Journals

Raquel explained to me Guatemalans have a preoccupation with las bambas and so in Guate one will hear many booms. She kindly advised me to return before dusk due to la violencia. The economy is down, poverty is on the rise and so, violencia is on the rise as well. She believes there are fewer gringo students this year due to the Embassy reports, which, having read the warnings myself, I completely understand. In 2008, Guate City averaged 40 murders per week. According to the U.N., only 2% murders are investigated and brought to court. More on this later. For now, let’s return to “los tomates asesinos”, shall we?   Guate City’s public buses are popular “stomping grounds” for armed robbers. They are also largely driven by aggressive and carefree drivers with “homicidal” tendencies. This in combination with the fact the buses are painted a deep red, has led locals to dub them “los tomates asesinos” or killer tomatoes.   Muy interesante, verdad? Raquel made frijoles negros y arroz (black beans & rice) con plantanos y papaya for dinner.   Guate plantains are sliced and cooked sweet in butter. Muy delicioso . I woke up the next morning to Raquel humming Jingle Bells. The radio played throwback American music from various eras – Downtown , that song that goes boogie woogie something-or-other from company D .   For my send-off breakfast we had granola con leche, pineapple, papaya, and potato pancakes with honey. Let me tell you about the coffee. Very simply made in a tin coffee can over the fire. Fantastic even without milk or sugar. This is coming from a chica who orders Starbucks grande iced skinny hazelnut soy lattes! After breakfast Raquel drove me to the bus station with a 1 st class ticket to Quetzaltenango and we said our goodbyes. The driver approached me speaking Spanish very quickly. I knew he was asking me something about my bags but I wasn’t quite sure what. Luckily, Diana, a women my age, jumped in and said, “He wants to know if you want to carry your bag on the bus or store it underneath.” Aaaah, muchas gracias! Diana is Guatemalan; she studied English in Boston for 9 months. During our conversation she said Guatemala is very beautiful but the injustice here is very ugly.   The ride was long careening our way up las montanas. The countryside of Guatemala is beautiful. Rolling hills, valleys, plateaus. It seems any agri-worthy land was planted with *maize and other vegetables, even up the mountainsides.   The reddish-orange of the rusted tin roofed abodes popped against the surrounding green mountains and golden-brown maize. Many children helped in the fields. Many indigenous families I assume based on their ornately woven threads. Such striking patterns and colors. I was lucky enough to see some women weaving fabrics roadside.   Baskets too.   I learned that woven throughout the cloth are very specific patterns carrying gender, social, and cultural significance. For this reason, it is considered a silly cultural faux pas, or even offensive, for gringos to wear traditional clothes in Guate. Save it for the homeland. Two of the school’s administrators met me at the bus stop in Xela. They took me to meet my homestay family. A grandmother who is probably in her late 70s (I know her only as abuela ), her son (Antonio) who is 31, her 8-year old grandson, Pablito, and dos gatos. Mi abuela has 9 grandchildren and several children (not sure exactly how many, maybe 7?) who live in the surrounding complex.   There is also student from Korea staying here although he departs soon for *Panajachel.   Mi casa has an open-roofed center, a small kitchen, at least 4 bedrooms, a death shower, and a living room area that doesn’t seem used much. For hot water in much of Guate, wires are connected from a volt box to the shower head. You flip the volt box switch for electricity and the water is heated just before it showers down on you. Many touristas have inadvertently electrocuted themselves flipping the switch while the water is running (nothing life threatening, just a good shock to wake you up). The showerheads have been known on occasion to burst into flames (although this seems rare) and so, they are affectionately known as death showers. At 3p my first day (Thursday, 12/17) mi abuela walked me to school for one of the weekly actividads. There I met Martina, a fellow student here for 6 mos. from Germany. The head maestra, Eluvia (Luvi), took us to an artisanal chocolate house. There, many women in traditional dress crammed into one very hot room waiting to use machinery that converts whole cocoa beans into actual chocolate mush (with the help of a lot of sugar). The process is more complicated than explained herein but you get the idea. Luvi bought a small bag of the still warm mush. Martina and I were able to press the chocolate mush into tin molds forming two delicious little teddy bears. Once cooled, we can then break off tidbits to mix with hot milk creating, quite possibly, the best hot chocolate in the world. Luvi and Martina walked me to the Central Parque to show me the “safe” ATM. Most banks have an armed guard (and by armed I mean holding across his chest, with both hands, a very large weapon). While in Central Parque with Luvi’s help, I bought a cell phone for 259Q – about $32. Martina and I then visited a café viajeros – a café frequented by other travelers. Let me tell you about magic hot chocolate… it tastes like liquid chocolate heaven and it feels like a wonderful little chocolate cloud in your mouth. Not gritty or powdery. Not syrupy or intensely sweet. It’s a chocolate miracle in a cup. Muy delicioso. Martina speaks little English and I’m still working on my Spanish but we were able to enjoy basic conversation. She invited me to Salsa class on Weds. and I accepted. Returning home, mi abuela had dinner ready. Arroz con frijoles y vegetables y berenjena frita (breaded, fried eggplant). She waits on me and won’t allow me to carry my plate into the kitchen (“No, prohibe.”). It makes me uncomfortable but she is very sweet. And a wonderful cook. I gave her a silk pashmina as a thank you-for-hosting-me gift. “Que bonita!” She said a bunch I couldn’t understand but I caught “muchas, muchas gracias” and “corazon” so that made me happy. Guate has certainly cured my insomnia. Maybe it’s the altitude? Or the lack of stimuli (TV, radio, books, internet). I woke up this morning first to mi abuela performing morning chores at 5am and then again some time around 6am to the delightful crowing of a rooster. By 7am mi abuela was knocking at my bedroom door, “Senorita, desayuno”. Breakfast was served.   At the school by 8a. On a chicken bus to the market, San Francisco El Alto by 8:30a. Chicken buses are American school buses painted vibrant colors (usually with some image of, or reference to, Christ). They’re called chicken buses because locals use them as a means to transport livestock when/if necessary. Remember taking the school bus as a child? It’s similar to that except instead of 2 people per seat there are 3 or 4. In addition to people piled into the aisles. Plus cargo (sometimes live) overhead and underneath. People enter and exit from the rear ‘emergency exit’ too.   At each stop, the driver’s assistant jumps on the roof and throws the exiting passengers’ cargo down to the street. Until today, I had no idea school buses were even capable of hitting 80mph. The roads in Xela are chaos. Speed limits, lanes, directionals, no passing zones, pedestrian right of way – none of these things exist. The ride to and from San Fran (approx 11 miles outside of Xela) cost 4Q, about .50 cents. San Fran El Alto is indescribable. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. On the bus ride home, as I practiced Spanish with Jeff (my primary teacher) a rather large feather fell onto my lap. We looked at each other confusedly, and then looked up. There was a basket of chickens above our heads. It started to rain. The rain turned into hail. I paused for a moment to take it all in. Welcome to Guate. *According to the Popol Vuh (considered the Mayan Bible), humans came from corn. So, maize carries both culinary and cultural significance. Apparently, Panajachel was one of the earliest and most popular spots on the “hippie trail” through Central America in the 1960s. Many backpackers never left earning Panajachel the nickname Gringotenango. The suffix tenango means “village” or “place of”, according to Frommer’s.