tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47375507092392797262024-03-12T20:30:07.710-06:00Adam Entre OcéanosThe Guatemalan flag is comprised of a white band in between two blue stripes. These blue stripes signify Guatemala's location between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. This is my blog describing my adventures "between the oceans."Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-6651375171198386312011-05-05T10:27:00.001-05:002011-05-05T10:28:25.592-05:00Easter<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The Easter season has come and gone, and with it the last big experience of my stay here. Easter is generally a big holiday for pilgrims in Esquipulas and as such the carnival, street vendors, and street performers all made their ways back to Esquipulas. While I was expecting another street party similar to January 15</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, the last time the pilgrims came in such force, I soon found out that Easter has a very different feel to it. Among the obvious differences of religious importance (one is a celebration of an artist carving Jesus on the cross and the other is a celebration of the actual Jesus on the cross) was another big difference: January 15</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is right at the beginning of the "summer" or dry season and Easter is right at the end of it. That means that in January the skies were clear and the sun was hot, but the water reserves were still full. When the pilgrims came this time is was mid April, near the end of the dry season, in a desert. Added to that is the fact that this dry season was especially dry, so right when the pilgrims started arriving Esquipulas ran out of water. Literally. People started showing up Sunday, by Monday the town's water supply was dry, and by Tuesday the Monastery's supply ran out. The abbot asked us not to shower, the orchard went without water, and the fish (lovingly named Adam) had to live in his own filth as changing the water was deemed unnecessary. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Cristo Negro, the statue for which Esquipulas is famous, is known for being a miracle maker and some Esquipultecan must have put an especially fervent petition to him at the beginning of the drought because right as the pilgrims hit their peak numbers the skies clouded over for the first time in months. Not 24 hours after the Abbot asked us to save water and people began worrying about the accumulating pilgrim filth and no water to clean it up the skies opened with the first substantial rain of 2011. A whole month before the rains typically fall! The streets got cleaned and the tanks got full, but Cristo Negro wasn't done giving. It rained for the entire Holy Week! Between drizzle (Chipi Chipi) and full on thunderstorms, the earth got the water it desperately needed, and the sun didn't come out until the Monday after Easter. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> While the rain was a blessing for the people of Esquipulas who rely largely on water to stay alive, it was pretty unfortunate for the pilgrims. These pilrgims generally come to Esquipulas expecting to buy all their drinking water, not to bathe and, given that it is usually pretty dry here, not to get rained on. Therefore, when the water tanks ran dry they didn’t particularly notice, but when it started raining they definitely did. The rain put a damper on the spirits of the pilgrims, and the grey skies took a bit of a toll on me. Added to the fact that I had gotten into an argument the on Tuesday with a table full of monks, some of whom were not to happy with me even a few days afterward, I was in a pretty somber mood for most of Holy Week (the topic was whether we can have free will </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> God can be omniscient). However, Holy week waits for no man and, somber mood or not, I wasn't going to miss the activities.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The week started with Palm Sunday, which brought a nice ceremony to open the week. The thing that really stuck out to me was the difference between the palms they use here and the ones we have back in the United States. While we generally opt for the plain palms, at most braided or folded into a cross shape, down here the tradition is a little more glitzy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Palm Sunday also brought the first wave of pilgrims, a very prayerful and orderly group. Definitely the most organized of the groups of pilgrims we've had.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAWrbVHDbAI6BG4bi6dyUxFKm2sYhNgjsItP-Mh46lSWXDo5YUa3oCzLf4wjpNrbOkIL6aKgdjroL68p_5xiGDwlgGppV0ce_YLLUrRCDjv57hSzoxUPQb4zPucyBzrddjNAuQMFZ0eDB/s1600/DSC01443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAWrbVHDbAI6BG4bi6dyUxFKm2sYhNgjsItP-Mh46lSWXDo5YUa3oCzLf4wjpNrbOkIL6aKgdjroL68p_5xiGDwlgGppV0ce_YLLUrRCDjv57hSzoxUPQb4zPucyBzrddjNAuQMFZ0eDB/s320/DSC01443.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 427.5pt; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is generally complete chaos</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> These tranquil and prayerful pilgrims didn’t do much to build the spirit of fiesta I expected, and the beginning of Holy Week that followed Palm Sunday was pretty quiet as well. A somber moment did come on Wednesday as a dominant Barcelona soccer team lost the "Copa del Rey" to Real Madrid (followed by a hilarious moment as Sergio Ramos </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=329C1ZZff10"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">dropped the cup</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> under a bus during the post game celebrations). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The Easter celebrations and traditions really kicked off Thursday for the mass of the last supper. By this time the falling rain was beginning to put a damper on the carnival activities, but the shops were able to throw up tarps and there was an expectant and excited air for the beginning the Easter triduum. The Basilica filled with people, the line for Cristo Negro swelled, and I was introduced to a new Guatemalan tradition: the procession. Processions are a popular tradition around Easter time consisting of people hoisting large shrines related to the day (Christ alive, crucified, dead, and risen) and marching them around town to a following chorus of songs and prayers. It was a very unique experience for me, and a fresh take on prayers that is very special for the people here. Over the Easter season these procession quickly became one of my favorite of Guatemala’s traditions. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The Holy Thursday procession was probably the smallest of the Easter processions as everyone was looking forward to the bigger celebrations of the death and resurrection of Jesus. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Good Friday was the biggest day for pilgrims in the Basilica but due to the weather and the somber remembrances of the day,the feeling of festival that I remembered from January 15</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> was still missing. Realizing that the party was not to be had at the Basilica I made my way to the Parish to partake in the procession. This was the biggest one I saw and it was really a beautiful ceremony. It started with Liturgy of the Word and a mock crucifixion of a statue of Jesus at 3:00pm. At 4:00 they removed Jesus from the cross and put him on the processional shrine. A little while later (things rarely start on time here) the procession started moving. It was really beautiful to see the devotion of these people as they carried this heavy shrine on their shoulders. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> About 5 minutes after the procession started, so did the rain and, although the rain did not deter the processing people, it definitely deterred my electronic camera and me, and we quickly beat our retreat back to the Basilica. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The rain continued on and off through the night and into Saturday when it let up a little towards evening. By this point I had become a bit of a procession fanatic and the word on the street was that the biggest procession was to start Saturday night at midnight and continue until sunrise on Easter Sunday. With the rain letting up I had high hopes that I would be able to attend the all night procession. However, due to the rain most of the pilgrims had left early leaving the basilica and the park empty, cutting off my ability to return home if rain started. I was still considering risking it when I went to the carnival with a friend and we got poured on. With my hopes dashed I decided to play it safe, stay in, and make do with the 4:30 am Easter Vigil service at the Basilica. As we started the (3 hour) vigil, the procession passed by the Basilica, still going strong, still singing and celebrating, completely dry.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The Easter holiday went out with a whimper with the street vendors and pilgrims who were brave enough to stick around through Sunday packing up and heading home. The drizzle and rain continued throughout Sunday, which made for great napping weather as I stayed out late then got up at 4:00 for a 3 hour mass. As the last of the vendors hit the road the sun came finally came out, making for a beautiful end to the Easter Sunday.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The wonderfully cool and cloudy weather that we had for Easter went with the pilgrims and the next week returned to the hot and sunny weather normal for this time of year. However the rain left me with a present that I spent all week dealing with: Amoebas. Here they call it the “mal de mayo,” and what it is is a resurgence of bacteria that come with the first rains after the long dry season. With the amoebas and the heat the week was a long and lazy one lacking Easter spirit. However, by the weekend I was feeling good again and so were the people of Esquipulas who finally got into a fiesta mood for the beatification of pope John Paul II. On Sunday most of Esquipulas made their way to valle de maria which is where JPII held mass when he came here in 1996. We all bought the white t-shirts with his face on them, and celebrated a mass in his honor. After a nice service the skies clouded over once more. As the final blessing of the mass was given the rain came. Because there is only one road into the valley, a massive, soaking wet traffic jam started. With most people on motorcycles, and everybody wearing the white t-shirts, the Pope John Paul II memorial mass quickly turned into the Pope John Paul II wet t-shirt contest. I have a feeling that someone made a pretty fervent prayer for this rain as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-33295416938711869202011-04-11T13:19:00.000-05:002011-04-11T13:19:49.960-05:00Copán While the The Catholic Healthcare East crew was here we worked hard, but everybody needs a break once in a while. After a week of hard work, we got ours. Most of the crew took the day to lay low, escape the heat, and recharge after a hard working and emotional week. I, however, took advantage of our time off by hopping in a car with two other volunteers and heading across the border of Honduras to see the Mayan ruins of Copán. It was truly incredible to see the ruins, learn the history, and imagine how this site looked at the height of its empire, 1400 years ago when it was inhabited by thousands of people with a vibrant culture of farming, sports, and art. What made this trip even more impressive was the guide we had. He has spent most of his life studying the ancient Maya, participating in archeological digs, and now, sharing his information about the Mayan culture with others. On our tour I learned a lot about the site of Copán from its glory days all the way its present, as a partially uncovered treasure trove of information for archeologists and historians and photo op for tourists from all corners of the world. It is in this spirit of good information and great stories that I present you with my history of Copán. Although I have already forgotten the majority of what I learned on my tour, I will present you with what I remember. However, I would like to warn you now that I'm not even kind of a historian, so I can't vouch for every piece of information, but I'll do whatever I can to make it a good story. If you are really into the juicy details, you are more than welcome to find them <a href="http://140.247.102.177/copan/text.html"><span style="background-color: white;">here</span></a>. <br />
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The story of Copán begins thousands of years ago with a salty and waterlogged group of Polynesians finding the new world <span style="background-color: white;">(note</span>, this is not <a href="http://archaeology.about.com/od/upperpaleolithic/qt/populating_amer.htm">proven</a>, but is the version of the story the tour guide went with). They landed and, as per their modus operandi, began developing cultures, building buildings and, most importantly, making statues. Although we have no idea what they called themselves, we call them Olmecs, and know them for their giant stone head statues (<a href="http://www.bugbog.com/images/galleries/chile_pictures/easter_island_pictures5.jpg"><span style="background-color: white;">sounds familiar</span></a>). They inhabited the light green area on the map below. <br />
Time passed and civilizations fell. When the Olmec's day had passed, the people moved west and, once again began developing civilizations, building buildings, and making statues. It is during this period that Copán flourished as a city and became the art center of the Mayan world. This is the dark green area on the map. During this period the Mayan people developed very advanced architecture and art as well as trade systems and science.<br />
However, as all civilizations eventually do, this Mayan period also came to an end and, once again, the people moved west and began the last great period of the Maya, denoted by the lightest section on the map in the Yucatan peninsula. <br />
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Copán began its time as a great city around 400 A.D., flourished for 400 years and collapsed around 800 A.D. It then spend roughly the next 800 years being forgotten until a European explorer whose name I don't remember discovered some funny looking rocks in the middle of the tropical forest now known as Central America. <br />
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As most old timey explorers did, he started digging and subsequently robbing all the cool stones he could carry. While the Kings and Queens of whatever nation he was from were probably amused by his funny stone statues, they weren't made of gold so Copán was once again forgotten for over 200 years. The next group of people who found Copán were of the "uncover everything as fast as you can" mindset, and began to dig. They were rewarded by finding some absolutely incredible temples and stone architecture. <br />
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However, these people began to dig at the beginning of the industrial revolution when rain was still made primarily out of water, an element that generally gets along pretty well with stone temples. Right about this time humans began our love affair with burning stuff: oil, natural gas, coal, trees, corn, and the rain changed into something a little more sinister: a compound which goes by the terrifying moniker "acid rain." Archeologists now realize that uncovering things, while fun and interesting, exposes them to all of the elements, including this, the great villain of 20th century archeology. The compromise that was struck in an attempt to balance preservation and discovery was that they would stop wholesale uncovering immediately and do their archeological exploration using tunnels. The result of this digging ban can be seen in the picture below where half of the temple is uncovered and half is still a mound of dirt.<br />
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In the hundreds of years that Copán was uninhabited the river that once sustained this great city changed its course to flow right over the ruins. While I stated earlier that water generally gets along well with rocks, this is one of the instances in which is definitely does not. To save the ruins, the scientists changed the course of the river. While it did a decent amount to hurt the ruins, it also did an amazing job of uncovering them, and with the river out of the way the scientists began asking questions about the people that once inhabited this area. Once the waters receded, the archeologists found human remains all over the area pictured below and dubbed it "the cemetery." After some excavating they discovered that it wasn't a cemetery at all, but the upper class housing area. The dead bodies were there because of the tradition of burying someone beneath their house after their death. When the river began to flow over this area it washed out all of the "graves" and uncovered the bodies. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VzayGmg17PFhKoTok-hhJckNiw6VR_gs1EGnQVn-3NcnmwBZI1P9n_991smZGja8v7Pr0_kfRSDtPOlFIT265-hqZhcIvok9ohrBpQonu00qTUx1M-82ZtcmpEJI3ltVjD6UPfpOPsaB/s1600/DSC01312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VzayGmg17PFhKoTok-hhJckNiw6VR_gs1EGnQVn-3NcnmwBZI1P9n_991smZGja8v7Pr0_kfRSDtPOlFIT265-hqZhcIvok9ohrBpQonu00qTUx1M-82ZtcmpEJI3ltVjD6UPfpOPsaB/s320/DSC01312.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
As the archeologists dug, they discovered more and more about this very intricate civilization and its hierarchy. The king and royal family were on top, with the king viewed as the link between heaven and earth. As the artwork in this shrine at the top of the sacred temple suggests, the king was thought to maintain the space between heaven and hell. He would enter the door, with giant snake statues on either side, angels above him, and skulls below him, to offer burnt offerings to the gods and to communicate with them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_BSpsXbBfQf8BJgUvDBIPPcFQx9eQce3-ftH4zmMsz7PkYqrSimYGWyXsZSBltAfB3kasLy7Pam46ReLvbJHCBYFqgXumUIiabDnauTHmo5vWAtA2SlENXyWZpQsOHI_hADHgMSOnIiI/s1600/DSC01317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_BSpsXbBfQf8BJgUvDBIPPcFQx9eQce3-ftH4zmMsz7PkYqrSimYGWyXsZSBltAfB3kasLy7Pam46ReLvbJHCBYFqgXumUIiabDnauTHmo5vWAtA2SlENXyWZpQsOHI_hADHgMSOnIiI/s320/DSC01317.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
He would then exit to relay the gods' message to the people of the upper and royal class who were gathered below. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sIllfWWEc0PbKAkGpbFXp7WgH5PlG_O1gE3cY_qrP-QJZoDnQrj_-rl-9uVM6dO2GziMENfP7nXOe1amxlQMXdKtO3_nAp7YSX6z6ZrmdXI62nFEm2RtU2-yfHT484IBs5yrjmeKfiZV/s1600/DSCN0272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sIllfWWEc0PbKAkGpbFXp7WgH5PlG_O1gE3cY_qrP-QJZoDnQrj_-rl-9uVM6dO2GziMENfP7nXOe1amxlQMXdKtO3_nAp7YSX6z6ZrmdXI62nFEm2RtU2-yfHT484IBs5yrjmeKfiZV/s320/DSCN0272.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">If Copán was located in the United States me standing there would probably be a federal offense.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Only the upper and royal classes, consisting of artists, scientists, merchants, and politicians, were allowed in the upper area of temples and stone houses. When the king spoke to the general population he used a different temple. At the top of this giant staircase stood the king, with an altar in his honor below for the people to make offerings. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnM4njRoW156rnePCi0QVYJcoCWgtg_7ua91dadCVg_wy9CvNThNpa03HMZSiTaXcoEZo9RbbnEcrB0KZk8rj9qOcAWxqvonuPsqgJVBBplzWsUQt7Oz4SInR_km3ocTEfQy61qx1s_6Z/s1600/DSCN0286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnM4njRoW156rnePCi0QVYJcoCWgtg_7ua91dadCVg_wy9CvNThNpa03HMZSiTaXcoEZo9RbbnEcrB0KZk8rj9qOcAWxqvonuPsqgJVBBplzWsUQt7Oz4SInR_km3ocTEfQy61qx1s_6Z/s320/DSCN0286.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
His speaking place overlooked the main courtyard where the people gathered for everything from market days to <a href="http://expertfootball.com/history/soccer_history_america.php"><span style="background-color: white;">pok-a-tok</span></a> games. The acoustics are so good in this courtyard that someone snapping their fingers at the top of the temple can be heard at the far end of the area below!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tuIvB_byiqRTMfO5Ft0Dwy6s0E9cwclhD8nZwvh6UF310QBYDa9jUye1jHm7JBb4JS34pEUarUNG0EP2oyP1j7r2Oda8RCEIBKrLBQcSSWUARnUYE3fQvCoTI1Q5XhgVO3qeTTxc4hL2/s1600/DSC01325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tuIvB_byiqRTMfO5Ft0Dwy6s0E9cwclhD8nZwvh6UF310QBYDa9jUye1jHm7JBb4JS34pEUarUNG0EP2oyP1j7r2Oda8RCEIBKrLBQcSSWUARnUYE3fQvCoTI1Q5XhgVO3qeTTxc4hL2/s320/DSC01325.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The king would also stand at the top of his temple to watch the pok-a-tok games, which were played on courts like the one below. The players would be in the middle, and would have to launch a ball made of pure rubber against one of these three figures. The game often took on such a deep spiritual significance that on certain occasions the captain of the winning team might be sacrificed! It was considered an honor to him and his family.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOfuQDzd5uf3qyE40qJ34ppkAxJxyhmYDQmVGMFdAMXILcYLQkgKWSjtE4JKa-8VorTyP_REvU-i6iNdBpKpexM8cs9na6neHzqiUzCWdgBjUylydpSU06Gp5f84AXesTdEpOPB7-okun/s1600/DSCN0296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOfuQDzd5uf3qyE40qJ34ppkAxJxyhmYDQmVGMFdAMXILcYLQkgKWSjtE4JKa-8VorTyP_REvU-i6iNdBpKpexM8cs9na6neHzqiUzCWdgBjUylydpSU06Gp5f84AXesTdEpOPB7-okun/s320/DSCN0296.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Said sacrifices happened on the altar just in front of this one shown below, and the king would then remove the players heart and place it in the divot on top of the round altar, causing the blood to flow down the channeled grooves.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9U7Jfrn1CtSvQrNPnwKWM6TLxaQLsWc-8ryQ_GvwKwjfBcYKdjXJ1j1TZWRzGqgCo8SWD-51bBd3T2LLK7XkaNAi8ntu6YpcKUuaNTzj0haGOR8Q2ZDb-yGI172AsJCKDe22yMZAKfFg/s1600/DSCN0310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9U7Jfrn1CtSvQrNPnwKWM6TLxaQLsWc-8ryQ_GvwKwjfBcYKdjXJ1j1TZWRzGqgCo8SWD-51bBd3T2LLK7XkaNAi8ntu6YpcKUuaNTzj0haGOR8Q2ZDb-yGI172AsJCKDe22yMZAKfFg/s320/DSCN0310.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I'm told it was just like Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.</div><br />
Over its 400 year history, the city of Copán had 16 different rulers but due to the tradition of literally building an entirely new royal area on top of their father's when the new kings inherited power, most of the story revolves around the last king to whom all the exposed temples and statues are dedicated. That's means that every 25 years they would demolish (or sometimes not) the entire royal area - temples, shrines, royal houses, statues - and rebuild the entire thing. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8S8VpjsPAEWt3ntUlJXdrdSrFVRPwxeR4qq20z6s75UU7r_qEcQXk5unniRpqwX6dKbWAnxTOOeHQDFn_4QoGoYDJ6U9I9EgHh3raCiw3Gft6UINUQWRMERpvXMm2OGnqbuKJqsUS4RLX/s1600/DSC01310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8S8VpjsPAEWt3ntUlJXdrdSrFVRPwxeR4qq20z6s75UU7r_qEcQXk5unniRpqwX6dKbWAnxTOOeHQDFn_4QoGoYDJ6U9I9EgHh3raCiw3Gft6UINUQWRMERpvXMm2OGnqbuKJqsUS4RLX/s320/DSC01310.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That means that underneath these temples are more temples, like in the above picture. However, these temples have been completely protected from the elements and maintain their true colors and brilliance. As far as archeology is concerned, that's pretty awesome.<br />
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Towards the end of the Copán empire, the population outnumbered the land's ability to support it. For any community, especially one based on agriculture, this is bad news. To reunite the falling empire the king began building and art projects with the aim of drawing connections between himself and the past kings of Copán. As his empire was crumbling and the peoples' faith in the king/god was failing, he tried to reinvigorate that faith by showing that he was from the same bloodline as the past kings and therefore had the same power. This plan failed in reuniting the empire, but succeeded in creating some really cool art, so it wasn't all bad...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGv1X4rVZ9OxTWFmpE6V6BxhPo8Of7PHQMgSyV-EiyqsZGTVfkunulwOElaMA9SmhyYmZB9QheaqbHKwQPBqZk56_r5ExvkjXVti0cO9DtRZP09nf5G6Swba65Y0mEsBzDRC7el-NS6QW/s1600/DSC01309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGv1X4rVZ9OxTWFmpE6V6BxhPo8Of7PHQMgSyV-EiyqsZGTVfkunulwOElaMA9SmhyYmZB9QheaqbHKwQPBqZk56_r5ExvkjXVti0cO9DtRZP09nf5G6Swba65Y0mEsBzDRC7el-NS6QW/s320/DSC01309.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This altar, in front of the death temple, shows all 16 kings of Copán in a circle around its body. The first king is handing power over to the last king. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfr5_b9zYGEdLK1RFyKs2YUlm49ro9yMs81v3XegjMOM7_FkFBxhsPYoG9oxIxwHzzp9f-AfcldnIo6M5JQuwW5YwrCuV4M4t9oBBCjmJdA9CwFrBfaNhq36F9M8YyBzTs2enbH8HraGwA/s1600/DSCN0290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfr5_b9zYGEdLK1RFyKs2YUlm49ro9yMs81v3XegjMOM7_FkFBxhsPYoG9oxIxwHzzp9f-AfcldnIo6M5JQuwW5YwrCuV4M4t9oBBCjmJdA9CwFrBfaNhq36F9M8YyBzTs2enbH8HraGwA/s320/DSCN0290.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This is perhaps the most famous thing in Copán; the hieroglyphic stairs. The entire staircase tells the story of every king of Copán through pictures on the steps.<br />
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Though Copán ultimately fell, much as every great empire has, through the efforts of the architects, artists, and builders, we still have pieces of the civilization to help us put together the story of what life was like 1400 years ago in this corner of Central America. Though the people are gone, the now deserted central courtyard almost seems ready for market and the rebuilt temples still have an aura of mythological power. With a little imagination you can almost feel yourself there during the height of this great empire. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZi8KxExwHMzfiembLkjD1_ixLGHf4LmkM_NEzB42niQSEmSRhE53_Pw7lWhz7cRkt1szzxKJKSyCaKlgUQTJQFsa7dMu_Jc3WBeFeLHLorIt4-b-wd33O-aUdyX4JHhlWrZ4JBUKLbDcz/s1600/DSCN0312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZi8KxExwHMzfiembLkjD1_ixLGHf4LmkM_NEzB42niQSEmSRhE53_Pw7lWhz7cRkt1szzxKJKSyCaKlgUQTJQFsa7dMu_Jc3WBeFeLHLorIt4-b-wd33O-aUdyX4JHhlWrZ4JBUKLbDcz/s320/DSCN0312.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-33432020530287701432011-04-10T13:01:00.002-05:002011-04-10T13:23:39.507-05:00Catholic Healthcare East I've been in Guatemala 7 months now and I have come to realize that the old adage about time being a thief is just as true here as it is everywhere else. I can think back to myself sitting in prayer the day after the Catholic Healthcare West crew left feeling less than confident about the upcoming months. I felt alone, realizing that I was possibly the only gringo under the age of 60 in all of Esquipulas, I was unsure of my Spanish and lost in a culture that I didn't understand. Sitting there in vespers I prayed that the time would pass quickly and bring me back home sooner rather than later. In the 6 months since I said that prayer my situation has changed drastically. I now have good friends here in Esquipulas, fulfilling, albeit often frustrating, work, and I am mostly comfortable with both the language and the culture. While I'm now happier and more comfortable here, I realize that the prayer was answered, and time has definitely flown. As I heard that another Catholic Healthcare group was coming to Esquipulas I couldn't help but draw comparisons to what my life was like when the first crew came, but more than anything I was aware that working with this group would signal the beginning of the end for me in Guatemala. Just as the first group of doctors, who came right on the heels of Kenan leaving, represented the end of the beginning for me and my last taste of home before diving headfirst into the Esquipulas and the Monastery of Jesus Christ Crucified, this second group of doctors would start the countdown to my leaving Guatemala. As that approaches my mind has begun to wander to the United States. To the good things like spring time, baseball season, friends, and family, but also to the bad things like politics, a prolonged invasion in Libya, and, of course, MTV. I find myself often wondering what it will be like to go back after so long in Central America. How have I changed? How has the USA changed? Half my friends have jobs now, the other half are back in school.... In the midst of all this inner turmoil the doctors from Catholic Healthcare East found their way into my quiet little life in Esquipulas and gave me a great big shove towards the end of my 9 months in Esquipulas.<br />
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The last time I worked with a medical mission I served as a pharmacy assistant; a fun job, but more for the people I was working with than the work I was doing. This time around I was hoping for something a little more hands on. Luckily, this new group had different plans for me: They asked me to translate for the eye doctor and dentist! While I took the job placement as a compliment on my improving Spanish skills, it soon became evident that translating was going to be quite a bit more work than I imagined. Translating itself is a tough job; even after mastering the context specific words (dental floss, cavity, etc.) it is still a task of listening to a phrase in English, saying it in Spanish, then listening to something else in Spanish and saying it in English. It was more than a little tough on the brain. To make matters worse, not only was I doing translation for both the dentist and the eye doctor, but I was doing intake questioning for the dentist and crowd control because I was the only one there who spoke Spanish well enough. Needless to say, at the end of each day I was exhausted. With so much work to do I was nearly constantly busy and the week flew by, but even with the hectic schedule I was able to enjoy some time with my fellow "Estadounidenses" and make some new friends. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVO8t-HOVkWBN2QKqo0sFKWIo97-fqERuGyeTpuL4-sx4Pbvzcw5aGNZZHKv29t5k2Ye8H0pppzgvRfT9p1Mz0hf6MpiqYJqq6G_wFzHQa6QbCGWjkVRApRPnmtYPQMxTKolkWybMYt3x/s1600/DSC01282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVO8t-HOVkWBN2QKqo0sFKWIo97-fqERuGyeTpuL4-sx4Pbvzcw5aGNZZHKv29t5k2Ye8H0pppzgvRfT9p1Mz0hf6MpiqYJqq6G_wFzHQa6QbCGWjkVRApRPnmtYPQMxTKolkWybMYt3x/s320/DSC01282.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I also got to do some teaching! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmjg4a-cQAr_wJ_SfO0A93F_5Y_bIgNgw35v1_rWo6FNZVwUsX1wdTJaKeQkX962v025AZ_aHAT6g-4cCk1NKaCbZA4D8CY28xzvE1doneZUg8wIIYSppKtHjCBvRfqJko32nN82hnh7L/s1600/DSC01286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmjg4a-cQAr_wJ_SfO0A93F_5Y_bIgNgw35v1_rWo6FNZVwUsX1wdTJaKeQkX962v025AZ_aHAT6g-4cCk1NKaCbZA4D8CY28xzvE1doneZUg8wIIYSppKtHjCBvRfqJko32nN82hnh7L/s320/DSC01286.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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By the end of the week the exhaustion and emotions started to add up. I found that translating is an strange job. By virtue of being the one communicating with the patients I got to share in all of the happy moments; everything from old ladies baking us cookies to mothers hugging us in thanks for helping their children. However, I was also forced to partake in the bad moments; from "There's nothing we can do for your eyes, you'll probably be blind within months" to "your teeth are far to decayed, we have to remove them all." The emotions of these experiences combined with the exhaustion of so much work began to catch up with me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JtuCV_jg0MHcNPZCT7opU0-mgyLDvkMM7nThQxe_sGQWvgpAzdWYfUsmW5UC5-5Fsf8vEH3q7Rylhsk4gVClrFwvjkiKxLQKgKq7iy2mXTeGPgxU2GOff5QTaUiFtiUtzO7IfSy7t5kv/s1600/DSC01288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JtuCV_jg0MHcNPZCT7opU0-mgyLDvkMM7nThQxe_sGQWvgpAzdWYfUsmW5UC5-5Fsf8vEH3q7Rylhsk4gVClrFwvjkiKxLQKgKq7iy2mXTeGPgxU2GOff5QTaUiFtiUtzO7IfSy7t5kv/s320/DSC01288.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
My work also put me in contact with a part of Guatemala that I've had very little contact with as I've been living inside a gorgeous monastery; the poor campesinos. The goal of the doctors was to serve people who have no access to other health care, which brought us to some of the outlying villages. Spending so much time with this group of people who are so numerous in Guatemala yet still so "invisible" was an eye opening experience for me, and made me think a lot about what What we were doing here. While I understand and appreciate the idea behind medical missions and other volunteer groups, it always has seemed a little shortsighted to me to give someone vitamins but put no thought into the systemic problems that caused them to be malnourished in the first place. <br />
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Throughout the week this problem kept bothering me. Everyday, with every group of people, I saw problems that couldn't be solved simply by giving some pills to a few people. After an especially emotional day in which we saw particularly marginalized people from a very isolated and poor village I had a conversation with one of the doctors who also has a very deep interest in the deeper problems behind this poverty. That particular day I was having trouble communicating all day long. When I spoke to many of the people they would either just stare blankly back or lose interest and walk away mid-sentence. Even when I did get some of them to talk with me, they were not really formulating coherent thoughts. At first this frustrated me a lot, but after talking it over with some doctors who experienced the same thing I realized that this was not them being rude, but could be a result of serious malnourishment. For me this was a tough idea to grasp. I had always thought that people have at least some control over their lives, but for some people, their lives are mostly decided for them before they are born. The poor farmers can't afford adequate nutrition, so pregnant mothers go hungry. Due to malnourishment, the child's brain and body don't develop completely. This problem is compounded by the lack of nutrition during the developing years after birth. Without proper development they are doomed to be poor farmers who will once again not be able to provide proper nutrition for their future children. I realized the depth of the problem when the dentist had to pull out every tooth that a 40 something woman had left because they were so rotted. He asked her if she could afford dentures. She thought for a little while and said "Maybe. If the coffee harvest is good this year."<br />
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Seeing this deep cyclical nature of this poverty was troubling, and kept bothering me for the rest of the week. However, there was lots of work to do and I was able to get caught up in it so the week just slipped away. It really felt nice to have actual work and be needed after being here so long without any serious job.<br />
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At the end of the week the dentist and eye doctor headed home I began to work with the rest of the doctors who stayed behind. After such a long week we had Sunday off. A couple of the doctors and I took advantage of our day of rest and took a trip to Copán, the Mayan ruins just across the border in Honduras. The ruins were gorgeous and it was a nice segue from one week into the next. Thankfully, the second week of the doctor's stay here was much more relaxed for me. For starters, it was only 3 days long, <i>and</i> I was only working on discharge, a job which basically consists of repeating "take these pills twice a day and drink lots of water" over and over again. On Monday we went to work in one of the villages. It's always nice to get out of the monastery for awhile, and the people there were so nice to work with. It was really a great time.<br />
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We worked hard that last week, and the people I was with were great, but the week had a very different feel to it. As their time here neared its end, the doctors began to tire in the work they were doing and get homesick for the places they left behind. I think any project or experience that has a set limit of time begins to feel tedious as it nears the end, and the doctors definitely fell prey to this effect. It's been interesting for me to see the different groups of volunteers or pilgrims all go through the same things. I've even found that as I get closer and closer to my end date I'm finding it harder to do any real work and connect with people. Because of this, the last week had a slower pace and I had more time to hang out with the doctors. Even though the dentist had left, I was still bothered by the poverty we'd witnessed and discussed and I took the free time I had this week to discuss that with the other doctors. Eventually, after talking it over with some of the doctors, I came to the conclusion that the "big picture" problems are there because they are hard to fix. If there was an easy solution, somebody would have already found it. That being said, because it is difficult is no reason not to try to do something. If you look only at the big picture (something I do far to often) it's easy to get discouraged and lose hope, but if you chose one aspect of the problem and work to fix it you can rejoice in the little victories while still working towards bettering the big picture. I suppose that's really what the doctors are doing here, trying to help people in the only way they know how. It might not be changing the world today, but it's working towards a better future.Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-36771699339891452082011-03-17T17:31:00.000-06:002011-03-17T17:31:16.607-06:00Tradition Welcome, dear friends, to the season of Lent. The forty day period of fasting and praying that leads us to the culmination of the Catholic year; Easter. Lent will also probably be noteworthy in that it will provide me with very little to write about because, as my Grandma always said, prayer and fasting make for boring blogs (I'm not actually sure my grandma knows what a blog is, but if she did, I'm sure she would adhere to that school of thought). However, the beginning of the Lenten season did give me fodder for at least one more blog in the form of Carnaval (fat tuesday) and the other celebration of the Señor de Esquipulas which falls on March 9th every year; which this year, just so happened to be Ash Wednesday.<br />
Over my life I have experienced various traditional ways celebrations of Fat Tuesday. From grade school, where they would serve us an extra dessert at lunch, to high school, where we probably got to go without uniforms for a day, to college, where overindulging on alcohol and greasy foods was the norm, and finally to Guatemala, where they smash eggs filled with confetti over each others' heads and dress up like Disney characters. At least that seems to be the going tradition at the grade school I visited on the morning of Ash Tuesday. It's always fun to see kids here in Guatemala, they make me feel at home because kids are the same everywhere, even when smashing eggs on your head. The tradition at the library was a bit different, and seemed to be "work like it is a normal day," while the tradition at the high school was to paint sawdust. Maybe that one deserves a little explanation. Every year for the 9th of March, the people of Esquipulas take to the streets to make "alfombras" which literally translates to rug or carpet. These alfombras are made in the streets from sawdust and other organic materials. The tradition goes back to the times of the conquistadores, and is loosely based on the Palm Sunday teaching of laying palm branches on the ground. While most of the alfombras are made around Easter, Esquipulas has carried the tradition over to March 9th as well. However, no one wants a sawdust colored carpet, so the first step in the process must be painting the sawdust. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHK8DeGsveGYoP48-y0xPSmtEJqhzENqqwBPbn7HYibgD74oPiFcO1xrQiVMjvu-aT0rQ72t6c_AM1E09kMu8wdUXyyHbRnVJw7YxAouExw0Y0c_fO8LpsfK7MVdxHOtePB2k1UqYE43a/s1600/DSC01107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHK8DeGsveGYoP48-y0xPSmtEJqhzENqqwBPbn7HYibgD74oPiFcO1xrQiVMjvu-aT0rQ72t6c_AM1E09kMu8wdUXyyHbRnVJw7YxAouExw0Y0c_fO8LpsfK7MVdxHOtePB2k1UqYE43a/s320/DSC01107.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> To this end, the entire school had no classes in the afternoon and all of the students spent their time dyeing the sawdust. It was quite the impressive operation. As you can see in the picture above, the entire soccer field was full of students getting down and dirty with the dye. They even talked me into helping, though I was very picky on the colors I wanted to use.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOZiYhBCmpkuyunhqj_L7HUp9a41lVk6qPZsz3o3fkV6qGNcwvCl9iFaxh8I64xDX2mAzaehj_qh2TtvJ4wr93sVy0tA6NLsRrorAvmOkEU8OFbxpCGRsY86iKf1V1_fmG85wcVz-Kbej/s1600/DSC01122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOZiYhBCmpkuyunhqj_L7HUp9a41lVk6qPZsz3o3fkV6qGNcwvCl9iFaxh8I64xDX2mAzaehj_qh2TtvJ4wr93sVy0tA6NLsRrorAvmOkEU8OFbxpCGRsY86iKf1V1_fmG85wcVz-Kbej/s320/DSC01122.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> (Go Vikings!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> With all of the sawdust dyed and properly stored for the night, the activities of fat Tuesday came to an end and I said goodbye to the all the things I gave up for Lent. The next day, although technically a day of fasting, was more of a day of feasting in Esquipulas, where the people were not really willing to give up the feast of their Black Christ just for Ash Wednesday. I spent the morning helping the students of San Benito's High School make their alfombras or, more accurately, <i>I </i>took pictures and learned how alfombras are made while <i>they</i> worked. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> As you can see in the picture below, the first step in making an alfombra is a base. Plain, colorless sawdust is used to fill in the cracks in the road and smooth out the bumps, and then other colors are generally laid down to form a colorful background. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtYxKPwKGPh7wOXkzSf6GdMy2I9XkYokTVKIfB2w97yC6PG6Z7CcKhfi5h2mhbuPwVznFl_DkXlhMHsG-ieR4Owrz2GMLCOfV_YjvBMJzLweGxWXZKndTIB3HlxBEa5aIyn95Ux82OXn-/s1600/DSC01163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtYxKPwKGPh7wOXkzSf6GdMy2I9XkYokTVKIfB2w97yC6PG6Z7CcKhfi5h2mhbuPwVznFl_DkXlhMHsG-ieR4Owrz2GMLCOfV_YjvBMJzLweGxWXZKndTIB3HlxBEa5aIyn95Ux82OXn-/s320/DSC01163.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> The next stage is making the designs on the alfombras. These are generally made using a template that they have cut out of cardboard, but a decent amount were also made free hand. At this stage they talked me in to helping, and I took the moment for an awesome photo op. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhneUUigLQ9FPYAO6jE8F9Fpam-NwCLwTaPCbRaKOpjpQW3oxPPdWO0NbXKthrrR4Fy0f3tNx_iqpmuHnACGWwRvYBLPUCMlTGvZFgOpT7G40Y3aasEjnbnhbnPkNhwvGM3fvMM9Ie5ozAN/s1600/DSC01188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhneUUigLQ9FPYAO6jE8F9Fpam-NwCLwTaPCbRaKOpjpQW3oxPPdWO0NbXKthrrR4Fy0f3tNx_iqpmuHnACGWwRvYBLPUCMlTGvZFgOpT7G40Y3aasEjnbnhbnPkNhwvGM3fvMM9Ie5ozAN/s320/DSC01188.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> I also got drafted for some other duties. Below: "ahh... Miss Karin, what is this alfombra supposed to say?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> "Where's there love, there's peace"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPIoFO0v2Ip8gbLdn9jJL0m0IgrRUN_pWN_vcO9rq5yWWzrQkW1vuLGX0XupxDiKDiWriYUPh2v6LkkjNFU1mWq83HRHeOgc4HOCNXQMjPn08eWZYVOImIsOC4mBsMQAPN2LQeXQvx7Mt/s1600/DSC01180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPIoFO0v2Ip8gbLdn9jJL0m0IgrRUN_pWN_vcO9rq5yWWzrQkW1vuLGX0XupxDiKDiWriYUPh2v6LkkjNFU1mWq83HRHeOgc4HOCNXQMjPn08eWZYVOImIsOC4mBsMQAPN2LQeXQvx7Mt/s320/DSC01180.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"... hmm... I think we may want to fix that"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-JI7gXDronFqmt7Pbe-pR3w25Ko3nmoiL7opIXvTOvxoOhnKXTOP9mYv0iYKDtP7D7yKM1XuarQBnMZs3Vt1MlSs_skLIJDx3Biuxok1jHNTr9jleVIbMYHSd9tfqsRTuqcEbPFvhXv6/s1600/DSC01183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-JI7gXDronFqmt7Pbe-pR3w25Ko3nmoiL7opIXvTOvxoOhnKXTOP9mYv0iYKDtP7D7yKM1XuarQBnMZs3Vt1MlSs_skLIJDx3Biuxok1jHNTr9jleVIbMYHSd9tfqsRTuqcEbPFvhXv6/s320/DSC01183.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And just like that, a Black Eyed Peas allfombra was averted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iHAgzMxkn-v9QzT6Y63x275bM0mByQ4LMlufROy-tbwFUnNogaUy87H_cBY0uCyVf5Ni4xYIO0x4qdvcJQJtiS5vJtz5_iqQ8ePWlXEuGN3uHXsAetK9cIFx9lCpcu6mHpgm3X-952EB/s1600/DSC01211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iHAgzMxkn-v9QzT6Y63x275bM0mByQ4LMlufROy-tbwFUnNogaUy87H_cBY0uCyVf5Ni4xYIO0x4qdvcJQJtiS5vJtz5_iqQ8ePWlXEuGN3uHXsAetK9cIFx9lCpcu6mHpgm3X-952EB/s320/DSC01211.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> This was one of my favorite alfombra. The entire thing was done free hand!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pSN5OSQcd5Og5lsoND3uF07Tr-oW5xsbUI8fjT3RuuQnglpEec0nt_-CSMgkAIomKS0B6AaIsA60zeq_TscMjxBTytwKcsw5SRdaFDdsNVgIkmHwBH8mytmLUhkCrpH-4_nw0cjFYoLT/s1600/DSC01213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pSN5OSQcd5Og5lsoND3uF07Tr-oW5xsbUI8fjT3RuuQnglpEec0nt_-CSMgkAIomKS0B6AaIsA60zeq_TscMjxBTytwKcsw5SRdaFDdsNVgIkmHwBH8mytmLUhkCrpH-4_nw0cjFYoLT/s320/DSC01213.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmLVBpRI6M_q-u0QAq7HJBuWESOxZuNXzFnv48uYCaA06bPzOYXV-xERrWXPu0f3TnG5gD7EXKsGrkwGXYRh8WNtLIbwQrdRWyHrMCyNY17bYbQMhvOxT3JswgOK4UqKbCu9rrUWNidHM/s1600/DSC01214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmLVBpRI6M_q-u0QAq7HJBuWESOxZuNXzFnv48uYCaA06bPzOYXV-xERrWXPu0f3TnG5gD7EXKsGrkwGXYRh8WNtLIbwQrdRWyHrMCyNY17bYbQMhvOxT3JswgOK4UqKbCu9rrUWNidHM/s320/DSC01214.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioboQOxsT27oNMXN2-oBEPIm17bP-9edqwTnDEicuQeiNpSlep1dXL93y_eY1wlCTfLKfavIULfZEdthEX2eBAzQc1gTtMJ-Rs0oRUXOKHPicGDP1C7CYObqdvTsGtT-VI5qXL31DVxtZF/s1600/DSC01215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioboQOxsT27oNMXN2-oBEPIm17bP-9edqwTnDEicuQeiNpSlep1dXL93y_eY1wlCTfLKfavIULfZEdthEX2eBAzQc1gTtMJ-Rs0oRUXOKHPicGDP1C7CYObqdvTsGtT-VI5qXL31DVxtZF/s320/DSC01215.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh90Ee9a0eUcvlNiwSdDhUYuqLHNQMOIKbfFLyHgASFy0LXZy-x560uI5VTMbgL5TuYyUeLedwopc6gFjp2zn8K04jHz0OLb1vtjjsY3puduNjwHRJJn21XlDUJA8B2w02gWvQ_8NYgL79l/s1600/DSC01206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh90Ee9a0eUcvlNiwSdDhUYuqLHNQMOIKbfFLyHgASFy0LXZy-x560uI5VTMbgL5TuYyUeLedwopc6gFjp2zn8K04jHz0OLb1vtjjsY3puduNjwHRJJn21XlDUJA8B2w02gWvQ_8NYgL79l/s320/DSC01206.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKPxo_KCWwLIaCVL9IojHy67LGzcWp0YIZ2uCNmeKYYxKFSh0_vTdVtgOO9qMgHigiU6BR5Z_iEMHmZRhxVrSPxVVLnxfGAhryKWQfyOhLYteNCcCwtpntQEyBKklESrkFiyVftvStGdT/s1600/DSC01209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKPxo_KCWwLIaCVL9IojHy67LGzcWp0YIZ2uCNmeKYYxKFSh0_vTdVtgOO9qMgHigiU6BR5Z_iEMHmZRhxVrSPxVVLnxfGAhryKWQfyOhLYteNCcCwtpntQEyBKklESrkFiyVftvStGdT/s320/DSC01209.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As you can tell, there were quite a few alfombras. The ones pictured here are only those made by the Colegio San Benito! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qTJC7iLLVGrbGEsGOUZXGLlMHGvZJFIi5JtdqSvJJ8Yf6-uESkRBL08u35aF1ERhU7cYZAQJwdkYQuq9wi_RGdjcmxaFdnlvmwHIxpMcunj_Eul6x0JzPfRZDI0IuycDAsLCQvPf46co/s1600/DSC01210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qTJC7iLLVGrbGEsGOUZXGLlMHGvZJFIi5JtdqSvJJ8Yf6-uESkRBL08u35aF1ERhU7cYZAQJwdkYQuq9wi_RGdjcmxaFdnlvmwHIxpMcunj_Eul6x0JzPfRZDI0IuycDAsLCQvPf46co/s320/DSC01210.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> I had originally intended on including all sorts of pictures about the other alfombras throughout town, but apparently I have limited picture storing space on this blogger account and I don't want to use up all my space for the next 2.5 months on one blog about sawdust, so this will have to do. I'll upload the rest to Facebook if you are interested in seeing them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> However, just because the pictures have ended doesn't mean the story has! I took the afternoon off from work as well to wander around the town and check out the rest of the alfombras. Don't feel to bad for my coworkers for having to work without me though, because all the high schools had the day off, and hardly anybody came to the library. The alfombras from the town were pretty varied. Some were incredibly detailed works of art, and others were... not so detailed. But even so, it was really cool to see a town come together and work on something as unique and beautiful as decorating the streets they walk and drive on. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> In the evening, also as per tradition, was the "quema del castillo." This was basically an incredibly dangerous fireworks display in honor of the Cristo Negro. I say dangerous because the entire time ash from the fireworks was falling on the crowd and multiple times embers, large burning pieces of fireworks, and even rockets were launched into the crowd which was so big that a stampede was a serious worry of the event organizers. However, nothing bad happened, and hardly anybody was hurt. In addition, I got to witness yet another great part of Esquipulan culture and tradition.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Thus ended the Second celebration of the Señor de Esquipulas, in a blaze of fire. And, unfortunately, it rained the next day, turning all of the dyed sawdust in the streets into horrible mess all over Esquipulas. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span id="goog_425287323"><span id="goog_1205550360"><span id="goog_1728324196"><span id="goog_125091546"></span><span id="goog_125091547"></span></span><span id="goog_1728324197"></span></span><span id="goog_1205550361"></span></span><span id="goog_425287324"></span>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-60324465833187873312011-03-13T09:22:00.001-06:002011-03-13T09:24:08.118-06:00Pura Vida This last week I celebrated my 6 month Guatemalan birthday, and I celebrated the calendar turning over to March, and to the last third of my Central American adventure, in Costa Rica with one of my best friends and study abroad partner, Dave Harrison. Similar to my last vacation (Belize), this break came at a very opportune time as I was very ready to get out of the monastery for a little while, and found a beach vacation to be the perfect escape. This trip was unique, however, in that instead of using the time away to experience how other volunteers are living, I was able to share it with someone who was fresh from the USA, and was able to get the news on the motherland as well as get an interesting new perspective on Central America from someone who hasn't just spent the last 6 months here.<br />
My trip started with a night in Antigua Guatemala, which was a nice warm up for Costa Rica because both Costa Rica and Antigua are crawling with gringos. It is one of the only places in Guatemala where not only can I blend in, but I'm probably in the majority. I stayed at a hostel where I met some awesome people (seriously, if you ever travel, stay at hostels) and then set out to meet another friend of mine from Chile, Amanda, who was to be my guide to the nightlife of Antigua. You heard me right, nightlife! I probably wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen it myself. It turns out that Antigua is unique not only for the amount of tourists but also because it is one of 5 places in Guatemala with a nightlife: Antigua, Zone 9 and 10 of Guatemala City, Xela, and Flores. Antigua is really different from Esquipulas, and I really enjoyed the experience of a Guatemalan Disco. <br />
The next day I woke up to a game of soccer, and then hit the road for the second leg of the trip. The plane ride from Guatemala City to San Jose was absolutely gorgeous. The route took us south right along the coast and because it was a short flight we never got high enough that I couldn't see the landscape. To top it off, our pilot must have been a tour guide in a past life, because over the flight he would come on the intercom just to tell us of some volcano or river or other important feature that we could see just outside our windows. Although it was a great flight, there's only so much time that one can spend comfortably on a plane, and my limit is about 15 minutes, so I was more than happy to land. <br />
I landed at 5:30, and I thought that Dave was coming in around 6:30, which would leave me with only an hour wait outside of an airport, not bad. Then the 6:30 plane from Miami came in, and I waited. And all the people on that flight came out, and I waited. And I figured that maybe he had problems with his checked luggage, so I waited some more. And then I thought that maybe I got the flight number wrong and he was on the 7:10 flight from Dallas. So I waited. And the people came out from that one, and I waited for Dave. And he didn't come. I ended up waiting until 8:45, and which point I figured he had missed his plane, so I caught a cab from the friend of a taxi driver I had been talking to all night, and he promised that if he found Dave he would send him on to the hostel. He gave me his card and I told him, "remember, he is a really tall guy who answers to David." 10 minutes down the road my taxi driver got a phone call from the guy I left at the airport, who had found Dave. It turns out he was on a flight that came in at 8:30, and I left literally minutes before he came out of the airport. Oops.<br />
I met Dave at the hostel, which was an interesting place, and we discussed at length whether or not we wanted to taste some of the San Jose nightlife. Our hostel seemed like a fun place to party and everyone was headed to a bar later, but after so much travel in one day, Dave and I were only able to handle two beers before falling asleep. The next day we decided to check out the day life in San Jose, a place which every tourist and tourist website says to avoid like the plague. Not because it is bad, but because it is not a volcano, beach, or nature reserve, therefore making it just a rest stop on the way to other cool places in Costa Rica. Because of that, we had little hope for the city. However, it turns out San Jose is a really cool place. It was Sunday, so the people of San Jose had taken to the streets to play, watch makeshift parades, and exercise. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1Hh9yOkd_UJHyYhVmfHh9Fn0Ds0oDqrTvS5TuzK85ir8NQUwqQ0qfiWvZ5SIw8Y3kBcZ1UZxl5F_FoFGWcH3sP58F97vqfVvVv3Uv_a-nOaRmKzb40VUJEHfLupPkQwFyD-QRZIVTPnp/s1600/DSC01042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1Hh9yOkd_UJHyYhVmfHh9Fn0Ds0oDqrTvS5TuzK85ir8NQUwqQ0qfiWvZ5SIw8Y3kBcZ1UZxl5F_FoFGWcH3sP58F97vqfVvVv3Uv_a-nOaRmKzb40VUJEHfLupPkQwFyD-QRZIVTPnp/s320/DSC01042.JPG" width="262" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> In this picture alone there is a soccer game (left), a volleyball game (center), and a small child canopying over the street (top left). </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div> The entire main street was filled with people dancing, playing, skateboarding, and just hanging out. The only thing missing was cars. Our entire time in San Jose we found the lack of smog and traffic jams incredible. It turns out that the City of San Jose has driving bans: Only cars whose license plates end in certain numbers can drive on any given day. It seemed to me like kind of a heavy handed way of dealing with the problem, but in a city of millions, most we saw were taking public transportation, so I guess it worked.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtqXAvmsQRfIBAKzlAVOk5-o_vhreAgTw-3bK3mkzOP-A1LFUqcTlaIzVbi1d_5ZbFeFvhfqVjDpbq12bJgUZvcEm6xvOiuapz1VcHEhNA8SybIGSRuqSInznMy3HrkU9ljTBJdoze9oW/s1600/DSC01046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtqXAvmsQRfIBAKzlAVOk5-o_vhreAgTw-3bK3mkzOP-A1LFUqcTlaIzVbi1d_5ZbFeFvhfqVjDpbq12bJgUZvcEm6xvOiuapz1VcHEhNA8SybIGSRuqSInznMy3HrkU9ljTBJdoze9oW/s320/DSC01046.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
San Jose is also home to some pretty cool sculptures and architecture, which we saw during our solo walking tour, but we found that one day in the city was enough, and after one day, headed for the beach.<br />
To get there, however, we had to take a bus.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Nmg5W81CsVQ_6bvKmsv4TYClhaCf_Ih4Bx2lqeq6AvdQZ9AOVWSEQdg1GPZoi5H1_GVgKFgUIZcOQa0djIRJQQoqTRXeC5BvSeQhWqbp0CzjaaFfirh1DnzAA7kzs4a2keJhHDE7jMhK/s1600/DSC01049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Nmg5W81CsVQ_6bvKmsv4TYClhaCf_Ih4Bx2lqeq6AvdQZ9AOVWSEQdg1GPZoi5H1_GVgKFgUIZcOQa0djIRJQQoqTRXeC5BvSeQhWqbp0CzjaaFfirh1DnzAA7kzs4a2keJhHDE7jMhK/s320/DSC01049.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> <br />
They don't make buses in Costa Rica to fit a 6'8" David (to be fair, I don't think they do in the USA either), and to make matters worse, the bus broke down twice. While this was very frustrating, I'd like to point out that in Guate, if a bus breaks down only twice and each break down costs less than 15 minutes, that's a great bus ride. <br />
After about 5 hours on bus, we found ourselves in the town of Quepos on the south west coast of Costa Rica, near the national park of Manuel Antonio. Once again, after traveling in buses all day, we were far to tired to go out on the town (also, it was Monday), so we hit the sack pretty early. After a less than comfortable night's sleep (read, horribly hot and humid without air conditioning) we decided to pack up and head for the rain forest. We got a very nice room right with air conditioning next to Manuel Antonio for decently cheap due to the fact that huge resorts had all moved in up the hill and destroyed these hotels' business, and headed for the park. Although the guides were decently expensive ($20 a person) we decided to get one because, after all, this was one of the reasons I wanted to go to Costa Rica. The guide turned out to be a great decision. He had all sorts of information on the different species of the rain forest, and was incredibly good at finding sloths hiding in the trees. For example, can you spot the sloth hiding in the trees in this picture?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDZN_SnasnMOOEwXT7jbq_e4asSmeePdaDM72-awrqUppu9pt-yb6AylUD9j4hfAAxVkiiq5PCfqpQs71YDw4tmysUdKAUMTHJFsIKKTVu7H7xNI4R5v_UkubhGOOB0LQbmzDXo_DyUde/s1600/DSC01071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDZN_SnasnMOOEwXT7jbq_e4asSmeePdaDM72-awrqUppu9pt-yb6AylUD9j4hfAAxVkiiq5PCfqpQs71YDw4tmysUdKAUMTHJFsIKKTVu7H7xNI4R5v_UkubhGOOB0LQbmzDXo_DyUde/s320/DSC01071.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">He did. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpkgZCUNtCST_4H15mR428vUUUTCEuEdk1eSWeoxXEjiEnkC1Oec8B_OJEtgF2r-AW6DPs_ZfWuDA22SIgxCPkJGms1od44DGWi9SXCG48k-pvZcUl4qu648aAKIbYKe3k78zhRk07aXU/s1600/DSC01070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpkgZCUNtCST_4H15mR428vUUUTCEuEdk1eSWeoxXEjiEnkC1Oec8B_OJEtgF2r-AW6DPs_ZfWuDA22SIgxCPkJGms1od44DGWi9SXCG48k-pvZcUl4qu648aAKIbYKe3k78zhRk07aXU/s320/DSC01070.JPG" width="250" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> We were able to find some sloths on the trails though...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd9ICUZ3aLQv5v0eC26yhJxzS5wDha-atCwYsaGZP6BHPDVHavvo7NvfWcO1bRi45lujhs1Q1sJBzdBIE4KyonYTobsTpZRd-IA6g4O8pXBWA1CFcTCseL26wpNA2yN2OyjA_1MI0RPYB/s1600/DSC01061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd9ICUZ3aLQv5v0eC26yhJxzS5wDha-atCwYsaGZP6BHPDVHavvo7NvfWcO1bRi45lujhs1Q1sJBzdBIE4KyonYTobsTpZRd-IA6g4O8pXBWA1CFcTCseL26wpNA2yN2OyjA_1MI0RPYB/s320/DSC01061.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLF3JAB8C3WzoHhTJlsjpnDREraUd_TSSkKT4YX5caCXj3lfFSB-SU1NTiYKTM7UtACzLWQL0jt0QN2vA4YyOauMBo9MAffMv3YXBqryXj-IUk3b-rjmLd-KvLAlIKvjhzErkB5xWMeVZ/s1600/DSC01060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLF3JAB8C3WzoHhTJlsjpnDREraUd_TSSkKT4YX5caCXj3lfFSB-SU1NTiYKTM7UtACzLWQL0jt0QN2vA4YyOauMBo9MAffMv3YXBqryXj-IUk3b-rjmLd-KvLAlIKvjhzErkB5xWMeVZ/s320/DSC01060.JPG" width="232" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi717MIyJEfMNINjn5lV2LSWhpQN58HQI3NmpDg4DqRZp4cIbgF8luEie9FTTY-bvbgjrI2dHmh-_Thqnb1kZ2-1XNw5hc60ZxJxAv8u4VDQ5IPmkoYBO8hHiYMd1GQaha7T3jEi-HbWw6L/s1600/DSC01062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi717MIyJEfMNINjn5lV2LSWhpQN58HQI3NmpDg4DqRZp4cIbgF8luEie9FTTY-bvbgjrI2dHmh-_Thqnb1kZ2-1XNw5hc60ZxJxAv8u4VDQ5IPmkoYBO8hHiYMd1GQaha7T3jEi-HbWw6L/s320/DSC01062.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Another example of the guide's vision. This crab was seen through a telescope and zoomed in on the camera.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_gv-B2b64pl2QUT2gGYSv4VH3BVAbT3l3CrJtBTVHVu8SzIIwAewMFx1HUZanhD8hryYzhguEyH8CZ4GBLLAsNP9aRAxdbI6QBrp4hr2RRKbh-rh5nfD_ECnfc_4IEOUrCrmps0SyCpEg/s1600/DSC01067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_gv-B2b64pl2QUT2gGYSv4VH3BVAbT3l3CrJtBTVHVu8SzIIwAewMFx1HUZanhD8hryYzhguEyH8CZ4GBLLAsNP9aRAxdbI6QBrp4hr2RRKbh-rh5nfD_ECnfc_4IEOUrCrmps0SyCpEg/s320/DSC01067.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfYTsaoz_xi6qppklDj0n4iT-wBzI2x0pOJw1DUzVpz2mYsYsu0f5re69ThbSTSvdC1LDXjiUqDuNtJNf2uOBRzD4wQgjHjmuVSjyQt7zqQn_pfGByHFGowNx1jG5k-JIJUz37N9CCYSR/s1600/DSC01059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfYTsaoz_xi6qppklDj0n4iT-wBzI2x0pOJw1DUzVpz2mYsYsu0f5re69ThbSTSvdC1LDXjiUqDuNtJNf2uOBRzD4wQgjHjmuVSjyQt7zqQn_pfGByHFGowNx1jG5k-JIJUz37N9CCYSR/s320/DSC01059.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I really liked the sloths.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_CIOcxiZh4fBbmOvf6ZKdmRxSQHoeGy3X26k1tnGpR0YZ5xBwqNRdD8TctmMq-dUA1pFzgbIXq9iugJYALt56mM1WnAGDFuMR7GQgzghyphenhyphenhOqwJwOoF_TMNtMe8e9zu2pkwXS1VYPWhBn/s1600/DSC01069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_CIOcxiZh4fBbmOvf6ZKdmRxSQHoeGy3X26k1tnGpR0YZ5xBwqNRdD8TctmMq-dUA1pFzgbIXq9iugJYALt56mM1WnAGDFuMR7GQgzghyphenhyphenhOqwJwOoF_TMNtMe8e9zu2pkwXS1VYPWhBn/s320/DSC01069.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpE8jzYyKVQ5ufp34XqhUIL3d6kArA7mSEcGh5O8WAl-r-Zt-v5vVCfTJhjYMjpVOkmtly9YgL2e9MdvO0a6RtYzowWcFPzwSdbNHxsoH7ke68iB5zkHbdAeA8cMfWt672NozyCI9sS8f8/s1600/DSC01088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpE8jzYyKVQ5ufp34XqhUIL3d6kArA7mSEcGh5O8WAl-r-Zt-v5vVCfTJhjYMjpVOkmtly9YgL2e9MdvO0a6RtYzowWcFPzwSdbNHxsoH7ke68iB5zkHbdAeA8cMfWt672NozyCI9sS8f8/s320/DSC01088.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We then made it to one of the two beaches in this national park and found it <i>crawling</i> with monkeys. The monkeys were bold enough to come right up and steal people's lunches as they went for a swim! I didn't think places like this existed, but here it was. It was truly an awesome place.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcsyEVfkBNppO71xlvtZ8YprDCULlC9YCjk7kIIIrb9TLGUtD2W-QD18DLYsDnJMHHnJhE0igYBbvETxKjuNr6NnPu4BOPozCEU2X3i5hXmqrLIIZCpqlGa0DbL5-gyobpTBh4R5bqYhlq/s1600/DSC01089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcsyEVfkBNppO71xlvtZ8YprDCULlC9YCjk7kIIIrb9TLGUtD2W-QD18DLYsDnJMHHnJhE0igYBbvETxKjuNr6NnPu4BOPozCEU2X3i5hXmqrLIIZCpqlGa0DbL5-gyobpTBh4R5bqYhlq/s320/DSC01089.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> After the park, we went to the beach to relax, but, being a couple of landlocked Minnesota boys, we found the prospect of playing in the surf much more entertaining than sleeping on the beach. The sun set and we hiked up a mountain side to find a restaurant where we had some of the best seafood we've ever had. After dinner we headed back down the mountain side only to find that all the good bars and places to hang out were back at the top of the mountain. After much discussion, we decided that we were too tired from all of the activity of the day to hike back up, so once again we called it an early night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> We got up decently early (early to bed, early to rise) and made our way towards Jacó, a surfer town just north up the coast from us. Based on some advice we got the first day, we headed to a hostel called "papas and burgers." It was lucky that we found it too, because the first hotel we checked out turned out to be where all of the prostitutes take their clients, so I doubt that we'd have had a very peaceful night's sleep. Now, on our first day in the country we were also told that Wednesday night at a bar called "the backyard" was the best night of parties in the entire area, but this recommendation came with a warning. Apparently, because it was ladies night, the bar would be full with "mad bitches." We wondered all week why there would be dogs in the bar, and even more pressing, why they would be so angry. Every time we discussed this troubling warning we became more and more intrigued, and our desire to actually make it to a bar one night of the trip grew. To this end, we limited beach time and activities, so as to conserve energy (also, it rained most of the day). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Finally the night came and we made our way to the backyard. Much to our relief there was not one dog in the entire establishment. What's more, the majority of the people there seemed to be in good spirits, not one looked mad! That being said, after the rave review, we found The Backyard to be nothing really special. I commented to Dave that it is just like Sal's bar except in Costa Rica and with far more prostitutes. Some people from South Africa heard us say that and commented that it is just like a bar in their home town too, but with far less prostitutes. A gentleman from England said the same, as did an Aussie. It turns out that bars and parties are the same just about everywhere, and it has more to do with the people you're with than the inherent "fun" of a bar, "mad bitches" or not. We did have a fun night though, and we are now able to say that we experienced the nightlife of Costa Rica, if only for one night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> The next day, our last full day in Costa Rica, we were able to experience another almost unavoidable Costa Rican happening: horrible horrible sunburn. I guess that's what happens when you forget your sunscreen and spend multiple hours on the beach. The only thing I have going for me is that the parts not covered by my shirt already had a good base, so the blistering and peeling was limited to the concealed parts of my body, reducing the embarrassment a little. I can only imagine what Dave's virgin Minnesota skin is going through... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Having experienced all that we had hoped for in Costa Rica, we caught a bus back to San Jose for the last night. The next morning, we got up bright and early to fly back to our respective countries, and I bid farewell to Dave and Costa Rica. It was really a vacation to remember.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The plane ride to Guatemala went as expected, and my bus ride was far better than I had hoped for: It only broke down twice!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-38389335868116102472011-02-24T22:00:00.000-06:002011-02-24T22:00:12.023-06:00Patience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: left;"> Patience is a virtue, the old saying goes. And, while I have never possessed that virtue in great abundance, I have never needed more patience than here in Guatemala. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: left;"> In the 22 years I have spent in the 1st world I have grown accustomed to a certain standard, this standard often simply cannot be met in land of eternal spring. I often find myself wanting commonplace USA things that are anything but commonplace here in Guatemala. For instance, while digging a hole in the orange orchard I was craving a shovel whose handle doesn't snap in half when used to dig dirt, and when trying to build an above ground garden I wanted a hammer whose handle doesn't snap when used to remove a nail. These tools, however, were nowhere to be found. Sometimes I get a strong desire for constant quality electricity or internet or telephone service, and that desire often goes unquenched. Once in a while I find myself feeling particularly selfish and want buses that leave on time, students who show up regularly to class, friends who arrive within 15 minutes of when we say we'll meet, and most of all, water that isn't full of bacteria that are trying to kill me slowly from the inside out. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: left;"> However, I realize that, most of the time, that is just my United States upbringing clashing with my Guatemalan life. The problem comes from the fact that in the United States there is a truly incredible and unmatchable level of efficiency. I never realized it before, but back home everything seems to work. Things work so well that it is shocking, alarming, and newsworthy if they do not work. Roads are smooth, and if they are not, they are repaired, and if they are not someone writes a story about it in the newspaper. Hospitals have medicine, and if they do not, they get it, and if they do not, someone writes a story about it in the newspaper. When something slows the efficiency of our daily commute (whether it be an accident, snow, or some other event) they talk about it on the news because, even though it is fun to complain about the daily commute, it is shockingly rare that something so bad happens that people can't make it to work. In the United States, a senator is suing a restaurant for <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/dailycaller/20110126/pl_dailycaller/repdenniskucinichsuescongressionalcafeteriaoverdangerousolivepit">$150,000</a> over an olive pit he found in a sandwich. I have literally not eaten one tamal here in Guatemala that was not full of chicken bones. The soup is even worse. I remember when the Hog's Breath restaurant was under legal trouble for an E. Coli outbreak. In Guatemala, I'm on a first name basis with E. Coli, Salmonella, and a handful of other bugs that live in every drop of tap water in this country. While it sounds whiny and privileged, the fact of the matter is that as a United States citizen I am used to things working right, on time, and without problems. That is just not the way things work here, and I have to exercise my patience on a regular basis because of it. </div><div style="color: black; text-align: left;"> One particular facet of my volunteer experience here has had my patience doing laps every time I think about it. It happens to the the Ciudad de Felicidad orphanage. While I once had very high hopes for this place, I have experienced one disappointment after another there, and am honestly quite frustrated. The first project to fail was the hospital. The price tag on this project, coupled with the lagging economy, drove it straight into the ground. After that disappointment I was looking for something a little easier. When a friend suggested that I build a "huerto" (basically an above ground vegetable garden) and said he would supply vegetable seeds, I felt up to the task. I asked the nuns if they would be able to care for the plants and utilize the vegetables, and they all gave an emphatic "SI." The first phase of building went well. Despite the heat of November, I got the wood cut to size and some holes dug. I actually kind of enjoyed it, as this was something I had practiced a lot over the past few summers in the Boundary Waters. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGk1mye0JzHb7fcKeW9m5hXCGMJuUZqHp7oMhl4gBK2fRqmOHnYWF3aeo9EKvrHwwoEBauiF7roFaoP9hiNU3MiZgUpiUrVhO__u_aQUWPEV0piJqvgvTX76dXzz3iyCAiNhKcsGvJHaM/s1600/DSC00477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGk1mye0JzHb7fcKeW9m5hXCGMJuUZqHp7oMhl4gBK2fRqmOHnYWF3aeo9EKvrHwwoEBauiF7roFaoP9hiNU3MiZgUpiUrVhO__u_aQUWPEV0piJqvgvTX76dXzz3iyCAiNhKcsGvJHaM/s320/DSC00477.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After the completion of this first phase, I was nearly done, all that was left was to connect the wood and drop it in the holes. This is where the bad luck/lack of quality tools/the fact that Guatemala is quite a bit different than the United States caught up with me. My first thought was that I could just get a battery powered screw gun, march on up to the orphanage, pound out the project and start growing vegetables. Turns out screw guns haven't found their way to Esquipulas. No problem, I could just get a drill, make holes, and screw the pieces together. Then I found out that the climate of months of heavy soaking rains followed by long dry periods is bad for wood that is left out. My boards were far to warped to screw together. I actually cracked one board trying to screw it to another. In fact, if you look careful enough at the picture above, you might notice that the right end of the board is laying flat while the right side is at about a 20 degree angle to the ground. Also, the electricity at the orphanage was not reliable or robust enough to power the electric drill.<br />
With all of the civilized options used up, I decided to go caveman on the board and just pound it to submission with a hammer and nails. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2gcjG8EKsfvCJu6BzIswrbAhP8b4Tf07U9XLdfUYrZ9Nr5To2y-H__tlNKVZxcwu_LtmwU8m06qXbCSZQpk52TrBTbttI2QHEZ9pc6EEyMd4Ma5GER6SgnvqgSJcsBNOTIRd8G2Ap-_Z/s1600/DSC00556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2gcjG8EKsfvCJu6BzIswrbAhP8b4Tf07U9XLdfUYrZ9Nr5To2y-H__tlNKVZxcwu_LtmwU8m06qXbCSZQpk52TrBTbttI2QHEZ9pc6EEyMd4Ma5GER6SgnvqgSJcsBNOTIRd8G2Ap-_Z/s320/DSC00556.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Guess not.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Right about this time I fell ill with stomach amoebas and couldn't work. Once those were cleared up my 90 day stay in Guatemala ended and I had to go on a week long vacation. When I finally returned to the orphanage I discovered that all of the nuns thought I had left for good and all of the wood had been reappointed to different projects. Oh, I also found out that they had decided to uncover the 10' by 20' huerto they already had but forgot to tell me about and plant all the seeds I gave them in that. By the end of this disaster project I made a pictorial diagram for Willian (from the library) explaining why the project has failed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdR1ziyd1jhgXO8xZnCJ95iZ_3cYqhQNXMFrhhsbkPikyiBVKIIJahz8l1-0p82fC1hFjY_Ql2uQLWJcICDPPkfqvSowDHoV_DsTV7i7TbOWJ6HVil8iNoecntSI_WvG7yKjB1hGR5ouO/s1600/DSC00630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdR1ziyd1jhgXO8xZnCJ95iZ_3cYqhQNXMFrhhsbkPikyiBVKIIJahz8l1-0p82fC1hFjY_Ql2uQLWJcICDPPkfqvSowDHoV_DsTV7i7TbOWJ6HVil8iNoecntSI_WvG7yKjB1hGR5ouO/s320/DSC00630.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div> I took a break from the Ciudad de Felicidad after those failures, but the whole while I was thinking about my next project, solar power for the orphanage. I did my research, figured out what would be needed to start, and even had about $3000 raised for me (thank you Sister Stephanie). However, most of the things required for solar panels, even the correct batteries, are produced in the United States, and are very VERY expensive to ship to Guatemala. While I am still looking for ways to work it out, this project has been moved to the back burners. <br />
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After the death of the huerto I went for a walk to cool my head, and found something rather surprising. It turns out that mine weren't the only projects to fail in the Barrio de Santa Ana. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggNdQC2t5x2KedmTXC98JgnWtM6VELtzH95yF3DQxhzjelS4K8l33nANDGMbr6Xbl6lLHf0ct1pU8TdxpTawNUJNVUKNDn3RVYuNehgygPVA_HhWt5beEWO-UP0UcAjsBoAq74auFB942Y/s1600/DSC00858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggNdQC2t5x2KedmTXC98JgnWtM6VELtzH95yF3DQxhzjelS4K8l33nANDGMbr6Xbl6lLHf0ct1pU8TdxpTawNUJNVUKNDn3RVYuNehgygPVA_HhWt5beEWO-UP0UcAjsBoAq74auFB942Y/s320/DSC00858.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This is an entire sub-development that had been planned in the area. Streets, light poles, ditches for a sewage system. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfrdZa9ZtU1sRm8TfuNzF89BGcvv_yO4QognGWbSbn9ZMTc34xOVTfBSN40c31j_ZFP60MO4zA6zgG2LFJB66mzgHPG5LZFiejiXyjkfRk_yFqOCqZa4-bzdt0uc0MKmUE3JEnLrdU99N/s1600/DSC00857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfrdZa9ZtU1sRm8TfuNzF89BGcvv_yO4QognGWbSbn9ZMTc34xOVTfBSN40c31j_ZFP60MO4zA6zgG2LFJB66mzgHPG5LZFiejiXyjkfRk_yFqOCqZa4-bzdt0uc0MKmUE3JEnLrdU99N/s320/DSC00857.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I would NOT want to be stuck here at night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtnaKS7JX3i7DjcPrzCq-YkTcY1zdzFDPMplX4YJKK1Y4BeAIYRzxjaMElxsU-1sWXyfrjillBKeML3x8x-uGM4NoZ-CMBQa4A5Z4l_qT9UYSbjE1gwZmynDxPRdHU7irFSNq4rHQYcZD/s1600/DSC00860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtnaKS7JX3i7DjcPrzCq-YkTcY1zdzFDPMplX4YJKK1Y4BeAIYRzxjaMElxsU-1sWXyfrjillBKeML3x8x-uGM4NoZ-CMBQa4A5Z4l_qT9UYSbjE1gwZmynDxPRdHU7irFSNq4rHQYcZD/s320/DSC00860.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And the tubing for the sewage system</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> There were even old faded advertisements to potential builders in the area. I first thought that maybe this was built recently and they had just delayed development, but then I found this. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqmmJsz2Zfb9TTTGvAj7amRsMn2h6IsV5Uk3cjfSQ-Sb3pnQ-O22-e9TH30k-jI6zqjdB6HW2Qzgd7hm_InCZ9cOGUgr0CjpfARVdUnuQc_tBqS4v0ClgC_O2r6ZMwnFoRKMa6ablU20N/s1600/DSC00854.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqmmJsz2Zfb9TTTGvAj7amRsMn2h6IsV5Uk3cjfSQ-Sb3pnQ-O22-e9TH30k-jI6zqjdB6HW2Qzgd7hm_InCZ9cOGUgr0CjpfARVdUnuQc_tBqS4v0ClgC_O2r6ZMwnFoRKMa6ablU20N/s320/DSC00854.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> That is a tree growing out of a concrete.... something. That's right, a tree. That is at least 2 years worth of growth. So, in light of this, I do not feel so bad about failing with my projects at the orphanage. While a garden may not be as hard to build as a city, it's not nearly as big a loss as I saw here in the ghost town. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> I don't want to give the City of Joy a bad rap. It is really a wonderful place and I have had some good times there as well. Also, it is not my only source of frustration here in Guatemala. Not by a long shot. Allow me to elaborate with a story...</div> I had made plans two weeks ago to visit a friend of mine who is volunteering near Lake Atitlán. While that is slightly more than the distance from Oakdale to Hibbing (a 3 hour drive), I was told to expect a nine hour bus ride due to the mountains, bad roads, and constant stopping of buses. I prepared myself for the ride, even picking out a few books from the library, and was ready to go. however, the day I was supposed to leave, I became sick with stomach problems, no doubt due to one of the good friends I have listed above. I put off the trip for another week and this time even watched what I ate the whole week to avoid potential problems. Friday came again, and this time everything seemed to work out or me and the wind was at my back. I caught a ride with the monastery's driver all the way to the capital, and found the parish driver from San Lucas Toliman in the capital and convinced him to give me a ride out that way. I didn't have to take one bus! I had a great time at Lake Atitlán which definitely is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and got a chance to visit Erin, a good friend since my days in Chile.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_f99mlMFSj21CjROksP5yICa8ifAONeXWzAtgTTTK2QSyhswNC3cV5EMFDILiYM8bUs-9MtEy7ZlR1AnZumShr4_RTNZ8A8qe6DOD_qCb7wKWwGvZ3xIYeNydnCS0wq4KQjWb50lxUmSc/s320/DSC01016.JPG" width="320" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was also really pretty there </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vdKllx9AdCw-rYRFAmScA7UBJlkm2NclEaylToVeFlcKrgvm4FjmT2zqoFl_5RjRKrT3uVQHY2GnfbfT5Ri-dhd-4AsZUQT8KdXcQd8dCVXqGKXcYRi25TlVlhyphenhyphen-BUCnxyoh_cVEW1cG/s1600/DSC01021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vdKllx9AdCw-rYRFAmScA7UBJlkm2NclEaylToVeFlcKrgvm4FjmT2zqoFl_5RjRKrT3uVQHY2GnfbfT5Ri-dhd-4AsZUQT8KdXcQd8dCVXqGKXcYRi25TlVlhyphenhyphen-BUCnxyoh_cVEW1cG/s320/DSC01021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> AND they have an alternative to microbuses! They are just pickups that you stand up in the back of though...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV41qaHuWrdlqLQb2DxnONry8rfKXRCgfywoXAytul860Wnsyd4ViJsPHp-H49ZNHJZkhKgfwjjYSWL5oGh5s3kVqIXhsCTS8H5oguVSrJJlrc-1fzFmwnMu_l7d2asB75mB-K8Gh_Twxj/s1600/DSC01025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV41qaHuWrdlqLQb2DxnONry8rfKXRCgfywoXAytul860Wnsyd4ViJsPHp-H49ZNHJZkhKgfwjjYSWL5oGh5s3kVqIXhsCTS8H5oguVSrJJlrc-1fzFmwnMu_l7d2asB75mB-K8Gh_Twxj/s320/DSC01025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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However, when I woke up Monday to come home I found that the breeze at my back all the way to the lake had not changed directions, and had become gale force (that means it was against me). While I had set my alarm clock for a very comfortable 7:30, I found myself awake at 6:00 feeling like something wasn't right. It turns out that the things that weren't right were my intestines, so I made my way to the bathroom (multiple times) to rid myself of the problem. As always when you need to travel and have problems with... continence... the best bet is the pharmacist. I made my way there and took some pills, but by the time they had taken effect, the morning round of buses had already left San Lucas. So I waited. And Waited. And finally a chicken bus came which brought me to the capital without problems, I thought. However, it dropped me off just outside the city at the center of transportation. The Rutas Orientales station is in the center of the city. That turned out to be a problem. I took the bus into the city and it dropped me off at a plaza. Even though streets are not at all well marked in Guatemala City I figured I could find my way home from a plaza. After all, how many plazas can there be? 2 hours of wandering around later I found my way to the Rutas Orientales station. It turns out there are a lot of plazas in the city, and the particular one I was in wasn't on my map. The delays in San Lucas and the capital cost me the dream of being home in time for a nap before vespers I was still confident about making it back in time for vespers and dinner. Then the bus broke down. Then the bus broke down again. Then the bus broke down a third time. By the time I got home, the typical 5 hour ride had taken 7 and I hadn't eaten all day due to the stomach issues was dealing with. To make matters worse, every restaurant in town that was still open at 8:30 was packed because it was Valentine's day. So I cut my losses and went to sleep.<br />
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I have commented earlier on the very common phrase "primero Dios" or "God willing." While I didn't quite understand it at the time, every day and every incident like the few I've mentioned above, I find myself coming closer and closer to understanding why that phrase is so common. This Friday my second set of 90 days in Guatemala expire. Saturday morning I will be headed to Costa Rica to spend a week on the beach with a good friend, Dave. God willing.</div><br />
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Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-55563581842191914422011-02-02T09:23:00.000-06:002011-02-02T09:23:07.904-06:00The Winds of Change The Festival of "Nuestro Señor de Esquipulas" was a very active and fun time here at the monastery but it also signaled some big changes for the town of Esquipulas, and especially me and my work. these changes were so profound and sweeping that everything after this week will henceforth (in this blog at least, but I'm trying to get it to catch on) be known as the Common Guatemalan Era. <br />
The last few months I have been here, I have picked up work at the library, the City of Joy, the Library, and a few odd projects on the side for anyone who needs an English translator or someone to run to the Capital. I picked up all of these jobs because I felt I was expected to do something, but mostly just to keep the boredom at bay and make myself feel useful. I feel I should mention that when I say that I was expected to do something I use that term lightly: As I've said before, that "something" that I was expected to do was go to prayers twice a day and maybe work. If I felt like it. However, the Monday after the festival was the first day of high school and grade school classes after the "summer" break, that means that I suddenly have a lot of work, work which has moved my other projects to the backburner. My morning work has moved from working in the fields with Leonidas to full time Library duty with the increased number of students. The change in the library is truly incredible. Apparently the library I work at is the only complete one in Esquipulas due to the "government's refusal to put money into the East Side of the country," which means that students from all 5 of the high schools in town and both of the primary schools all come to our library, as well as anyone who needs documents photocopied. That means the library has been almost continuously packed full for the last 2 weeks, forcing me to take on a more or less full time morning job there. I even have a uniform! It is nice to know that I am helping provide such a necessary service to the people of Esquipulas. It is amazing to me that in a country with the second worst literacy rate in the Western Hemisphere libraries are so undervalued that there the nearest public one is an hour away (then again, that's where the nearest hospital is too...). I also really enjoy the work there, even though it is exhausting, it is a wonderful way to practice my spanish and meet new people. I've noticed that since the dawn of the CBE and the student rush at the library, every time I leave the basilica 3 or 4 people wave to me or call out my name or start conversations with me. It's kind of fun being the only gringo in town!<br />
While the library keeps me busy in the morning, I am assisting with English classes at Colegio San Benito in the afternoons. That has been a lot of fun and, while I don't get to practice Spanish as much, I'm still meeting a lot of new people and at least once a day I learn something about the English language that I didn't know. Oh, and I have a uniform for the Colegio San Benito too. I guess I'm kind of a big deal. <br />
If I time it right I can usually swing by the library after classes right after they've finished cleaning, so I have gotten into the habit of spending what little free time I have everyday hanging out with my friends from the library.<br />
I finish off most days with my two English classes. Sadly these were not immune to the change that was sweeping through my life here. The first Wednesday of the CBE saw 15 new students drop into my comfortable class of 7-8, nearly tripling the size.<br />
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While I'm glad that more people have a desire to learn English and are taking advantage of my classes, I didn't plan on this, and it has really slowed down the class, much to the chagrin of my old students. If I could do it all over again I would set up two or three classes with a start and end date throughout the year, allowing students to join without slowing the class down, but hindsight is 20/20 and we are moving on. Plus, this next session is the Gerund, which is really easy so it is a nice time to catch up. <br />
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Now, I can hear you saying "Adam, all of that sounds like a lot of work, are you keeping up with your rest?" Well, thank you for asking. As a matter of fact BOOOM I've been a little BAANG behind on sleep due to the POWWW fact that my usual half TING TING TIN hour nap after lunch has been CRASSSSHHHH taken over by another change moving through the monastery. With the new CBE, the monks have decided that it is time to fix all of the cracks in the stucco walls. That means workers pounding with hammers and chisels <i>all day long</i> right outside of my room.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dOvFhkmqJ0pfjFmr9YXaTpQ6sQmImBxnERVRe9D70wrdZzuoAAkGIK1eV6gWvKe6woKP9FU8BsNXYXsbdPws2iSYviacz1IAKCXNWvAAsGlUrxzyWG6pdJT8c_4AjfZHFi95ugASvy5C/s1600/DSC00991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dOvFhkmqJ0pfjFmr9YXaTpQ6sQmImBxnERVRe9D70wrdZzuoAAkGIK1eV6gWvKe6woKP9FU8BsNXYXsbdPws2iSYviacz1IAKCXNWvAAsGlUrxzyWG6pdJT8c_4AjfZHFi95ugASvy5C/s320/DSC00991.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I mean <i>right</i> outside my room. That is my window right next to the man with the chisel.</div><br />
The construction has more or less rendered my room unlivable from 8:00 am until 4:30 pm everyday. It has been a little bit of a bummer, and has left me somewhat like a zombie wandering around the monastery in those first wee hours of the afternoon. I have rescheduled my class schedule to allow for soccer every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, which has been a big help. It's amazing how exercise, as opposed to making me more tired, gives me so much energy. <br />
There is one last change here that I'd like to tell you about. The Basilica has recently hired a new chef. He comes from the Belizean Navy, where he picked up some truly incredible skills (almost superpowers as far as I can tell): Cooking without black beans! He only uses his strange powers occasionally so as to not frighten the monks with his bold and dangerous style, but his contributions to the monastery have reduced our bean consumption from 2-3 times every day (leaning more towards the 3) to 2-3 times a day (leaning more towards the 2). That being said, tortillas are still a staple that is not to be challenged, surviving even when this revolutionary new chef decides to serve pizza. I have really enjoyed the slightly changed diet, and my digestive tract has appreciated a lower quantity of beans however, this changing diet has turned out to be a bit of a double edged sword. While he has let beans go to the wayside on various occasions, he has a certain affinity for liver. Like, a twice a week affinity. I hate liver. Almost as much as I hate the Packers.<br />
By the way, I'll probably cry if they win the Superbowl.Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-5034320485634661592011-01-25T18:18:00.001-06:002011-01-26T17:59:48.498-06:00Nuestro Señor de Esquipulas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"> This last week, Esquipulas was overrun by thousands of religious pilgrims who had made the trip to Esquipulas to see the Black Christ. During the week long festivities I saw pilgrims from every country in Central America and Mexico, some from Jamaica and Ecuador and, of course, at least one Estadounidense. </span><span style="font-size: small;">I have a huge amount of respect for the faith that these people have that compels them to travels hundreds or even thousands of miles in often very uncomfortable buses and over questionable roads to worship God. However, despite my great respect, I have never truly understood the idea behind a religious pilgrimage. It seems to me that an omnipotent god would be present everywhere in the world, not just one special corner of Guatemala. And, even if we accept the paradigm that God prefers to operate more profoundly in certain places, wouldn’t she probably chose one of the more awesome places that she spent all that time creating on earth… like at least place with awesome beaches? That being said, I definitely understand the concept of traveling many miles for a good party, and that is essentially what Esquipulas experienced this week. As can be expected, thousands of pilgrims bring with them lots and lots of money. Lots and lots of money attracts people who want to alleviate these travelers of the need to carry that extra weight back home with them. Hence, a giant street festival complete with food, a carnival, outdoor bars, and vendors selling every product you could ever imagine wanting to buy was born. </span> <style>
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</style> <span style="font-size: small;">When I say anything you could imagine, I mean it; during this festival, one could find almost anything they wanted to blow their money on. Pots and pans, socks, lighting fixtures for houses, lingerie, tequila shots, gambling, and even supporting the arts (through the medium of the mass amounts of street performers). It originally struck me as odd that bars were popping up all over the street corners with gambling booths spread liberally throughout the city during a religious holiday but then I realized that these vendors were serving a very useful purpose. Imagine making the trek all the way to Esquipulas only to realize that you are fresh out of sins to confess. That would be a tragedy! Fear not, however, for in one city block you can get brain meltingly drunk, blow your last month’s pay on gambling AND try out your skills at the add-hock shooting range!</span> <style>
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</style> </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Needless to say, there are a decent amount of people from Esquipulas who do not like the festival very much. And often with good reason: Esquipulas is full to the brim with pilgrims and salesmen, the sheer quantity of people stealing electricity causes mass blackouts to dominate the town for the majority of the week; a very non-negligible number of people were killed by the crazy driving habits of stressed (and possibly drunk?) people from all corners of Central America; <i>and</i> there are nowhere near enough bathroom or trash facilities in this town to facilitate the hundreds of thousands of pilgrims, meaning that waste (both the normal kind and the human kind) was deposited unceremoniously throughout the city. Despite these setbacks, the festival brought with it a very fun environment, with everyone there in high spirits and enjoying the week. And I've heard estimates that this week alone brings in around 40% of the money made in Esquipulas in a year... strangely I didn't hear anyone complain about that.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> At this point I am completely incapable of further explaining the sheer number of people, so I'll leave you with some stats, then lots of pictures. For the around 10,000 pilgrims who saw the Cristo Negro each day, there was around a 7 hour wait in line. Given that there is only one Cristo Negro, 10000 pilgrims and 86,400 seconds each day, that means each person averaged 7 hours in line for 8.64 seconds of Cristo Negro time. Truly unbelievable. </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I would also like to offer my sincerest apologies for last week's blog to all of my friends who struggle reading all the way through the name of their cereal every morning, and those of you who have asked for less words and more pictures (here's looking at you Eddie). As my act of contrition for the egregious number of words unaccompanied by pictures in the last blog, please accept these 30 pictures of Esquipulas under the siege of the pilgrims. </span></div><br />
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These following pictures are of the streets of Esquipulas during the "feria." On the right is during, on the left is the Monday after the holiday. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Above, on the left, is the bar selling tequila shots. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiexuV4ADDurtRfTB88GkvmPCtawxdrKwwqf4h8kaFTslB5cXk-HV8o8ARh2kI3IdFt75IGY_qWA2qhKUsVDo1BahlWCPlpTaxRWdNzLu8MpWH5EYXStR6lPQZtZsCWvXI-5JeY5PoE2FxM/s1600/DobleviafrontE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiexuV4ADDurtRfTB88GkvmPCtawxdrKwwqf4h8kaFTslB5cXk-HV8o8ARh2kI3IdFt75IGY_qWA2qhKUsVDo1BahlWCPlpTaxRWdNzLu8MpWH5EYXStR6lPQZtZsCWvXI-5JeY5PoE2FxM/s200/DobleviafrontE.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilx9msDH8CLKIHbFwSmESTDc-37ExvEbxu1tQOHt5GfLL-yDCwFuoot6SUJ6PYAp8WlfhbEBD3BcruLEVk0qKrCI9zBp3oEBwc23pINB2dclowCUGgTapDXTd2uFc75dy0Fv_2gW5crIFy/s1600/DobleviafrontF.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilx9msDH8CLKIHbFwSmESTDc-37ExvEbxu1tQOHt5GfLL-yDCwFuoot6SUJ6PYAp8WlfhbEBD3BcruLEVk0qKrCI9zBp3oEBwc23pINB2dclowCUGgTapDXTd2uFc75dy0Fv_2gW5crIFy/s200/DobleviafrontF.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Below are pictures of the carnival that came to town. There have been three carnivals in town (for about 3 weeks each) since I came to Esquipulas. All three have played "we no speak americano" without stop for their entire stay here. I never want to hear that song again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0NhJcZ-WPB1xp13fQ6T2tAU8pUh7QVT_Wg4SlC7yU-lGRt8bJqoSENKUqseLaSCsuzBGntJ4kXHKTplsdoZXTO4NsOkbOs_3VciOUPEIiUJIIBBsQ6v0jaAxUIJtnsDjDy-l2C4j-6Kt/s1600/FeriacornerF.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0NhJcZ-WPB1xp13fQ6T2tAU8pUh7QVT_Wg4SlC7yU-lGRt8bJqoSENKUqseLaSCsuzBGntJ4kXHKTplsdoZXTO4NsOkbOs_3VciOUPEIiUJIIBBsQ6v0jaAxUIJtnsDjDy-l2C4j-6Kt/s200/FeriacornerF.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0OWss5Qu_aahS3l2GPIQanTe8Rdqloe_dzqSqqxGp7FrVmJvLG6XYXzIGO31KA8ss_qdhl-pPAtme41ud9-jgjTRdO3BffRwDNxepCbcucFZqoLuTV2QlmCTe89VJpd7xwNqj8uDHpLKS/s1600/FeriacornerE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0OWss5Qu_aahS3l2GPIQanTe8Rdqloe_dzqSqqxGp7FrVmJvLG6XYXzIGO31KA8ss_qdhl-pPAtme41ud9-jgjTRdO3BffRwDNxepCbcucFZqoLuTV2QlmCTe89VJpd7xwNqj8uDHpLKS/s200/FeriacornerE.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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The front lawn of the Basilica was transformed into a makeshift campground. </div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">The night leading up the the 15th, they have a concert in the main plaza of the Basilica. They call it the serenade of the Cristo. It was completely packed, and a lot of fun.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApkb0ed-1gPJ_97p95kYQOfZeG8qynhMo84tlUJzG960Jg1Cjt1PXWrvrccmWNfZLGjKWg0tMvF1yaKplwEVt1wL3OP5O_nbOjtqlGCu73SrvTcdhdB62OXSXpC3deqexdsYtR3lODcDU/s1600/BasilicafrontF.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApkb0ed-1gPJ_97p95kYQOfZeG8qynhMo84tlUJzG960Jg1Cjt1PXWrvrccmWNfZLGjKWg0tMvF1yaKplwEVt1wL3OP5O_nbOjtqlGCu73SrvTcdhdB62OXSXpC3deqexdsYtR3lODcDU/s200/BasilicafrontF.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wcW9fc0Hbwwisxt7cSMleJMwzHbHhej9lnDGD-4MwxlhTO7uYp5MFC_KWBeP5P-97qTBQZ4IwxZJppIGBxGDjTG6Z12DAXANtfNGddwRR2RLu3_kTEz0eFpLr61nS7ZqnNhJHKGvY3MA/s1600/BasilicafrontnightF.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wcW9fc0Hbwwisxt7cSMleJMwzHbHhej9lnDGD-4MwxlhTO7uYp5MFC_KWBeP5P-97qTBQZ4IwxZJppIGBxGDjTG6Z12DAXANtfNGddwRR2RLu3_kTEz0eFpLr61nS7ZqnNhJHKGvY3MA/s200/BasilicafrontnightF.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajaW40E0y2eJNtC_i8wcI88VzKGQaW3vY8r4yTUZUoJiXML52BRCIqbOPvqT00C0dKrisDsy-CNr73FAnqENDoSFdLAefdehJpEqMfRqOO44TrH2yYyCT_w1KMH-iVSWwX_a_-1mkeEbB/s1600/BasilicafrontE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajaW40E0y2eJNtC_i8wcI88VzKGQaW3vY8r4yTUZUoJiXML52BRCIqbOPvqT00C0dKrisDsy-CNr73FAnqENDoSFdLAefdehJpEqMfRqOO44TrH2yYyCT_w1KMH-iVSWwX_a_-1mkeEbB/s320/BasilicafrontE.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">To use an old, tired platitude; there was "standing room only" for the mass at midnight on the 15th. Oh, and I don't mean in the basilica, I mean in the area directly surrounding it, in the courtyard, in the park, and in the streets surrounding the park. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmN-AHPZgsi1h7qdFKEzHz9ZJE9W0o32BSfnkZ0pMtV_syWq-jgcErMbBPjsY_Fv4nRPUU6YssoEERSl_-p0ZPQhitvyh2A7ls1E1HQNG7byCE1PNNGpbaFTZBr0fqx52QlqfTn1VqSDx/s1600/Basilicainsidef.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmN-AHPZgsi1h7qdFKEzHz9ZJE9W0o32BSfnkZ0pMtV_syWq-jgcErMbBPjsY_Fv4nRPUU6YssoEERSl_-p0ZPQhitvyh2A7ls1E1HQNG7byCE1PNNGpbaFTZBr0fqx52QlqfTn1VqSDx/s200/Basilicainsidef.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMHq-Ko3Pm8j8u05y4mQzXw7TWuW_OnODy19i0jpQkJlPOKcqMZ0kgIfURBFb2nCb2BPopQp508eyu-sOGMaCC3gF4TMN1mQAGoheOsMKK9I923Zc0jSUoyFnHQqVnff5HCtYBcyfnE4n/s1600/BasilicainsideE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMHq-Ko3Pm8j8u05y4mQzXw7TWuW_OnODy19i0jpQkJlPOKcqMZ0kgIfURBFb2nCb2BPopQp508eyu-sOGMaCC3gF4TMN1mQAGoheOsMKK9I923Zc0jSUoyFnHQqVnff5HCtYBcyfnE4n/s200/BasilicainsideE.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJp6R3KJCtOcJgqbWTmRAOaJzdE8ByU_lK96f5F-sqTWr7LqaVroaUAJHaizRiS2mF4_o5bv74FXSPIFPKVuzn8VugKuhOEHYeb3j3DocMrr3KyKbZRvLFmwNjW3zacv27bwV2hzQsBEvX/s1600/BasilicawallF.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJp6R3KJCtOcJgqbWTmRAOaJzdE8ByU_lK96f5F-sqTWr7LqaVroaUAJHaizRiS2mF4_o5bv74FXSPIFPKVuzn8VugKuhOEHYeb3j3DocMrr3KyKbZRvLFmwNjW3zacv27bwV2hzQsBEvX/s200/BasilicawallF.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzm-rB22AGKNnc-nIgj8m8oc1ueYyy0ooh61qSIxjo2CqaLNlq8kAOuzupTEh4GBWGso6nLuIT67GRvNAe5IS10q38QIGPEb-s3VBcIFo8KFyK3FkQDi3EWzaDvXbjZZc_nNUB6pHwc01/s1600/BasilicawallE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzm-rB22AGKNnc-nIgj8m8oc1ueYyy0ooh61qSIxjo2CqaLNlq8kAOuzupTEh4GBWGso6nLuIT67GRvNAe5IS10q38QIGPEb-s3VBcIFo8KFyK3FkQDi3EWzaDvXbjZZc_nNUB6pHwc01/s200/BasilicawallE.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">And then, after being up all night for the mass, I decided I would skip Laudes and sleep in. I was woken up about 7:00 by a helicopter that seemed like it was flying awfully close to the Basilica. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Turns out the Vice president of Guatemala wanted to stop by to see the Cristo. </div><div style="text-align: center;">To all of my Chile friends: I think meeting the VP tops meeting Ariel Dorfman. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zzxbh3mW38NSNeHzWK_MLNa7O4PTLODMqLCKIWaM5Q2wKJpq0WUnDpI86sSTdch47jPPXXYuSmhB8Dp-OU6HDcJbXSMoBy3LDaMIPnWec-k0CDpR-XOgj5mAdW-uAOyH6whalHLDANP8/s1600/helicopter.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zzxbh3mW38NSNeHzWK_MLNa7O4PTLODMqLCKIWaM5Q2wKJpq0WUnDpI86sSTdch47jPPXXYuSmhB8Dp-OU6HDcJbXSMoBy3LDaMIPnWec-k0CDpR-XOgj5mAdW-uAOyH6whalHLDANP8/s320/helicopter.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sadly, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims have quite a negative impact on a little town like Esquipulas. However, no later than Sunday afternoon, they townspeople took to the streets en masse each with a broom in hand to clean up the mess. By Monday, the only places where I could take an appropriately dirty picture were in the places where they couldn't reach!</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Oh, and some people showed up from Mexico to do some dances. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vyTaUWaf_ij77ka5QXMqKbQg8MyDsfsTRkdXDqsrXZRSK3QTndL-0TI3mZjgaLLhCUGnXUbkqp8cJeqW2EtCfVOnyNp85jGLg7PIOI7coRN2kFi5__gHphE94ZYKkvdgosh17WhMzjtE/s1600/Dancefight.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vyTaUWaf_ij77ka5QXMqKbQg8MyDsfsTRkdXDqsrXZRSK3QTndL-0TI3mZjgaLLhCUGnXUbkqp8cJeqW2EtCfVOnyNp85jGLg7PIOI7coRN2kFi5__gHphE94ZYKkvdgosh17WhMzjtE/s320/Dancefight.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I think they represent the Conquistadores?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpK4TzGl_CI8r3fDghvYNAxsHpCGnKgL8Vp1Dhx30lN4u7Ywp0fgoffncdM8faGjz7qc2Zcs-oOz-Aarfa0vjFVEbIZSeiRgItvZgxQlQVcFVxBjh-xsd7tu0dH-2YB78woNgbfXg8uAX/s1600/Danceline.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpK4TzGl_CI8r3fDghvYNAxsHpCGnKgL8Vp1Dhx30lN4u7Ywp0fgoffncdM8faGjz7qc2Zcs-oOz-Aarfa0vjFVEbIZSeiRgItvZgxQlQVcFVxBjh-xsd7tu0dH-2YB78woNgbfXg8uAX/s320/Danceline.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">After all of their sword fights, they all advanced on this poor woman. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTPP8u263d09mwDHGXxTRLRQGahNpnIj-go_MLgfJKH8qI-11Ro64k69mmO-rEQXzPhnGu31dPHLsHD4NXFCsKWNplM4QvtPGMV2xKQiQFHPvBloJyblXU9YIkonHP6EFP2020QYBYdl9/s1600/dancewoman.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTPP8u263d09mwDHGXxTRLRQGahNpnIj-go_MLgfJKH8qI-11Ro64k69mmO-rEQXzPhnGu31dPHLsHD4NXFCsKWNplM4QvtPGMV2xKQiQFHPvBloJyblXU9YIkonHP6EFP2020QYBYdl9/s320/dancewoman.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I didn't really understand it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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P.S. For anyone interested, apparently they do this twice more (although on a smaller scale) while I am here in Esquipulas. March 8th (yep, mardi gras) for the celebration of bringing the Cristo from Antigua to Esquipulas, and Holy Week. You are more than welcome to come down and experience the madness for yourself. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-24063841737824139962011-01-16T10:24:00.001-06:002011-01-18T08:45:07.082-06:002010-Greatest hits <style>
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</style><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> <span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> The beginning of a new year always feels like the perfect time to do some reflecting on the year past and the one to come. 2010 was a pretty huge year for me, with graduation and me entering the "real world" for a whole 3 months (long enough for me to realize I wanted nothing to do with it) and my subsequent (and not unrelated) trip to Guatemala. While the first part of the year was very important for <i>me</i>, it is undoubtedly not of interest to <i>you</i>, my fine reader, who traversed thousands of bytes of internet information to arrive at this page in search of stories about my latest experiences and jinxes in Guatemala. After all, how would stories about my life in Minnesota fit in a blog titles "Adam <i>Between Oceans</i>"?...</span></span> <br />
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Anyways, I've been in Guatemala four months now. A fact that surprises me every day. It amazes me both that the time has gone so fast and that I have fit so much into the short 4 months I have been here. I've now begun my second English class, which meets Tuesday and Thursday, completing the 5 day English class cycle. I'm working on some projects at the Ciudad de Felicidad and, although the Hospital idea crashed, and the garden took a nose dive, it's been good to be able to do some good work there, and at least playing with the kids is always fun. Starting next week, the third week in 2011, I will be helping in San Benito's high school with English classes (and maybe math and physics?) and, as always, I'm having fun in the library and the orange orchard. It actually amazes me that, though I haven't accomplished a whole lot, I've been incredibly successful at making myself busy in a monastery where my only real obligation is to pray twice a day. </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> That being said, I would like to use this blog to write some of the memories I have accumulated over the past 4 months into the internet history books. I'll try to make this more interesting than just a lame old journal entry, but if I fail, please accept my apologies. </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Slang</b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Slang is an interesting thing. Every culture has it, it changes drastically from place to place, and it gives some great great local flavor to the dialect of a place. As far as I can tell, slang first came about when everybody in a certain family, town, city, region, country, or continent decide that some nonsense word will henceforth mean something else or, even worse, that a perfectly fine word should take on a new, often more sinister, meaning; and there you have it, new slang is born (holy long sentence batman!). I remember in grade school, one student decided that erasers should be slang for breasts. It made no sense, but there you have it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> While I was in Chile I found special pleasure in seeking out new slang to use with my gringo friends to make us feel more like Chileans. It was a fun game that left me speaking an interesting 50/50 mix of Spanish and Chilean street slang after my 4 months there. This turned out to be less of a fun game and more of a curse when I returned home to college Spanish classes where I was barely able to communicate with the other, less jaded students. Sadly, this Chilean slang curse has followed me from the shores of South America to Guatemala where, instead of the fun game I once found it to be, slang has become a matter of survival. I constantly catch myself accidentally slipping some Chilean slang into my dialect or worse, only knowing the Chilean word for a certain object, and being completely unable to communicate my idea. The following is a list of Guatemalan slang that I have picked up in my time here, and that you might find useful if one day you find yourself in the land of eternal spring.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Pupusa</i></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> At dinner one night a monk offered me what I have come to know as an "empanada." He explained to me that this particular "empanada"<i> </i>was from Honduras, where they (besides being far better than the Guatemalan kind) are called "pupusas." The next day I went to watch the posada with a student from my class (who happens to be a very attractive female) and afterward, she suggested that we eat some empanadas at a place I know called "Pupuseria Sinai." Wanting to show off how cultured I am, I asked her if she liked eating "pupusas," which kind of "pupusas" she prefers, and if she likes “pupusas” with salsa, because I often find they are too dry without salsa. I literally fit the word "pupusa" into that sentence 3 times. She looked at me funny and said that, here, they are called empanadas. The next day I come to find out that here, a mere 10 km from Honduras, pupusa means something completely different.... it is slang for the female reproductive organ. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Chulo</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> Does NOT mean ugly or out of fashion. It actually means cool or nice. Don't believe me? See my first <a href="http://adamentreoceanos.blogspot.com/2010/10/and-then-there-was-one.html">AWFLE</a><i>. </i> </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Baluk/Cuñado</i></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-size: small;">A favorite of the monks here. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> Cuñado mean brother in law in spanish, and Baluk is the translation in Quiché, a local dialect.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> They like to call people brother in law as a joke, insinuating that they are married to your sister. They don't seem to be bothered by the fact that they have taken vows of celibacy and I haven't, meaning that the only logical reason to call me brother in law is if <i>I</i> am married to <i>their</i> sisters...</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Puchika</i></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-size: small;">Sounds pretty bad huh? Actually just means something akin to "shoot" or "darn." The first time I heard the Abbott say this I was taken a bit off guard. </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Enculado</i></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-size: small;">A vulgar way of saying "in love." Some friends and I changed the words to a popular song to include this, but they conveniently forgot to tell me that it is not a nice word. Too bad for them that they were not around to laugh when I unwittingly began singing our edited version of the song in the orphanage where I work...</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Editing</b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> From what I have seen, Latin Americans do not believe in editing radio/tv shows. This can lead to some uncomfortable moments if you're not careful. For example, listening to the radio in a restaurant when a certain song from a few years back by Eamon came on the radio ("I don't want you back"). For those who don't remember it, on the USA radio stations it sounded something like "F*** what you said it don't mean S*** now... F*** you you B**** I don't want you back." Needless to say, without editing, it sounded a little different here. Now, I'm willing to accept the possibility that I was probably the only fluent English speaker there so there's a decent chance that nobody else was put off by the whiny self-pitying lyrics. However, I personally believe that, thanks to movies, music, and the internet, everybody in the world knows the meaning of all 7 of the words that George Carlin is not allowed to say on television. Therefore, I think that maybe they couldv'e picked a better song for a family restaurant. That being said, throughout the entire song, not one person in the entire place batted an eye at the radio. </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Another interesting nmoment came when I was watching TV in the TV room. I was mindlessly flipping channels when the Abbott walked in. As soon as he entered I began talking to him with the TV tuned to a channel showing a movie starring Ashton Kutcher. After some small talk between the Abbott and me, I handed him the remote and we turned our eyes to the TV (to watch the movie that he thought I had been watching all night) just as a scene in a strip club came on. Thanks to the wondrous lack of editing in Guatemala, what ensued was a sort of awkward-off as both of us tried not to seem uncomfortable at the really astounding number of boobs in this scene. He thought I was watching the movie, so he didn't want to change the channel, and I didn't want to make an already awkward situation SUPER awkward by talking, or leaving, or moving, or even breathing. So we sat in absolute uncomfortable silence for the duration of the scene. Thankfully it ended in a fight, allowing me to make my escape from the room on a manly note.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Animals</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Esquipulas is a smaller town on the East side of Guatemala:</span><span style="font-size: small;"> A side that has more than once been compared to the Wild West.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> From the prevalence of cowboy boots, hats and belt buckles, to the unbelievable number of people who walk around toting a 6 shooter (or sawed off shotgun… I hear those were popular in the Wild West too), the analogy is somewhat apt.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> It also turns out to be an apt analogy when talking about animals.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> They enjoy a freedom here which their cousins in the USA rarely experience. I'll admit, the first time I saw barn-fulls of animals walking freely around the streets here, this little gringo from the Twin Cities Minnesota was a bit taken aback.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> From cows shutting down highways to 8 year old boys leading entire packs of bulls down the street, </span><span style="font-size: small;">in terms of animal freedom, </span><span style="font-size: small;">Esquipulas has earned the distinction of Wild Wild East in my book.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Goats</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i>Aside from walking in <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjL8MH8qwEPu0BILJqNYuBKB_iiAigyrufMRo1QOjhw2dn5meXAv1VlvVhdndGJVHhCjgJY5oe2dLrszTcQ5Fja_6tcISoHKXyjpqKIYracY62jT0RFNW36RT2N5zPvooCQZRIqsHnpJ_/s1600/DSC00130.JPG">packs down the streets</a>, I once had one attend my English class.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> He just waltzed right on in, and I think he would’ve stayed if the other students hadn’t kicked him out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Cows</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Cows always make for some fun stories.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> From my first day in Guatemala when a herd of cows shut down the main highway and we had to wait in the car until they passed, to the soccer game that was stopped when the herd of cows decided that they would like to graze on the field, cows and Guatemala have a long and storied past.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Including <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgx8qWpIyEFSO_zWT-6zlFfuG85__iBC5TfWJx7jaTGGu7UjPn233q-HgSGe3neJe3mt9pIsTwdAiX37KK2ZyeW-7f1sUlyYMm4jx0CzBe5wTpo3tHCMMFMQMHpja-4PMtXFmxpktl7Rt8/s1600/DSC00364.JPG">this guy</a>, who just wanted to come inside for lunch.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Chickens</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Chickens are well loved in Guatemala.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> By far the most consumed animal (chicken goes well with black beans), they are almost all free range.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> And not like the “free range” in the United States where that is just a sticker on the more expensive chicken.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> There are chickens everywhere here… just running around freely.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Ever heard of “chicken buses?”</span><span style="font-size: small;"> They’re called that because many people bring their chickens on board with them.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> They are like house pets that you eat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> That's about all I got for the greatest hits of Guatemala 2010. My first few months here in Guatemala have been some very interesting and full months.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I have learned an incredible amount, seen some really cool things, and met some great people.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I only hope that the next few months are as interesting and full as the past few.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<i> </i>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-81937874025042851502011-01-09T09:32:00.001-06:002011-01-09T09:58:19.889-06:00Christmas The monastic life often becomes a little to tedious and regimented for me: I have to be at prayer at 6:00 am and 6:30 pm, I eat at 7:30, 12:30, and 7:00 sharp, and I'm inside the monastery by 9:00 pm every night. While the Christmas season did little to change the rigid schedule I live by (granted, it did change a little on Christmas day and new years day), it did lighten the spirit a little. The monastery saw the addition of quite a few nativity scenes (all of which are still up, a good sign for those of you who have yet to to take down the Christmas decorations), there were quite a few guests staying with us in the monastery, the people in general were in a festive mood, and the weeks surrounding Christmas are completely packed with feast days, meaning the customary convivial gatherings we always have on feast days (beer and wine included!) were kicked into overdrive. The holiday season even brought a change in the menu!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PvS07APaKOmZcK5FpBLx6-n7opMROFDu1RHmPi0Q9UCEvhYuWN7LGQTmYf-Nnpt7HLzjnI378AZ63sBzSjS6N6CKJ1ufNM6zvW0Tz9-KV18KzMvPDDLxk3pkAipU2-AeSYXuIbUvkUfK/s1600/DSC00752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PvS07APaKOmZcK5FpBLx6-n7opMROFDu1RHmPi0Q9UCEvhYuWN7LGQTmYf-Nnpt7HLzjnI378AZ63sBzSjS6N6CKJ1ufNM6zvW0Tz9-KV18KzMvPDDLxk3pkAipU2-AeSYXuIbUvkUfK/s320/DSC00752.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yes, those are still black beans and a corn tortilla, BUT we got a delicious tamal to go with it!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Yes, the Christmas holiday was indeed festive, and I had an opportunity to break from the day to day routine I have fallen in. However as festive as Christmas itself was, the week after Christmas was far more exciting for me. After the extra workload of more masses, more blessings, and just more people around the basilica in general during the build up to Christmas (which, surprisingly, took a sharp decline on Christmas day when everyone stayed home to be with their families), many of the monks and postulates got a rest day the week after Christmas. Some of them used this day to go home and visit their families, and some even invited me. I was lucky enough to attend a lunch-feast in Zapotal with Father Serafin, and spend a night in Carboneras with Elias and his family. While, as always, it was nice to get out and spend some time away from the monastery, the real joy in the week was getting a chance to see some new parts of Guatemala. While I've said before that Guatemala is a beautiful country, this week really solidified that in my mind.<br />
My first trip was to Zapotal for a family reunion with Father Seraphin. Zapotal is an aldea centered around coffee cultivation high in the Guatemalan mountains. I had a really good time, the view was amazing, the food was delicious, and the people were really nice. With the exception of one girl with a special affinity for gringos who dubbed herself "Eva" when she met me.... she was REALLY nice. The weather was a little to hazy for good pictures of the gorgeous surroundings, but I did what I could.<br />
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After the Zapotal feast I was expecting a couple of nice days to recuperate: Meeting a lot of new people in a foreign language and traveling hours over roads that have never seen asphalt takes it out of you. However, as soon as I got back to the monastery, Elias, one of the postulates at the monastery, invited me to spend the night at his family's house in Carboneras. I've never been one to turn down an invitation, so right away the next morning, we were on the road again. Carboneras is quite a bit different than Zapotal. Zapotal is a sprawling community in the mountains that focuses on coffee production and is (especially by Guatemalan standards) very well off monetarily. Carboneras is more of a farming community in the lowlands of the country. There are 70 houses, and everybody knows everybody else. Hence, it was even more obvious that I am a foreigner than in Esquipulas. We spent the morning and part of the afternoon moseying around Carboneras meeting all of Elias' friends and I had the chance to get a feel for the town. For a tiny town in the foothills, it is really a beautiful place, and the people are really really nice; even if there's not much to talk about in a town of 70 houses (most "conversations" I witnessed were passed 80% in silence). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EK7Cto8xF0k-WkQn-z8ZDUfnqlkceVs9hMFeFO2ZDm9U3pAsbpTvid8prrsOZVs7HUAUAvG2_vXhejsIuKJxLi1kTrAYsQ-6SwQjnyTtoPdHRNC19o3v44xQrCmpjEnek4cQcGFDhmzd/s1600/DSC00781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EK7Cto8xF0k-WkQn-z8ZDUfnqlkceVs9hMFeFO2ZDm9U3pAsbpTvid8prrsOZVs7HUAUAvG2_vXhejsIuKJxLi1kTrAYsQ-6SwQjnyTtoPdHRNC19o3v44xQrCmpjEnek4cQcGFDhmzd/s320/DSC00781.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> One thing I really liked is the amount of space each family had. Unlike Esquipulas, where people are crammed in as tight as possible, or Zapotal, where extra space needs to be cleared out of the mountain to be usable, the families in Carboneras each had their own plot with ample room to grow some crops and let the children (and 5-6 dogs each family had) play.<br />
After meeting so many people over the past couple of days, I found myself almost completely without energy after lunch so we took about an hour to just relax. After awhile Elias woke me up and asked if I wanted to go to the beach. Confused, not only because I was awakened from a nap, but because we were in the desert, miles from the nearest lake or ocean, I responded with a tentative "sí." It turns out that the "beach" is actually a dried up river bed about 150 meters across with a tiny stream flowing through it that is hardly deep enough to get your ankles wet. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoPn0uS7COr6Dw2TiDVojiQpEWPherGWMeISGsmfHdZunCjEEezl6B0zxy8PP-eice6uqajdzRRY0KIXWPbp1kPqgTWsdxz_67eq8pNxcWKmB0jqh66NIARhjKYfiP5vnwVQWER48_wa1/s1600/DSC00797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoPn0uS7COr6Dw2TiDVojiQpEWPherGWMeISGsmfHdZunCjEEezl6B0zxy8PP-eice6uqajdzRRY0KIXWPbp1kPqgTWsdxz_67eq8pNxcWKmB0jqh66NIARhjKYfiP5vnwVQWER48_wa1/s320/DSC00797.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Foiled again by Latin American humor. </div><br />
I remember reading a book for one of my spanish classes in which one of the characters scolds an aspiring knight for almost riding a Yegua (mare) because a true knight would <i>never</i> ride a Yegua. The wannabe knight, much like me, didn't know there was a difference between <i>caballo</i> and <i>yegua.</i> En route to another village to visit some more of Elias' family Elias told me that I could ride a horse. Unbeknownst to me it wasn't a <i>horse</i> I was riding, but a measly <i>mare</i>! (I would never have known except I kept saying <i>caballo</i> and Elias kept correcting me). However, soon after we arrived at the beach, I realized why no self-respecting knight would ride a Yegua... It wouldn't gallop!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpypaQPgXNxrlGvNgTQhmpHCpp41YHfSUiWirjvtnaQ9kzdv5Oa2lLEVCndeUYgWb0QlxKSyOkskZ7h4xbwIHJ1Axm10Ymn6vi6x9eD_qR1F3aNf45GMUb0KEg38s1_9kbCmIheE6QHupT/s1600/DSC00806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpypaQPgXNxrlGvNgTQhmpHCpp41YHfSUiWirjvtnaQ9kzdv5Oa2lLEVCndeUYgWb0QlxKSyOkskZ7h4xbwIHJ1Axm10Ymn6vi6x9eD_qR1F3aNf45GMUb0KEg38s1_9kbCmIheE6QHupT/s320/DSC00806.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Imagine how cool this picture would be if I was on a <i>horse</i>!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> After a jaunt along the "beach," we arrived in the aldea of "Hobo" and I realized that Elias' father, the old man shown below, is not only one of the toughest old men on this earth, (he is 80 some years old, drinks whiskey likes it's water, and is just as active as I am) he was also one of the most fecund, in his heyday (which apparently ended a short 12 years ago as his youngest daughter has that many years). 9 children between the ages of 40 something to 12! A true Guatemalan hero (Although, granted his wife is also a Guatemalan hero). </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MFBorgdqdePIdOHjsfTAzqJMnNPtGxr_orWKWmQQOAbYg27WVc_tx8fpLkmgNhWKsGPqFXLwmSsRubrTBzojcQhDmTNtA1jVnrpYW8KXXaDF39IbWjsLRH84doT-tgeZY_hwYrIuA0tE/s1600/DSC00822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MFBorgdqdePIdOHjsfTAzqJMnNPtGxr_orWKWmQQOAbYg27WVc_tx8fpLkmgNhWKsGPqFXLwmSsRubrTBzojcQhDmTNtA1jVnrpYW8KXXaDF39IbWjsLRH84doT-tgeZY_hwYrIuA0tE/s320/DSC00822.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
He is also completely responsible for the town of Hobo. There are 5 houses nestled into the mountains, each occupied by one of his children. It was definitely cool to see that places like this exist in Guatemala. Quite a stark contrast to the daily life I have here in the monastery. They produce just about everything they need to survive, and live their lives quietly in the hills. Very cool people.<br />
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The Christmas season was definitely one to remember. Through all the traveling, I widened my knowledge and appreciation of Guatemala, saw some awesome things, and met some really cool people.<br />
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And, because I've been so lazy about getting this blog out, I have two bonuses for you. First is a quote from Elias' father. After we finished dinner, I stood up to help clear the table. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to the table, looked me straight in the eyes and said: "Here at my house, the <i>women</i> take care of the table." Then he poured me another shot of whiskey.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZbu9iPiySMjzKFnFs4m6-fQdrHDB_erBGxrmjMFZa9lUl_0ZPFrfL-QvtG1zNWuk1pEl9hSj-mn_-QnnFbyBL4yR3PMXY5sZ_iubMjnROL-Op_uBc8UzFeA4t9KWSkqwDvh-2YvyTsJP/s1600/DSC00833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZbu9iPiySMjzKFnFs4m6-fQdrHDB_erBGxrmjMFZa9lUl_0ZPFrfL-QvtG1zNWuk1pEl9hSj-mn_-QnnFbyBL4yR3PMXY5sZ_iubMjnROL-Op_uBc8UzFeA4t9KWSkqwDvh-2YvyTsJP/s320/DSC00833.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> The second bonus is this picture. It is of the inside of the microbus I rode in from Carboneras to Esquipulas. There were 28 people fit into this conversion van. There are only 13 seatbelts. The butt in my face was not someone passing through. He spent the entire 40 minute ride like that. And yes, there are three people hanging out of the open door.<br />
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God Bless Guatemala.</div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-41066459968485399332011-01-01T17:26:00.000-06:002011-01-01T17:26:57.909-06:00New Years DayHappy dawn of 2011 to everyone! Here's wishing you a happy year and hoping that the last was everything you hoped for!<br />
My new year's resolution... Blog more.Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-74859395013888595372010-12-24T17:24:00.000-06:002010-12-24T17:24:02.023-06:00I want to wish you a merry christmas from the bottom of my heart.Feliz Navidad!<br />
Although the weather is indicating otherwise, the Christmas season has once again snuck up on me, and by the time I even realize it's December, we're getting ready to celebrate midnight mass and place the baby Jesus in the manger. This is my first Christmas away from the frozen tundra of Minnesota, and I have to admit that I do miss all my family and friends very much. That being said, with the Vikings' season going the way it is and Minnesota weather so bad it is making international headlines, I can't help but wonder if this is a good Christmas to miss.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHyXTKiFj8OEFukWQWkFzNljk0OehpocHXGy3APvCfS_090AwO2kYoU_ebCx_Fcr3i7pQMN6-D7uyLkykm8SJNOklE7R4TXDHnq_urC9vpm4SRmzDNn8vdOaDchuyLZZRY1t1akXZFRzD/s1600/DSC00740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHyXTKiFj8OEFukWQWkFzNljk0OehpocHXGy3APvCfS_090AwO2kYoU_ebCx_Fcr3i7pQMN6-D7uyLkykm8SJNOklE7R4TXDHnq_urC9vpm4SRmzDNn8vdOaDchuyLZZRY1t1akXZFRzD/s320/DSC00740.JPG" width="262" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> No, literally. This is the front page of the Guatemalan national newspaper.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagf9r78e4F0oD4ZryrGpRU_ye0JL9fZTI2bdU7zFsa0tSrK8uKdnVBCpfMLRsZhz3-7kdwv9I1tH3-3neSYaoRTlEtiq-M6HlZcViCF9wUwiuTJO6bsc3Lo5-68U9K-cUnnS-e4cN7Jyc/s1600/DSC00741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagf9r78e4F0oD4ZryrGpRU_ye0JL9fZTI2bdU7zFsa0tSrK8uKdnVBCpfMLRsZhz3-7kdwv9I1tH3-3neSYaoRTlEtiq-M6HlZcViCF9wUwiuTJO6bsc3Lo5-68U9K-cUnnS-e4cN7Jyc/s320/DSC00741.JPG" width="262" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> That reads "snowfall hits the United States"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdyFPdBOpkocGspnmEmmf1R5RQ8zNznYcEWJ318d_YsraDRIGSC1Z24fKhx4yNgpIEmL5T-iBp6r2T71S2Cq_KLhjIIaGu6yzuuz9HhY6PRZoe_NgnSarpMTQzLF2uPR64WYZjTkSBuKq/s1600/DSC00742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdyFPdBOpkocGspnmEmmf1R5RQ8zNznYcEWJ318d_YsraDRIGSC1Z24fKhx4yNgpIEmL5T-iBp6r2T71S2Cq_KLhjIIaGu6yzuuz9HhY6PRZoe_NgnSarpMTQzLF2uPR64WYZjTkSBuKq/s320/DSC00742.JPG" width="227" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Hundreds of drivers were trapped in their cars by the snow in Minneapols, Minnesota. In the Northeastern (sic) United States"</div><br />
Even though I'm admittedly not the biggest fan of winter, I have found it nearly impossible to get into the Christmas spirit without frigid weather and snow all around (and especially without the horribly dangerous Christmas tradition of tobogganing across Highway 63). True, Guatemalans definitely get in the Christmas spirit, and also true, many Christmas songs translate well into Spanish (who wouldn't want to listen to "Rudolf el Reno" or "Frosty el Hombre de Nieve"?), but I just haven't been much in the Christmas spirit, which I think is a good thing as it has lessened the homesickness around this time of season. That being said, I'm in good health, and good spirits. People here are especially happy around the holidays, and the weather has been around 60 degrees during the day, so all in all I can't complain, even if I wanted to. <br />
In the spirit of the holidays I'll keep this blog short on words and long on pictures. Here are some pictures of Esquipulas around the holiday time for your ocular entertainment.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDZ66Lm7iOntwKMYON3Wz6Od_zD3DsnxhOkA7i6Vebur3HnosDd9e38iacGEAwa41xJaYYRzgPTyvSPj1n1R1BQwsawsEzgYUtdO4jFEJa4A3deNAVsaWPLJdeLs7_t10cN8SeQ5UHGB9/s1600/DSC00558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDZ66Lm7iOntwKMYON3Wz6Od_zD3DsnxhOkA7i6Vebur3HnosDd9e38iacGEAwa41xJaYYRzgPTyvSPj1n1R1BQwsawsEzgYUtdO4jFEJa4A3deNAVsaWPLJdeLs7_t10cN8SeQ5UHGB9/s320/DSC00558.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> This is the sandlot where they often have soccer games. It got all decorated for the holiday season. On the 23rd the Alcalde (mayor) of Esquipulas put on a big show here. They blocked off both main streets and had a big stage with music, DJs, dancing, and fireworks. One of the highlights of the evening was the "lluvia de tamales" which basically meant a bunch of people threw prepackaged tamales into the crowd. After enjoying this spectacle I returned to the monastery at 8:58 to find that the guards had already left (2 minutes early!) and I was locked out of the monastery. After wandering around for about 10 minutes I found a guard who didn't have keys, but had the phone number of someone who had the phone number of someone who could bring the keys. 30 minutes later I was able to get back to my room.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujsE578KAsyY7etk3U0Q5UJ2b741tB3vceohXhCITq9blG4HDCpVKef4Qj61xGLrEpRW5Yzvg2iLIANDEOgyYXNimAbOhbxHKKrDvhQ5gNyHS12A_bzs4VfpHpeWJ7TvQYx1Yds0d1mDu/s1600/DSC00675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujsE578KAsyY7etk3U0Q5UJ2b741tB3vceohXhCITq9blG4HDCpVKef4Qj61xGLrEpRW5Yzvg2iLIANDEOgyYXNimAbOhbxHKKrDvhQ5gNyHS12A_bzs4VfpHpeWJ7TvQYx1Yds0d1mDu/s320/DSC00675.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <i> Nacimientos, </i>Nativity scenes, are a pretty big deal here. This particular one is right when you walk in the living area of the monastery. I got to help with it a little! The only downside is that Danilo, the guy who made it, has some strange obsession with the christmas lights that beep out holiday tunes. I've had "we wish you a merry christmas" in my head for the pas week.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnG5xHYBn_rvk8wMrGJRcIlfltFzNMaIhlQ_Qk3QzSChFpJoL31gib_JSXc4DllF1rbjBnna3aTRO_BKzcd8HkpnNPogg5MJ8gnN4tsnVlYrjelp9Z_DUUKWh7rTDc4eaBbLOoMkYPWBLJ/s1600/DSC00744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnG5xHYBn_rvk8wMrGJRcIlfltFzNMaIhlQ_Qk3QzSChFpJoL31gib_JSXc4DllF1rbjBnna3aTRO_BKzcd8HkpnNPogg5MJ8gnN4tsnVlYrjelp9Z_DUUKWh7rTDc4eaBbLOoMkYPWBLJ/s320/DSC00744.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This one is right outside of the dining hall. In the main gathering area of the monastery.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYaJaRtzaWiVIxEnYUfDTZaB-lg-8Gxgh7jT7egYKBxA-BuayX4-nIA-OyKHAHeeUD75qvhZ36mkrmxHNd-nSJRcxytnfLWyyBM3ldUEs8T1PAytDMRoyJX3EZB8dqT6rLjS9fgtlVKowx/s1600/DSC00746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYaJaRtzaWiVIxEnYUfDTZaB-lg-8Gxgh7jT7egYKBxA-BuayX4-nIA-OyKHAHeeUD75qvhZ36mkrmxHNd-nSJRcxytnfLWyyBM3ldUEs8T1PAytDMRoyJX3EZB8dqT6rLjS9fgtlVKowx/s320/DSC00746.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This is the public nativity scene. The Mary and Joseph are about 3/4 human size. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLyUf_bRntOqopjsBea2IvIROZ9A98Uah6aq-T2H3VGmynTWFrc8qTx3yhCZ8FdKaENtVItvXJmiWT3AOYjtGOWC1TUjN9lJLcaIMBCGtc4knBPGlS7tMXPqxnfBV14ea6CBLYroI59Kn/s1600/DSC00748.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLyUf_bRntOqopjsBea2IvIROZ9A98Uah6aq-T2H3VGmynTWFrc8qTx3yhCZ8FdKaENtVItvXJmiWT3AOYjtGOWC1TUjN9lJLcaIMBCGtc4knBPGlS7tMXPqxnfBV14ea6CBLYroI59Kn/s320/DSC00748.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> It's pretty impressive. It even has a real water river running through it! Apparently they pull thousands of quetzales out at the end of every season.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwjAuue3y1aRKLOA6lfjpUnySZJsRmXUwqAOMgF0CsmfK34-ibLzg5pPFL_BaLc_xUhQFSF9VdH7nLlVfmJMHlGMcQLvhqvmpxqIfxaj2gSFGS37z1k0JN7TR3zq7h8U5Q1yFbs9vnS3lz/s1600/DSC00691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwjAuue3y1aRKLOA6lfjpUnySZJsRmXUwqAOMgF0CsmfK34-ibLzg5pPFL_BaLc_xUhQFSF9VdH7nLlVfmJMHlGMcQLvhqvmpxqIfxaj2gSFGS37z1k0JN7TR3zq7h8U5Q1yFbs9vnS3lz/s320/DSC00691.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This is one of the three nativity scenes at a Franciscan monastery I visited. It's behind bars, but the figures are all about 3/4 life size, and surprisingly detailed. Apparently they were brought over from Italy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn2N91jNnXxa2gIrc-M-pB54JnPKzRdNX4Oc9gFz1fk38hgcaZed0qX7T4yAhVwXhufgyySydkQASanBJjinbOoBPRKNmvw0GSKNfJXXBjpsLSDOFv-uRW4hBPBPDoZv8a0JEljnSs-9MV/s1600/DSC00699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn2N91jNnXxa2gIrc-M-pB54JnPKzRdNX4Oc9gFz1fk38hgcaZed0qX7T4yAhVwXhufgyySydkQASanBJjinbOoBPRKNmvw0GSKNfJXXBjpsLSDOFv-uRW4hBPBPDoZv8a0JEljnSs-9MV/s320/DSC00699.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Nacimiento in the style of Mayan art. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> The following pictures are all of one of the most impressive nativity scenes I have ever seen. It was about 10 feet wide and 5 feet deep and absolutely full with figures. The detail was really amazing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwa1ARzDt6vg4MdN3i2eioabbnvVEqFL2cHiGe1zFnJSHKzdwrzyv-u66YIU95umluBvRbTkwFVaZ8hFZvW7qOH4ADJY-ulxYQ7KHj_s_bWKQ_akm4TBXIe7iQaAZfXQ4moqJGiuSzBqCi/s1600/DSC00702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwa1ARzDt6vg4MdN3i2eioabbnvVEqFL2cHiGe1zFnJSHKzdwrzyv-u66YIU95umluBvRbTkwFVaZ8hFZvW7qOH4ADJY-ulxYQ7KHj_s_bWKQ_akm4TBXIe7iQaAZfXQ4moqJGiuSzBqCi/s320/DSC00702.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Mary and Joseph with all the animals and angels.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5cIW_vB7FwphcUq2QJXGUijd1mXky_Da658vn6BRsfYYBs7yw_RE6GwUENLRInHA2nmIkvqtP8FPdDpPkxY1484XPGw9Mk3Ba0uZw_IrpFGP1HkDrWJGpghQGb8SOsLTTAhyphenhyphenCUSJ4xkq/s1600/DSC00704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5cIW_vB7FwphcUq2QJXGUijd1mXky_Da658vn6BRsfYYBs7yw_RE6GwUENLRInHA2nmIkvqtP8FPdDpPkxY1484XPGw9Mk3Ba0uZw_IrpFGP1HkDrWJGpghQGb8SOsLTTAhyphenhyphenCUSJ4xkq/s320/DSC00704.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Get it? "no hay" posada (no room at the inn)... haha, Franciscan humor.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzXqucjCdMLp8O2OKV-kZRGhi57NLLd_FhK_2ba2x8XnyZIJKKQBCWG6uDGybE-FHT2SBk2Wgu1aIr6o21q3RuLq4V7-wRcCw49fD36BI2sliSo3hi0G2CkPyya3AMMshWs5h86lyub7U/s1600/DSC00706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzXqucjCdMLp8O2OKV-kZRGhi57NLLd_FhK_2ba2x8XnyZIJKKQBCWG6uDGybE-FHT2SBk2Wgu1aIr6o21q3RuLq4V7-wRcCw49fD36BI2sliSo3hi0G2CkPyya3AMMshWs5h86lyub7U/s320/DSC00706.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> The magi making their way over one of the mountains chalk full of other figurines. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiFf7TETVVFdRCyDLayV2veti7RlZdTIShhepdbCl2Opv1fiv4lei5I9nKkVwyachVSae9hqcoKZIf04Lli-YMhodOHK6OpI8L7IJQtDa_McYVwt_iFIrOO9YqdlstZoXejtXP9QmFmYU/s1600/DSC00707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiFf7TETVVFdRCyDLayV2veti7RlZdTIShhepdbCl2Opv1fiv4lei5I9nKkVwyachVSae9hqcoKZIf04Lli-YMhodOHK6OpI8L7IJQtDa_McYVwt_iFIrOO9YqdlstZoXejtXP9QmFmYU/s320/DSC00707.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ascKjfYUlQfolQdQvsV88Z2XJYYzhV23rwSrnYa2SuBU6BslBYdOKKtG0iBPZrT4r5FXB2bkorAT7N20GUqyqUG-_QL02ElJyORT4VLiBhT2XJ_-hALrCVS5inwri4Zg36sMBnKltGY8/s1600/DSC00708.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ascKjfYUlQfolQdQvsV88Z2XJYYzhV23rwSrnYa2SuBU6BslBYdOKKtG0iBPZrT4r5FXB2bkorAT7N20GUqyqUG-_QL02ElJyORT4VLiBhT2XJ_-hALrCVS5inwri4Zg36sMBnKltGY8/s320/DSC00708.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Depiction of Antigua Guatemala before the volcano in the background destroyed it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrkKTUm7MobPAran-3r6TdIp9gp7WwjQhpbkivHj4M14F2AoCF9HPx6566o4DwySAJIorWViTzPkjBPEKSKEDqcxlbDVtrfWHOynjEdlv2Df7avcBNNsfD2BjNWNEOy3LRGFQ0m-EY4Ylq/s1600/DSC00710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrkKTUm7MobPAran-3r6TdIp9gp7WwjQhpbkivHj4M14F2AoCF9HPx6566o4DwySAJIorWViTzPkjBPEKSKEDqcxlbDVtrfWHOynjEdlv2Df7avcBNNsfD2BjNWNEOy3LRGFQ0m-EY4Ylq/s320/DSC00710.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Just for an idea of the size of this thing!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccN_rvosnKfJu5mjqV1wq_BaSc6hGc5rD88CZDxBXKjVGqnFfoOeddIhJNw7SQ3Ka-FWI3fiih0_Ka_xeKPlxw8rlPzOcgABWZNZID2FeOYAcHqfvilxGpSM9uAdflFw55vJUhppdEClF/s1600/DSC00712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccN_rvosnKfJu5mjqV1wq_BaSc6hGc5rD88CZDxBXKjVGqnFfoOeddIhJNw7SQ3Ka-FWI3fiih0_Ka_xeKPlxw8rlPzOcgABWZNZID2FeOYAcHqfvilxGpSM9uAdflFw55vJUhppdEClF/s320/DSC00712.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
All in all this has been an interesting Christmas season for me. Although it is far from what I'm used to, I have really enjoyed myself and have learned a lot of new things and experienced a very different culture. Tonight begins the monastic celebrations of Christmas, starting at 6:30 pm and going straight until 11 tonight, then continuing right on through to tomorrow, which I'm sure will be an adventure!<br />
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I hope all of you have enjoyed this Christmas, and I wish you the Merriest of Christmases, Happiest of Hanukkahs, Sauciest of Saturnalias, Fanciest of Festivuses (okay, that one already passed), and the Wackiest of Winter Solstices. I hope you are with family and friends, or if you are not so lucky, that you are at least like me, and in a great place with great friends.Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-59889640799395547412010-12-16T07:29:00.000-06:002010-12-16T07:29:23.292-06:00La Virgen de Guadalupe This last Sunday, the 12th of December brought the celebration of the Virgin of Guadalupe to Esquipulas. Although, as a few people I've talked to have mentioned, the Virgin of Guadalupe is a Mexican icon, she is still very celebrated in Guatemala. This is actually a decently unique celebration n Esquipulas because, so I'm told, not many pilgrims come for this celebration, making it one of the only celebrations attended mostly by Esquipultecos. The celebrations started at around 1:00 and were marked, as always, by hundreds of people lighting off hundreds of fireworks. The Virgin of Guadalupe is celebrated by some 20-30 people hoisting what looked like an unbelievably heavy statue onto their shoulders and parading her all throughout town.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCihfsDh2Pk188pnWuPsQ8Xxm6PcpO-KouOthbHGlauuCu6mOkSEiHJEVjY02tCQV_tYU5Ncvk7rr45fVyDmNip0GrHLjQ2Vkrqk_bpzpDO4fkFBOUAW7WVKx2yp4XIRaJBSl876PXwBP/s1600/DSC00652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCihfsDh2Pk188pnWuPsQ8Xxm6PcpO-KouOthbHGlauuCu6mOkSEiHJEVjY02tCQV_tYU5Ncvk7rr45fVyDmNip0GrHLjQ2Vkrqk_bpzpDO4fkFBOUAW7WVKx2yp4XIRaJBSl876PXwBP/s320/DSC00652.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
One of the more interesting parts of the day was the costumes that people dressed their children in.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUBDvB76nL43gp_KbvjsraSSz6LlRU2h1F4mg9_oTeELxvCsi3KVFNb7QBuVEYtnuZ-xOdU-tHfkC0L-wrWdYcQx30vcJqVu5knqPHCWpqAW2K5aJASv-Pvtxz-4a41zbp7uaUgwSs65y/s1600/DSC00639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUBDvB76nL43gp_KbvjsraSSz6LlRU2h1F4mg9_oTeELxvCsi3KVFNb7QBuVEYtnuZ-xOdU-tHfkC0L-wrWdYcQx30vcJqVu5knqPHCWpqAW2K5aJASv-Pvtxz-4a41zbp7uaUgwSs65y/s320/DSC00639.JPG" width="223" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> They say they dress the little boys up like this to represent Juan Diego, but I think the real motive might be "Let's see what you'll look like in 20 years"</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0Oyq6LkdcH9ZcN9fILZzb6XzOC5e6EFwEjYIfF2yGT0P6zyuIGp0YPQwDyjdUHi9RtLILmkR_bY-1zpu7XbIFWIrIeHoKj210oRQeAYiwJ-x1S6saHq_b1KGghc2_WV1rHkYdbK-2n0C/s1600/DSC00631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0Oyq6LkdcH9ZcN9fILZzb6XzOC5e6EFwEjYIfF2yGT0P6zyuIGp0YPQwDyjdUHi9RtLILmkR_bY-1zpu7XbIFWIrIeHoKj210oRQeAYiwJ-x1S6saHq_b1KGghc2_WV1rHkYdbK-2n0C/s320/DSC00631.JPG" width="223" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This is Carmencita, the daughter of one of the men I work with. The native dress on the girls doesn't represent anything. Just a chance to make your kids look really cute.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfzOdN93_5msIZfBbTzHLWBYNvMY2T0QNepOgvJC8Ay0nqTPRK2UBGvHfr24uMZJB3OqTP2HDvp2J2JP0z60-vz_lx4RJhzrBqatY6F3WP0ekCHgxwGO0EIkfvH1wV-WevzNpf-vmTLYz/s1600/DSC00638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfzOdN93_5msIZfBbTzHLWBYNvMY2T0QNepOgvJC8Ay0nqTPRK2UBGvHfr24uMZJB3OqTP2HDvp2J2JP0z60-vz_lx4RJhzrBqatY6F3WP0ekCHgxwGO0EIkfvH1wV-WevzNpf-vmTLYz/s320/DSC00638.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And what would a celebration of Our Lady of Guadalupe be without an army of boys who have painted their whole body with black oil paint? While everyone I asked seemed to have a different answer, the most reliable seemed to be that these boys represent the slaves and that the Virgen of Guadalupe came for the indigenous and the slaves. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> The procession kicked off around 1:00 with great fanfare. Fireworks, prayer, chants: "Se siente se siente, Maria esta presente!" and one of my personal favorites "Denme un M... M. Denme un A... A. Denme un R... R. Denme un I... I. Denme un A... A, what's that spell? MARIA MARIA MARIA." It was a very jovial atmosphere and it was pretty easy to get swept up in the excitement up everything, and before I knew it I was marching right along with everyone!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd74NpUs6ryAIzPWFCh4QRBp8Je7TGDiJoc_iQTyqhk_9WXatqPWbiPQTEzb89YyGqRdaevFkisB-r50a6KwOiJqMDiWTpjDCyrVCrS2s6-Z5aNGCMcdCdbtfNuoYRuvE9Crs9cT_yXlOo/s1600/DSC00662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd74NpUs6ryAIzPWFCh4QRBp8Je7TGDiJoc_iQTyqhk_9WXatqPWbiPQTEzb89YyGqRdaevFkisB-r50a6KwOiJqMDiWTpjDCyrVCrS2s6-Z5aNGCMcdCdbtfNuoYRuvE9Crs9cT_yXlOo/s320/DSC00662.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> (I always wondered why everyone is able to pick me out of a crowd so easily)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> The procession was fun in that the streets of Eqsuipulas were completely packed with all sorts of people all there for the Virgen of Guadalupe. However, a problem came when the procession (including the immense statue) needed to make a 90 degree turn down the main street, which was also packed full of people. At first the police came through and tried to clear people out. Maybe 3-4 people moved. Then the boys in black paint came through. To avoid being stained black, enough people cleared to let them through. Then the police realized that if they worked with the black boys, they could move more people, and a fragile alliance was born.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMISWjdAnUwnWH6e9pJfglh44ml06iY2JR00TAfjBEjEFcyYqn3NbMjVCLbwv6dDC5i1p3N60GIqBMlAEg9HcbjCqos79OUrHcSNofDhbBZVeZippKbPu0Xb9rKYFs4KuQsYXBbPSiA9k6/s1600/DSC00648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMISWjdAnUwnWH6e9pJfglh44ml06iY2JR00TAfjBEjEFcyYqn3NbMjVCLbwv6dDC5i1p3N60GIqBMlAEg9HcbjCqos79OUrHcSNofDhbBZVeZippKbPu0Xb9rKYFs4KuQsYXBbPSiA9k6/s320/DSC00648.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">An alliance which lasted only until someone gave the boys some drinking water, which they though would be best used by spitting it on the police officer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> This technique moved quite a few people, but not nearly enough to fit the statue through. It looked as though the procession was at a standstill until some enterprising person through an entire box of firecrackers into the crowd. That did the trick.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> They say that necessity is the mother of invention. Well, I'd like to contribute evidence to support that claim. I mentioned earlier that people were avoiding the painted boys because their paint was nowhere near colorfast. This was a nearly impossible task due to the sheer number of people and the fact that the boys seemed to make it their goal to stain as many people as possible. And thus was born the paper towel salesman. This man never left the side of this mass of black paint and flesh, and sold paper towels for a mere 1 Quetzal each.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYDKbLU_qiY5HZKdlgMlux0ek8GJIA56pVX_jFzyawPB8sEeS84wX9cVqAQOudtOsOyYGXtFrnjeTPlK5ClJ-a1ERtyc1M-Ggx6dGXtC89rbMwpKtOlsI50i4MFuwGyPaQPp1oiFhPGQM/s1600/DSC00655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYDKbLU_qiY5HZKdlgMlux0ek8GJIA56pVX_jFzyawPB8sEeS84wX9cVqAQOudtOsOyYGXtFrnjeTPlK5ClJ-a1ERtyc1M-Ggx6dGXtC89rbMwpKtOlsI50i4MFuwGyPaQPp1oiFhPGQM/s320/DSC00655.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">He's the man on the right of the picture, holding his paper towels, open for business.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> When the procession finally reached the destination, La Parroquia, and ended with a mass, I was able to reflect a little on this awesome tradition. It was truly amazing that they were able to get all of Esquipulas together for this religious gathering, and a true testament to the power of faith and tradition in this small Guatemalan town. Aside from the faith of the people involved, the sheer number of people who came out for this event was really amazing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6J5jvsHXDOhD6ec6PGqqCWesqbFjpd9y0PvA_I6c9RKI9kKVIMMAG5ScGgLJAfd3i8RW3T51IltFh4WHnvD1PWnK0Zq64ER0h2cgB5rG5ew-u6coC-Dq1rYZe9yAXEcrU_OaMfxXGyHK/s1600/DSC00667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6J5jvsHXDOhD6ec6PGqqCWesqbFjpd9y0PvA_I6c9RKI9kKVIMMAG5ScGgLJAfd3i8RW3T51IltFh4WHnvD1PWnK0Zq64ER0h2cgB5rG5ew-u6coC-Dq1rYZe9yAXEcrU_OaMfxXGyHK/s320/DSC00667.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kRKk_ov-j3n_MddqyZt-RsS88p0yXwoUZpsiQD-bbONRC3i6K2VTgfrtlaAAzyYNFBul0Al0wOlVnwbtSbY1401BIcgzatzWblxYsqXWLTSY3ezList8g0TXuHX7ToEcZ-3Lr3ZBaGam/s1600/DSC00665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kRKk_ov-j3n_MddqyZt-RsS88p0yXwoUZpsiQD-bbONRC3i6K2VTgfrtlaAAzyYNFBul0Al0wOlVnwbtSbY1401BIcgzatzWblxYsqXWLTSY3ezList8g0TXuHX7ToEcZ-3Lr3ZBaGam/s320/DSC00665.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Notice that in the picture above all the people are turned away from the camera, and are facing the camera in the picture below. The crowd stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb1aXbT6AlRuHy6k6GdZGAbyl4ufLAZLpf2i4IjCf86X8itjqd6gsmBBvf9p7PGzck7dyE4K2Pag7-fAmHGzfk8l1HyCcGYmDuCUtjv2NgHfNRzhBziZOxxmClBzbhuK3y86x6KDZ8fOAu/s1600/DSC00666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb1aXbT6AlRuHy6k6GdZGAbyl4ufLAZLpf2i4IjCf86X8itjqd6gsmBBvf9p7PGzck7dyE4K2Pag7-fAmHGzfk8l1HyCcGYmDuCUtjv2NgHfNRzhBziZOxxmClBzbhuK3y86x6KDZ8fOAu/s320/DSC00666.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-67844234988464013432010-12-14T09:38:00.001-06:002010-12-14T09:39:01.729-06:00Volcano IpalaI was sitting at the lunch table the other day discussing one of the monks' favorite topics: What I've seen in Guatemala, what I haven't seen, then half-hearted plans made to visit these places. In the middle of this discussion Brother Abraham asks me if I have seen Volcán Ipala, the volcano with the lake at the top. I hadn't, but I had heard all about it. He responded that he would call his brothers and, "si Dios quiere" we would make plans to go Thursday. I thought it was just another saying, but as Thursday drew near he had made ore plans, and this outing had become a veritable family reunion, with all 3 of his brothers and one of his 2 sisters and all of their families, "si Dios quiere." Come Thursday morning, apparently Dios quería, because we were on the road. We made three or four stops along the way to pick up family members waiting alongside the road, and before long we had two trucks full, with more people sitting in the truck bed. Inside the truck was Abraham's sister, her daughter, and her grandchildren. It's always fun to meet new people, and it was really entertaining to hear them try and teach the little girl to say "burro:"<br />
-bujo<br />
-no, burro, say rrrrrro<br />
-buyo<br />
-no, burrrrrrrro, burrrro<br />
-budjo<br />
-no, burrro, rrrrro<br />
-si<br />
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With the entertainment in the back, not much time passed before we were looking out the window at what would soon be yet another notch in my belt. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJookO6CIbtCSm2r9rxuCCND9ty8ZamiMpc74eLQ81RTAPO0fG3A8K4VQA2Apou02KsWLjvRRM_mpDUDANHDIo9YX9evwyCBikCMDuWCjWmxVdnXrOrWcBAlTFVEO0K3U5TxbvdzD5v3u/s1600/DSC00566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJookO6CIbtCSm2r9rxuCCND9ty8ZamiMpc74eLQ81RTAPO0fG3A8K4VQA2Apou02KsWLjvRRM_mpDUDANHDIo9YX9evwyCBikCMDuWCjWmxVdnXrOrWcBAlTFVEO0K3U5TxbvdzD5v3u/s320/DSC00566.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We had heard that there was a possible back route up the volcano which would allow us to make it all the way up in cars, avoiding the necessity of carrying the huge amounts of baggage his sister brought (which turned out to be a 3 course meal, so I was okay carrying it). There is, in fact, a road, but it was under construction, so we could only take it to within about 2km of the summit. That worked out fine for me because I was able to see more of the spectacular scenery around the volcano.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4L2G0JlczS_5gvj1aIKf-rDg08AKal8jvCfBJLz8OPHUbyCYksixk0fJfE_1aC5LY6QYXqdlYxbAQhM5ZF2wsUkrZeodXbj4sJ2Wsi6gZaCQ0USDglOJevOK_61KY9L5OEiAqeOUkR-Yw/s1600/DSC00586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4L2G0JlczS_5gvj1aIKf-rDg08AKal8jvCfBJLz8OPHUbyCYksixk0fJfE_1aC5LY6QYXqdlYxbAQhM5ZF2wsUkrZeodXbj4sJ2Wsi6gZaCQ0USDglOJevOK_61KY9L5OEiAqeOUkR-Yw/s320/DSC00586.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xnSeiqwXA4sbd22Py6ICnH6up38B8h9gRLV7WeKCDW4rpUfT4nPunokS0coTnyPb2ldlcx3ASNETxfKA-ZUgWzeNLmbIBuctHjmHvkxpiMNA1qOfHSEvMXgwpp3-GGVu5hyphenhyphenSBeg3l8Nc/s1600/DSC00588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xnSeiqwXA4sbd22Py6ICnH6up38B8h9gRLV7WeKCDW4rpUfT4nPunokS0coTnyPb2ldlcx3ASNETxfKA-ZUgWzeNLmbIBuctHjmHvkxpiMNA1qOfHSEvMXgwpp3-GGVu5hyphenhyphenSBeg3l8Nc/s320/DSC00588.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> One of the cool advantage that climbing a volcano has over hiking in the mountains is that often, the volcanoes are the highest points, meaning that the view from the top of the volcano of the land below is really awesome. While 2km typically isn't that much, 2km up the side of a volcano carrying everything needed for a huge meal turned out to be a little much for most of the party, and they somehow worked out a deal with someone who had a car at the top of the volcano to come down and pick them up. I decided to press on, and actually made it up before them.<br />
The lake in the crater of this volcano was just awesome to see. It smelled just like a real Minnesota lake, looked like a real Minnesota lake, and with the ice cold wind blowing off of it actually felt like a real Minnesota lake, which helped assuage the holiday pangs of homesickness a little.<br />
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While all the monks seem to be under the impression that this is one of the only lakes in a volcano crater in the world, I'm sorry to report that it is only one of 53 in the world, and one of six in Guatemala (meaning that 8.333 percent of volcanoes in Guatemala have a lake). That being said, it was truly awesome to see.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4UiLIl0rC9VT8XovNG4DZgOljWmfiyC4qusOhw2g8wFf7xQYbKKTM-Y-mecTRYMLlCysaetbFCB_hp4E6SKWG-6AAwk2wEKWyzEgfEaYkZv4wXIIJ3JqPTLE2hFKExwrjCglF1cQW1JX/s1600/DSC00618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4UiLIl0rC9VT8XovNG4DZgOljWmfiyC4qusOhw2g8wFf7xQYbKKTM-Y-mecTRYMLlCysaetbFCB_hp4E6SKWG-6AAwk2wEKWyzEgfEaYkZv4wXIIJ3JqPTLE2hFKExwrjCglF1cQW1JX/s320/DSC00618.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I wanted to swim in the lake, but it was actually really really cold up there. I have no idea what the elevation was, but it was pretty tall, and the wind came whipping through that saddle at the far side of the lake and picked up speed across the lake until a few gusts were almost strong enough to blow people over. Or maybe those are just excuses I've made up to hide the fact that I'm losing my think MN blood. All I know is that when they started up the fires to cook lunch, standing around that was a pretty popular place to be.<br />
Lunch was delicious, and they even remembered to bring the black beans and corn tortillas I love so much!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTvaqxhQYvo-oQmPpMyl-fTsorhelXmW-_Vh_YXbZOQ2u9x7BeQZgE8UzfDvg-RdLcgu8lXv8gHpY5btKqbsO8lAqg0hvEHcS2BIeJRuqhLCJ4XtE4TOyV8wnQA5FLFWjN4I_eX18qXKmK/s1600/DSC00607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTvaqxhQYvo-oQmPpMyl-fTsorhelXmW-_Vh_YXbZOQ2u9x7BeQZgE8UzfDvg-RdLcgu8lXv8gHpY5btKqbsO8lAqg0hvEHcS2BIeJRuqhLCJ4XtE4TOyV8wnQA5FLFWjN4I_eX18qXKmK/s320/DSC00607.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is Abraham's sister showing off the meat. I tried to get the recipe for the sauce, but all they would tell me is: Culantro, onions, some tomato, dry white wine, mustard seed, olive oil, and salt and pepper. If you are feeling adventurous, give it a try. The final product (if you get it right) is absolutely delicious.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhumT-hcOHnSnGN1fEjOObK6jEieOmgXHTpiFqmV7IHuj-Qy2_xFZfV0iOG9ugugU-fl0OYi1HhM2OrfD0wKcd8iXUtzKlVLnKQ0rW36AxA4RM1MUWYOB-A3KRwPBwOC25MjLLzF2_QSuBB/s1600/DSC00611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhumT-hcOHnSnGN1fEjOObK6jEieOmgXHTpiFqmV7IHuj-Qy2_xFZfV0iOG9ugugU-fl0OYi1HhM2OrfD0wKcd8iXUtzKlVLnKQ0rW36AxA4RM1MUWYOB-A3KRwPBwOC25MjLLzF2_QSuBB/s320/DSC00611.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
The meal was spectacular, but after a long day of hiking, sightseeing, and battling the cold wind, we were all ready to head out. The ride home was nothing spectacular, but the sun did come out just long enough for me to snap some farewell pictures of the volcano as we sped away.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6kt1G7ghiERkyphpzvnaxl99sc67C8zGjtZwa92kbwkZV3Tc_wYgDlmKpdSH6CQvP_lkR_VNlCdkaU4mdsUwcLWi7AVaiG2vzk9YOiS9y1oFWxm3hGrGZdAxJ8RmQKh3aAFXO5h89FtU/s1600/DSC00626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6kt1G7ghiERkyphpzvnaxl99sc67C8zGjtZwa92kbwkZV3Tc_wYgDlmKpdSH6CQvP_lkR_VNlCdkaU4mdsUwcLWi7AVaiG2vzk9YOiS9y1oFWxm3hGrGZdAxJ8RmQKh3aAFXO5h89FtU/s320/DSC00626.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-54830336781117493242010-12-10T18:25:00.000-06:002010-12-10T18:25:34.964-06:00How to burn a devil<i>December 7th 1941, United States of America: </i>a date that will live in infamy. The date of the event that would lead the United States into World War 2. <br />
<i>December 7th every year, Guatemala: </i>Also a date which will live in infamy. That is, if you are a giant wooden devil, or the garbage that accumulates in someones house over a year's time. The annual date in which the lungs of everybody in Guatemala are mercilessly assaulted by toxic garbage fumes.<br />
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December 7th in Guatemala is the annual <i>Quema del Diablo</i> "Devil Burning" event. It is always the day before the feast of the immaculate conception, or as it is known in the particularly long winded prayer services "Fiesta del immaculada concepción de la bienaventurada virgen Maria, madre del Señor." The original purpose of the event is to clean your house of anything that might cause you to sin during these last weeks of Advent, and to burn these "devils" in the street in front of all your neighbors. Over the years it evolved into this:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdeT_NJO-rrXEjJ-OhMvN9asorkYw5OeBBelMegtr4VdkzPwSAC4CMGI0oDKbR0weMnS4mH38j1SLWnPYHLPosXW_VCf07pXhdEOl-qdB63xx7CJxK03L3onpLsMNGf-JLutteLx_01-c/s400/Quema+del+diablo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdeT_NJO-rrXEjJ-OhMvN9asorkYw5OeBBelMegtr4VdkzPwSAC4CMGI0oDKbR0weMnS4mH38j1SLWnPYHLPosXW_VCf07pXhdEOl-qdB63xx7CJxK03L3onpLsMNGf-JLutteLx_01-c/s320/Quema+del+diablo.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Streets full of giant pillars of Satan burning in effigy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> In preparing myself for this event I'm afraid I fell prey to "build up syndrome:" A syndrome I just made up to describe the feeling when people tell you wondrous stories to build up your hopes about how awesome an event is. Hopes which are utterly destroyed when you see the actual event. In the days leading up to this devil burning ceremony everyone told me stories about the great fires and plumes of (I'm assuming sulfurous) smoke rising into the night sky. The image I had in my head was that of the picture above, giant devil statues burning to the ground. They forgot to mention that this is only in Antigua, Guatemala and in the capital. What we have in Esquipulas could be more easily summed up as "lots of fireworks, with juvenile pyromaniacs lighting small bonfires everywhere." So... 4th of July in the USA.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDhZkeXNG-crinPpgFyFnqIxag6wuSXIBBoJrofbmUu0DpI4RuveWm9wO0YfABqPuEa03dTzi3gaaDDLqV9aUbwe4vB-bkTREkR7yMCBTrzbvDnd-xu6nziZ4hZnZ5KxRTeWPsj0qMSOA/s1600/DSC00561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDhZkeXNG-crinPpgFyFnqIxag6wuSXIBBoJrofbmUu0DpI4RuveWm9wO0YfABqPuEa03dTzi3gaaDDLqV9aUbwe4vB-bkTREkR7yMCBTrzbvDnd-xu6nziZ4hZnZ5KxRTeWPsj0qMSOA/s320/DSC00561.JPG" width="224" /></a></div> <br />
When I returned from my less that awe-inspiring mission to see the devil burning, I expressed my slight disappointment to a few of the monks. The Guatemalan monks I asked about this all seemed a bit sad and almost unanimously lamented that the people of Esquipulas are losing touch with their traditions and cultural heritage. However, one monk (originally from the USA) put it in a different light: He told me that the people are beginning to realize that burning plastics, furniture, and tires all through the night is very dangerous and contributes to lung cancer. <span style="color: orange;"><span style="color: black;">I guess not all traditions should be kept. That being said, Guatemalans are not a people to give something up easily, and instead of avoiding this dangerous night, they traded this unseen and long term danger of poisonous gas for a more immediate threat of car crashes, sever burns, and death by shrapnel. It seems that one of the games is working together with your neighbors to light the fires in a maze pattern that the cars driving down the road have to swerve all around to dodge.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhceLqIVQwekftc7m-4ha-FPvEjyKoYWYproNYAD_0mGEYDIlxZQ6lAKHvkyBgbzL3WYXyFqxQ_yY_9DAdvhp6KgL4xEb3FaQRhWZJBI21Zjp3hMqN4XgQAf-WspF5fhYCSk1Wrcqt-TmBT/s1600/DSC00559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhceLqIVQwekftc7m-4ha-FPvEjyKoYWYproNYAD_0mGEYDIlxZQ6lAKHvkyBgbzL3WYXyFqxQ_yY_9DAdvhp6KgL4xEb3FaQRhWZJBI21Zjp3hMqN4XgQAf-WspF5fhYCSk1Wrcqt-TmBT/s320/DSC00559.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This can be seen here as a car and motorcycle swerve around one devil pillar after narrowly avoiding the one right behind the motorcycle (that can't be seen here)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> The festivities also included throwing quite large explosives into your devil fire and watching as everyone in the street runs for cover to avoid the resulting burning shrapnel. Extra points if you can cause a car crash or knock a person off of his/her motorcycle. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZloVyjRl4UL4-Kjn7LN9gBibqiuuiGt78Zxwfm42Rsn-tvM3_M-go0pqwFBSyLt2dF_KgolQZuytnnhD5cW6IVlOLn1rCjSe7RMJNv4bgOWF0tNub_5t13H1gfyyZwuanU6s6l9iPFyz/s1600/DSC00560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZloVyjRl4UL4-Kjn7LN9gBibqiuuiGt78Zxwfm42Rsn-tvM3_M-go0pqwFBSyLt2dF_KgolQZuytnnhD5cW6IVlOLn1rCjSe7RMJNv4bgOWF0tNub_5t13H1gfyyZwuanU6s6l9iPFyz/s320/DSC00560.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is a picture taken right after aforementioned explosions. Notice the burning garbage scattered throughout the street.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> To get a good idea of this event, imagine fires all throughout the streets, cars swerving wildly, and explosions everywhere. Definitely an exciting event. The "highlight" of the night came when Willy (you might remember him from "this IS a beautiful country") and I were walking around a corner when a group of kids lit something on fire right at Willy's feet and ran the other direction. I had a flashback to all those countless hours of Goldeneye on N64, and grabbed Willy's coat to drag him alond as I ran for cover, holding my arm up to guard against the blast. I then heard a whistling, which was sure was the M80 about to go off, and looked over my shoulder to see a little whistling firecracker spinning harmlessly on the ground. At least the children got a kick out of it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> While different than I expected, the "Quema del Diablo" was definitely an exciting experience. My only regret is that my camera battery ran out right at the beginning, and I was only able to take 3 pictures. Instead of owning up to not charging the battery, I'm just going to go ahead and let the devil (bad luck) take the blame for that... after that night, I'm pretty sure he's not around to defend himself anyways. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div> Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-46645989277767407002010-12-05T21:38:00.000-06:002010-12-05T21:38:42.949-06:00They "made" us renew our visas As we were very keen on pointing out during our trip, we get "paid" (meaning we get enough stipend to afford to go to Belize) monthly, and the Guatemalan Government has told us we are not allowed to stay in the country for more than 90 days at a time. Belize is the closest country that we are allowed to flee to. Therefore, this beach vacation was actually "work" for us. As you read this blog remember, for better or worse, this was a work trip for me :)<br />
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The trip started at a corner in downtown Cobán at 6:00 am, due to some advice that that is the only time that buses leave for Flores. I'm personally skeptical about the data but, if wrong, it would definitely not be the only flawed information received on this trip. This particular leg of the journey marked my second microbus ride, Gabe's first, and Connor's first in Guatemala. It definitely lived up to expectations. Far more cramped and uncomfortable than my first, this was also almost twice as long, a little over 6 hours. At one point all the bench seats designed for 3 were made to fit 5, and there were 10 people standing in the bus. Gabe pretty succinctly summed it up after we got out: "Dude, that was SO horrible." After this ride from hell we arrived in Flores to find (from a man who owned a bus company leaving for Belize City the next morning) that there were no more buses to Belize City until the next morning. In our defense, he was literally the only person at the bus station to talk to, so even if he wasn't legit, we had no other options. The lack of a ride forced us to stay the day in Flores, one of the more famous places in Guate because of two special traits. It is the stopping point for any trip to Tikal, possibly the most famous Mayan ruins in the world, meaning that almost every tourist to Guatemala passes through, and it is one of the three well known lakes in Guatemala. We didn't have money for Tikal, and, although I find them nice, am less than blown away by the concept of a fresh water lake. I've seen a few before; I have no need to pay for a motor boat tour of another one. Therefore, Flores didn't have much to offer us.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX0r_Dp4aHOCnj__lpA2jCmR7_D6Ka6N9f1eFW-goqPSOvMxRrA7LQSCsIpxWHIj24lgTEYoaaNyesuAeDpM1CiI-VFYIxLWk05U88EHglsLc8F2G81HRbOUsK1iqEPGVRonlxAybtqn5/s1600/DSC00492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="90" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX0r_Dp4aHOCnj__lpA2jCmR7_D6Ka6N9f1eFW-goqPSOvMxRrA7LQSCsIpxWHIj24lgTEYoaaNyesuAeDpM1CiI-VFYIxLWk05U88EHglsLc8F2G81HRbOUsK1iqEPGVRonlxAybtqn5/s320/DSC00492.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">In its defense it was a nice lake<br />
</div> Although the scenery was pretty nice, there was not much to do on the island of Flores. We got a cheap hostel, and chilled for the rest of the day, which was probably for the better because Gabe got pretty sick with some stomach problems, and we had a bus to catch at 5:00 the next morning.<br />
The bus ride into Belize City was quite a bit more comfortable than any I have taken in Guatemala thanks to the law in Belize that you can only carry as many passengers as there are seats in the car. Seems like a pretty reasonable law to me. The comfort of the ride allowed us to catch up on some sleep, and when we arrived in sunny, dirty, crowded Belize City we were ready to hit the beaches. That is, after a 30 minute boat ride to Caye (pronounced Key) Caulker. Somehow, in the hordes of people and hotel owners and people trying to carry bags for a tip, we found a pretty cool guy who owned a hostel near the center of the "town." We got ourselves a little cabin for pretty cheap and began our beach vacation. As a true testament to our serious dedication and skill, we managed to spend the next 3 days doing almost nothing. We lounged on the beach, met people, and drank plenty of Belikin, Belize's most famous beer. It's not a spectacular brew but, as they say: when in Rome, drink cold beer on the beach. Or something like that.<br />
Thanksgiving happened to occur while we were on the island, and although it was not necessarily a traditional thanksgiving, it was definitely one to remember. While there was no flag football game or dog shows on TV, the beach served as a pretty acceptable alternative. Instead of turkey, all we could find was Chicken,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJidqdTXJovvlBG3ti4BNAghW5ri_PHC4OMs9dK5zSDwJ_Iuj6VmusF6vjLEY2aEBNi8IwRk-lJR2IcuI_5wZ6T1ztWSTn3volKac5Nsz2lb_ZGVjf2hgA5Y1UddDIHdIrZoIkyikGRoua/s1600/DSC00500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJidqdTXJovvlBG3ti4BNAghW5ri_PHC4OMs9dK5zSDwJ_Iuj6VmusF6vjLEY2aEBNi8IwRk-lJR2IcuI_5wZ6T1ztWSTn3volKac5Nsz2lb_ZGVjf2hgA5Y1UddDIHdIrZoIkyikGRoua/s320/DSC00500.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> but we definitely made do with that!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQb8U8Cedobc3U0kz6i7-gWwtr5T37d5U1rd7tu0gdGa15ZrmaX2nRgyzUoly7GodRyjs8A2I75v9pxTEv7Tu9ZJk3I8xb6HMvYBMr_jfWhR7eaGOR3BZqMvoH8PolbA8TlFmR-7RY70oL/s1600/DSC00498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQb8U8Cedobc3U0kz6i7-gWwtr5T37d5U1rd7tu0gdGa15ZrmaX2nRgyzUoly7GodRyjs8A2I75v9pxTEv7Tu9ZJk3I8xb6HMvYBMr_jfWhR7eaGOR3BZqMvoH8PolbA8TlFmR-7RY70oL/s320/DSC00498.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
and the new found friends had to serve as our impromptu family, but we made it work. We even went around the table and said things we were thankful for.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zILfTwcJ7aFleOVF-7VB-84u6S0o958gTt1-1Hkjr2hOBDR3L4JUzPo4QmiRBDi8KMxdLYXP7Wr2BI2DyVYx9UdqF_JQuRoA02tuxt_HSrkJ13pRQIzmLjSQl4j9ohvmgUErufamRqzu/s1600/DSC00503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zILfTwcJ7aFleOVF-7VB-84u6S0o958gTt1-1Hkjr2hOBDR3L4JUzPo4QmiRBDi8KMxdLYXP7Wr2BI2DyVYx9UdqF_JQuRoA02tuxt_HSrkJ13pRQIzmLjSQl4j9ohvmgUErufamRqzu/s320/DSC00503.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> All in all, it was a very successful Thanksgiving thanks to all the great people we had to share it with.<br />
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Besides lounging on the beach, we also met a lot of people, on the beach, in the bar, and at the hostel. Lot's of very cool people, from the Iranian who had been at the hostel for 3 weeks to the Finnish guy who had been traveling the world for 14 months after quitting his job as a truck driver. I had some pretty awesome conversations with these people, ranging from the Iranian telling me that it would be better to use my physics knowledge to build bombs than alternative energy for third world countries because we shouldn't be meddling with peoples lives and forcing our way upon them (blowing them up is somehow better), to a German and me discussing common prejudices against each others countries. While there were many interesting people and interesting stories, by far the most numerous comments we got were on how rude Americans are and how bad our government's foreign policy is. It turns out that quite a few people in the world have very strong opinions about Americans that they are not afraid to share. I even met one Canadian girl who, after finding out that I was from the USA, spent a full 5 minutes telling me how Americans are so rude and every time you travel you can tell who is American. Obviously MN manners are different than Canadian manners, because that in itself actually seems rude to me... oh well, chalk it up to cultural differences.<br />
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Despite the less than warm greeting by a few people, most people we met were really awesome, and the beach kind of speaks for itself, this was a really great vacation. However, all good things must come to an end. <br />
I decided to take an alternate route back to Esquipulas, both in order to see more of the country, and in order to avoid those really horrible microbus rides. Because of this I decided to leave the beach a day earlier than my travel buddies, just in case I had problems and needed to spend an extra day on the road. I was told (yet another piece of dubious information) that the only bus to Punta Gorda was early in the morning, but that for an extra $2 it was possible to get one that went direct to PG without stopping all the time. actually, from the central bus terminal of Belize City, that there are no direct buses, but that they do leave Belize City all day until night fall. I could have slept in. It actually ended up being for the best that I planned for an early departure. I caught the earliest sea taxi from the Island, which was 8:00 am, and from there, after wandering around the city for awhile, got conned into paying a guy about what a taxi would've cost me to walk with me to the station and show me where it is. I got there at about the perfect time though, 30 minutes before the bus left, so I was able to settle in nicely. The bus ride was longer than expected, and I arrived in Punta Gorda just after nightfall. It turns out PG does not find many uses for streetlamps, and I ended up walking dark streets with all my stuff. I stopped in the first hotel I found, and I think I payed to much for it due to my obvious desire to get my stuff stored somewhere safe before exploring any more. It was my first ever solo stay in a hotel though, so C'est La Vie I guess.<br />
After getting everything put away, I decided to explore everything that PG had to offer. It turns out that can be done in about 10 minutes. So I had a nice dinner at a deserted diner where the three workers were very nice, and bored, and kept me company while I ate. Upon returning to my room I realized that I had left the key inside. To make matters worse, the night guard had lost his keys, and the evening worker had left without leaving the extra keys within arms reach of the window so he could grab them in an emergency (apparently that's their back-up system). We waited around for awhile trying to get a hold of the boss, who would not answer his phone, when finally the guard asked me in desperation, "don't you know how to break in or something?"<br />
Well thank you for asking sir, I don't think so, but I'll definitely try.<br />
And try I did. It turns out someone else had had the same predicament in the same room (maybe) because the window panes were held in place literally with only scotch tape. They were easy enough to remove, as was the screen, and viola, within minutes I was back inside my room, determined to not leave anything valuable inside if ever I decided to wander again.<br />
Due to yet another piece of dubious information, I was under the impression that the only boat to Puerto Barrios Guatemala was at 12:00 noon. So I decided to wander the city and catch the sunrise before heading back to the room for a mid morning nap. As I was heading to the room I caught sight of some people getting onto a boat. Turns out they were getting on the 9:00 boat for Puerto Barrios. oops. I ended up on the 12:00 boat, which broke down twice on the way, and got into Puerto Barrios around 3:00. This was notable only for being the first time I've entered a country by boat. Kind of a cool accomplishment. I felt like one of the discoverers of the new world, except instead of a sailboat I had a twin motor sea taxi, and instead of coming for copious amounts of gold and land, I'm volunteering for free. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw980sWeUxtwxj37uFJ9glik5bIBRMoZGUvEPizVDaXBpFbWSRY8cipAFxxlSx8iAevnPlF_qiz8_Y9mSBsE-I0ViW2bsLXE2qzoKcBRlygUKAUDpoZI8qrXmCYWQTu2JqXIRriZUa7Mur/s1600/DSC00518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw980sWeUxtwxj37uFJ9glik5bIBRMoZGUvEPizVDaXBpFbWSRY8cipAFxxlSx8iAevnPlF_qiz8_Y9mSBsE-I0ViW2bsLXE2qzoKcBRlygUKAUDpoZI8qrXmCYWQTu2JqXIRriZUa7Mur/s320/DSC00518.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">A shot of the Guatemalan shore in the distance</div><br />
I was assured that after yet another 5 hour microbus ride (this one surprisingly comfortable though) I would be able to catch a bus from Chiquimula to Esquipulas (about 45 minutes away). The microbus driver who told me this apparently forgot that it was Sunday and there are no buses to Esquipulas. Whether or not he knew this at the time is irrelevant as I found out after waiting for a bus on a street corner in Chiquimula for about 45 minutes. Eventually a half drunk Italian sailor who spoke 5 different languages (English included) wandered by and decided to befriend me. After admonishing me for thinking about traveling at night (it was only dusk when I started waiting at the corner) he gave me all sorts of tips about this part of the city, which he knows well because he's living at the "hotel buen precio" (roughly translates to cheap hotel) and working as a tattoo artist. I eventually decided that, even though I was so close to home, dark had settled over the city and the street corner's population was taking a turn for the worse so it was becoming necessary to get off the corner and find a place to hunker down. Hotel Buen Precio it was. For the rest of the night I dodged cockroaches and bed bugs, and caught some sleep before the 6:00 am bus into Esquipulas. My travels successfully concluded with my first meal of beans and corn tortillas in about two weeks. I can't really say I missed that.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-21892949739455510982010-12-02T21:16:00.001-06:002010-12-03T06:47:57.061-06:00Cobán This last week I took my mandatory trip out of Guatemala to renew my visa. Although I had not quite reached the 90 day maximum stay limit, I decided that doing nothing on Thanksgiving at a monastery in Esquipulas was not the ideal way to spend it, A beach in Belize sounded much better. And it was. The trip started with a bus ride to El Rancho, a town name that I still cannot say correctly. Try it. Remember though, you have to roll the R in Rancho and say it in a conversation. Tough, huh? I somehow managed to convince the bus attendant to remind me when we got there (by asking him at every town if we were at El Rancho) and de-boarded with high hopes, even though my directions were "wait at the corner and find a bus going to Cobán." Easier said than done. El Rancho, it turns out, is literally just a bunch of restaurants (but no bathrooms) at the intersection of two highways. Two highways which, apparently, rarely see the passing of buses to Cobán. Although I had been specifically told to take a <i>bus</i> and had been warned not to take the <i>micro</i>buses, after 45 minutes of waving off microbus drivers and waiting for a real bus, I decided to cut my losses and just get to Cobán. I flagged down the first nearly empty microbus I saw, thinking that I'd have ample room for the 3 hour drive, and was on my way. Or so I thought. We spent the next half hour driving around El Rancho until the bus, with seats for 13, was filled to capacity. Oh well, I thought, at least now we won't have to stop to let more people on. Wrong again. Guatemala, it turns out, has no laws against packing as many people into a van as possible. After many stops, a few too many people in the van, and a little back pain because of the fact that the seats didn't have enough room between them for me to put my legs out straight, I made it to Cobán. A little worse for the wear, but still in one piece.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpNjIIwIk0ceAxLkh1x7ap4Ac5vI0pr2SeCWIagZAQI31-Z4T2KlvuI7oxcGznMSy5ToOlpBjHW97O8aQl1lhHZOLrDTMkMPbyw9p0UdL21uT8f6lZp91qL2oSu3PYDE9LJGAHxfF6D1r/s1600/73692_153990051309533_100000956162568_242495_5749744_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpNjIIwIk0ceAxLkh1x7ap4Ac5vI0pr2SeCWIagZAQI31-Z4T2KlvuI7oxcGznMSy5ToOlpBjHW97O8aQl1lhHZOLrDTMkMPbyw9p0UdL21uT8f6lZp91qL2oSu3PYDE9LJGAHxfF6D1r/s320/73692_153990051309533_100000956162568_242495_5749744_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"></div>Come to think of it, maybe I should've figured the whole microbus thing out when I got here...<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">It is amazing that in a country that is less than half the size of Minnesota two places can differ so much, but Cobán and Esquipulas are completely different cities. The first thing I did in Cobán was eat at McDonald's (because I liked the irony more than the food, the last time I ate McDonald's was in Switzerland, and before that, Chile) and walk around a mall. Two things that definitely do not exist in Esquipulas. It turns out that Cobán is about twice the size of Esquipulas, while my monastery is about twice the size of theirs. That being said, besides the area around the mall, Cobán feels much smaller than Esquipulas. While I was there the stores were mostly closed, nothing happened at night, and people really kept to themselves. The lives of the volunteers up there is quite a bit different from mine as well. I'm here alone, which really forces me to branch out and hang out with the monks or spend time alone in my room. There are two volunteers in Cobán and they share a room, making their experience more communal in a way. However, they have their own gringo hang out room with one of the monks from North Dakota where pass most of their time. They even stream a MN news station every weekend to watch all of the football games!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMU7dttoMSlpCa1lTxrKEGbSPc9uI4kkPH9CMGX2auRbkDW3_oLt6xoC5WIXhvAhvW6hk1gUx7jsIMeUFvS4Ya9o7hRXRSPT9elv3X0v4AT92u9VD5CdenyUwa9OtGg2Fg_sC3K6YWHBmi/s1600/DSC00489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMU7dttoMSlpCa1lTxrKEGbSPc9uI4kkPH9CMGX2auRbkDW3_oLt6xoC5WIXhvAhvW6hk1gUx7jsIMeUFvS4Ya9o7hRXRSPT9elv3X0v4AT92u9VD5CdenyUwa9OtGg2Fg_sC3K6YWHBmi/s320/DSC00489.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a picture of us agonizing over the Vikings getting slaughtered by Green Bay. Gabe, on the left, is from Wisconsin. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was good to see the differences between my life in Esquipulas and theirs in Cobán. I realized some things that I have here that I'm happy about and some things that they have that I like. I have more freedom here to choose my work, almost complete freedom actually, while they are basically stuck doing what Brother Bernie tells them to do. It seems like this has made them a little unhappy with their work, and has made me realize that if I am unsatisfied with what I am doing, it's only my fault. I've also realized that I am doing good work, and has given me more energy to go about that work. They have more comforts such as tv, gringo friends, youtube, but I think if I had all those things it would take away from the real immersion that I have experienced here which has allowed me to make great friends and has sped up my ability to learn spanish. They also have access to cars, which would be really nice, but would decrease the cool things I have seen walking down the streets of Esquipulas. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjL8MH8qwEPu0BILJqNYuBKB_iiAigyrufMRo1QOjhw2dn5meXAv1VlvVhdndGJVHhCjgJY5oe2dLrszTcQ5Fja_6tcISoHKXyjpqKIYracY62jT0RFNW36RT2N5zPvooCQZRIqsHnpJ_/s1600/DSC00130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjL8MH8qwEPu0BILJqNYuBKB_iiAigyrufMRo1QOjhw2dn5meXAv1VlvVhdndGJVHhCjgJY5oe2dLrszTcQ5Fja_6tcISoHKXyjpqKIYracY62jT0RFNW36RT2N5zPvooCQZRIqsHnpJ_/s320/DSC00130.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Like this.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">While I had a relaxing and informative trip to Cobán, a retreat for all Benedictine monks in Guatemala began on Monday, and it was politely suggested that we make ourselves invisible. So we did the next best thing, we left for the beaches of Belize. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-626725641076119712010-11-20T18:33:00.000-06:002010-11-20T18:33:14.544-06:00I need a vacation 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.<br />
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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 <i>Abadía Jesucristo Cricuficado</i> 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 <i>living </i>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 "<i><span style="color: black;">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." </span></i><span style="color: black;">Another friend in the BVC in the Phillipines uses a quote from Arthur Conan Doyle to sum up his thoughts: </span><i>“I never remember feeling tired by work, though idleness exhausts me completely” </i>suffice it to say, I'm pretty tired.<br />
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. <br />
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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.<br />
That's all I have for now. Happy Thanksgiving!Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-83207906793018251972010-11-06T18:14:00.000-06:002010-11-07T09:21:34.709-06:00Dia de los Muertos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> 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. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3ANPIeoA6Isejsh0bfiU046u1ffcGqvahUfjsTWFwt5Nm_HPznvZXGsXedJjqLYREC6Iyz2gQSGuJyqv5unCRDCPMr88WvCkj85cGIYsHGtCAUnPlRI_RDIEup79elVmd-tAjGRfeJHz/s1600/gallo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3ANPIeoA6Isejsh0bfiU046u1ffcGqvahUfjsTWFwt5Nm_HPznvZXGsXedJjqLYREC6Iyz2gQSGuJyqv5unCRDCPMr88WvCkj85cGIYsHGtCAUnPlRI_RDIEup79elVmd-tAjGRfeJHz/s1600/gallo.gif" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJHXbCA2WHkXjJ920jPutmoPZlxEM7ahUxLjOxxy_fB3VlFHvcjIzMMgz1KhdPeJG3W0OMmYgERKcZVKe1w9nF9qU_Bgv4PbcHvsYcsfsk2NZWryJluYz4jmuo7Jzj1Yfz2QkSBv5mIDWK/s1600/gallote.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJHXbCA2WHkXjJ920jPutmoPZlxEM7ahUxLjOxxy_fB3VlFHvcjIzMMgz1KhdPeJG3W0OMmYgERKcZVKe1w9nF9qU_Bgv4PbcHvsYcsfsk2NZWryJluYz4jmuo7Jzj1Yfz2QkSBv5mIDWK/s320/gallote.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYGdcxi_GV4U2DUsWUtiPsZ3WVih_Db-4utvbTe2mylTCbVNiOLl-sOu-Rin70cfiurakvatq1CGBvUXI8Vi_qQ4jLFUIWhue2K4gdla85MfbHwkHFo6X2FvPE4yC5w9CP9baqzvyG7d6/s1600/DSC00378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYGdcxi_GV4U2DUsWUtiPsZ3WVih_Db-4utvbTe2mylTCbVNiOLl-sOu-Rin70cfiurakvatq1CGBvUXI8Vi_qQ4jLFUIWhue2K4gdla85MfbHwkHFo6X2FvPE4yC5w9CP9baqzvyG7d6/s320/DSC00378.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> 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. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRwmH2r2aktP7wxptnSeFV5Gsrbv3P0osEQ-t16zBRlbARJBZ0w39n-CgctQKXDIzBXXr3yfa53Xq58XKk7NIy4WzmoDK9ImSgH_TTbxeYISzvTrsquX_X0tWktoxpmkNwm6EGoploviH/s1600/DSC00388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRwmH2r2aktP7wxptnSeFV5Gsrbv3P0osEQ-t16zBRlbARJBZ0w39n-CgctQKXDIzBXXr3yfa53Xq58XKk7NIy4WzmoDK9ImSgH_TTbxeYISzvTrsquX_X0tWktoxpmkNwm6EGoploviH/s320/DSC00388.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6A8q4d09WrSkIogtZayDaLkWWy1ZBvs_lDPN3sp6Rx0gt8A2yZ-QF4Xk8nIlKrXyC-HRcI-d1afBuIX3Rwf0rJM9lpbieFXmKvNswNi1Y_kiJJxWoO2TgPNhVPBarhyphenhyphen8n6-kPd5tNRNj/s1600/DSC00383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6A8q4d09WrSkIogtZayDaLkWWy1ZBvs_lDPN3sp6Rx0gt8A2yZ-QF4Xk8nIlKrXyC-HRcI-d1afBuIX3Rwf0rJM9lpbieFXmKvNswNi1Y_kiJJxWoO2TgPNhVPBarhyphenhyphen8n6-kPd5tNRNj/s320/DSC00383.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> 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 <style type="text/css">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMXIeW14E_MmBA2d4hvspbaRLcR_7h5F-H3En7eXGhTvTM3FvxKz0OiLKFdgpzhLK0n9mg5MECFYfDIIPiBqF-CClJgZWK82wVD_hgEx2JcnKplnTG7S3zKVh6LGY23eDEi2mYU9UXXn1/s1600/DSC00391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMXIeW14E_MmBA2d4hvspbaRLcR_7h5F-H3En7eXGhTvTM3FvxKz0OiLKFdgpzhLK0n9mg5MECFYfDIIPiBqF-CClJgZWK82wVD_hgEx2JcnKplnTG7S3zKVh6LGY23eDEi2mYU9UXXn1/s320/DSC00391.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEkZRiTNEc99zToaPai00WbMdZq61ZELN6bKBg8_QmLoJQVzS7gjOHAIYjoQfrG977slYdToIubBcn9LnnKaGjwBRyDgiqUfymz9Sfjpjo9gFFt2IX1qCE8mUyBivjz4-edCsOb-UdYlZ/s1600/DSC00393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEkZRiTNEc99zToaPai00WbMdZq61ZELN6bKBg8_QmLoJQVzS7gjOHAIYjoQfrG977slYdToIubBcn9LnnKaGjwBRyDgiqUfymz9Sfjpjo9gFFt2IX1qCE8mUyBivjz4-edCsOb-UdYlZ/s320/DSC00393.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><style type="text/css">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> 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.</div> The AWFLE for this week could actually be considered an AWESOME Foreign Language Experience.<br />
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:<br />
where are you from? Minnesota.<br />
hmm... is that close to New York? No, it's right next to Canada.<br />
Oh, is it cold? During the winter, you betcha.<br />
Are you studying to become a priest? No. (apparently people think it is funny that I answer this question so fast and emphatically).<br />
What did you study in school? Physics.<br />
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.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibleqiN5DWrssIMnNwfpFHAhk88IKJwQsmnsojtr-IkWqfI7_NsFEbT0Jn79iwswiqaiklAc7RhLiqBJfnViWFf2s9EAoDj2W5IUJ_jY9LgpaurUZmnbN9x6_n8lkwULZRSXpphxsXijdb/s1600/DSC00380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibleqiN5DWrssIMnNwfpFHAhk88IKJwQsmnsojtr-IkWqfI7_NsFEbT0Jn79iwswiqaiklAc7RhLiqBJfnViWFf2s9EAoDj2W5IUJ_jY9LgpaurUZmnbN9x6_n8lkwULZRSXpphxsXijdb/s320/DSC00380.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Somehow it just felt so natural to do physics in a cemetery.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(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) </div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-37676685854443624942010-11-04T07:09:00.000-06:002010-11-04T12:55:15.895-06:002 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.<br />
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.<br />
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"). <br />
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.<br />
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).Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-89851167712373497872010-10-29T15:05:00.000-05:002010-11-06T17:49:01.199-06:00A beautiful country While the doctors were here I asked one of the nurses what she thought of Guatemala, fully expecting the typical "it's a really pretty country, lots of cool people etc." but her answer to the question made me step back and look at my situation here. In response to my question, she said only one word: "Depressing." Over the next few days I struggled to convince her that Guatemala is really an amazing place, presenting her arguments like a toddler trying to impress a teacher, but she continually shut me down.<br />
<br />
"What about the mountains? Those are really pretty."<br />
"We have those in California"<br />
"What about the weather, it's nice literally ALL THE TIME"<br />
"It's nice all the time in California too"<br />
"Fresh fruit everyday"<br />
"... fresh fruit in California too"<br />
"Well, what about the people, they are an amazing people with beautiful traditions"<br />
"They are starving to death and have no access to even the most basic necessities."<br />
<br />
Eventually, right when I was about to give up and call it a lost cause, I hit a breakthrough. Yes, the people are unbelievably poor, but they have an incredible sense of community because of that. A friend related the story of interviewing a local woman for a catholic article and asking her whether or not she did charity work. She said no. As the conversation progressed it became evident that every day, her family shared their lunch for their poor neighbor and every evening, their other neighbors shared their dinner with her. Thinking that she was on a breakthrough for a front page article, my friend asked her if she did this because Jesus said to do things like this. No, the lady replied, I do it because she could be my sister. Her sense of community was so strong, that she looked upon all of her neighbors as brothers and sisters.<br />
Guatemala also offers an opportunity to see the better side of humanity. Yes, it is sad to see such poverty, and the corruption and greed that leads to that poverty is depressing, but because of that poverty, one has the opportunity to see people doing great things to help people. I have seen such generosity from people who give their time and money just to help the poor down here that it really makes me feel good about humanity.<br />
<br />
Although I found an acceptable answer to what makes Guatemala beautiful, that question has still been in the back of my mind for the past few days. In this quest to see the beauty of the country, William and I climbed to the antennas, which are located at the highest point in the region. The climb was somewhat difficult, on the way there it was about 12.5 Km all uphill, by the time we reached the top, my feet had ceased being covered in blisters and had converted to one big blister, and my hip flexers were crying for mercy. Joe Vardas would be so disappointed at the state I've let myself fall into. On the upside, I learned how to say the word blister, "ampolla," and the entire was was absolutely gorgeous.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3yL_D1gBsahO1f-ljjGQ-zB02eDT7IduDPbtTkQHDiMJo1I622_VbrfSXuwn2wJTJWCpN3D3mMTVKT9rSJAlYto0ZYWHez4nz73YwVJjCOPT1_hChGDYAy93Gx-xhGynav7zXpLScyqmS/s1600/DSC00308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3yL_D1gBsahO1f-ljjGQ-zB02eDT7IduDPbtTkQHDiMJo1I622_VbrfSXuwn2wJTJWCpN3D3mMTVKT9rSJAlYto0ZYWHez4nz73YwVJjCOPT1_hChGDYAy93Gx-xhGynav7zXpLScyqmS/s320/DSC00308.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> About 7 Km into the walk we passed the "piedra de los compadres." The legend has it that a woman and her godfather were visiting the "cristo negro." On the trip back home they stopped here to rest for the night. During the night they were overcome by carnal desires and gave into them. Because two people who share such a close spiritual connexion shouldn't have sex, they were turned to stone, hence the design of the one stone on top of the other. While we were walking, there was a group doing some kind of ritual that was described to me as witchcraft. Apparently they often sacrifice chickens at this place. Interesting to know that Esquipulas is home not only to a Catholic pilgrim site, but also others.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvpvxlAjIuUyEL7nXZjwWT6893gkWa_ihlzlvmaYEmfMrizh5hSd2XnmeKo3LDYh9SM7PBAm7FSbmZRKIniOfuibEKDFqpgacfDGQRTl6iKjL3QL2asuMgpqOhwJxIx7Cq63f2wqqdppc/s1600/DSC00313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvpvxlAjIuUyEL7nXZjwWT6893gkWa_ihlzlvmaYEmfMrizh5hSd2XnmeKo3LDYh9SM7PBAm7FSbmZRKIniOfuibEKDFqpgacfDGQRTl6iKjL3QL2asuMgpqOhwJxIx7Cq63f2wqqdppc/s320/DSC00313.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Though it was a cloudy day, the hike was beautiful. From about halfway up, we began to see the country side all around us open up revealing rolling mountains, coffee, banana, and other fruit plantations, and lots and lots of volcanoes. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCW1zJhMYKKNXX1dol36pC4F1TBClOLaL75k9r7i6pMtHqK7KLmJLhE8-cEJb8qTUo4qBL-DOM-TDSKaHeZm_nC-DIZ4GnVDoy_O5XAlhIHpZ618zI3uoXgAnHKZiYeQep5PfcUA5TZgJ/s1600/DSC00323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCW1zJhMYKKNXX1dol36pC4F1TBClOLaL75k9r7i6pMtHqK7KLmJLhE8-cEJb8qTUo4qBL-DOM-TDSKaHeZm_nC-DIZ4GnVDoy_O5XAlhIHpZ618zI3uoXgAnHKZiYeQep5PfcUA5TZgJ/s320/DSC00323.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfTWYmLI66Ofp1CJQZGBQlBg2WwBjPthodTSwFfj2Kgkyk1hqn9ChsvKpKrvXKlSGmj-nlmCCXqUmVuuZLFKaF-NpL9uWI5xkB5KPqwfpG6H6aHP9LNHbGAOpkrEZZfLYtFnkhVqggd3d2/s1600/DSC00330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfTWYmLI66Ofp1CJQZGBQlBg2WwBjPthodTSwFfj2Kgkyk1hqn9ChsvKpKrvXKlSGmj-nlmCCXqUmVuuZLFKaF-NpL9uWI5xkB5KPqwfpG6H6aHP9LNHbGAOpkrEZZfLYtFnkhVqggd3d2/s320/DSC00330.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> Here, Willy is showing where we are headed to. The antennas are quite a way above the cloud line.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_10bnaer1Fh4YycpQmHwYCAoo-xrSxjcOO4KVbk7CXx-xQMJzjPbmiER75B-srWYBWTuK61Uk1msvKBVB4utC3JZtrOIr41OMUyFlBdkrlwcCDusahekQTTWLDF3lkWwOwd3s9EOwA0E/s1600/DSC00336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_10bnaer1Fh4YycpQmHwYCAoo-xrSxjcOO4KVbk7CXx-xQMJzjPbmiER75B-srWYBWTuK61Uk1msvKBVB4utC3JZtrOIr41OMUyFlBdkrlwcCDusahekQTTWLDF3lkWwOwd3s9EOwA0E/s320/DSC00336.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitw-os6sVwL2L_CNfkeYWDYCcZjGF59zvWhsm_nRz_9nZ1kmzQ_SGF8RXdH0SdD1b29cxYzPHTwr7ZrYs1mYuWQP3zV63qMvhJN0dknN7MVAtlg792he0cOt63opSCpgO0UN3qATDLdRiI/s1600/DSC00338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitw-os6sVwL2L_CNfkeYWDYCcZjGF59zvWhsm_nRz_9nZ1kmzQ_SGF8RXdH0SdD1b29cxYzPHTwr7ZrYs1mYuWQP3zV63qMvhJN0dknN7MVAtlg792he0cOt63opSCpgO0UN3qATDLdRiI/s320/DSC00338.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmfoUpzJhZQtymr-IJ3Qrzwakbyf33flhKwld05CSosc8Y8MMQRORc0u-oUubXxMvMZgJ0tN-EYOOZsyFpTQvYLkU0WTngJwQYdxkqHaI4LnJeUdpyfGMutPurgv8uK7gUUnAGO5dF3Z8/s1600/DSC00343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmfoUpzJhZQtymr-IJ3Qrzwakbyf33flhKwld05CSosc8Y8MMQRORc0u-oUubXxMvMZgJ0tN-EYOOZsyFpTQvYLkU0WTngJwQYdxkqHaI4LnJeUdpyfGMutPurgv8uK7gUUnAGO5dF3Z8/s320/DSC00343.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> The view from the top was incredible, we could see both Esquipulas (on the left) and Quetzaltepeque (on the right), one of the oldest cities in the region. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYnVzwcQCjPf47iFvro09WmOqRHTQmAhvRysrPpZCPB5865nWnGcvKC3VKh_u2fefFksxbNIMf7Tkk9xmopD1lBSrzXazLa6McvCEcrktILAN9nUsamChvWu3KkHYQUXwZkt3lC0gUysf/s1600/DSC00352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYnVzwcQCjPf47iFvro09WmOqRHTQmAhvRysrPpZCPB5865nWnGcvKC3VKh_u2fefFksxbNIMf7Tkk9xmopD1lBSrzXazLa6McvCEcrktILAN9nUsamChvWu3KkHYQUXwZkt3lC0gUysf/s320/DSC00352.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just over my left shoulder is the city of Esquipulas. If you have a high resolution monitor you might be able to zoom in and barely see the basilica. Below is a zoomed in picture. The larger than normal white blob is the bacilica where I live. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHwXw2iVnJOtR-Y6Ez6N3PkWHZwuWQ8MaChMyrcwr4NCRMhyuT1QIp51NrS66KaV9bRqMra_L9o_cyuI0UNGuhjeivnA_tpt719I7gBkZ4OtBu9HqB2C5y7baUjsKz2BhhIn7IGH1cfdx/s1600/DSC00344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHwXw2iVnJOtR-Y6Ez6N3PkWHZwuWQ8MaChMyrcwr4NCRMhyuT1QIp51NrS66KaV9bRqMra_L9o_cyuI0UNGuhjeivnA_tpt719I7gBkZ4OtBu9HqB2C5y7baUjsKz2BhhIn7IGH1cfdx/s320/DSC00344.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGxBBzSfgC3r3MgyWmIxfLOyf0t5asaAvdPML3VpFkqufJL7zxQxFQ68vbU70rXtJqmMyr9L9gAI8xLkRKgc2e3XD5PWwznaso0gGsFCFac_Eaf_2t9h_U0NmbAOSQP1xrkBjkFk648Eo2/s1600/DSC00363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGxBBzSfgC3r3MgyWmIxfLOyf0t5asaAvdPML3VpFkqufJL7zxQxFQ68vbU70rXtJqmMyr9L9gAI8xLkRKgc2e3XD5PWwznaso0gGsFCFac_Eaf_2t9h_U0NmbAOSQP1xrkBjkFk648Eo2/s320/DSC00363.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> I find Latin American cemeteries fascinating. This one, which was just off the side of the road, separated from houses by barbed wire, shows the typical above ground burial plots adorned with real and plastic flowers as well as tinsel whatever else is on hand (used coke bottles are popular). <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgx8qWpIyEFSO_zWT-6zlFfuG85__iBC5TfWJx7jaTGGu7UjPn233q-HgSGe3neJe3mt9pIsTwdAiX37KK2ZyeW-7f1sUlyYMm4jx0CzBe5wTpo3tHCMMFMQMHpja-4PMtXFmxpktl7Rt8/s1600/DSC00364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgx8qWpIyEFSO_zWT-6zlFfuG85__iBC5TfWJx7jaTGGu7UjPn233q-HgSGe3neJe3mt9pIsTwdAiX37KK2ZyeW-7f1sUlyYMm4jx0CzBe5wTpo3tHCMMFMQMHpja-4PMtXFmxpktl7Rt8/s320/DSC00364.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> My last reason why Guatemala is such a beautiful country. PETA would love it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><u>AWkward Foreign Language Experience</u>. Having to translate emails one of the novices has been receiving from aspiring Russian brides. Some website somehow got his email, and he has been receiving messages and pictures from Russian women who want to marry him and move to Guatemala. Except, they are in english. He has me translate every lurid detail (and there are quite a few) and thinks it is hilarious to watch me try to come up with all the words in spanish.</div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-52357595051443503002010-10-28T08:10:00.000-05:002010-10-28T08:10:02.389-05:00Catholic Healthcare West Last week the doctors from Catholic Healthcare West came down to Esquipulas to give free care to the people of the Chiquimula region who, because of money and distance, cannot see a doctor here in Guatemala. While this meant free medical consulting and medicine to the people of Chiquimula and a chance to do a really good thing for the doctors, this also helped ease me into being alone here at the monastery after Kenan's departure. It was a fast paced week of working in the clinic, traveling, and enjoying the opportunity to pretend I'm back home by speaking English and drinking beer with some really cool people. However, this was not my greatest week in terms of taking pictures. I guess I clam up when everyone in the group is taking the same picture I was thinking about taking, so this blog will be completely without pictures until the doctors have a chance to send me theirs. <br />
Our first day with the doctors was spent with a trip to Horcones and Timushán, two Aldeas about a 1.5 hour, or 50 Km drive from Esquipulas. My group went to Timushán, about 2 Km from the Honduras border. After the adventure of getting there (we rode in the back of a pickup over "roads" that barely resemble mountain bike courses), we began setting up and some of us realized that we were in over our heads. Some people struggled with spanish, some with seeing the great disparities between what we have and consider normal and what these people have and consider normal, I struggled with having to realize my Mom's dream for me. 5 years after I almost went to pharmacy school, I spent one week working as a pharmacy technician in Guatemala and realized the bullet I dodged all those years ago. At first I struggled with drug names and reading the doctors writing, I eventually got the hang of it. By the end of the week, I was cruizing along, and only struggling with the doctors' writing. Seriously, what looks like the number 2? Nothing. Why, then, do doctors see the need to write ii with a line over it? I see that and I think "the second time derivative of pi." That is zero. That makes no sense.<br />
Anyways, the first day was quite an adventure, we saw a lot of people, gave out a lot of drugs, and ended the day having done a good thing, feeling good about ourselves, and worn out.<br />
The rest of the week kind basically followed that pattern, and fell into a rhythm from there. The pharmacists I was working with, Liz, and I spent all of our time at the Centro de Salud in Esquipulas. It was a busy week, the doctors estimate that they saw 125 people per clinic per day. Sick people need medicine, so that meant that Liz and I were busy behind the pharmacy counter. It was also a fun time; like I said, I enjoyed speaking English and it was really fun to show some new people the place that has become my home over the last 2 months. <br />
The week did have its share of bumps in the road. From health promoters charging the people for telling them about the free clinic and denying them access if they couldn't pay (that operation was shut down as soon as we found out about it) to someone forgetting to alert the people in the aldeas that the doctors were in town (and the subsequent radio advertisement for free medical aid to cover the mistake) we met each hurdle and were able to get over it. However, near the end of the week there was one problem that proved too much even for all the doctors who still wanted to stay and help the people.<br />
Because I generally lack the soft touch and even handedness that accompanies politically correctness, I will defer to the doctors' blog to describe the incident. From http://missionsblog.chwhealth.org/.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Though our goal is to serve as many patients as possible on these missions, the safety of our team members is the foundation upon which all our work is built. As our mission progressed we encountered a few disheartening thefts from our rooms at the basilica. The monks graciously refunded us what we lost. We were of one mind about continuing the mission and set about setting up our clinics the next day. <br />
<br />
But when it was discovered that the spare keys to our rooms had gone missing, and that re-keying all the locks was impossible on such short notice, we felt we had to make the difficult decision to bring everyone home early in order to ensure their safety.<br />
<br />
We are heartbroken that we could not finish our last two clinic days, but are confident that the basilica will take steps to ensure that future guests are well cared for. This is a set-back, but we are resolute in our mission of caring for those in need and we do believe we'll be back in Esquipulas next year.</span></i><br />
Thus ended the adventures of the Catholic Healthcare West in Esquipulas. Who knows, maybe in 20 years I'll be laying on a psychiatrists bed and the abandonment issues from Kenan and the Doctors will surface. For now, even though they had to leave under unhappy circumstances, I am comforted by thinking about all the great things that we did while they were here. From the people who benefited from the peace of mind of seeing a doctor, to the malnourished children who were put back on the right path with dietary supplements (plumpy nut!) and anti worm pills, all the way to the chronic patients who were left enough medicine to last them until the next group of doctors arrive, the impact of this visit was very positive in Esquipulas. And not only for the sick, but for the people who received counseling ranging from what foods to eat/avoid all the way to just boiling water, and for the nurses who sat in on lectures given by the doctors, and for the med students who got real experience working alongside the doctors. These doctors made a positive impact here in Esquipulas, even though their trip can't be remembered without thinking of the sadder circumstances, I am made happy by thinking of the happier ones.Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-47530594046920024062010-10-22T21:29:00.000-05:002010-11-06T17:46:31.234-06:00... And then there was one<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> Last Thursday Kenan left Guatemala, giving me the dubious honor of being possibly the only non-monk gringo left in Esquipulas. He must have been jonesing for some flag football and meals not centered around black beans and rice, because after making the decision to leave, he wasted no time in booking his flight as soon as possible. While his timing was good (I had to return to Esquipulas on Saturday) the week leading up to our trip to Guatemala City was a bit rushed with finding transportation and lodging, but despite all the stress, Kenan did find time to do all the things he would miss one last time.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaEBbVhFEjpAaesNinhLMI2KlNxZId_bpbMkfhaW3XCwsJ_KkYnYnLsNc1b6LW4AdmEkxg_SrAoRC7MA4QyQ_IowgJQwmXTwKthZ16Yr4x4P7gPv9Y8D3xEBCbDCWDMlYBrtb6qKOvzYVg/s1600/DSC00230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaEBbVhFEjpAaesNinhLMI2KlNxZId_bpbMkfhaW3XCwsJ_KkYnYnLsNc1b6LW4AdmEkxg_SrAoRC7MA4QyQ_IowgJQwmXTwKthZ16Yr4x4P7gPv9Y8D3xEBCbDCWDMlYBrtb6qKOvzYVg/s320/DSC00230.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here he was caught in the act losing his last game of Guatemalan Hearts. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Kenan's flight left around midday Thursday, which meant that I was able to stretch my trip to drop him off at the airport into a three day vacation from the monastery, which was very needed after more than a month of being cooped up here. A friend of mine who used to work at the library named Dulio decided to tag along with us gringos, giving me a travel partner back to Esquipuas after dropping Kenan off. We left Esquipulas ready for a wild vacation on the town, but after the 5.5 hour boiling hot bus ride, plans had changed a bit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4B8I9WZukfD1qP00A5hLDhQGEfgbAo8o6tvKRQIHzoHYFXBN1H4LIrW0xLdnyBilwYfmzJJxSZi4fKPxf-LMZLmKR4sMBGUHflTdpZCWZR0WVu3vO5hVOo5_W9R-FH1FVYq9jq2OYjO8E/s1600/DSC00251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4B8I9WZukfD1qP00A5hLDhQGEfgbAo8o6tvKRQIHzoHYFXBN1H4LIrW0xLdnyBilwYfmzJJxSZi4fKPxf-LMZLmKR4sMBGUHflTdpZCWZR0WVu3vO5hVOo5_W9R-FH1FVYq9jq2OYjO8E/s320/DSC00251.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I snapped this picture of Dulio comfy in bed around 7:00 pm.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> Finally Thursday came, and I couldn't delay it any longer. Kenan said his last goodbyes as I wept gently to myself, and promised that he'd think of me when he took his first nice, long, hot shower, slept well in a soft bed, and enjoyed drinking tap water, all things that I have another 9 months without.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKr3PuRNtg5ljE93oPD9Zd0E8y0EOFjYOdUEVgB64BgGCT7HsCeJVYOxG-jSbdQlDdwOToMSivnlkLgKpCRkG2viA9z9oQKyweINLU82wkNWshcbR-uptxIDWY1DemdTOyWWK18HYt3pkx/s1600/DSC00255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKr3PuRNtg5ljE93oPD9Zd0E8y0EOFjYOdUEVgB64BgGCT7HsCeJVYOxG-jSbdQlDdwOToMSivnlkLgKpCRkG2viA9z9oQKyweINLU82wkNWshcbR-uptxIDWY1DemdTOyWWK18HYt3pkx/s320/DSC00255.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
Now alone in Guatemala, I decided to see the sights with the help of my more than capable tour guide, Dulio.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYX9dM_fu-QwbQW4YQ-okgJ0zCtRccsPvlXn7Vos9ULIvcpu7qaMHeTeGmKx_E_t31mkNhwyvZ9hBg1HVlagDunk-0JNxYG8xoqMbwSZHbnuerh2rMhE5mjMJbpbL5VVnamzylHdIZL_r/s1600/DSC00257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYX9dM_fu-QwbQW4YQ-okgJ0zCtRccsPvlXn7Vos9ULIvcpu7qaMHeTeGmKx_E_t31mkNhwyvZ9hBg1HVlagDunk-0JNxYG8xoqMbwSZHbnuerh2rMhE5mjMJbpbL5VVnamzylHdIZL_r/s320/DSC00257.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"> Or so I thought. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div> Luckily this was the only dead end freeway we ended up walking down during our all day walk from the airport back to the hotel. Guatemala City turned out to be very similar to most big cities except for the overwhelming smell of urine, but we did see some interesting things. We were able to tour both the bank museum, chronicling the history of Guatemalan currency and the Railroad museum, with it's history of money, corruption, and politics, all at the hands of the railroad authorities.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> There is also some spectacular architecture in Guatemala City, what really interested me was the aqueducts dating to the first European cities in the area. I've made a few jokes about Guatemalan infrastructure in the past, but in all honesty, some of the old bridges really astounded me. This one was built in 1894!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAaBqv7qEiSO8QKcNnBKulwJrczEjk56d8sbsBRj2NSr7iUCBkUlqJzZvP0oj-4F_dGFtuWeHLhJvTTBAoft-K9PbC7h_K06m7F9MKtWfn5oiWE2QrRyc2dG8975JhSYuryxIjrzy1xTXM/s320/DSC00287.JPG" width="320" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">As a reference, the 35W bridge was built in 1967 and survived a total of 0 earthquakes.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> While I would have loved to stay and experience more of the big city, the doctors from Catholic Healthcare West arrived in Esquipulas on Friday, and I had to return to meet them. While it was nice to escape the monastery for awhile, it I'm actually looking foward to returning to non-street food and a little routine.<br />
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My AWkward Foreign Language Experience of the week (AWFLE) came upon my return to working in the library. I was sitting behind the counter as Willy was helping some very cute girls. At one point, one of the girls looks at me, cocks her head to the side and says "que chulo sus ojos" (you have pretty eyes). The mixture of me not expecting her to talk (I was thinking in english) and the fact that "chulo" means either "tacky" or "ugly" in Chile left me staring at her like a complete idiot. She looked at Willy and said "oh, he doesn't understand spanish?" as Willy broke down laughing. I sat there flabbergasted, trying to trying to regain a foothold in the conversation, but by the time I actually figured out she was complementing me, the only spanish I was able to spit out was "gracias" as she was leaving the library. I guess I can chalk that one up to experience.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-89445808624663340322010-10-12T08:23:00.000-05:002010-10-12T08:23:20.844-05:00Inevitabilities<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>This week has been a week of inevitable happenings. I'm not talking about my first bout of Montezuma's revenge (that happened about a week in, and as a result I lost about 10 pounds in just under 8 hours...) I'm talking about things that I have been putting off/expecting/dreading for quite a while. <br />
The first of these inevitabilities was my first attempt at a conversation about physics. While I'm generally not horribly opposed to touting what little physics knowledge $90,000+ worth of college degree has given me, it turns out that is much harder in spanish than in English. This particular morning we somehow got on the topic of freefall, and whether or not two different objects would fall at the same rate on the moon. I'm not sure if they learned <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5C5_dOEyAfk">the truth </a>or not, but I <i>did </i>learn some interesting Spanish facts. <br />
<a href="http://www.freakingnews.com/pictures/22000/Moon-Cooking-22464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.freakingnews.com/pictures/22000/Moon-Cooking-22464.jpg" width="190" /></a>1. Apparently monks aren't knowledgeable about everything after all.<br />
2. Masa= "mass" AND "dough," so when I thought the conversation had turned to cooking on the moon (see left) I was actually quite mistaken. <br />
3. Peso="money" AND "wieght." Same idea, I thought the conversation had taken a drastic turn to moon currency... it hadn't. <br />
The second inevitability we experienced this week was the monastery's kitchen's attempt at pizza (possibly worse than Katie's gluten free pizza) and subsequently a trip to the "Pizza Burger Diner" a veritable institution in Esquipulas. We enjoyed the night with REAL pizza, and some Gallo beer, definitely a needed escape from the monastery.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg484cTlR6r8-qjQ3Mb9FnmZ9A7sOtFkjfQq0-Yo4QhpG-rQ8qNIioRHUaLuUbuJUgucnn0OT3-2XvWRPvDhHMg9twFVhHMWW-LJQlu-cAAFHk0nwiqmuKp0_dGDBcrkhMtkoj8QzZoQrKb/s1600/DSC00190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg484cTlR6r8-qjQ3Mb9FnmZ9A7sOtFkjfQq0-Yo4QhpG-rQ8qNIioRHUaLuUbuJUgucnn0OT3-2XvWRPvDhHMg9twFVhHMWW-LJQlu-cAAFHk0nwiqmuKp0_dGDBcrkhMtkoj8QzZoQrKb/s320/DSC00190.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> The third major happening this week, though not inevitable, was Kenan's decision to depart from Guatemala. The lifestyle down here is very different, and that added to the fact that he came with less Spanish experience than me took its toll, until he decided that he had had enough. While I understand his decision and appreciate that he has to do what he has to do, I do worry about spending the next 9 months as the only gringo in Esquipulas. I guess asi es la vida.<br />
Yesterday, I scored my inevitable first goal in Guatemalan soccer (and then my second). I don't say it's inevitable because I have any particular skill in soccer, but because soccer here basically consists of the Guatemalans telling me to play forward (I think to keep me from accidentally scoring on our own goal) and then feeding me the ball in front of the net. Actually it's embarrassing that I have gone this long <i>without</i> a goal. The best part is that the high school was on recess, so I had a cheering fan section of 16 year old Guatemalan girls to witness my first triumphant goal!<br />
They say "When in Rome, do as the Romans do," and that is the theme of the fourth event of the week. En route to Chatun, the water park/campsite/adventure park/tourist center of Esquipulas, we found that we were without a ride. While my American sensibilities suggest that seat-belts are necessary for extended car rides, I'm in Guatemala now. When in Guate, ride like the Chapínes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqMOJeLzgJ2BJ-EAzOt7I_l8hSBJi5bOPnfq7snRq3wSaOPLsvrzzkzITm3Acr_-HXgRdNksebgMBgLM0azpvwuX5TtHokC0fSnN2US_itfr1Eat3Sbem_eFD5KJeMR83iJ-mYGJqugL8/s1600/DSC00219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqMOJeLzgJ2BJ-EAzOt7I_l8hSBJi5bOPnfq7snRq3wSaOPLsvrzzkzITm3Acr_-HXgRdNksebgMBgLM0azpvwuX5TtHokC0fSnN2US_itfr1Eat3Sbem_eFD5KJeMR83iJ-mYGJqugL8/s320/DSC00219.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
We took that trip to Chatun with the same Leonidas that I had mentioned working with earlier, which brings up the last inevitability of the week:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizv3tBzavYYdQHInq3KCqhi48AUbzHmZaD0p-ZfDLLAwCNqIWAfwbJfHaP6Sqo0ICfBBq9lbA8-RyvYlmuIM3MTvjbxCqnbmwXjbldqHR-XiGCu1QZ2MPMtMMfJL2K72geSdrO8BFzMWlQ/s1600/DSC00223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizv3tBzavYYdQHInq3KCqhi48AUbzHmZaD0p-ZfDLLAwCNqIWAfwbJfHaP6Sqo0ICfBBq9lbA8-RyvYlmuIM3MTvjbxCqnbmwXjbldqHR-XiGCu1QZ2MPMtMMfJL2K72geSdrO8BFzMWlQ/s320/DSC00223.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't see how it could have gone differently.</div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737550709239279726.post-1997158389009859872010-10-09T19:07:00.000-05:002010-10-09T19:07:40.961-05:00Hurricane Matthew<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBl4tPS6EnmY6Q41UHkIAK4N19S7NIEDjVvztJV3T4PJRl3uW3jr2K5aWJ8L20ihIUyCigODYwRM2lZi8Jdzc2WZ67EtwGny7S6z1ZxZZTDh-3gKFdGbO5TWW_ZeUsyooydpw9nM1c1dR/s1600/DSC00154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBl4tPS6EnmY6Q41UHkIAK4N19S7NIEDjVvztJV3T4PJRl3uW3jr2K5aWJ8L20ihIUyCigODYwRM2lZi8Jdzc2WZ67EtwGny7S6z1ZxZZTDh-3gKFdGbO5TWW_ZeUsyooydpw9nM1c1dR/s200/DSC00154.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5B4yteGbjBVtCq0iBRZmH75qQLZh1QGqtx9HcW8DvrR8S2h9lZxCcznTOY8lrHrBfOy4MsW7t6gizTp-sgABWwDhCDSUpK23MCxYOuB7F5nJ06TN3VMwm3tUjuLom6DsV-MxVDytsk6zm/s1600/DSC00155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5B4yteGbjBVtCq0iBRZmH75qQLZh1QGqtx9HcW8DvrR8S2h9lZxCcznTOY8lrHrBfOy4MsW7t6gizTp-sgABWwDhCDSUpK23MCxYOuB7F5nJ06TN3VMwm3tUjuLom6DsV-MxVDytsk6zm/s200/DSC00155.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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Two weeks ago Hurricane Matthew hit Guatemala with unbelievable force. Producing heavy wind, and torrential downpour, I personally find it unbelievable that we are all still alive. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6IeiRxpCFDKFQ8VlpBIlrCd1IUo8UclzshkjQjRZ7uwGKB8tLQD0CDCEFZm_bXY7ZK-aAKHPlTBieKlaXZ6zCmIwsc_y6TCnl8d6_ppgLh_FkGxNXAh_oK52EXKZ1kH0Nd7XCSZI1E0f-/s1600/DSC00168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6IeiRxpCFDKFQ8VlpBIlrCd1IUo8UclzshkjQjRZ7uwGKB8tLQD0CDCEFZm_bXY7ZK-aAKHPlTBieKlaXZ6zCmIwsc_y6TCnl8d6_ppgLh_FkGxNXAh_oK52EXKZ1kH0Nd7XCSZI1E0f-/s200/DSC00168.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklQaENCp5RsuKWZvyAmO5mIOKzqSwggeZF3RXEPUK6c7gR_NPUvHZtVF1i2TLdOYVVlRYmJtp4zA7IFaKXFy9r8swqBEbmXjJ0nObQX_P3CLly8QqdxdU4Gqt0HoWzzSCyVAK9RP-bvnx/s1600/DSC00169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklQaENCp5RsuKWZvyAmO5mIOKzqSwggeZF3RXEPUK6c7gR_NPUvHZtVF1i2TLdOYVVlRYmJtp4zA7IFaKXFy9r8swqBEbmXjJ0nObQX_P3CLly8QqdxdU4Gqt0HoWzzSCyVAK9RP-bvnx/s200/DSC00169.JPG" width="200" /></a>Above are pictures of the widespread flooding caused by this tropical storm, and on both sides are pictures of Esquipulas during the storm.<br />
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While non of that acutually happened (the flooding pictures are just super close ups of a puddle and a river), Hurricane Matthew did hit Guatemala, and produced 2 weeks of nothing but clouds and mist. Today the sun finally made its first brief appearance and I took the opportunity to take a tour of all the different types of fruit here on the monastery grounds. I counted eight, including avocado, starfruit (which apparently makes you go blind if you eat too much), oranges, cacao, and four other ones that I can't remember.<br />
This last week, in addition to bringing the sun, has also brought finals week for the students here. While back in MN, finals week means some monster cramming in the library, I can count on both hands the number of people that have been in the library this week. With students on vacation for the next three months, I can't imagine the library being a very popular spot, so I am beginning to consider spending my mornings out in the orchard working with the supervisor, who happens to be named Leonidas.<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://m.friendfeed-media.com/cf0358b3b97d64b952edad2501d641b7631332fb" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://m.friendfeed-media.com/cf0358b3b97d64b952edad2501d641b7631332fb" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I imagine it will go something like this.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> A funny thing happened this week, which really highlights how far from home I still am here in Guatemala, even though I am beginning to feel more and more comfortable. However, to tell it effectively, some background is needed. A few weeks ago, during the Guatemalan independence day I took a motorcycle ride with a friend of a friend of one of the guys working at the library (hey, when you are new in a foreign country, you can't be too picky). The original idea was that I would film an event for him while he drove the motorcycle. It turns out the event was not until later in the day, so he just took me on a tour of Esquipulas. Pretty good deal. Long story short, he likes gringos because he used to work as a clown in Utah, that is until la migra caught up with him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Anyways, on this particular day, I was on my way to the City of Happiness for my first algebra lesson with the nuns (surprisingly difficult to teach math in spanish). The monks here all have a strange distrust of taximoto (taxi tricycles) drivers, so they made me call a driver "de confianza" to pick me up in front of the monastery. Apparently the phone conversation didn't go as well as I thought or he wasn't as "de confianza" as they thought, and 8:30 rolled around to find me standing on the steps of the basilica desperately fending off the taximoto drivers who were swooping around me like vultures. Eventually I gave up the hope that my driver would come, and hailed an unknown taximoto. At the orphanage, I found out that the taximotos are cheaper than one would expect, and the 20 quetzales bill (about $2.50) i had was too big to pay him with. When I tried to give him the bill and have him come back to get me after the lesson, he wouldn't take the bill, but did promise to come get me. 11:30 rolled around and, once again, this little gringo was left waiting for a driver. However, fear not! for down the road I began to see a clown on a motorcycle! It must have been my lucky day after all! It was "el día de los niños" and my friend from earlier was arriving to put on a show for the kids. It apparently wasn't his lucky day though, because, once again, the show wasn't until later. In conclusion to my story, I'd like to offer a riddle: IF one gringo walking the streets=people stopping their car/motorcycle/moped over to get a batter look, what would a gringo riding on the back of a motorcycle driven by a clown cause?<br />
complete.<br />
utter.<br />
chaos.<br />
(I'm not sure if the kids realized that there wasn't two clowns on the bike) </div><br />
The lessons that can I learned from this story are as follows.<br />
1. The idea of punctuality/responsibility that we have in the USA does not translate well to Guatemalan taximoto drivers (actually, most Guatemalans for that matter)<br />
2. Apparently neither does our concept of schedules for events <br />
3. Things (taxis in particular) are either way to expensive in the USA, or too cheap here<br />
4. While clowns riding motorcycles are almost always to be avoided at all cost, getting a ride always beats walking 2.5 km home<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Amgentnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05823560989306919687noreply@blogger.com3