Montericco

This weekend we headed for Montericco, a black (volcanic sand) beach on the Pacific Coast, only about two hours from Antigua. Back at home at Villanova it was Homecoming weekend which obviously was sad to miss, but the beach almost made up for not getting to see everyone.

Montericco is most famous for its nature preserves and especially an endangered species of turtles (tortugas) who lay their eggs on shore. An interesting conflict exists between the locals who poach the eggs from the beach to either feed their families or sell to make a living. The environmental advocates are obviously opposed to this, but because many of the poachers are very poor and count on these eggs for their survival, it really is an ethical dilemma. They've solved it by setting up the conservatory, and allowing the poachers to keep half of the eggs they get as long as they donate half to the conservatory, who then hatches them in a protected environment before releasing them into the ocean every night. Tourists can also pay to "sponsor" a turtle and release it into the ocean, and that money goes towards buying some of the turtle eggs on the market. The conservatory also has a collection of Kaimens and iguanas as well.




Of course, being the tourists we are, James and I "liberated" two little hour-old baby turtles. In fact, there was even a race among the tourist liberators to see whose turtle got to the water first. Guatemalans really really really have the tourist thing down. If only the country were a tad more safe, they would really have a booming business. As it was, we spent a very comfortable weekend in a cabana steps away from the beach, hanging out with friends at a local hostel/restaurant, and of course, "hammocking". Another cool thing was getting up this morning for a 5:30 AM canoe-ride through the presevatory's swamp glades. Great views of the volcanoes and we saw some pretty cool birds as well. Afterwards I went back to sleep on a hammock on the beach for a few hours. Man, life is rough.



One thing that does break your heart though, and you would never see at say, Ocean City New Jersey, is the impoverished campesinos trying to sell their wares on the beach. They literally have these huge packs on their backs of hammocks, wicker products, or food, and walk all day bent over on the (very hot) black sand. I don't know how they do it, but anyone who dares to call the poor lazy would definitely think twice if they saw these people. And meanwhile since Montericco is also the nicest beach is Guatemala, lots of the majorly rich folk from the city come to spend the weekends, and drive their 4-Wheelers up and down the shore at breakneck speed. Although the gulf between the rich and the poor in America is bad, in Guatemala its sometimes shocking in its blatentness and the proximity in which the two classes coexist.

October 21

Yesterday morning I was awoken at 5 AM to the sound of fireworks being set off from next door (and the sound really carries because our rooms open up to the outside). Not that unusual for Guatemala, and I figured I’d go right back to sleep as soon as they stopped going off. Little did I know that the fireworks were a form of “wooing” girls here in Guatemala, and were soon to be followed by an hour and a half of a live Mariachi band playing outside of her window. Ohhhh Guatemala—sometimes I can only shrug. When I told Helen about this all going down between 5 AM and 6:30 AM she laughed and said “aww its so romantic”. Really? At 5 AM? A mariachi band? I guess there really are some huge cultural differences I will never understand.

After the wonderful wake up this morning I headed out early to Nuestros Ahijados to go out in the field with some of the social workers. We went to visit the houses of the kids in our care, either at the Dreamer Center of with scholarships to other local schools. There are 5 social workers (“guias”), and each one has 100 families to check up on, both at the school (making sure the kid gets health care if needed, isn’t being abused at home, is doing ok in school, etc) and at home with the family. They visit each family about 10 times a year in their houses. We had to walk from the project to the village (about 30 mins) because its really hard to get cars around there, and then spent the entire morning walking around within the village to different houses.



The houses varied in size and state of disrepair, but a general trend was that some rooms had concrete floors, others only dirt floors, usually sheets or towels hung in doorways to block of rooms instead of doors. They smelled slightly like urine, and one house did not have a bathroom, the family used the grove of trees behind the house. Some had enough beds for everyone in the family, some only had 2 or 3 beds for a family of 5 or 6 people. All were dingy, dusty, and poorly lit. None of the ANA kids were home since it was during a school day, but at one house there were four younger children playing under a sink, using old towels to cordon off a “fort”. I ducked my head under to say hi, and noticed some of their toys—old water bottles, some string, old candy wrappers, one toy truck, and a kitchen knife. Not a kitchen knife like a butter knife, but a knife for cutting steak. Their whole bodies were covered in dust from sitting on the dirt floor to play, and none of them even had sandals.

The main goal of our visit was to make sure that there is nothing going on or not going on in the house that the family isn’t telling us. These families are very impoverished, and a lot of times they’re embarrassed or don’t know how to ask for help. It is usually very obvious if there is something amiss, such as they don’t have any food in the house, there is a new baby on the way, the kid’s bed broke and now she’s sleeping on the floor, etc. Today all of the families seemed alright besides the usual grinding poverty. One woman told us about a mother and her two daughters that she has seen around on the streets—apparently she is worried that the older girl is being prostituted out at night. So Alex, the guia responsible for that family, gave her permission to tell the mother of the girls about ANA's programs. Its this kind of word-of-mouth information that allows ANA to spread and grow in communities.



It was an interesting experience, especially since I’ve noticed the feelings of shock and sadness that I use to feel in the face of such poverty don’t really bother me as much anymore. Have I gotten used to seeing this kind of poverty to the point that it doesn’t seem strange to me anymore? Is that a good or bad thing?
And more complicated issues are also raised—to what extent do we butt into their lives? Should we tell the kids to stop playing with a dangerous knife, take the 6 week old puppies that are being starved by an old woman who also looks very lacking for food away from her? Is it OK to take pictures of every room in the house for the organization’s purposes like we were doing, despite the fact that most of the families seemed embarrassed by their poverty and the fact we were documenting it? And how is it OK that an hour after seeing all this suffering and poverty, I go home to a terrific lunch prepared for me by Maria-Elsa, of more food than I could ever want to eat?

October 17

Hola again from Antigua.


Not a whole lot to report right now just wanted to update-- James is away for the next few days so I'm moving into a homestay with Maria-Elsa's family. My room there is amazing, I'm really impressed by how nice her house is. Apparently we're getting another student tonight as well from the US who speaks no Spanish. Maria-Elsa tried to tell me it was a girl named "Rose" but when she spelled it R-O-S-S I had to tell her that I hated to break it to her but that was going to be a guy named "Ross". She was quite dissapointed, I think she wanted me to have another girl at the house to hang out with.

Work has been going terrific, I'm finally getting somewhere on my grant projects and hoepfully will have most of the big one done by next week. Yesterday one of the other volunteers came into my office and kidnapped me to perform in a choreographed dance in front of 200 elementary school kids. As one of the few gringos in the group my dance skills were definitely not up to snuff with the Guatemaltecos. Especially when dancing to songs such as "I'm a Barbie Girl" and "Mamboo #5" (I have no idea why in the world they like this music). Somehow us gringos muddled through and it was all worth it to see the giggling little kids and also our quite-amused coworkers. Another experience I will never forget :)

I set out today on my own in the main part of town looking for the post office to send some postcards,and although I failed in my sending mission (Post Office closes at 12 on Saturdays here as well) I did find some interesting things. For one, I saw a poor woman in indigenous dress with a huge basket on her head get bumped by a car that was backing out of a parking space. Her basket and the things in it went flying, and she went over to yell at the driver. As I ran over to help I couldn't help but note the ultimate irony of culture clash within the same country: the modern ladino Guatemala in a car versus the traditional indigenous ways of life. I guess we know who is going to come out on top of that cultural clash in the end.

And I also finally found where the Guatemalans eat. Wait for it-- McDonalds! I stopped in out of curiosity/an overwhelming urge for a diet coke, and low and behold the place was packed with Guatemalans- only Guatemalans. It also turns out that prices at McDonalds are pretty much the same here as at home- .99 cents for a diet coke that I could have gotten for .25 cents at a local tienda. Same price for the fries. So why do Guatemalans eat at a relatively expensive McDonalds when they could eat really great food at a local restaurant for just about the same price? Another mystery. I'll have to ask Maria-Elsa tonight. I have a feeling that its for the same reason the teenagers watch badly dubbed MTV shows and old NSync videos on TV. Sigh.

This morning was a beautiful day and James has some great pictures of all three of the volcanoes you can see from here (on days when the clouds aren't so low that they cover them). As soon as I can steal them from him I will post.

Maestras

I thought I'd share a little bit about some of my favorite people here in Guatemala:



First, here is a picture of Maria-Elsa, the woman who shares her meals with us. She is originally from El Salvador, but she fell in love with her husband Manuel and moved here to Guatemala. Manuel is quite a character- a very short, skinny guy who is always laughing and cracking jokes. He is perfect for her because she is also very funny and seems like she is always laughing, even though she works really hard. She teaches as a maestra at the language school for 6 hours a day, hosts borders at her house, and also cooks meals for the people staying there + James and I. On top of this she also does the usual mom stuff for her two children, Claudia (20) and Jocelyn (16). Women here do not have the luxury of the things we take for granted at home. They have to care for all the matters of the house without modern convienences-- she washes the dishes by hand, cooks meals practically from scratch, and does all of their laundry by hand. Despite how hard she works, every day of the week, her attitude is still very light-hearted and fun. It amazes me how much work she does yet always has such a positive attitude. She is a Jehovah's Witness as well (very rare in Guatemala) and attends church a few times a week and goes door-to-door on Saturdays spreading her faith.

Below is a picture of Helen, my maestra. We've been good friends because we chat in Spanish for four hours every day. One of the most rewarding things about learning more and more Spanish is that I feel like we can have more in-depth conversations, and every day I learn more about her and her views on the world, and vice versa. Helen is 24 years old and is still completing her university degree in Social Work. She's been working at the language school for 5 years to help support herself while she is finishing school. The way she describes them her parents are pretty progressive (considering how traditional of a country Guatemala is) and her views are very modern as well. She doesn't want to get married until she is in her late twenties and she always wants to work so that she and her husband will be equals, not like many marriages here where the men are very macho and do not let their "women" work outside the home or have their own opinions about things. Like many Guatemalans her family is very important to her and most of her weekend activities involve her family (and like almost all young Guatemalans she will live at home until she is married). Helen has a very very large extended family-- she claims to have over 100 cousins.




Helen is really fun to talk with and right from the beginning we got along perfectly. Our personalities are very similar. Sometimes it seems like we spend almost half of our 4 daily hours together just cracking each other up and talking about boys. We do talk about serious topics too though, and its a great cultural exchange because of course I want to know everything I can about Guatemalan life and culture, and she is very curious about America and the other places I've traveled. She watches a ton of American movies and has actually asked me about American movies I've never even seen before. I just let her borrow "He's Just Not That Into You" in spanish, so I'm interested to hear what she thinks of it. I wish she could come visit the States and hang out with my friends and me there- I think she'd fit right in!

An Interesting Ride

This weekend turned out to be a comedy of errors, despite our best intentions. Our original plan was to try to get on a tour to hike Pacaya, one of the still-active volcanoes here that spews lava and is supposed to be really amazing. Unfortunately finding information and getting anything actually accomplished in a developing country can sometimes be a big pain. After finding a chicken bus to go to the “aguas calientes” (natural hot springs) near here also fell through, we resorted to Plan C. Plan C consisted of going horseback riding around the volcanoes, and we managed to pull that one off (barely) and avoid the afternoon rains that are very prevalent here during rainy season.

However, we ended up getting more than we bargained for on our little expedition. The Ravenscroft stables are located about 10 minutes by taxi outside of Antigua. We arrived there and asked directions to the stables of the locals, who were very friendly and walked with us right up to the door of the stables. Inside we found two very very quirky British ex-pats and their 10 dogs. The wife, Paula, had Wiccan-like tattoos all over her body, including her forehead, and the husband, Frederick, was a retired British Calvary-man who seemed to not completely be able to keep his thoughts together and hold a normal conversation.

At first this encounter was extremely farcical, and James and I laughed as we were mounting our horses and getting ready to set out on our ride (we also had to withstand a 20 minute lecture on how horses are smarter than people etc etc beforehand). Since I rode horses and was around a “horse-people” from the time I was 8 to 18 their behavior didn’t strike me as too odd—horse and animal people in general tend to like animals more than people and aren’t too afraid to let you know it.

Once out on the trails we saw many farms and plots of land belonging to indigenous peoples in the community. A white flag marked off where one person’s property ended and another’s began. It was really interesting to pass by the small farms and homes belonging to the people of the village. In the distance we could see Antigua and the volcano Agua.





As I began to ask questions about the villagers and the land, it became obvious that Mr. Fredrick wasn’t a big fan of the people here—going so far as to call them “brutes” and assert that the civil war didn’t for a large part consist of the army putting down a reformer’s rebellion by use of force, torture, and murder, but was just one example of “how brutal all of the people of this country are—they are all to blame and its an example of why the Guatemalan race will never become civilized”. Um, ok.

According to him, it’s a racial thing that is passed down through the generations—their ancestors are Spaniards (who kill bulls for entertainment- that didn’t sit well with him) and Mayans (who participated in religious rituals where they pulled out victims hearts?) and therefore Guatemalans will never be “cleansed” of this brutality that is in their veins. Children cannot be saved, and even when a Guatemalan child is adopted and raised in America or Europe “under the surface there will always be a brutal beast of a Guatemalan”. And countries who are struggling now because of their colonial past deserve whatever they got because they shouldn’t have allowed themselves to be colonized in the first place. I won’t even get into his rascist views on Africa.

When asked if anyone in the community had ever done anything bad to him, his wife, or his property during the 22 years they’ve been living here in Guatemala that would cause such a harsh worldview, he said that no, but he had “heard of brutality” in other villages. Sigh. So 22 years here and that was his point of view “and it would be mine too if I ever lived in an uncivilized country for an extended period of time”. Just when I thought the conversation could not get more bizarre he almost broke into tears when talking about how wonderful Denmark and Sweden are for passing a law that no horse can be kept in a field alone (because horses are pack animals and this is “horse torture”).

When questioned about why he has spent 22 years of his life living among “savages” that he despises, his answered involved not being able to “abandon” the horses until they all die of natural causes. I think this man would literally have rather watched all of the people of his village die than a single one of his animals.



Despite the beauty of the trails and how great it felt to be back on a horse again—and I have to say these were the most well-cared for tour horses I’ve ever seen—I could not wait to get back to the stable and get to stop hearing this crazy man’s ideas. While on the trails I was a captive audience. In fact it wasn’t until we got back to the barn that I saw the swastika tattoo on his hand. Good lord. And this tour was highly recommended as an “amazing experience!” by two separate guide books. It was an experience, all right. God I hope no non-aryan person ever tries to go on his tour.

I can’t believe people like this actually still exist in the world. Sometimes I wonder, especially with people who are very odd in general, if they aren’t pushed into this kind of point of view by their own feelings of inadequacy. As if moving from a developed country to a third world country allows them to escape the people who would ostracize them in their own country, and live amongst people who are much much poorer than they are. Then they can regain their sense of ego and strengthen it by forming the views that others around them are “inferior”. They are an island of civilized people in an ocean of savages. Sorry—it’s the psychologist in me—couldn’t help but psychoanalyze. Maybe this guy was just an asshole.

When we arrived back at the house, exhausted and hungry, the power went out all over Antigua (and all over the country as I later discovered). We walked to a nearby tourist restaurant hoping they’d have a generator. As it turns out they do not, but they did have lots of candles for lighting and they were cooking food still over a wood-stove. We had a wonderful and very interesting candlelight dinner with just about the entire Gringo population of Antigua, and by the time we returned home the power was back on! Thank God luck was finally on our side.


back in Antigua...

Lago Atitlan

This weekend I had a chance to experience a very cultural part of Guatemala, and to travel to a brand new place. The area around Lago Atitlan is full of history—it is heavily populated with indigenous peoples, and because of this was one of the areas targeted by the government forces during the civil war. 800 people were killed and over 700 “disappeared” here in the late '80s and early '90s. For more on the Guatemalan Civil War (1960 to 1996) see here or here.



I sought two things on this trip—a little bit of relaxation and quiet, and also to enjoy the festival of St Francis of Assisi (the patron saint of the pueblo Panajachel which is located on the lake). Like I’ve mentioned before, Guatemalans know how to party. Both turned out perfectly.




Lago Atitlan is a large lake surrounded by volcanoes on all sides, and is truly an amazing and beautiful place. Unfortunately the roads surrounding it are not very safe to drive because of thieves who have set up camp in the mountains, so its necessary to take a small boat to get across the lake to the town of Santiago, best known for its indigenous culture and chill vibe. We stayed at a wonderful hotel called Posada Santiago. The hotel is owned by an American ex-pat who has set out for a quieter life in Guatemala. Along with beautiful views, great food, and a cool town to explore, we also spent a good bit of time “hammocking” as we call it.


"hammocking"

On Sunday we set out back across the lake for the “feria” in Pana. By the time we got there at 2 pm there were already multiple Guatemalans passed out in the street, indigenous crafts being sold, and the enterprising setting up shop outside of the bathrooms, charging 2 quetzales to use them. The fair had a great atmosphere, lots of games, prizes, rides, and dancing. The main festivities were happening next to the St. Francis church. The most interesting thing was a native dance (complete with masks and costumes) and a parade with children dressed as conquistadors, statues of St. Francis, Jesus, and Mary in tow. (click to make the pictures larger)









On the way home looking out the window again it hit me once again how great the disparities between the rich and the poor here. Guatemala is a country where many people live very comfortable, if not “American standard” lives, while others suffer tremendous poverty. Nowhere is that more obvious than driving through village after village, some with big gated communities and some with little shacks set up along the side of the road. No wonder there is so much crime.

All in all, a wonderful weekend and now back to life in Antigua. Its hard work being a student, volunteer, and traveler all at the same time- but somehow, I think I'll survive :-)

The Day of the Child

This morning was the “Day of the Children” celebration at God’s Child, so we threw a big party for the kids—Guatemalan style. There was music (Michael Jackson of course), ice cream, games, dancing, and, of course, piñatas. It was really a blast. I was with a group of first graders, so they were a little bit antsy and it was hard to focus their attention. After a while I gave up on the balloon relay race we were supposed to be conducting, and instead just started playing “who can keep the balloon in the air the longest”. None of them are used to cameras so of course having their picture taken and then getting to see the photo is also a very fun event. My favorite part of the day had to be when a group of teachers and kids got up and did a rendition (complete with costumes) of The Thriller.



These kids all come from very poor backgrounds, in fact the kids who’s house we built last spring also attend the school. A lot of them at one time have lived on the street, and over 10% of them have been rescued from child prostitution. Another large portion of them have dealt with sexual exploitation or forced labor situations in their own homes. All of them are very poor, or else they wouldn’t be in the program. So it was good to see smiles on all of their faces and to have a morning to celebrate who they are—kids. No matter what happened to them in the past, they’re all still kids, and today they got to act like it.

El Día del Niño

Esta mañana fue "El Día del Niño" celebración fue en Nuestros Ahijados, entonces nosotros hicimos una gran fiesta para los niños-- al estil guatemalteco. Era música (por supuesto de Michael Jackson), helado, juegos, baile, y por supuesto, piñatas. Era realemente increíble. Yo estaba con un grupo de estudiantes del primer grado, entonces ellos estaban inquietos y era difícil para ellos poner atención. Un poco mas tarde yo renuncie al globo de la carrera de relevos que debíamos hacer, y en lugar de empezar el juego "quien puede mantener el globo en el aíre el tiempo mas largo". Ninguno de ellos estan acostumbrados a cámaras entonces, claro, tomándoles fotos y despues podemos verlas es tambíen un evento divertido. Mi parte del día favorito ha sido cuando un grupo de maestros y niños se levantaron e hicieron un espectáculo (completado con los disfraces) de "Thriller".




Estos niños vienen de lugares muy pobres, en efecto a los niños a quienes les construimos una casa la primavera pasada asisten a la escuela. Muchos de ellos una vez han vivido en las calles, y mas de 10% de ellos han sido rescatados de la prostitución infantil. Un otra gran parte de ellos han superado la explotación sexual o situaciones de fuerza laboral en sus propios hogares. Todos son muy pobres, o bien ellos no estarían en el programa. Entonces era bueno ver sonrisas en todas sus caras y tener una mañana para celebrar quienes ellos son-- niños. No importa que pasó con ellos en el pasado ellos son todavía niños, y hoy ellos permitieron actuar como tal.



No time right now, but will translate to English later!

Perrito

Yesterday morning we heard a horrible sound, like an animal of some sort in pain or terrified. I thought it might be someone killing a pig for breakfast (also not a good sound) but instead it was this little 6 1/2 week old puppy behind our house in a box, crying because he was cold.

He has a home now, no worries! One of the teachers here took him home for his kids. But we played with him all morning- he is adorable :) Our guatemalan puppy.