1. Learning Spanish. My primary reason for moving to Guatemala has proved to be as daunting, rewarding and arduous as expected. There are days when I feel like I am progressing and there are days when I feel totally discouraged. In the words of my friend Andrew, "it is not easy to learn a new word for everything in the world". However, I have a wonderful teacher currently. Jose Carlos is famous for being "el mejor maestro en Xela". He is a joyful, fun-loving instructor who makes every class a uniquely wonderful experience. We have discussed the spiritual beliefs of Albert Einstein**, the machismo of cat-callers in the street, and various musicians who are missing body parts. He has told numerous jokes that I will never remember (or retell poorly and incorrectly) and I have translated songs by Bob Dylan. All this for $3.50 an hour. I can safely say it is the best spent money of my life.
**This is not an accurate gauge of my Spanish ability. Even though I can stumble through a "discussion" of religious philosophy, I still have trouble understanding a question from a 3-year-old
2. The markets. Guatemala is a country rich in produce. The little town of Zunil, just next door to Xela, is the vegetable capitol of Central America. As the director of my school says, "The carrots from Zunil are so big you can use them as posts for your hammock." The other day I bought two pounds of the most beautiful blackberries for $1. It is going to be a rude awakening to return to the land of "Whole Foods/Paycheck". I think the US needs more small neighborhood markets.
3. The colors. From the beautiful, intricate weaving of the traditional clothing to the hand-painted trucks, and the hilltop houses of turquoise, pink and yellow, Guatemala is vibrant with color. No twenty varying shades of beige here.
4. The volcanoes. The countryside here is quite dramatic. Mountains of trees rise out of the ground abruptly and spectacularly. Just outside of Xela is the volcano Santa Maria, that provides beautiful views of the Pacific Ocean and the ever-active Santiagito volcano. Ethan and I saw a huge eruption of Santiagito a few weeks ago. It sounded like "an airplane" to Ethan and "the voice of the Devil" to me. (Who's the practical one here?? Haha). The cloud of smoke was enormous and slowly blew over those of us on Santa Maria. Coming from Colorado, volcanoes are so surreal, existing in the same realm as unicorns and fire-breathing dragons (Sheila) or can easily be explained scientifically (Ethan). On top of the highest point in Central America, the volcano Tajumulco, one can see the remains of a Guerilla hideout camp from the war. There is still a huge antennae at the 13,845 foot peak and one whole hillside is scarred from a fire during the conflict.
5. Nuevas Horizantes. I have been volunteering at a shelter for women and children who have experienced domestic abuse. It was started during the guerra as the first safe haven for women and children in Central America and is now one of two safe houses in the country. The children stay at the shelter during the day while the mothers work in Xela in hopes of establishing financial independence. I work with los niños who are amazingly joy-filled and well adjusted considering their backgrounds. They love doing yoga and ask me to demonstrate "La Postura de Ocho Angulos" or "Eight Angle Pose" everyday. We have spent hours drawing, singing and dancing. And I have spent hours frustrated with my inability to properly communicate and discipline in Spanish, and above all saddened by what they have seen and experienced. I don't pretend that me being here for a few months and working with these children is going to drastically change their lives or the social climate that leads to such abuse and neglect. I want so much for each child to be safe, to be nurtured, to be educated, happy and healthy. Some days it breaks my overly-sensitive heart, but then I realize that me feeling sad and discouraged will do nothing to bring joy into their lives today. So I let go of some of my expectations, and do what I can today; donate my body as a human jungle gym, draw them silly pictures, hold them when they are upset and be grateful that they have escaped a life that so many women and children do not.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Zunil
Dia de Los Muertos is a beautiful ritual in Guatemala. Families adorn the graves of their loved ones with brilliantly colorful flowers. (The colors in this country continue to amaze me, from the flowers to the buildings to the exquisite trajes worn by Mayan women).
This time of year marks the end of the rainy season and the beginning of beautiful, Colorado-in-September type days. Wind is also common in November. One tradition during this time is to fly kites, known here as bariletas. In some towns, the bariletas are incredibly ornate and huge (see stolen internet photos above). The kites are used as intermediaries between the earth and heaven; a way to communicate with loved ones who have passed away.
My friends and I went to the nearby town of Zunil, where the indigenous townspeople honor their ancestors on the hilltop cemetery. As we stepped off the bus, we could see hundreds of bariletas flying in the wind, framed by the dramatic mountains and Santa Maria volcano. We walked up the narrow, winding streets of Zunil to the cathedral. On Dia de los Muertos, the churchbell rings all day to honor the spirits. Anyone is allowed to take over the ringing of the bell. As you pull on the rope, the bell rings and you take a moment to remember someone who has died.
We continued on to the cemetery where we witnessed one of the most amazing things I have seen. Hundreds of graves were covered with flowers and candles, from what seemed like the top of the world. Even though it was a sad occasion, it was also breathtakingly beautiful. I really respect the manner in which death is treated in Guatemala. Every year people cry, laugh, grieve, remember, sing and drink together. There is a feeling of raw emotion, which to me seems like the truest and healthiest way to grieve.
Zunil is also home to San Simon, a much loved saint despite being dismissed by the Catholic Church as pagan. Every year on this day, San Simon is moved to a new location. This relocation is cause for a huge celebration involving live music, dancing, praying, and-as we discovered-excessive drinking. We were the only extranjeros in the crowd and felt somewhat out of place, but were greeted warmly. In one room, a woman was dancing with San Simon on her back. (San Simon is now a life-sized doll clad in cowboy boots, slacks, a red vest and aviator sunglasses). The tradition is to bring San Simon an offering of Quetzalteca (the popular Guatemalan liquor). The Quetzalteca is poured down his throat, and is later emptied into a large aluminum bowl and sold as a sacred liquor. Unfortunately, we weren't able to stay too long, because some very intoxicated men wouldn't leave me alone, even while I was barricaded behind Andrew and Vince. It was an unfortunate ending to an otherwise incredible day.
This time of year marks the end of the rainy season and the beginning of beautiful, Colorado-in-September type days. Wind is also common in November. One tradition during this time is to fly kites, known here as bariletas. In some towns, the bariletas are incredibly ornate and huge (see stolen internet photos above). The kites are used as intermediaries between the earth and heaven; a way to communicate with loved ones who have passed away.
My friends and I went to the nearby town of Zunil, where the indigenous townspeople honor their ancestors on the hilltop cemetery. As we stepped off the bus, we could see hundreds of bariletas flying in the wind, framed by the dramatic mountains and Santa Maria volcano. We walked up the narrow, winding streets of Zunil to the cathedral. On Dia de los Muertos, the churchbell rings all day to honor the spirits. Anyone is allowed to take over the ringing of the bell. As you pull on the rope, the bell rings and you take a moment to remember someone who has died.
We continued on to the cemetery where we witnessed one of the most amazing things I have seen. Hundreds of graves were covered with flowers and candles, from what seemed like the top of the world. Even though it was a sad occasion, it was also breathtakingly beautiful. I really respect the manner in which death is treated in Guatemala. Every year people cry, laugh, grieve, remember, sing and drink together. There is a feeling of raw emotion, which to me seems like the truest and healthiest way to grieve.
Zunil is also home to San Simon, a much loved saint despite being dismissed by the Catholic Church as pagan. Every year on this day, San Simon is moved to a new location. This relocation is cause for a huge celebration involving live music, dancing, praying, and-as we discovered-excessive drinking. We were the only extranjeros in the crowd and felt somewhat out of place, but were greeted warmly. In one room, a woman was dancing with San Simon on her back. (San Simon is now a life-sized doll clad in cowboy boots, slacks, a red vest and aviator sunglasses). The tradition is to bring San Simon an offering of Quetzalteca (the popular Guatemalan liquor). The Quetzalteca is poured down his throat, and is later emptied into a large aluminum bowl and sold as a sacred liquor. Unfortunately, we weren't able to stay too long, because some very intoxicated men wouldn't leave me alone, even while I was barricaded behind Andrew and Vince. It was an unfortunate ending to an otherwise incredible day.
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