Under the Veil

Today we visited UCA where 6 Jesuit priests and two women were massacred by the Salvadoran army in November of 1989. The 8 victims were killed in their rooms and five of the priests were dragged to the garden and put on display with their bullet ridden bodies face down in the grass and left arms outstretched in a fist.

The garden where the priests' bodies were left

Many people and leaders of the leftist party, or that taught principles that were somewhat in line with the leftist ideals, were assassinated by the right. In my last post I talked about the US support of the military of El Salvador, this support essentially means that we supported such actions.

Today I sensed the despair, fear, and anguish that was felt on November 16, 1989. I saw graphic pictures of the 8 martyrs in their death and their blood stained clothes. I walked out of that place dazed and upset. My director, Chepe, then told me of a neighbor woman who was a witness to this massacre. She spoke of what she saw and heard that night. As a result, she was taken from this country to the United States by a human rights group in order to preserve her life. As soon as she made it through customs she was taken by the FBI. It is believed that she was brainwashed so that she would never speak of what she observed that night. There is no concrete evidence of this, or of the fact that there was a member of the FBI on conference call the night that this massacre was planned. However, the possibility that the US government and governmental organizations knew about this plan and took that woman to save their own behinds is terrifying.

Upon hearing this I went into mental and emotional overload. What I learned about US involvement in the Guatemalan and Salvadoran civil war was hard enough, but this was too much.We live under the myth and perception of the US being proponents of peace and justice, but the reality is much different. We carry on under a veil of lies and deceit. We believe what they want us to believe. The US is a world leader, and if we can't believe what our leaders tell us then what can we believe? In what can I place my faith and trust? How have we forgotten humanity? Why have we lost our voices? Why do we allow ourselves fall into unawareness and complacency?

There is no way to find the absolute truth. We live in a dishonest and corrupt world. The only truth we can find is in our close relationships. This is why it is important to create true community. This is why it is imperative to form groups of people to create honesty, clarity, and change. Even before that, we must start with ourselves. What we believe and tell can spread, but it will be hard…we have to do something.

Maybe I'll feel differently tomorrow. Maybe the next three days in a rural village, immersed in a faith community will change this mental anguish I experienced today. Nonetheless, it is a terrifying thing to think about.

A Commandeered Story

My last day in Guatemala was not the best. I laid in bed all day, sick with a sinus infection. The doctor came to visit me. He was adorable! He was a cute little old man with big glasses and an old fashioned doctor bag. I loved him. While I vegged in bed I pondered my thoughts about leaving the country. I was filled with many conflicting emotions that I didn't really know how to put into words. I was sad to leave because of the places I had fallen in love with, the people that I became close to, the culture, the mentality, the atmosphere, etc. I think it's safe to say that I fell in love with Guatemala and its people. On the other hand was ready for change and ready to live in another country. 

When we reached the border we had to walk back and forth over the border to be processed out of Guatemala and into El Salvador. I just wrote an article for the William Jewell Hilltop Monitor about El Salvador...here it is:

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When you read the news, do you question its validity? When our leaders provide us with information, do you just accept what they say as truth? Everything we are fed from the media, from politicians, from our mentors, and from our peers are stories. History is molded and created by those who control the narrative. The stories we hear and pass on to others define our reality, who we are, and what we believe.

I am studying in El Salvador for the next four weeks. The deep-rooted capitalism and cultural influence of the United States is very apparent. The story, or myth, that our nation embodies absolute democratic ideals and spreads these ideals through peace and justice spurs this expansion and acceptance of US presence. Our story, however, is one of power, imperialism, and domination.

 By utilizing this myth and this story the US has buried its ideals and influence deeper and deeper into this country. This hold has been, and continues to be, spurred primarily by economics. During the civil war in El Salvador the US controlled the outcome and longevity by feeding the army $1.5 million dollars per day for 12 years in order to ensure the right wing won and our interests were upheld. The story of El Salvador is now one of militarization and violence due, in part, to our influence on its composition.

We have also made a capitalist influence on the story of El Salvador. As I made my way through this city I was overwhelmed by the amount of US franchises like Burger King, KFC, Radio Shack, Papa John’s, and (the one I found most surprising) Sherwin Williams Paint. El Salvador also uses the US dollar. It is strange for me that I am purchasing items in this country with pieces of paper that depict my country’s presidents. The US dollar has caused a higher cost of living for a people that receive very little. Prices here are comparable to those in the US, but 45% of the population makes around $200 per month. Per month.

How is their economy sustainable with such poverty? It is estimated that three million Salvadorans live in the US with hundreds crossing the border each day in hopes of immigrating to the US. In 2009, $3 billion was sent back to El Salvador in remittances. These remittances make up 18% of the Salvadorian economy and most of this is put back into US companies.

The influence of our story on the narrative of El Salvador is incredible. Perhaps it is time to change that story by becoming more aware and taking small actions to change the plot.

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Other than that, I have started Liberation Theology. Our professor, Sister Peggy, is the most rad woman I think I have ever met. I use rad in the context of awesome and radical. I think I learned more from our three hour class today than I have in some of my semester long courses at Jewell. I am really looking forward to the rest of this class! 

Life in the Mountains

On Friday we all graduated from PLQ. The graduations at PLQ are quite the deal. We have food and drink, all of the teachers come, we sing songs, and the graduates have some sort of presentation. After graduation we went out. It was a fun night but there isn't much to say about it.

Saturday I woke up as Margarita along with my host family knocked on my door and gave me hugs a kisses goodbye telling me to visit when I return on Thursday. We met at the school, got on the bus, and ride to Santa Anita. There, we settled into our house and then took a hike around the land. It was absolutely gorgeous. Santa Anita is a community that harvests bananas and coffee. They live in what I would call a tropical jungle with fruit plants, coffee plants, waterfalls, and other natural wonders. It was the most beautiful thing I may have ever seen. Later, we watched a bunch of movies because we are from the United States and will forever be addicted to media. We also heard from a man from Santa Anita about the community. On Sunday we spend most of the morning in Santa Anita and then sprinted through the rain to the buses. We were on our way to our rural home in the mountains.

We rode in the muggy buses to Xela, and went from there in the backs of trucks to Chuitziribal (chew-eets-eerie-ball). I am finally getting the real Guatemala experience I have wanted. Miguel and I were put with the Tax family. The family has a 5 year old girl, Victoria, and two boys who are 10 and 12, Ronni and Willie. The bathroom is a whole in the ground under the shelter of a tiny tin shack and we are nestled in the middle of a cornfield. We have to walk through the cornfields to get to the church for school. It's awesome except for the dogs who might attack you.

That night we spent settling in, walking around the community, and eating with Ronni and Willie. After dinner, they followed us to our room to look at pictures, listen to music, and play cards. We had a lot of fun with them and this ended up being a nightly occurrence. 

Monday morning I got up after essentially no sleep, got ready for school, woke Miguel up, had breakfast, and walked through the fields to school. Doris was super excited to see me and we had a great time hiking through the village and talking about what ever we felt like.

Later that afternoon, our host brothers came to visit again. They helped me with my homework and hung out for a really long time. They're new favorite thing was Photo Booth on my computer.

Tuesday morning we had breakfast and walked along the dirt roads through the cornfields to class…as usual. During class, I noticed a group of students and teachers going for a little walk, so I asked Doris if she wanted to take a short stroll with them. This short stroll turned into an hour long walk up a mountain, down through a green valley with an old man and his two grazing cattle, and to the river. This whole time I was twisting Doris' arm trying to get her to go further. When we finally got to the water, I took off my shoes and waded through the cool mountain water, squishing the cold mud in between my toes. The teachers were going crazy over the rocks in the river that scrape callouses away. Giant boulders suck out on either side of the river and upstream was a foggy, vibrant green mountain side eerily lit by the sun. On the way back, Doris grabbed my hand and I basically had to carry her to the church.

After school and lunch, the group took a trip down the mountain to the hot baths. CGE paid for each of us to have our own private bath. I spent the next hour sitting in a hot pool of water, drinking beer, singing to myself, and bathing. It was heaven. On the way back to Chuitziribal it began pouring rain, so we rode back in the pickups under tarps and ended up having to walk a good portion of the way back up.

Before dinner our host brothers and host sister came crawling under the wall from the kitchen into our rooms. Victoria would not stop staring and smiling at me. It was pretty adorable. I took pictures with her with Photo Booth and then we drew pictures together. I tried teaching her how to draw stars…that didn't work out so well.

That night I felt so sick I thought I my head was going to explode. I woke up numerous times throughout the night sneezing, blowing my nose, and coughing.

Early Wednesday morning I was having a horrible dream about a cat howling at me. That's when I woke up and noticed that a cat was staring into my soul and howling at what it saw. It was not the best way to wake up. I shooed it away and it wouldn't leave, so I threw a shoe in it's general direction, but accidentally nailed it in the head.

We had class for part of the afternoon, then went to visit a glass blowing factory. This factory is part of a cooperative that pays their workers well and uses recycled glass to make their pieces. The front of the factory is filled with beautiful pitchers, cups, figurines, etc. Next, is a room full of piles of broken glass waiting to be melted down. In the back of the factory is the room where they make the pieces. It is a hot semi-chaotic room with gelatinous glass being molded, cut, and blown. One man could make a good sized pitcher in 1-2 minutes. It was amazing. 

When we got back home I took a bath. This bath is different from those we are used to. My family heated a bucket of water and put it in a small room that filled with steam. I poured the water over myself with a bowl as I washed. It was one of the best bathing experiences I have ever had.

That night we had a party at the school for our families. From the moment we left the house, Victoria did not leave my side and rarely let go of my hand. We looked for marshmallow sticks, hit a butterfly piñata,  grabbed as much candy as we could, and then roasted marshmallows. After Victoria was on a sugar high, we played tag, some sort of cat and mouse game, hide and seek, and other games that involve a lot of running around that is great for a five-year-old on a sugar high but not so great for a 20 year old with a cold in a high altitude.

At the end of the party we noticed that our host mom had left us with the 3 kids, so we took them back to an empty home and watched them until everyone came home. This didn't bother me, but it was strange that they would trust their kids with two foreign strangers.

This morning (Thursday), we had "class." My class consisted of the five of us in the 311 course and our teachers walking to a green hill where we took pictures, told stories, and dirty jokes. The story was popcorn-style of a fable about our 311 group. The three boys were toads, the teachers were princesses, and Kristin and I were queens. After our innocent, but funny story, the teachers began telling some of the most disturbing dirty jokes I have ever heard in my life. I'm going to miss them.

After class I had to say goodbye to Doris. This may have been the hardest thing I have ever done. Even though I knew I would see her again this afternoon, we both cried a little and made plans to write, talk, and visit in the future. She has impacted my life so much. 

Before we left, Miguel and I took pictures with our family. Ronni was acting uncharacteristically shy because he was upset we were leaving. It was really sad. Victoria and the women of the family walked us back to the school and gave us hugs and kisses goodbye. It was hard leaving that beautiful community.

My camera was lost this entire time, so I don't have pictures right now, but I will steal them from other people.

Tomorrow we leave for Antigua for two nights, then it's off to El Salvador! We're about 1/3 of the way through the program...that is hard for me to believe. 

Independence Day and Then Some

The other night I didn't feel like doing my homework, so I sat with Margarita in the kitchen, showed her the pictures from the lake and told her about my trip. She loved it. My youngest host brother, Israel, came in to eat and we all began talking about different lifestyles. Margarita fell asleep mid-sentence while she was sitting on a stool. Israel and I laughed at her for a good 2 minutes before she woke with a start and a sheepish smile. She began to clean the kitchen and make fun of herself.

The next morning I ate breakfast with my host sister, Elisa. Margarita told her about the event from the night before and made fun of herself again. I then told Elisa that I was leaving in 4 days. She corrected me saying that it was actually 4 months. No, 4 days. That afternoon after school I returned home and took pictures with my host mom and sister. Elisa thought it would be funny to joke about how tall I am compared to my family by saying she was going to take a picture of me and actually taking a picture of the ceiling. 

Tuesday after class, we went to the central park and to watch the parade of marching bands. Xela is the party capital of Guatemala for "independence day" (Guatemala never really won their independence from anyone), so there were people from all over flooding the streets. When I went back to my house my Guatemama told me that she expected me to go out and come home late from the festivities. That evening we returned to the central park to enjoy the music and other goings on. Bands were playing, people were dancing, women were on stage in skimpy cow girl outfits, drunk people were vomiting and peeing in the streets…everyone was having a great time! At midnight fireworks exploded over the city and rained ash down on my head. It was beautiful.

Yesterday (Wednesday) was the actual "independence day" so we had the day off from school. I went to a conference at the school after laying around in bed until 9:00. I went back home for my going away lunch with my family. They had made a special meal for the holiday and for me…they did, however, forget that I don't eat red meat. I wasn't going to be rude and refuse the delicious food they had taken all day to prepare, so I sucked it up and ate dreams. My tummy did not like it one bit, but my mouth did. After the red meat my family and I took family photos, but my oldest host brother was sick and couldn't participate. After the photo shoot, my host mom grabbed onto my belt and began jumping up a down trying to get as tall as me.

Later, a few of my friends and I went to the fair. There were apparently rides there, but we didn't walk far enough to find them. All we saw of the fair was the market part. On the way there and the way back we rode in public buses that are the size of VW vans and were full of about 25 people. It is the closest I've ever been to another human in my life. At one point I was sitting on Natalie's lap right next to the open door. As we rounded a sharp corner I nearly fell out of the van . People were hanging out of the side of the van and I would have taken all of them with me.

Finally, today I took my exit exam for Spanish. I only missed 0.25 points! A great improvement from the entrance exam. Tomorrow I have an oral presentation and then I'm done! Next week Doris will come with me to Cantel, but the whole week will be based solely on practice.  

Atop El Baúl

We attended and participated in a Mayan spiritual ritual this afternoon with two Mayan spiritual leaders. We went to the top of El Baúl (the hill/mountain that we hiked a few weeks ago). This mountain is apparently a sacred Mayan ground. Here, the spiritual leaders made a cross within a circle with white sand. On top of the sand, one of the leaders built a mound out of balls and pallets of incense and wood. They lit the fire and explained that they communicate energy with the fire. The man laid 20 cards around the fire. On our bodies we have 20 fingers and toes and the Mayans have 20 parts to their year. The number 13 is very sacred to the Mayan people. We have 13 major joints in our bodies (ankles, knees, hips, wrists, elbows, shoulders and neck) and there are 13 days within each part of the year. This represents 260 days, which is the length of time it takes for a baby to develop within a woman. We were each given two balls of incense, knelt around the fire, and the ceremony began.

The leaders began praying/chanting in Quiche (their indigenous language). They threw small pieces of incense into the fire as they chanted. We bent over and kissed Mother Earth 3 times. They prayed to the largest river in the US (the Mississippi) because great power comes from rivers. At this point we held one of our incense balls in our hands and moved them in circular motions. We were asked to think about pain or troubles that we had, and then we threw the balls into the fire.They asked each of our names and threw a candle in the fire for each of us. They then asked us to speak the names of loved ones who have recently died. A candle was thrown in for Granddaddy. We kissed Mother Earth three more times. They chanted more as they threw in more incense and stirred the fire. We stood and held the other incense ball in our hands while moving it in circular motions. After we threw these into the fire, we put our hands in a prayer position in front of our hearts, moved our left hand toward the fire to receive it's energy, and right hands over our chest to move the energy to our hearts. We then knelt, moving our left hands to our hearts and our right hand to the ground to give Mother Earth some of our energy. We kissed her three more times at the end of the ceremony.

The whole ritual took a little less than an hour and a half. The leaders told us that it was important to remember Mother Earth and give her energy. They said they were glad that we, as young people, were learning these lessons and taking them with us. They also assured us that the world is not ending in 2012. This year is just a meeting of numerous Mayan calendars. Instead of an end, it will be a new beginning.

After this ceremony, the whole group returned to the van in silence. It was wonderful.

Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot about Eduardo's idea that Guatemala is a baby taking it's first steps toward stability. In the United States we had the privilege to start from scratch and build a country based on democracy. As a country we have had great luck and put a lot of work into the development of our country and our leadership. Guatemala, however, has suffered incredible injustice and corruption. It is hard to build up a country after such hardship. I like to think of it as the idea of building a house. The United States had all of the bricks and mortar with which to build their home. As a country we have run into a few construction problems along the way, but we have had a solid foundation underneath each of these problems and the means with which to purchase higher quality equipment. Guatemala was a shaky house. It has fallen and crumbled. The people here have had a pile of rubble that they must now clear away and sort through to begin building again with very little means…I hope that makes sense outside of my head.

When thinking about all of the lectures and talks we have attended, I think I have received a somewhat rounded view of Guatemala. We have heard from guerillas, military personnel, and civilians. From what I have gathered, the people here do not trust the police, army, or the government. They can not invest in the civil institutions and therefore have very little to no sense of security. With this in mind, it is easy to understand why the crime rate is so high, why the people have a raw sense of suspicion, and why in some areas the communities seem to be in disarray and an almost chaotic state. As citizens of the United States we have a very comfortable state of security with most of our civil institutions. We can take comfort in the thought that our leadership is held accountable. The military won't enter our homes and kill our loved ones and our president would never order massacre. We are lucky as a people that the only civil war we have experienced is through text books, and that war was for the liberation of slaves…a just cause. We saw a positive outcome from the battles of our ancestors. The Guatemalan people are still getting over their war. It was not a just war and has really had no positive effects on the country. It was a war with no definitive end and no definitive outcome.

….just expressing some thoughts….

In a little bit I will be attending and participating in a Mayan spiritual ritual. I will probably write all about it today or tomorrow. Until then.

Happy Day!

I'm back safely in Xela! This weekend was amazing....Chichicastenango rocked!

But more importantly, It's my lovely mother's and handsome father's birthday today! They're 30!......

I love you, parental unit. Have a great day and know that I'm thinking of you.

Lake Atitlan

On Friday I went to school, had an oral presentation, a final paper, and an exam. After class I went home to grab my stuff, was bombarded by my family with hugs and kisses, and then headed out to Lake Atitlan. On the way here we had to stop in a small village to change the tire, and we also witnessed many areas that had experienced landslides and are now being cleaned up. 

Today we woke up to a breathtaking view outside of our hotel room.

Natalie, Josh, Miguel and I began today  with a delicious breakfast at a lakeside restaurant. I had the most fluffy pancakes I have ever eaten with honey, fruit with yogurt and granola, and a little scoop of ice cream on the side. We then headed out in a little boat crammed full of humans to cross the river from Panajachel to Santiago. 

Upon arrival in Santiago we jumped in a taxi to Moshiman…we weren't really sure what it was, but we went. The little motor taxi whipped through small streets and stopped by a small dirt hallway that went to who-knows-where. We thanked him, gave him his money, and began wearily walking to Moshiman. We came to a shack with a shrine to Moshiman, a Mayan god. The smell of incense was heavy and men in the room were chanting and praying to Moshiman. Afterward, we walked around, watched a church procession, Natalie and I bought beautiful blankets (I haven't really figured out how I'm going to get it back to the states, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there), and we got on a larger boat to head to San Pedro. Miguel and I sat on the very tip of the bow and watched small children play in the water for nearly an hour.

At San Pedro we had a some amazing fresh fish…

We then ventured through the town's obscure back allies until we decided to head back to Panajachel. 

This post does absolutely no justice to the day we had, but I don't even know how to describe the culture and atmosphere we experienced. The streets were tiny, the people mostly indigenous, there were tiny entrances of the streets with long, dark, stone or dirt hallways to a cluster of doorways that I assume were houses. It was a labyrinth. The atmosphere was so rich, colorful, and different from anything I have seen thus far.

Tomorrow, we are going to the market at Chichicastenango and then back to Xela.  

The other day when I was sick and went home from school I couldn't find Margarita at the house and I needed to let her know that I was there and that one of my directors would call in a few hours to check on me. I wrote her a note and left it in the kitchen, then went to my room to take a nap. When I woke up she asked if the paper was from me and acted kind of weird about it, but I didn't think anything of it. Today, I asked her what the ingredients were in a drink she gave me and she looked at the box then handed it to me. That is when I realized she cannot read. I was overcome with a horrible feeling. I am in a country where it often takes me a minute to understand things that people are trying to communicate to me. Margarita lives a very comfortably routine life, but she probably experiences a similar feeling of frustration when students like me live in that home and assume that she is capable of doing something that we had the privilege of learning when we were children.

We attended a meeting today with Eduardo, a teacher at our school. He gave us a civilian's perspective of the war. In part of his lecture he mentioned that many indigenous people here maybe make it through a few years of school if they're lucky…this is very possibly the case for Margarita. I am absolutely amazed and humbled by these realizations I make almost every day. I take so many things for granted that are an absolute luxury and privilege for the people here.

Eduardo also said that Guatemalans have suffered, but that makes them so much more thankful for what they have and makes them more determined to change and look toward the future. Foreigners, including myself, often get frustrated with the social and economic situations in Guatemala, but while I was in my first years of school learning math and reading, children my age in Guatemala were helping their families pick up the pieces of their lives at the end of 36 years of war. Guatemala is now like a baby taking its very first steps towards freedom and stability.

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I've been writing a paper and doing homework in Spanish for the past few hours and now its hard writing in English…

Anyway….last night several people from our group attended a salsa class. I can now use a combination of three salsa moves when I go to the club. That, plus a few choice zumba dances will ensure that I heat up the dance floor…or a least I hope so. It is very possible that I will just make a fool of myself, but I'm ok with that.

This weekend we are going to Lake Atitlan, which is apparently a beautiful place. I'm pretty excited to go and get out of Xela for a weekend!

And the winner is...

You may have read about my unfortunate experience at the Xela APROFAM Clinic today. If you haven't then let me tell you that I had to do #2 in a tiny little cup (there is no way to cleanly get everything in there). The entire time I was struggling with this, some impatient woman was banging on the door. This made me nervous and made the whole situation even harder. Luckily, however, my teacher, Doris (who came with me to the clinic), had suggested I bring toilet paper along…they didn't have that or soap in the bathroom at APROFAM. I walked back to school with my hands in front of me like a barbie.

I have found that the majority of my pain comes right after I eat…and by right after I mean for a few hours after. So, when I went home for lunch I walked into the kitchen to find Margarita making stuffed and fried peppers. It looked SO good, but I knew if I ate it I would be hurtin' real bad afterward. I asked her if I could just have rice and a tortilla…she wouldn't hear of it. I argued with her for a good two or three minutes explaining and re-explaining that my stomach didn't feel well and that I should only eat very basic and bland foods. Finally she gave in and I ate a very unsatisfying lunch.

After lunch I went back to APROFAM to get my results and I have….drum roll please…..

AMOEBAS!!!!

The particular type is Entamoeba Histolytica....which is apparently transferred through loose fecal matter...I love thinking about how I got these little friends in my tum tum!!

I have to take medication every 8 hours for 5 days, drink a lot of liquids, and drink a lot of the nasty rehydration solution…fun times! At least I know what is wrong and there is a possible end in sight.

Tummy Troubles

I have made it widely known that I have been battling stomach problems the past few days. I definitely spent a good portion of my weekend in the bathroom. Today I went to school and was immediately sent home by my teacher who told me that the sharp, stabbing type pain was probably dehydration. She sent me off with a tiny bit of homework and instructions to buy "solucion para rehidratacion oral" which is a pretty nasty rehydration formula. I walked home and bought the formula and Gatorade on the way. When I got home, Margarita fussed over me making me tea to settle my stomach and making sure I didn't need anything. She sent me to my room with a thermos of my tummy tea and a freshly made bed (she says that a remade bed makes you feel better when you're sick).

I have been laying in bed since then with my 4 types of liquid...

 …watching movies that I bought yesterday, doing homework, writing, and singing with an occasional interruption of searing abdominal pain. The pain seems to be subsiding little by little. I hope that I continue getting better today. I'm tired of feeling like this!

Pain, pain go away...

On Friday, my friends and I went to the weekly graduation at our language school. Everyone was to bring a food to share and the administration provided the beverages (rum, wine, and beer…not something you would experience at a school in the states). There was a lot of singing, dancing, and lively conversation. It was great.

Yesterday I got my second tummy bug. I woke up and spent a lot of time in the bathroom…and no, it wasn't because of the festivities from the night before. I felt horrible! When you're sick and see things or dream of things that are less than pleasant, you tend feel that much worse. For example, I woke up feeling awful and walked to the school to get some work done. On the way I saw two dogs doing the dirty in the most beastly and grotesque way. I thought I was going to blow chunks on the spot. Then later I returned home to nap and had a dream about having a miscarriage. I woke up feeling worse than before. My friend Robyn had a dream about a baby as well and a few of my friends pointed out that dreams about babies are about new beginnings…but my new beginning died….what does that mean?

I spent most of yesterday in abdominal agony. The group ate together at Cafe R.E.D., then Miguel and I walked home while everyone else went out. We are the two unfortunate ones with intestinal problems. When I got home, Margarita made me tea with herbs from the garden that are supposed to make me feel better. I took my tea to the roof so I could observe the city at night. It was a pretty amazing sight and the raging party at my neighbor's house made it even more interesting. Afterwards, I went downstairs and talked to Margarita about economical differences between Guatemala and the United States…I think I can officially say that my Spanish is improving. Margarita made me drink 4 cups of the tea she made and forced me to eat potatoes she prepared for desert. They were pink, which made me a little skeptical, especially since I had just eaten for the first time that day only a few hours earlier. They were potatoes with berries and a tiny bit of sugar in them…they rocked! After talking for about an hour, I thanked Margarita for the tea, took a hot shower, and returned to my room to get some work done. I think I had a better night than if I had gone out.

Today, I did my laundry, went to the market, went to the cemetery, did homework, and tried to not think about my stomach. The market was bumpin' on Sunday! 

There were all kinds of people buying and selling. It was quite an experience. The cemetery was just as wonderful, but in a different way. The difference was made clear between the upper class and lower class in the cemetery. The upper class had large mausoleums, while the lower class had small graves in the ground very close to one another with no sense of organization.

I probably should not have been running around today because of my sickness, but I am determined to soak up the culture as much as possible. I will, however, be going to a doctor tomorrow.

Rainy Day

Today our trip to Chichicastenango was cancelled and it's raining and I'm procrastinating and I don't have anything super exciting to talk about…SO I'm going to take you through a typical day in the life of Cassidy Miller, Xela style and also give you a little list of cultural differences I have noticed here.

I. DAY IN XELA:

Every morning I wake up at 6:45am to one of two alarms. The first alarm is the one on my sweet Casio wrist watch, the other is the man next door who sings very loudly and off pitch every morning at about the same time. After I lay in bed for an extra minute while giving myself a pep talk, I get out from under my covers and the cold punches me in the chest. I then grab my clothes and head to the bathroom where I put in my contacts in and undress as the water in the shower reaches a nearly luke warm temperature. I quickly wash as the water becomes warmer and warmer, so I end on a good note. I dress myself, run my fingers through my hair, throw on some mascara and head into the main house.

As soon as I step in the door, Margarita's face lights up and I sit at the counter and talk with her as she prepares my breakfast. I eat (cereal and warm milk, pancakes, or eggs and salsa with a cup of mush and a cup of tea). I eat and study in the kitchen until about 7:30 when I return to my room to study a bit more before I head to school.

At 7:45 I walk to the corner to meet up with Ryan and Chelsea, and we walk the three blocks to school. At school I grab a cup of tea and then get my brain pummeled by Doris for 5 hours. During these five hours I drink about 6 mugs of tea/coffee and relieve myself after every one.

After school, I walk home with Chelsea and Ryan. I throw my bad down in my room, and go to the bathroom again (that's how I spend 50% of my time…the other 50% is drinking liquids). I sit in the kitchen while Margarita makes my lunch and talks to me about my day. After lunch (usually chicken with rice, beans, and/ or some type of potatoes) I grab my stuff and head back to school to study. During the afternoon I either participate in some sort of group activity or do a ton of homework.

I usually go home at 6:30ish…unless we're going out. I eat dinner in the kitchen while I study. Usually my host parents eat with me. After dinner I put on my warm jammies and curl up in bed where I study and do homework until I pass out.

II. CULTURAL ACTIVITY (we had these in my high school Spanish books…they weren't activities)

Here are some cultural differences I have noticed during my time in Guatemala thus far:

-The people use the bare minimum of everything. Even my rich host family uses very little water, electricity, toilet paper, etc. In the US we have the mentality that everything is indefinite, so we can use whatever and however much we want to.

-You throw your toilet paper in the trash, but the bathrooms don't smell. I don't know if it is the food or what, but I know my BMs don't smell and the bathrooms don't smell either, so I'm assuming the BMs of others don't smell. I feel like they would reek after people have left behind wads of soiled toilet paper…sorry if that was too much information.

-There aren't many trashcans. In fact, the only trashcans I have seen are in the bathroom, and that is for the toilet paper wads. They seriously use everything and don't buy the things they can't use.

-Everyone says hello to everyone else. I was under the impression that this culture was more like New York in that people would mind their own business and pretend other people don't exist. This is definitely not the case. It's "buenos dias", "buenos tardes", "buenas noches", and/or "hola" todo el tiempo.

-Being a minority is strange. Everyone always stares at the gringos. Some try to take pictures very discretely, some yell "GRINGOS!"…the one constant is the staring. I don't really like it, but I am appreciating the rarity of the situation.

-The people are very blunt. You don't have to try to guess anything. It's all out in the open. If you do something wrong be assured that someone will let you know.

-Punctuality is essentially non existent. If you are given a time to be somewhere, you should be at least 5 minutes late and never expect someone on time….basically, the Carney's would fit in here.

In general, the guatemalan people don't live behind facades like US Americans. They have no shell. They are who they are; real, raw, and beautiful. I love it and I've found that it is a lot easier to be myself as well.

Well, back to the homework.

Super Chivos!

Two nights ago I was studying in my room. There seemed to be more commotion around the house than usual, but I didn't think anything of it. As I was practicing present subjunctive verbs a beautiful noise came seeping through the walls. My family and several members of the community were standing around the dining room table singing to God. In our churches we sing, but not like this. This brought me to tears. This was the real thing. This was the sound of hope given to a less fortunate people. You could hear the love in their voices. Just by listening it was very apparent that this was a very intimate gathering for God. Not to say they did their religious duty or to put on a show. This was a meeting of souls sharing a beautiful and mutual love, and I mean the deepest of love, for their creator who provides for them in a country that doesn't have much. Their voices mingled and shouts rang out to the heavens.

The love and care in this country is humbling. Yes, there is crime and violence, but the love that is persistent through all odds is that much more astounding and divine. Families care for each other mas que los families en los Estados Unidos. I have only been with my host family for five days, but I really feel like part of the family.

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On a completely different note, last night a few of my friends and I went to a Xela (Quetzaltenengo) soccer game. They are the Super Chivos…or Super Goats. It was insane. There was no alcohol allowed in the game, but fireworks, road flares, and things you smoke besides cigarettes were free game. We sat in the middle of the stands with the diehard fans who jumped up and down and sang the entire time. Everyone around us used a profanity every other word and sang crude songs. they even had their small children singing them. When the Super Chivos scored a goal fireworks and flares went up all around the stadium and people climbed to the top of the fence and ripped their shirts off. It was also normal to throw drinks and other objects at the opposing team's goalie. In fact, someone lit a road flare and threw it onto the field…they just kept playing. A swat team that had to escort the opposing team off the field at half time and at the end of the game. There was one guy in our section that yelled something about the Super Chivos that did not sit well with the masses…I thought I was going to witness a murder. It was scary.

Nearing the end of the second half, the game was tied 2-2. However, in the last minute the Super Chivos scored the winning goal and chaos broke out. Fireworks and flares were lit, people yelled all kinds of profanities, confetti rained down on the crowd, and everyone was jumping around and hugging one another.

It was definitely an interesting experience!