I came across this article in last weeks edition of the economist magazine--

http://www.economist.com/displayStory.cfm?story_id=13063298&fsrc=nwlgafree

It is a fascinating report about the rise of the middle class in the developing world, a group which, according to the report, now makes up a majority of the world's population. I particularly appreciated it because it described a phenomenon I've seen again and again in my travels throughout numerous countries. The discussion of how middle class people across countries think largely the same way as each other—in contrast to very poor or very rich people— really resonated with me, and is an observation I've also noticed again and again. I've often thought about how I have more in common with my middle class Argentine friends I made while studying in Buenos Aires—the way we see the world and our place in it, our hopes for the future, challenges, frustrations, and even tastes in books and music—than I would with many Americans, or than they would with other Argentines of different backgrounds. Moreover, I've laughed to myself many times while seeing how similar my host siblings act to American kids. While my host mother Chica laments never having the opportunity to have an education, my host brother Erick seems more concerned with hanging out with his friends and listening to music than studying, much to the chagrin of his parents. While it often seems that the more I learn, the more questions I have and the less I understand, reading this article and realizing how much it resonated and connected with my experiences in the past few years showed me how much I have learned and can understand about the world in a way that I never could have earlier. Moreover, the article gave me cause for some optimism by demonstrating that despite the tremendous challenges facing the world right now—economic and political turmoil, environmental degradation on a scale never before seen on our planet (while the new middle class is only straining the world's resources even more), and the vastly disparate distribution of wealth created by globalization and economic growth—most people are coming to live better lives, making enough money to not only get by but to also plan and invest for a better future, for example by sending their children to school. I certainly have grave concerns about the future of our planet when I read what's happening in the world right now, but was encouraged to have this reason for hope.

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We returned a few days ago from our week of field based training in Totonikapan, a province about 4 hours west of here in the Guatemalan altiplano, or highlands. Last Sunday morning we loaded our luggage and piled into 2 Peace Corps 15 passenger vans, en route to Toto. Located in a high, wide valley, we were warned to bring warm clothes because the weather in Toto was colder than it is here in Xenacoj, but fortunately we encountered pleasant days the entire week.

The days were long; I brought my jogging clothes and hoped to keep running while I was there, but only ended up getting back to the hotel with enough daylight left to run 1 day the entire week. All 16 of us stayed in a hotel in downtown, a block from the central park/market. It was simple and clean, and we enjoyed the opportunity to hang out and get to know each other better during the evenings. The nicest part was the opportunity to eat out every night at local restaurants. By American standards the selection was rather limited, but to us it was a bonanza—literally, the finest restaurant in town being called “Bonanza”, where we stuffed ourselves with burritos and garlic bread our last night. There was also a pretty decent pizza restaurant, a taqueria (taco restaurant), and the “Esteak house” (In Spanish there is never an 'S' followed by a consonant at the beginning of a word) with delicious meat. Nevertheless, I found myself missing my “home” and my family in Xenacoj by the middle of the week, and the text messages they sent my phone to check up on me made me feel very happy.

The plan for the week was to visit 1-2 different schools and a different volunteer every day. Each morning we'd pile into the vans and drive an hour or two to different parts of the region. Every day had a different theme and objectives to learn about, such as the process of certifying schools as “healthy”, how to plan and manage small projects (such as building water faucets to wash hands or latrines, for example), and how to run training workshops for teachers. We went to so many schools they are already running together in my mind. Nonetheless, for me the most interesting part of the week was seeing the great diversity between different schools in just one small corner of Guatemala. For example, the first school we went to was full of energy. As we walked from classroom to classroom and greeted the students with “Buenos Dias”, they would all reply in unison at the top of their lungs. We introduced ourselves and I told a few jokes in Spanish in one of the classrooms. After seeing all the classes it was time for recess, and I had a great time being goalie in a game of soccer, being careful not to let the ball go off the side of the edge of the earthen field, down the precipice below (this seems to be a problem at lots of soccer fields in schools I've visited throughout Latin America). I also taught the kids to play hackie sack, and to play “sharks and minnows”. When we were leaving to say goodbye and I was shaking all the kids hands, I suddenly found myself surrounded by a sea of little people. All of a sudden they were all grabbing my hands at once and I couldn't get them free. I ended up having to yank away, run to the waiting van, and close the door quickly. It was quite an experience—now I know what a rock star feels like!

Another school, by contrast, was in a more rural indigenous area, and the kids were much more low-key and timid. I could immediately see the curiosity on their faces as we entered the schoolyard, which had a spectacular panoramic view of the surrounding area and mountains. Nonetheless, as I tried to interact with some kids, in contrast to the first school they were much quieter and shyer. All the schools we visited were very different—some were large, others were small; some had been working with the healthy schools project for years while others were just beginning the project. All of the teachers we spoke with were friendly, enthusiastic, and welcoming-- much to my relief, as the biggest worry I have as a volunteer is to arrive at a community that's indifferent to my presence. As we piled in and out of the van seeing many new places and countless new faces, I couldn't help but wonder what the schools I will work in will be like, how my new students and co-workers will react to my presence, how my community will accept me and if I'll be able to make friends; in sum, how successful I will be in my new life for the next 2 years.

We arrived back in Xenacoj around lunch time on Saturday, and I happily greeted my family and put my bag down in my room, feeling very much back at home. I've decorated my room with the most memorable pictures I printed from my travels the last several years, and looking around at them always brightens my day and inspires me to embrace this new adventure that I've embarked upon.

Yesterday after lunch, we went to San Pedro, the next town on the other side of the mountain, for the Carnival celebration. It was a wonderful chaos of carnival rides, food, music, and fire crackers. After a riveting ride on the bumper cars with Lupita, crashing gleefully into perfect strangers with impunity beneath the sparking metal wire grate which provided the electricity, we watched a local band playing their various instruments and dancing in unison in their matching camo outfits. We ate cotton candy, fresh fruit, and a crunchy sweet bar made from seeds and carmelized sugar. Afterwards, Sarah took Lupita for a ride on the ferris wheel. There were actually two ferris wheels right next to each other. Instead of the larger and slower one, the girls decided to go on the smaller, faster of the two. Once all the passengers were loaded into the rickety wood seats, the operator turned up the juice on the old tractor motor which had been converted for its present purpose. The old rubber belt connecting the engine to the wheel sped faster and faster, as did the passengers. Sarah later described her screaming as they were jolted around and around, up and down, all the while seeing nothing more than the neon lights of the ride, but we couldn't really hear her among the cacophony of sounds mixing together at the fiesta. A drunk man walked up next to the moving ferris wheel, which of course didn't have any safety railings, and dropped his liquor bottle, which smashed on the ground. I was afraid he was going to get hit by the swiftly moving wooden cars, but he wandered away after a few minutes. When the ride was finally over, the girls got off, wide-eyed and speechless. Before leaving, we followed the procession of people carrying the statue of San Pedro from the city cathedral, the music from the brass band accompanying the procession competing with the loudspeakers of the other band which was still dancing and playing full force on stage.

Today we re-grouped with our friends from the eco-tourism group, the other Peace Corps project that is training this cycle with us, and shared stories from our previous week. While we were jealous that they got to camp in national parks and go zip-lining, they were jealous that we got to eat steak and pizza and have hot showers every night, so on balance I guess we're even.

Our training period is now more than half over, and in a few short weeks we'll be getting our permanent site assignments, and in a few weeks after that heading out to our new homes for the next 2 years! Training has certainly had its ups and downs, but I've still yet to have any truly miserable days, and seem to still be cruising pretty high. From time to time, I still have mini-epiphanies about the fact that I'm actually, finally, here in Guatemala. Despite the growing normalcy of my daily life, I'm still trying to appreciate things as much as possible.

After dinner tonight, I went with my host parents Chica and Carlos to visit the altar of Santo Domingo. As they knelt to pray in front of the statue at the table, covered with flowers, candles, and burning incense sending scented smoke rising up to the ceiling, I was touched by the demonstration of their faith; the hopes they have for their family, and for the future.

I've been lazy about writing the last few weeks. I've been settling into life here fine. Things are feeling more routine now, less new and exciting than they were when I first got here. The sight of women dressed in guapils walking down the street with baskets on their heads speaking Kaqchiquel barely catches my attention anymore. I'm getting pretty adept at riding the buses, and no longer feel weird about climbing over people through the aisles or speaking up if the “ayudante” (the guy who collects the money) tries to short change me.

A few Sundays ago most of the group got together and hiked up to the base of Pacaya volcano. It was a nice hike with some great views of the surrounding area, and we enjoyed the opportunity to roast marshmallows on the hot volcanic rocks. We saw thermal vents and some steam coming from the top, but no lava. That night we had a 19th birthday party for my host sister Jaime (actually spelled Yelmi). I made her an enormous birthday crown out of balloons, and we had a great time dancing to Guatemalan music and eating tamales with everyone in the extended family. I introduced s'mores with the marshmallows I brought from the states (although I had to use a local substitute for Graham crackers) and they were a huge hit.

The most notable experience recently has probably been our visits to the primary school in San Antonio, a small “aldea”, or village, in the mountains surrounding Xenacoj. Just arriving is an adventure which takes over an hour. The first time we crammed into the van which would carry us up the winding road, at 6:20 a.m., the first hint of light was only beginning to appear in the sky. As it became brighter as we climbed through the hills, I realized everything was covered in a shroud of fog, and we could only see about 25 feet in front of us. We had to switch buses in another town called San Pedro, and the misty early morning scene felt completely surreal, like a dream. After an even more crammed ride (during which some of us had to get out and walk up the hill when the engine stalled on a steep incline), we got off at a small dirt road and walked another 2 km to the school. Located on the top of a beautiful valley among a few dozen small cement tin-roofed houses along a bumpy dirt road, the San Antonio school has 33 kids of varying ages. It goes from first to sixth grade, but kids ages don't necessarily correspond with their grade since they often don't start at the age they're supposed to. When we first arrived there was only 1 teacher/director for the entire school, although the municipality has since sent a second teacher to help him. There are 2 classrooms, 1 for the 1st and 2nd graders and another for the older kids. The school does not currently have electricity or running water, so when the kids need to use the bathroom they return to their homes. There is a dirt field outside where boys play soccer during recess. A brightly colored mural of flowers in a field against the backdrop of a blue sky adorns the exterior.

Our objective for the first few days was only supposed to be observing classes, but when we asked Joel, the 22 year old teacher, if he needed help, he gratefully accepted. Thus, fellow trainee Sarah and I found ourselves standing alone in front of 15 or so 1st and 2nd grade students on our very first day at the school. One of the things that was immediately obvious was that Spanish is not these children's first language. As we tried to go through the activities Joel had explained to us, the kids would whisper to each other in Kaqchiquel. I'd ask a kid a question and get no response. After thinking about it, I think the reason is partly because of the language barrier but more because the kids are shy. When it was time for recess I was grateful to hear Joel ask the kids to take out their toothbrushes and toothpaste, and everyone brushed and washed their hands with water from large barrels. At recress we taught them some games like “Sharks and Minnows” and “Assasin”, which they really enjoyed.

The first few days were pretty tough, as the reality of our lives for the next few years, the challenges we'll have to face on a daily bases, became immediately apparent. I can't help but compare the kids here to the kids I've worked with back in the U.S. In some ways they're so different. Kids here are much more shy and timid, I would imagine because they haven't had the same socialization and developmental opportunities. Probably also because they're tired from being undernourished and having to work in the fields when they're not at school. While working as a teacher in an American pre-school, I had access to pretty much all the materials and supplies I needed, while the rural schools here barely have anything, forcing teachers to get creative with what they have. Nonetheless, I've been very impressed by Joel. Despite the tough conditions, he always seems full of energy and has a smile on his face. He's patient with the kids and seems to work very effectively with them. I enjoy walking the hour back to Xenacoj down the mountain with and chatting with him, through cornfields with beautiful views of the Guatemalan countryside.

Despite the differences, I've seen again and again during my travels that kids are kids everywhere in the world. They all love to play and always love receiving attention and encouragement from caring adults. I've found my experience as a preschool teacher the last few years to come in incredibly helpful so far. Having worked in the schools a few weeks now, it seems to get easier every time we go. We're starting to get to know the kids better, and they're starting to know and listen to us more. They seem excited when they see us walking down the path towards the school, and were notably more interactive with us the last time we were there. I'm guardedly optimistic about the rest of our time working at the San Antonio school, and am hoping our presence there during training will at least make a small impact on the lives of the kids.

We've cut back to only 1 afternoon of Spanish class per week, and have also had more opportunities to visit volunteers at their sites independently. I've enjoyed getting to meet other volunteers, seeing their homes and communities and hearing about their challenges and progress. They also seem to always cook yummy food for us when we visit, which is always welcome!

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, and last night we went to a dance at the community center with some of our families. My host mom, Chica, was the only one of the mom's that went. There was a local band consisting of a singer, guitarist, bassist, a drummer, a few trumpet players, and no less than 3 trombones. They were all decked out in flashy red suits, and a banner behind read “Armando and his international band Los Retokes” I'm not sure what type of music it was exactly but definitely wasn't anything I'd ever seen before. When we first arrived everyone was mostly standing around, the guys in their cowboy hats and jeans, women split between modern skirts and the traditional handmade dresses. A few women even had pants on, a novel sight for us in Xenacoj. Before long, however, the dance floor began to fill up, and I made my normal awkward attempt to dance without looking overly ridiculous. Chica was out there in her guapil dancing up a storm. It was a fun night, and I stayed out until 11, the latest night I've had thus far in Guate.

In an hour the Peace Corps mini-van is going to pick us up to bring us to field-based training. For the next week we'll be staying in Totonikapan, a city up in the western highlands. We're staying at a hotel, and during the days will be visiting volunteers at their sites and doing different activities. I'm looking forward to a change of scenery, and am excited about the opportunity to get to know a new part of Guatemala.