a week after my initial problems, I'm finally feeling good again, and gastrointestinally ready for my Belizean adventures.
Aside from these small setbacks, things have been moving along here. I still teach English 3 times a week, and students still come, so that in itself is a success story. The word about my class is really spreading too, I even had a stray dog wander into class the other day. The stomach bugs have put a halt to my soccer playing... for now. Actually, that's how I knew I was sick. The last time I played, I didn't score any goals (hyuck hyuck). That could have been due to my stomach problems, or due to the fact that I was facing a truly formidable goalie in the form of a herd of cows that wandered onto the field temporarily shutting down the game. Instead of making photocopies all day at the library, our focus has shifted to painting the library. While I generally enjoy painting, the way they do things here is just too different for my tastes. Instead of using masking tape to cover the areas they don't want to paint, if they get paint where they didn't want it, they just paint over that slip up going back and forth with the colors until it looks good. I also walked in one day to find them stirring giant 5 gallon paint buckets, not with sticks, but with their arms, in the paint almost to their shoulders. That being said, the library has moved along nicely, and we are just about finishing up. It should be all done by the time I get back from my trip. When Mike and Sister Stefanie were here I began working on building a vegetable garden at the Ciudad de Felicidad. It moved along nicely until my stomach problems started, and then promptly fell apart. I had hoped to get it done before I left, but that didn't happen, and now it gets to wait until I return.
That's all I have for now. Happy Thanksgiving!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Dia de los Muertos
The beginning of November in Guatemala brings some very interesting traditions, and some very interesting experiences for a gringito like me. As October ended and I began seeing my friends' Halloween plans and photos on facebook, I got a little homesick. So, being the industrious Norte Americano that I am, I picked up a gourd and a knife and decided to make the monastery a little more homey. Pumpkins are nearly impossible to find here at the monastery, but they do have a green gourd called "ayote." Given the fact that they use it like a pumpkin (they roast the seeds and have even tried to make pumpkin/ayote pie, basically a pie shell into which they scoop out the ayote and add salt and sugar) I figured it would serve my purposes for making a jack 'o lantern. What I didn't know is that the largest ayotes are about half the size of pumpkins and feature a rock hard outer shell with a inner shell like a pumpkin's, but about twice as thick. This turned "carving" a design into "chiseling" a design and effectively thwarted my plans of making some great work of art for the Guatemalans' enjoyment. Given the restrictions on how detailed I could make it, I settled on a Guatemalan symbol that everyone here would recognize. Gallo Beer. I call it my GALLOte.
The gallote was unveiled with great success. Almost everybody in the community commented on it, some even went up to hold it and touch it. I think it might have been the first time they have seen a jack 'o lantern. After the mixing of cultures on Halloween, I got to enjoy a thoroughly Guatemalan experience on Day of the Dead. I had to miss the national holiday of All Saints' Day because another north american was coming into Guatemala, and I had to ride along to get him in order to serve as a translator. About 11 hours in car all day and nothing to do in the capital, but it wasn't all bad; I had a nice relaxing day away form the monastery and got to eat a lunch at Pizza Hut without a tortilla in sight.
Day of the Dead is by far my favorite Guatemalan holiday that I have experienced (Fiestas Patrias was kind of a bust except for the reindeer dance). There was an atmosphere of fun and family, and the entire city seemed to be in a good mood. I was drawn to the cemetery next to the monastery by the music that I think was audible throughout the entire town, but I can only vouch for the monastery. When I arrived I found something more akin to a summer festival than a remembrance of the dead. Everyone had decorated the tombs of their loved ones and were sitting outside meeting all of their friends as they walked by. I got the distinct impression that the families with adjacent burial plots see each other only once a year, on día de los muertos. Kind of like how families with adjacent cabins in MN might see each other only on the 4th of July. The day was complete with crock pots full of food, big back slapping hugs, and, obviously, Gallo.
Although this stage and speakers were wet up for mass, it makes no sense to let it go to waste. Let's hijack the speakers and play marimba music all day long!
Santos, one of the postulates, and I were walking around the cemetery seeing the sites when he stopped to talk with someone he knew. It was a particularly festive group, with all 13 or so of the family members there with food and drink, and they began talking with me. It was the usual questions:
where are you from? Minnesota.
hmm... is that close to New York? No, it's right next to Canada.
Oh, is it cold? During the winter, you betcha.
Are you studying to become a priest? No. (apparently people think it is funny that I answer this question so fast and emphatically).
What did you study in school? Physics.
Boom, that was it. The entire group either started laughing or trying to tell me something I couldn't quite make out. However, when they pulled a chair up to the altar/table/hopefully-not-a-grave that they were working on and pointed to one of the girl's physics book I began to get the picture. She was doing her physics homework, and couldn't figure a problem out, so they wanted me to help. It was a simple kinematics problem however, the fact that the cemetery was nearly all cement and there was no breeze to cool the very hot midday sun in conjunction with the fact that the entire family was watching me work, I got flustered and forgot all the equations. So, to hide my ignorance and the growing sweat droplets on my brow (and back and... everywhere), I pulled the oldest physics teacher trick in the book and tried to give her the slip by just telling her what to do and how it would work out. My plan backfired and the matronly figure across the table noticed my discomfort and ordered some girls to pour me a drink while to pulled me next to her in the shade. 20 minutes of idle conversation later, I ended up with a lesson in Latin American hospitality, but never finished the poor little girl's problem.
Day of the Dead is by far my favorite Guatemalan holiday that I have experienced (Fiestas Patrias was kind of a bust except for the reindeer dance). There was an atmosphere of fun and family, and the entire city seemed to be in a good mood. I was drawn to the cemetery next to the monastery by the music that I think was audible throughout the entire town, but I can only vouch for the monastery. When I arrived I found something more akin to a summer festival than a remembrance of the dead. Everyone had decorated the tombs of their loved ones and were sitting outside meeting all of their friends as they walked by. I got the distinct impression that the families with adjacent burial plots see each other only once a year, on día de los muertos. Kind of like how families with adjacent cabins in MN might see each other only on the 4th of July. The day was complete with crock pots full of food, big back slapping hugs, and, obviously, Gallo.
There was another strange tradition for day of the dead that I didn't quite understand. Although the entire cemetery is actually covered in pavement, they laid down so many pine needles (for sale outside the cemetery) that it appeared to be covered in grass. I have no idea why they did it, but it made the entire cemetery smell like a pine tree stand, solidifying Día de los Muertos as my Día Favorita.
The AWFLE for this week could actually be considered an AWESOME Foreign Language Experience.Santos, one of the postulates, and I were walking around the cemetery seeing the sites when he stopped to talk with someone he knew. It was a particularly festive group, with all 13 or so of the family members there with food and drink, and they began talking with me. It was the usual questions:
where are you from? Minnesota.
hmm... is that close to New York? No, it's right next to Canada.
Oh, is it cold? During the winter, you betcha.
Are you studying to become a priest? No. (apparently people think it is funny that I answer this question so fast and emphatically).
What did you study in school? Physics.
Boom, that was it. The entire group either started laughing or trying to tell me something I couldn't quite make out. However, when they pulled a chair up to the altar/table/hopefully-not-a-grave that they were working on and pointed to one of the girl's physics book I began to get the picture. She was doing her physics homework, and couldn't figure a problem out, so they wanted me to help. It was a simple kinematics problem however, the fact that the cemetery was nearly all cement and there was no breeze to cool the very hot midday sun in conjunction with the fact that the entire family was watching me work, I got flustered and forgot all the equations. So, to hide my ignorance and the growing sweat droplets on my brow (and back and... everywhere), I pulled the oldest physics teacher trick in the book and tried to give her the slip by just telling her what to do and how it would work out. My plan backfired and the matronly figure across the table noticed my discomfort and ordered some girls to pour me a drink while to pulled me next to her in the shade. 20 minutes of idle conversation later, I ended up with a lesson in Latin American hospitality, but never finished the poor little girl's problem.
Somehow it just felt so natural to do physics in a cemetery.
(disclaimer: I later did the problem on my own and had no problems, so at least part of my wildly expensive college education is paying off)
Thursday, November 4, 2010
2 months
Well, November is upon us, and with it comes time to analyze my time here. Foremost on my mind is the fact that, as of the 6th, I have been in Guatemala for the last 2 months. That means two months since I've had a meal without black beans and tortillas (including breakfast), two months since I've had another Vikings fan to lament the season with, and two months since I've woken up later than 5:30 am. While I would love to report that I've accomplished something truly spectacular in the last 2 months like achieving a fluency in Spanish or beginning some awesome project that is going to change the world, that just isn't the case. However, my Spanish does get a little better week to week and I have done some good work. I'm finding out that my time here is more of a marathon than a 100m sprint, which is something I'm not used to.
My big project, the hospital up at the orphanage, has gone nowhere. I have filled out plenty of grant applications, and received plenty of very nicely worded rejection letters, but I have yet to raise one cent. It pains me to day it, but at this point I feel like I'm working alone on a sinking ship, and I'm about to abandon this ship. However, Sister Stephanie (a nun from CSBSJU who is staying here until the 14th) had a good idea for a project involving building and starting gardens up at the orphanage. Hopefully I can have more success with this than the hospital.
My greatest successes so far have been in the two side projects I have started; teaching English and math. My math lessons take place at the Ciudad de Felicidad. One of the nuns there is in an algebra class, and hopes to one day teach math to the orphans. My work basically consists of explaining to her the concepts that she does not understand from class. Not overly exciting, but very difficult in that I'm trying to explain math in a foreign language. It keeps me on my toes. The English class is a different story. First of all, it's not an official class, just something I put together at the request of some friends and opened up to the public. Second, while I learned math almost exclusively in classrooms and have a huge amount of experience in how math classes operate, I learned English as a small child through a process more similar to osmosis than to classroom learning. Therefore, unlike math, I have no idea how English should be taught. The little hints I have come from Spanish classes, the last of which I took my sophomore year of college, and the most recent intro class was in grade school. While this hasn't made my life especially easy, I'm plugged along. However, I've also struggled with some other aspects of teaching. The first is that there is no white/chalk board to write on. I've literally never been in a classroom without one. I'm like a fish out of water. I found a way around that by writing everything on papers that I tape to the walls, but that solution is limited by the fact that I'm pretty sure some of my students are illiterate. I'm also finding that amongst the revolving door of students that range in number from 5 to 15, some of my students are quite good at English, while others have never spoken a word. I'm having trouble with balancing keeping the experienced ones interested without losing the inexperienced ones. As they say, "asi es la vida." For now I guess I'll just try to keep my head above water and keep the students coming (I've already lost 4 "regulars").
All in all, after 2 months, I've managed to make some friends and become quite a bit more comfortable with my life here in Esquipulas. While I haven't done anything spectacular, everyday brings a new type of adventure, and I'm enjoying myself.
My awkward foreign language experience of the week contains some adult content, so if you are under 18, run and get your parents to explain it to you. As I have probably said before, the people here love teaching me new slang, the more inappropriate the better. Today's little tidbit is a greeting that they find especially funny both for its content and for its crafty little double entendre. The saying is "como la minifalda" which translates as "how is the miniskirt?" The correct answer is "como la vida, cada día mas cerca del hollo" "like life, every day a little closer to the hole" (get it? the hole can mean the grave or because the miniskirts seem to get shorter every day is can mean the... well, I hope you can figure it out). While the pun may merely make you cringe, imagine being asked that question in the sacristy of the church described by Pope John Paul II as "the Central America capital of the faith." Sufficiently uncomfortable to earn it's spot as this week's AWkward Foreign Language Experience (Awfle).
My big project, the hospital up at the orphanage, has gone nowhere. I have filled out plenty of grant applications, and received plenty of very nicely worded rejection letters, but I have yet to raise one cent. It pains me to day it, but at this point I feel like I'm working alone on a sinking ship, and I'm about to abandon this ship. However, Sister Stephanie (a nun from CSBSJU who is staying here until the 14th) had a good idea for a project involving building and starting gardens up at the orphanage. Hopefully I can have more success with this than the hospital.
My greatest successes so far have been in the two side projects I have started; teaching English and math. My math lessons take place at the Ciudad de Felicidad. One of the nuns there is in an algebra class, and hopes to one day teach math to the orphans. My work basically consists of explaining to her the concepts that she does not understand from class. Not overly exciting, but very difficult in that I'm trying to explain math in a foreign language. It keeps me on my toes. The English class is a different story. First of all, it's not an official class, just something I put together at the request of some friends and opened up to the public. Second, while I learned math almost exclusively in classrooms and have a huge amount of experience in how math classes operate, I learned English as a small child through a process more similar to osmosis than to classroom learning. Therefore, unlike math, I have no idea how English should be taught. The little hints I have come from Spanish classes, the last of which I took my sophomore year of college, and the most recent intro class was in grade school. While this hasn't made my life especially easy, I'm plugged along. However, I've also struggled with some other aspects of teaching. The first is that there is no white/chalk board to write on. I've literally never been in a classroom without one. I'm like a fish out of water. I found a way around that by writing everything on papers that I tape to the walls, but that solution is limited by the fact that I'm pretty sure some of my students are illiterate. I'm also finding that amongst the revolving door of students that range in number from 5 to 15, some of my students are quite good at English, while others have never spoken a word. I'm having trouble with balancing keeping the experienced ones interested without losing the inexperienced ones. As they say, "asi es la vida." For now I guess I'll just try to keep my head above water and keep the students coming (I've already lost 4 "regulars").
All in all, after 2 months, I've managed to make some friends and become quite a bit more comfortable with my life here in Esquipulas. While I haven't done anything spectacular, everyday brings a new type of adventure, and I'm enjoying myself.
My awkward foreign language experience of the week contains some adult content, so if you are under 18, run and get your parents to explain it to you. As I have probably said before, the people here love teaching me new slang, the more inappropriate the better. Today's little tidbit is a greeting that they find especially funny both for its content and for its crafty little double entendre. The saying is "como la minifalda" which translates as "how is the miniskirt?" The correct answer is "como la vida, cada día mas cerca del hollo" "like life, every day a little closer to the hole" (get it? the hole can mean the grave or because the miniskirts seem to get shorter every day is can mean the... well, I hope you can figure it out). While the pun may merely make you cringe, imagine being asked that question in the sacristy of the church described by Pope John Paul II as "the Central America capital of the faith." Sufficiently uncomfortable to earn it's spot as this week's AWkward Foreign Language Experience (Awfle).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)