1/19/09
Today was a beautiful, sunny day, so this afternoon I decided to go to the park to read. When I arrived, the central square was already full of motion—women sitting on the benches chatting, teenagers playing soccer, and the gardener sweeping. No sooner had I sat down to read when a guy on a bicycle stopped in front of me and said, in barely inteligible English, “How are you?” I chatted with him for a few minutes—first a few broken phrases in English, after which he was grateful to switch to Spanish. He told me a bit about his experiences working in the U.S. after crossing the border “mojado”or “wet” --in other words, illegally.

All of a sudden I heard a band playing and people started flowing out of the church. Judging by the sad melody and slow, rhythmic motion of the people, I realized it was the funeral for the old woman who had died yesterday. I went to watch the procession pass, and decided to follow. Despite a few curious glances, and smiles and pointing from children, I don't think anyone minded. The procession and music reminded me a bit of the opening scene from The Godfather: Part II. For me, it was powerfully moving. After a few songs by the band, the crowd sung an a Capella chant or mourning, the casket visible over the heads of the mourners crowding the narrow streets. As we entered the gates of the cemetery several blocks later, I was struck by the brilliant image of the Guatemalan landscape which the graves overlook. The enormous Volcano (I still haven't learned it's name) towered clearly in the distance, and the sinking sun lit the afternoon sky orange and gave a transcendental aura to the entire scene. The crowd broke up briefly, as families went to greet their loved ones' graves. Everyone came together for more prayers and doleful chants, before proceeding to the gravesite, where the coffin was lowered into an above ground cement grave and covered on the spot with cement. I was reminded of my own grandmother's funeral only 9 months ago. Even though I had never met the woman, I was moved to tears by the scene, which was so sad and so beautiful all at once.

Death has been a recurring theme in my short time here in Guatemala. I have seen brief glimpses of the difficulties and suffering endured by people here; heard atrocious stories of the country's violent past as well as its violent present, bus crashes, natural disasters, exotic diseases and maladies, and other unsettling possibilities. At times I have wondered why I intentionally put myself in a place with higher risk. Experiences like today make me remember why I'm here. The intensity, the opportunity to see and do things I've never seen or done before, the beauty and suffering of every day life, it all makes me wake up every morning feeling so alive. I wouldn't have it any other way.

1/20/09

Inauguration day. We went to the Peace Corps training center in Santa Lucia Milpas Altas for our weekly day of group training. At 10:30, during a lively medical session about diarrhea with our Nurse Kathy, we stopped abruptly to turn on CNN for coverage of the inauguration. It was very exciting to be watching this historic event with my fellow volunteers. I was most proud when President Obama talked about America's commitment to assist the people of poor nations. As Peace Corps volunteers, we are not allowed to discuss our political beliefs. Nonetheless, we are all optimistic of the new direction our country has taken and proud to represent the American people in Guatemala as Peace Corps volunteers.

1/23/09

Today, after finishing our Spanish class we were informed that there was a protest about to start in front of the municipality building in the town center. Apparently there's a highway project that controversial because it passes through private land and was being protested. We wanted to go see what it was about but were told that it was too risky--I have to admit that it would be hard for the white people who are taller than any of the locals to blend in to the crowd. Apparently the riot police were called and they sometimes use tear gas. So, instead we spent a few hours at Sara's house playing with the kids.

Today is Sunday, my first real free day since I arrived in Guatemala. I woke up and went to the market to pick up a few things. I love walking and looking at the fresh fruits and vegetables, some of which I know, others of which are completely foreign. The most exotic item I saw for sale was fresh Iguana—dried and cut open, ready to cook and eat!

I cooked my family a typical American breakfast, or as best as I could manage with local ingredients. The hash browns were a hit! I told them I'm going to make banana pancakes one of these days, and smores as well. After meals I enjoy sitting around the table and chatting about all sorts of topics with my host family. The custom is to say “muchas gracias” after finishing your food, after which everyone at the table says “buen provecho”.

We had Spanish class and technical training throughout the week, and went to the municipality building and met the mayor a few days ago. He was very receptive and offered to help us however he could. We've also paid visits to the fire and police stations. Yesterday my three fellow volunteer trainees and I went to Antigua, supposedly the most beautiful colonial city in Guatemala, surrounded by 3 volcanoes and full of colonial architecture, churches, and colonial ruins. We met up with some others from our training class and got some nachos and beers. It was fun, but I really missed hanging out with my family!

This afternoon a bunch of us from the various families walked up to see the corn fields. We all had a wonderful time joking and playing around. I brought a hacky sack, which quickly became a source of amusement for everyone, kids and adults alike!

I've only been in Xenacol a little over a week, but it's feeling more and more like home every day.

I've been in Guatemala less than a week, and already I feel like I could write an entire book about my experiences thus far. My new life feels like a wonderful dream, I couldn't have asked for things to be going better.

After an afternoon of orientation in Washington D.C. we headed to Reagan international airport bright and early for our 6 a.m. flight. We had a layover in Miami, where I had yet another last meal in a small diner near the airport with my brother and Grandmother, who happens to be renting an apartment for the winter in West Palm beach, and made the half hour drive to see me. After saying our goodbyes, I was off to my new home for the next two years.

After a short hop over the pond also known as the Caribbean sea, we touched down in Guatemala City, where we were met by Peace Corps staff. We had a short orientation in the Peace Corps compound in a small town between Guatemala City and Antigua, and then moved in with our new temporary host families. Walking down the street for the first time, I was overwhelmed by the 3 enormous volcanoes which surrounded us. My fellow volunteer Adrian and I went to play soccer in the central park with the family's 2 young sons.

The first few days are a blur, and seem to have happened ages ago already. I remember we had lots of orientation meetings with various Peace Corps people, and several injections by the medical staff. My 31 fellow trainees and I seemed a bit nervous, but very excited, and are all still very cheerful and enthusiastic.

For me, my time in Guatemala didn't truly start until my third day in the country, when we finally moved into our “permanent” (temporary) training communities, where we will live for the next 3 months. I am now living in the municipality of Santo Domingo Xenacoj (pronounced “Shen-ah-koh”), a very traditional Guatemalan town of several thousand families, most of them of indigenous of direct Mayan ancestry.

From my first moments in Xenacoj, I was amazed at the mixture of tradition with modernity. Walking through the streets from the central plaza, where there is a beautiful church and perfectly kept park, across the street is a bustling market, where local produce and fresh bread is sold alongside all types of clothing as well as pirated CDs and DVDs. Spread throughout the center of town are several internet cafes. On the street, most of the women are dressed in traditional hand woven dresses with beautiful colors and spectacularly intricate floral designs. Many walk with heavy loads balanced effortlessly on their heads. On the street, along with the various genres of music playing, one hears a mixture of Spanish with Kaqchiquel (“cack-chee-kel”) the local Mayan dialect whose pronunciation seems to rely heavily on parts of the throat that I never knew existed. Fortunately everyone except the very old seem to speak Spanish, and a greeting of “Buenos dias/tardes/noches” is almost always meet with a smile and a response in kind (I've begun trying to learn the greetings in Kaqchiquel but so far haven't had much luck being understood)

The highlight of my first week in Guatemala has been the wonderful family I am living with, who have already accepted me as part of the family. My 18 year old host sister Jamie (pronounced the same as we'd say in English) patiently showed me around the house the first day. The second sibling is 16 year old Erick—I couldn't believe he has the same name as my own brother Eric! Erick is very friendly and loves music, and we get along very well. The youngest of the family is 12 year old Lupita, who I simply adore. During lunch on the first day, she smiled at me with a mixture of shyness and curiosity. Nonetheless, after I made balloon animals for everyone, she quickly came out of her shell, and has such a happy smile. My host mother and father, Chica (short for Francisca) and Carlos are very kind, and both have gone out of their way to make me feel welcome.

After lunch on the first day, I gave my host family a few small gifts from the U.S.--a calendar with landscapes from the Western U.S., some chocolates, maps of the Steamboat Springs ski area and the New York Subway system, and a bottle of raspberry syrup. The winner was definitely the syrup—everyone (especially Carlos) began eating it at every meal, and within a few days the entire bottle was gone!

The first night they proudly showed me a DVD of the marimba band that Carlos plays in. The traditional instrument of Guatemala, the marimba is like a xylophone, I think the only difference is that it's made out of wood instead of metal. Carlos plays the tambor drums, and they're really an impressive group. Apparently they're going to possibly tour the U.S. This august, it would be great if it works out!

After the DVD, I showed them pictures of my own family from my going away party. (By the way, Mom, they say you have a very nice house!) I showed them a few other pictures from my travels; they were fascinated and asked to see more. I showed them more and more pictures, and they kept asking to see more. They loved the video of me jumping off a cliff into the snow in Steamboat and laughing in delight, as well as the picture of me riding the bike underwater in Utila, Honduras, and Chica keeps talking about the video of me swimming headfirst into the silt while SCUBA diving in the Philippines. I showed pictures for over an hour, and this morning Carlos asked if I'd show them some more tonight!

The other night I taught Lupita, Erick and Carlos how to play “UNO”. They loved it, and we've played a few nights since then. Lupita and Erick picked the game up in a matter of minutes, but Carlos took a bit longer. He kept on getting confused about which card to put down, and Lupita, always the loyal, loving daughter, would patiently explain “Papa, you need to put down a blue or a 7...No, not that...Yes, that works!”

The family is for the most part very traditional and conservative, but with modern influences mixed in. The 3 females all wear traditional clothes, but Jamie has several piercings in both ears and Erick wears Jeans and Abercrombie t-shirts. They have a T.V. With rabbit ear antennae, and I have watched the Simpsons in Spanish a few times with them (although some of the more risque jokes are a bit embarrassing to watch in the presence of Chica). I don't think they have a refrigerator (unless it's somewhere I haven't seen out of the kitchen) and don't have running water. There's one large cement sink outside, but water only comes every other day, and the water for daily use comes from large storage buckets. Adapting to bucket baths hasn't been much of a problem, and if the water is heated on the stove 20 minutes before hand it's not a big deal at all.

The family owns a small second house where they maintain a workshop. They make different clothing items which they distribute both within Guatemala and internationally. Chica brought me over to see it the other day, where I encountered the entire family—including all three children— working diligently on sewing machines. I had a pang of guilt to see little Lupita sitting at a sewing machine and think of her working hour after hour, when she should be out playing like 12 year olds in the U.S. Nonetheless, the entire family must work in order to get by, and fortunately when school starts in a few weeks Lupita and Erick will stop working in order to continue their studies. Jaime has already graduated and is in the process of looking for a permanent job. All three have impressed me with their intelligence and maturity, and with the changes that have come to Xenacoj in recent years I am confident that they will enjoy more opportunities in life than their parents and grandparents did.

The families of the other 3 volunteers in Xenacoj—Adrian, Amanda, and Sarah—are all within the same extended family, and we have all spent lots of time together getting to know the rest of the family. I am slowly learning everyone's names and family relationships. They are all wonderful people and I already feel at home in the others' houses. It is common to just stop by someone's house unannounced and stay and chat for an hour or more drinking coffee. On Sunday I learned how to make corn tortillas at Mama Chica's house (my host mother Chica's mother, the matriarch of the family). After a few attempts I got the hang of it pretty well, so I decided to get creative. While it would never cross the mind of a typical Guatemalan women to make anything but a uniform disk about 5 inches in diameter, I molded the soft dough into the shape of a heart, another into the shape of a moon, and another into the shape of a doughnut. Without saying anything, I put them onto the traditional metal stove where the other tortillas were cooking, heated by a burning log underneath. When someone finally noticed, everyone had a nice laugh. When a Guatemalan has trouble remembering my name, I help them by reminding them of the word “Travieso”, meaning “mischievous”, a word which has somehow stuck as my new nickname!

My first experience with Guatemalan public transportation was quite an adventure. I've been on some pretty crowded buses in my day, or at least so I thought. We started in Xenacol by piling into what in the U.S. Would probably be a 10 passenger van, but had been refitted with tighter benches to squeeze more people in—As we the van was winding through the hills from Xenaxol towards the main highway, I counted no less than 24 people crammed in! I assumed that our next transport—a full sized American school bus—would be more comfortable. Sadly, I was mistaken. I remember, 20 years back, riding the same kind of bus, we would always complain if we had to fit more than 2 of us into 1 bench. Little would I have imagined that in Guatemala, 3 full sized adults are expected to pack the seats, with the overflow standing in the aisles. Old people, women carrying babies, all casually squeezing by each other towards the front or back exit, all the while music blaring in the background. The first trip was a somewhat stressful adventure. I imagine it will become more routine in the future, but I imagine that being a commuter in Guatemala will not be the highlight of my Peace Corps experience.

Last Sunday I joined my family for mass at the Xenacoj Catholic church. The service was bilingual, in both Spanish and Kaqchiquel. We sat way up near the front, and I was rather self conscious of being the tallest person in the building, my head towering far above those of the surrounding Guatemalans. It was a beautiful experience—the sounds of singing, smell of incense, and the sights of people humbly praying on their knees.

In the mornings we go to the “Jardin Secreto”, or Secret Garden, for Spanish class with our maestro Don Felipe. An indigenous man whose native language is Kaqchiquel, Felipe is calm, patient, and funny. I think he we can learn much from him, not just about the Spanish language. He's begun to open up and tell us a bit more about his beliefs and life experiences, specifically his experiences during the Civil War here in which hundreds of thousands of people (predominately indigenous people like himself) were killed, many in genocidal massacres. It sounds like he's lived an interesting life, and I hope to learn more about it, as well as about the history and experiences of the Guatemalan people.

I've made it a personal goal to get back in shape while here. In addition to eating a lot less and a lot healthier (way less meat and way more fruits and veggies, pretty much all of which are organic), I've also taken up jogging in the mornings before class. It's a great way to get to know the area, and I love seeing the various sights of the early morning as I listen to my music and have the opportunity to reflect to myself.

As much as my life has changed in the last weeks and months (!), I'm happy to have the opportunity to settle back into a routine—something I come to crave during my periods of travel and constant change. I'm enjoying the process of adapting to my new life here in Guatemala and have nothing but optimism for my future time here.

The church is right around the corner, and the first bells for evening mass are beginning to ring. The birds are chirping, and I can hear some sort of music playing in the distance. The sun is setting and the clouds are turning orange over the partially finished house next to ours. Life is good.

On the eve of my departure for the Peace Corps, I wish I had more profound thoughts to write about. As normal, I've procrastinated packing until the last second, and spent most of the day getting my life for the next 2 years together, first on my mother's living room floor, and now crammed into my trusty backpack and large Peruvian-lady market bag.

I can scarcely imagine what the next 2 years will hold in store. The adventures, challenges, and rewards; the sights, sounds, tastes and smells; the things I will see and experiences I will have; my daily routines and the infinite details which will enter my consciousness. I'm looking forward to the newness and change, but also for the opportunity to “settle in” somewhere, at least relatively speaking (2 years will be the longest I'll have stayed in one place for quite a while now) What I am most anticipating, however, is the people I will encounter and work with—my fellow volunteers, Guatemalan teachers, community members, schools kids, as well as my host family. The people who, hopefully, will have profound impacts on my life in the coming years are now just blank faces in my imagination. Likewise, my villages (I'll work in as many as 4), my house, the yard and future garden are all mysteries in my dreams (ahh, I can't forget the hammock where I'll read and watch the sunset—that's a must).

I was adding up all the time I've been abroad, and realized that all the international travel I've done in my life adds up to a bit less than 2 years. All the adventures I've had and friends I've made, as well as the homesickness and loneliness combined, is less than what I'm about to do all in one shot! It's an exciting and terrifying prospect, yet I feel calmer than I was expecting, aside from the occasional flash of anxiety. I feel that my past experiences have prepared me for what's ahead, most of all by preparing me to expect the unexpected. I know that things will get tough, yet I have more confidence knowing that I've been through some pretty tough times in the past. I will surely have setbacks and difficulties, yet they'll more than likely be things I haven't even thought about yet, so what good will it do to worry now about things I can't even imagine?

The last few weeks have been really great. I spent the last 3 weeks of December out in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, getting in my last ski days for the next 3 years. I stayed with my friends Brett and Brian, and saw lots of old friends—top of the list were Aaron and Aneta, who are getting married this summer, as well as my many friends at the preschool (who keep on growing!) and countless other friends from ski school and around town. I had a great time saying goodbye and telling everyone about my plans (being in the Peace Corps makes a great conversation starter!) and felt so fortunate to be able to attend my pre-school's annual Christmas play. And of course there was some unforgettable ski days. I was able to get hooked up with an employee ski pass, but only ended up working 8 days and freeskiing 11 (I skied all 19 days straight when I was there—a new personal record!) I was only daring to hope for 1 good powder day, but was rewarded by phenomenal powder from the first week and a few truly epic days. I had a great time ripping up my mountain, exploring my favorite places and running into friends on the slopes. It's a lifestyle I'll miss a lot. One day during Christmas week it snowed over 24 inches in 24 hours! I was working that day but got some great turns in before and after work (and during my class when I wasn't picking up kids). I had one unforgettable back-country run into Fishcreek Canyon with Aaron and Aneta (despite Aneta's protests!) and got to jump some 20 cliffs into waist-deep champagne powder. Incredible! I made new friends and worked hard to get my share of happy hours at the bars in for the whole year by the time I left. I also taught ski classes for 8 days—enough to pay for the trip and leave a good taste in my mouth before the craziness of the holiday rush kicked into full swing. I couldn't help chuckle when I thought of how in some ways the kids I teach skiing to are so different from the kids I'll work with in Guatemala, but in the end kids are kids and like to have fun! I left feeling energized, refreshed, and optimistic--all in all I couldn't have asked for a better way to prepare for the next 2 years.

Last Saturday my mom hosted a wonderful going away party at her house in New Hartford, Connecticut. Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins from both sides, as well as friends from High School and College came from Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, and even as far as Pennsylvania to say goodbye. I said a few words about how when my mom first offered to throw me the party, my biggest worry was that nobody would show up up, and how much it meant to me that everyone came to support me. In all, about 50 people came and it was a really memorable experience (the last time I can remember seeing so much of my family together from both sides was on my 10^th birthday party!) Thanks again, Mom!

From here I head to Washington D.C. for Peace Corps staging tomorrow afternoon, then on to Guatemala the day after. I'll have 3 months of training in a small town between Guatemala City and Antigua before beginning my actual project. I'm not sure how frequent my Internet access will be, but I should be able to write and post pics periodically.