En Espanol por Favor

For all you Spanish-o-philes out there...

...voy a escribir mas en Español.

Feliz Cumpleaños a Mi

Tuesday was my birthday and I decided to take the day off from the afternoon school activities and take some time to relax. I spent an hour or so in the internet and then a few hours in a cafe where I treated myself to a hot chocolate and a piece of cheese cake and wrote letters and planned a tentative travel itinary for the next few weeks.

After dinner, some of the girls here and my new "brother" (another student that just moved in with my family) took me out for drinks, during which we proceeded to discuss the state of the world and the sad state of US politics. It always amazes me how much I have in common with other American´s who travel as I do. Maybe I am not so unique after all...

I am thoroughly enjoying myself in Xela. It always amazes me how short a time it takes to go from confusion and a feeling of unease in a new place to a feeling of comfort and enjoyment. I love my family; they are so nice and they obviously enjoy each other so much it is a delight to be around them. I love my gym and having found my way around town. I´ve gone from dread at the thought of completing a chore to being quite productive: today I bought clorquine (anti-malarial medicine) for my trip, bought a few other things I needed at the store along with a gift for my family when I leave, spent an hour in the gym and am now on my way home to do my homework. I love how being in a new place turns the mundane into an adventure.

This weekend I am going on a trip with the school to Lago Chicabal on Saturday and then to another Super Chivos game that night with the girls from my other school; and Sunday I am going with them to Fuentes Georginas, a natural spring that is suppossed to be beautiful. Next week will be a four day week, with me leaving on Friday for Guatemala City to meet Steven´s plane.

All is very well. I hope it is the same for all of you.

Solo Espanol

After spending a weekend speaking only English, I am finding it very difficult to transition back to Spanish today. So, I have decided to stop writing and speaking in English as much as possible. I will post if anything extremely interesting happens, but I really feel that in order to be completely immersed I need to limit, if not completely omit, my conversation in English. Lo siento. I figure that there aren´t many people reading this anyway :) Gracias!

Ropas baratas y otros cosas buenas

I am really enjoying my second week. My new family is great - although after this trip I may never want to see juevos y frijoles again - and I enjoy just hanging out in the dining room watching Señora Leon and Caso Cerrado (both of which rival Jerry Spring in the drama department); watching the kids play, or simply trying to decipher their conversations. It is interesting to me that I can understand 95% of what my teacher says, but only get about 5% of the dinner table conversation. But I am only in week two and I have a lot of time to go.

Today I went to the gym that I had joined (i.e. handed a man named Carlos 150 Quetzales for a month, who when I asked him if I needed a receipt or a membership card, responded, "No, I will remember you.") and spent 40 minutes on a cross-training machine (that I had never used before and now love) listening to my new reggae tone CD, that I had bought earlier for 10 Quetzales (less than $1). On the way home from the gym, I stopped into a few clothing stores, where I looked for something a little more feminine than the Goodwill pants, t-shirts and hiking boots that have become my uniform (after having gone salsa dancing in the aformentioned outfit and feeling a bit strange) and found a knee-length jean skirt and somewhat dressy top for 30 Quetzales (less than $4!!). For those of you who know how much I love Goodwill, you´ll understand how excited I was when I heard the price. It is a good thing that I did not bring a bigger bag!

Tonight I am going to go home and spend a few hours studying. I am learning a lot, but I am still having trouble getting the words to flow out of my mouth and want to work on common frases that I would say every day. My second week been an enormous improvment over my first and I am very much looking forward to this weekend´s hike (although I get winded climbing the stairs to my room, it should be a great, if painful, experience).

I also recieved my confirmation from the Ixchel Spanish School in Antigua where I will spend a week or two during Semana Santa.

Mi vida nueva

I met my new family on Sunday and was immediately thrilled with my decision when I was shown to my new room on the roof of a three story building with an rooftop patio and a 180 degree view of the city. I also now have a shower with tile. Not that I am complaining about my previous accomodations, but tile is nice.

My new family consists of a mother, father and three children ages 11, 7, and 2. One boy, two girls - in that order - and a canary. Last night after dinner, Lukie, my new mother, asked me if I would like to help her with Andrea´s (the 7-year-old) homework, she had to make a clock out of poster-board for a lesson the following day. I gladly accepted and we all helped to make the clock. Afterward, I showed Andrea how to make a paper doll chain and she loved it. They were a big hit. It felt so good to be involved after my experience last week.

The new school is great as well. My new teacher is a social worker and is also a great teacher and has me doing at least an hour or more of homework as well as an hour each day presenting a topic of my choice to her in Spanish. Not that this is fun by any means (although I do like learning new words for things I have tried to say before and haven´t known how!), but it is great for my language development. Even the students here seem more serious about learning and each time we have gone out we have only spoke in Spanish. English, besides in written form, is beginning to sound strange. I really feel that I am improving, but I am constantly reminded as to how far I still have to go.

I am looking forward to having three weeks in one place, but am already planning my move to Antigua for the week of April 10 - 14 or more for stragetic reasons. Samana Santa (or Holy Week) is suppossed to by huge in Angitua and it is difficult to find a hotel unless you booked accomodation months in advance. I am hoping to circumvent this problem by booking a school for the week (or two) so that I can be there to enjoy the festivities and still continue to study. After a week, I will need to decide whether to stay in Antigua or to head to a school at the lake for a while. I am already getting itchy feet!

This weekend, I am planning to join a local adventure tour group to hike Tajumuclo, the highest volcano in Central America. I am looking forward to getting out into the great outdoors!

Vamos Super Chivos!

At four o´clock we met up in front of the futbol stadium to buy tickets for that evening´s 8:00 game between Xela´s Super Chivos (Super Goats) and Guatemala City´s Guate Cremas. We were told that we had to purchase tickets ahead of time in order to get seats, so we resigned ourselves to sitting in the stadiums concrete bleachers for six hours. After about three hours, it became apparent that we really hadn´t needed to arrive as early as we had, but we managed to make the time pass enjoyably, by purchasing "cenas" of chicken, potatoes, onions, beans and tortillas; talking and watching the minor league game that was played before the main event. While the game it self was somewhat anti-climactic, with no clock to watch to know when the end was near and a final score of 2 to 2, the experience itself was definitely memorable.

The stadium seats about 8000, primarily on the south side, with three rows of benches lining the east and west sides, including a small section for the visiting team and another section on the north side, locally known for its collection of rowdy fans. Other avid fans found themselves prime seats in the branches of trees surrounding the stadium. We sat in the large set of stands on the South side, mixed in with the crowd of bright red and navy blue Super Chivos´ fans and one lone Cremes´ fan in white, who was more than once yelled at by an aggressive crowed to leave. Luckily for him (and us) alcohol has been prohibited in the stadium for the past seven years since an official was killed by a flying beer bottle after a questionable call, and the situation did not escalate into violence.

We could feel the energy in the crowd increasing as the start of the game neared. Local people came through the isles selling tacos, chips, drinks, candy and cigarettes, as well as Super Chivos hats, flags and other fan merchandise. We were impressed to see that the flags were not the little one handed flags that we can buy at games at home, but closer to the size that you would hang on the front of your house, complete with broom-handle sized flagpole. When the opposing team followed the home team out onto the field, the stadium erupted in an impressive display of confetti, fireworks and red and blue colored smoke, which lasted for at least five minutes.

Our director told us that we would learn a lot of new vocabulary words at the game and we soon found that he had been telling the truth as a whole slew of foul words in Spanish were continuously hurled at the referees, the players and the opposing team. Each time the opposing teams goalie returned the ball to the field, the entire crowd shouted, "Fagot" in Spanish, leaving us to speculate on the plight of homosexuals in Latin America.

During the game, police in riot gear had stood in groups at either side of the goal nearest to our seats. After the game, we were amused as we watched the fans hurling oranges and other items at the police who merely stood in place and held up their shields to deflect the barrage of flying trash, as fans brazenly climbed over the fence onto the field right in front of them.

This morning, I left my family, with no regrets and will be meeting my new family this afternoon. I am looking forward to a good solid three weeks of studying in a new environment. I hope to be able to fit in at least on weekend hike with a local organization, as well as a weekend working with the local Habitat for Humanity affiliate. With all the appealing options offered by the school, I may have to put those off until after I return from my week of in-country travel. So much to do...

Un Viaje a una Finca y el Campo

Yesterday, one of the directors took us on a trip to one of the many fincas, or plantations, in Guatemala. Guatemala is filled with fincas growing cotton, sugarcane, and coffee among other things. The fincas often provide much needed income for the indigenous people in the mountains, who usually work for six months in their villages tending to their crops and the rest of the year working in the fincas. Unfortunately, the situation is not always a positive one and many families leave the finca owing more money than they earned, as once the already low per-pound earnings are tallied, the owners deduct payments for rent, food, any medicine purchased as well as the cost of beer from the finca´s cantina, if any. The recent increases in competition in the coffee market has hit Guatemala especially hard and has eliminated even many of these opportunities, leaving former workers to find work elsewhere or go without. According to our director, most of the fincas do not allow visitors because of the working conditions and their fear of outside intervention, but the finca we were visiting was one of a few exceptions that paid their workers a "salario justicio" and provided health care and other needed services. Children were also not made to work on the finca, but were only allowed to help their parents for a few hours each day.

Despite the sad reality of the fincas, the trip was interesting. We were shown the process of coffee bean production from the plant, to the separation of the quality beans from the poor, to the drying and shelling in preparation for distribution. It was very really interesting. My favorite part was the final separation process where the beans are sent through a series of channels where they separate themselves by weight, the heaviest sinking to the bottom and being caught by a strategically placed board, with the lightest, of lowest quality, flowing along with the water to be made into compost. There is a specific bug that bores into coffee beans and eats out the middle of the beans making them lighter and these beans are among those that float out to the end. We were told that these bugs could destroy an entire crop in a short amount of time, requiring the use of pesticides, but that some farmers use bees as a natural solution, as the bees fill the holes in the beans with honey, blocking the airway and killing the bugs inside.

From the finca, we could clearly see the intermittent eruptions of one of Guatemalas most active volcanos, Santiaguito.

After visiting the finca, we drove out to an area in the countryside for a short hike in a area that had once housed a village that had since been destroyed by a volcano. soon after leaving our van, we came to a steep ravine, connected to the other side by an old rope bridge (a concrete bridge further up the ravine apparently destroyed by the volocano). I have never been afraid of heights, but this bridge definitely tested me. It also further strengthened my resolve never to engage in any sport that involves jumping off similar bridges!

After crossing the bridge, we walked through scenic grass lands covered with trees that I recognized from South Africa, giving the landscape the feel of an African safari. We reached a wide river and crossed another bridge made of plywood and logs, much more stable than the first. We continued along a curving path of soil and rocks until we came to a curve in the the path, where our director told us to "cerrar sus ojos." Opening our eyes, we were greeted with the sight of the a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains and enveloped in peaceful serenity, interrupted only by the tropical sounds of the calls of the resident birds.

We spent the next hour or so swimming in the lake before returning to Xela, where we split up and went to our respective homes for lunch and a nap.

Un cambiar de planes

During the four days that I had been with my family up until that point, I had begun to feel more like a boarder and less like a student paying to spend time with a family. There were still numerous members of the family who passed me without saying a word, who I had yet to meet, and my meals were served at separate times from the family, leaving me to eat alone and then listen to their jubilant conversations through my closed door after I had been excused. Granted anyone who has ever lived with me knows that I like my time alone, but I also tried to talk with the family and engage in play with the kids, only to be met with one sentence answers and then ignored, although the kids seemed to warm up to me.

By Thursday, I was beginning to consider what I wanted to do with my remaining three months in Guatemala. I had planned to spend at least 10 weeks in Xela studying, leaving three weeks for travel, but after my first four days, I was plotting ways to leave Xela and find schools in other parts of the country. I had been in language schools twice before and neither time had I been in one that was so unorganized or with a family that was so inhospitable. At first I placated myself by saying that it was my first week and that I should give it time, but as I read posts from people about how great other schools in Xela were and how much they interacted with their families and how much they loved their time here, I began to wonder if I shouldn´t just make the move to another school now and not waste another week trying to see if my current situation would improve. I had decided that I would stick it out for a month and then after traveling with Steven for 10 days in April, I would move on to a new local, but then I found that there was so much to do in Xela - local hikes, volunteer projects, opportunities to build with Habitat Guatemala - that I did not want to limit myself to just two more weekends here and that I should find a school that I like and want to return to.

So, all that said, on Thursday afternoon, I went around to visit three of the schools that had been in my top four. The first school I visited was Celas Maya, my second choice. Walking in to the school, you first walk into a large Internet cafe, followed by a pretty open courtyard surrounding a garden, filled with students and teachers sitting in pairs at small plastic tables. I was directed to the office and asked the woman behind the desk if she could tell me a little about the school. She talked a little about the classes and the activities, after which I asked her if they had room for another student for next week and she replied affirmatively.

Upon leaving Celas Maya, I came upon a line of Guatemalan men in white cowboy hats, stretching down one block, turning around the building and disappearing around the corner. Curious as to what was going on, I asked a man standing near by if he had any idea. Asking to repeat myself in English and apologizing for his sad lack of Spanish in a thick Scottish accent, he explained that his teacher had explained that the government had promised to pay the families of the men who fought in the governments paramilitary service during the war and these men had come to collect. I thanked him for the information and asked him if minded telling me what school he was going to and if he liked it. He replied that he was attending Celas Maya, was really enjoying it and thought that it was a good school. I told him that I might just see him on Monday and excused myself.

The second school that I visited was one I had read had a reputation for a strict program, but one that came highly recommended. I was greeted immediately upon arrival by the director, who gave me the grand tour and explained how the school was run. When I explained vaguely why I was leaving the other school (because I felt I needed more structure) she revealed that she had been one of the original founders of my school and had left for the very same reasons. Upon leaving the school, I met some of the current students in the street, who told me that the school was strict, but that it was a really good place to learn and that they enjoyed the activities. I thanked them and parted for the third school on my list.

Both of the schools I had just visited where in great locations, right near the central park. As I walked in the direction of the third school, passing my street and still walking, I began to wonder just where this school was. I found it some minutes later and was welcomed in and shown to the office where I met the director. The director was extremely friendly and explained the program thoroughly before showing me to the rooftop patio with a beautiful 360 degree view of the surrounding mountains. Thanking him, I took my leave and made my way back towards home, not knowing how I was going to make a decision by the following morning. Over all, the mere fact that all of the three other schools had textbooks and some sort of structure made me glad that I had decided to switch.

I spent that evening going over the pros and cons of all three schools. I enjoy the programs at the school I am attending, but I do not want to have to choose between activities and class, nor do I think that my living situation is a positive one. I was attracted to to the first school I had visited, but it was big and I might spend my time speaking in English making new friends and not enough time speaking Spanish. The second school was attractive because of its structure, but its structure also turned me off a bit. I do want to learn, but I also want to be treated like a responsible adult. The third school had great activities, but was not in such a great location and had the same issue of activities conflicting with classes. I went to bed mulling over my decision and conflicted with feelings of excitement about new possibilities and dread at having to deal with tactfully leaving the other school and family with no hard feelings. I have never been one for conflict.

Friday morning, I still had not made a decision, but I decided to put it off until the afternoon when we returned from our trip to Francisco el Alto, a nearby city where they have a huge Friday market (I was going to write about this, but found a fellow Blogspotter who did a much better job than I could ever do and have included the link here).

When we returned, I headed to Celas Maya to ask a few more questions about the structure and activities schedule and signed up on the spot. I had been leaning towards it and figured that I would go with my instincts (although unfortunately my instincts may tend more towards learning about the intricacies of Guatemala beer than intricacies of the Spanish language...).

So I will be attending dinner at my current school tonight and the trip tomorrow to a local volcano and coffee plantation and evening soccer game and will be making my big move on Sunday. I have yet to inform my first school of my decision to leave (that conflict aversion again rearing its ugly head) because I do not want things to be weird this weekend, but I plan to let them know by Saturday or Sunday at the latest (nothing like waiting until the last minute!). I am sad to be leaving because I like the people and I truly wanted to participate in the projects, but I do want to enjoy my time here as well as learn the language and I do not see that happening in my current circumstances. I hope I made the right decision!

Problems con los bancos en Xela

Thursday was spent trying to get money to pay for school. I had paid the deposit through PayPal online with a credit card and figured that I would pay by the week that way as well, as it was extremely simple and did not require me to carry a lot of money or travelers checks. But when I arrived on Monday, I found that if I paid with credit card, there would be a 12% service charge for each payment or $19 more a week. My other options were to pay with cash, travelers checks or a personal check. Since I had read that travelers checks were not widely accepted, I had decided not to bring any, nor had a brought personal checks, leaving me with the final option of cash. But according to my teacher, the ATMs only allow you a maximum withdrawal per day of 500 quetzals or $64, which meant that I would have to go to three ATMs each week, paying $1 each time, which was much less than the $19 with a credit card, but also much more of a hassle. Extremely frustrated and not quite sure what to do, I talked with my teacher, who recommended buying travelers checks here with a one percent service charge and paying that way. Elated with that option, I asked him if he would go to the bank with me that morning to get the checks. One of the other staff members recommended a bank in a mall some distance away that offered a much better rate than local banks, so my teacher and I hopped on his motorcycle (bring back fond memories of SE Asia for me) and headed to the mall.

We arrived at the bank and my teacher excused himself to go to the bathroom while I waited in line. I was called before he returned and told the man who was helping me that I wanted to purchase traveler's checks. He said that he would be happy to get them for me but that his boss, who had to be present at such transactions, was not there and would not return until 2:00, and could I come back at that time. I agreed, and pleased with myself for conduction the entire, if brief, conversation in Spanish, went out to wait for my teacher. When he returned, I told him what happened and said that I did not mind coming back on my own in the afternoon. He said that I was welcome to do that, but that there were three other banks in the mall and that we could try all of them. I asked if he thought the rates would be the same and he said that the believed that they would be, so we went upstairs to Bank Number 2. After waiting in line for about ten minutes, we explained the situation and were told that I could not use a debit card there to purchase the checks, that I would need to get cash from the ATMs, with which I could purchase the checks. Looking a my teacher with a look of complete exasperation, I explained (what he already knew) that I could only get 500 Quetzales out of the ATM and there was no way I could get enough money for the month. He looked at me sympathetically, thanked the woman and lead me to Bank Number 3.

Bank Number 3 would take a debit card, but did not take VISA, only Master Card, leaving us to return to Bank Number 1, where I was going to ask if I could indeed use my card to get the exact amount of money that I needed, before I made the trip all the way back that afternoon.

On the way down the stairs, my teacher came up with the idea of simply taking all the cash that I needed in Quetzales directly from the teller and paying that way. Wondering why we hadn´t though of that before, I found myself back in Bank Number 1.

When we explained the situation to the man who had helped me earlier, he told us that I could take out up to 500 US DOLLARS out at the ATM, not 500 Quetzales and if I wanted I could take $500 out of the ATM and get the rest from him. Happy to finally have a solution, but incredulous that we had gone through so much when I could have simply taken $500 out of the ATM in the first place, I gave him my passport and my ATM and received enough for thee weeks tuition.

Trabajadores y un poco Historia

Wednesday, I again arrived at the school sans notebook and pen only to find that the trip had again been canceled and that it would possibly be rescheduled for Friday. Again disappointed and a little frustrated, I sat down with my teacher for that days lesson. About hour into the lesson, we learn that we may be going to the village after all. After about half an hour of uncertainty, we learn that we are in fact going and we all pile into a mini-van for the trip.

The village we are going to is one that the school was working with in the past, providing school scholarships to students to purchase uniforms, books and school supplies. During the hurricane, the village which was situated in a valley surrounded by mountains, was flooded and completely destroyed. The people took what they could and moved to an area of land on top of one of the surrounding mountains and went about constructing a new village. Apparently, the government had promised to provide funding for new construction, but the village has yet to receive any assistance, while other villages which were not as affected, but voted for the current government, have received help (or so I have been told).

A previous student in the medical program at the school who was hear during the hurricane last October, has returned with his family to provide for their medical needs and to help with reconstruction. We rode with this family (three brothers and their parents) through smaller villages and finally up into the mountains, where we could see mountain top after mountain top in the distance.

When we neared the area of the village, we began to see other villages, made up of cinder block houses and populated by people in brightly colored clothing going about their daily chores. We rode past women walking along the side of the road pulling along reluctant sheep; and other women carrying loads of fire wood and baskets laden with other things on their head. When we pulled up in the village we were to be working in, the difference between those we had just past and the one we were now in was made immediately apparent by the lean-to structures of plywood and corrugated metal roofs in place of cinder-block houses, as well as the existence of a large US AID tent. Dogs, cats, goats and turkeys roamed free between the homes and we immediately acquainted ourselves with the outhouse on the side of the road.

When we reached the road down to where they were building the school, we found that a truck had gotten stuck in the soft dirt and there were about six men pulling a rope attached to the grill with another three in the back pushing as the drive gunned the engine. After few minutes of trial and error, one of the men from the states asked us if we wouldn´t mind sitting in the back, because the last time the truck had gotten stuck on the incline they were able to get it to move by weighing down the back with people. We all agreed and climbed aboard the back of the truck, which, with a new load and a few more infusions of gas, roared up the hill to the top.

After congratulating the men for their success, we made our way down the road to a flat area of land where they were going to build the school. The previous week, they had rented a tractor to clear the land, but they had been unable to get another one and were planning to clear what they could by hand until they could get another tractor.

They handed out hoes and shovels and we got to work. At first I wasn´t really sure what we were supposed to be doing, but after asking around, I learned that they had a lot more land to clear and anything we could dig out and cart away would be a great help. Faced with a six foot wall of dirt, I went to work with the hoe, chopping and shoveling the dirt towards me and away from the wall. One volunteer, got a shovel and began to shovel the dirt in and cart it away. After just a few minutes, I realized just how much more work could be done with only a few extra wheelbarrows and I was delighted with about ten minutes later, two local men arrived with four more.

We worked for a few hours, during which the blisters on my hands formed, broke and began to form again, but I was thrilled to actually be doing something tangible and enjoyed being outside and feeling the strain of manual labor. Unfortunately, we did not have long to work because some of the teachers had to be back for their afternoon students and, it seemed, soon after we began, we were told to stop and we packed up for the trip back to Xela.

That afternoon at five we had a speaker come to talk about the current socio-political situation in Guatemala. Before coming, I had read a little about Guatemalan history and how they had years of strife followed by a brief reprieve of real democracy that was summarily quashed by the US government in the interest of the United Fruit Company, followed by years of military rule and devastating civil war. None of this information was new to me, but it was still hard to hear, again, how the US has managed to make things worse for people around the world in the name of capitalism. He also talked about the current oligarchy of 35 families that rule Guatemala and his belief that they only thing that will ever change things is another revolution. It was a very interesting discussion and only made me want to know more, and of course, feel terrible for the people of Guatemala.

Dias uno y dos

Monday began with an orientation in Spanish then translated into English about the activities for the week. On Monday there would be a movie, "El Norte" about a family´s experience getting from Guatemala to the US and all of the trials that come with the journey. On Tuesday, there would be an opportunity to help with the stove building project or to help build a school in a village destroyed by Hurricane Stan (and consequently moved). On Wednesday, there would be a conference about the current socio-political situation in Guateala. Thursday was the day to volunteer at the day care run by the school; and Friday there would be a student dinner.

My teacher is a Genetic Engineer in his forties, who teaches at the school during the day and at the University at night. We talked a while to enable him to determine my level of Spanish ability, me talking about my life in the states and him talking about his life and the situation in Guatemala (a topic he feels very strongly about and likes to talk about although it obviously upsets him). That aftenoon, I returned to my family`s house for almuerzo, spent the afternoon wandering around Xela, buying some books at a local book store (seemingly run by Americans) and then returning to school for the movie.

When I retuned to the school, I found that the gate at the door had been locked and there was no one around to let me in. After a few minutes of wondering what to do, I was able to get someone´s attention and have them come over to buzz me in. Unfortunately, the lock had apparently ceased to function and I was unable to enter and everyone inside was unable to exit. After another few minutes of discussing the situation, it was determined that 1) the lock was indeed not functioning, 2) this had happened numerous times in the previous week and 3) no one knew what to do to remedy the situation. One student was able to locate the number of one of the staff, none of whom was present, and contact him on his cell phone to appraise him of the situation. Just as he was hanging up, another student walked up behind me wanting to get in and when I told her about the lock, replied, "Oh, yeah, this happens all the time, you just need a fork." One of those locked inside heard this and went to get a fork with which we were able to pry open the lock. Twenty minutes after I arived, I was able to join the others watching the movie.

The movie was interesting and although I can´t say that it was a great movie in and of itself, it did have some interesting scenes and shed a little more light on the plight of the people of Guatemala.

Tuesday, I woke up to a breakfast of taquitos, jalapenos and salsa, something I thoroughly enjoyed and prepared for a day in the dirt, helping to clear the land for the school in the mountain village. When I arrived at the school, I was disappointed to find out that we would not be going to the village that day, but would be going the following day. Since my teacher heads the stove project, I had the choice of either going to help build the stove in a local child care center, or staying and studying with another teacher. As much as I wanted to help build the stoves, I also wanted to go to the village the following day, and knew that there was another trip that I wanted to participate in on Friday and did not want to miss so many days of class; so I decided to stay and study with another teacher, even though it meant more or less starting all over again.

I really enjoyed my lesson that day, even though I had not come prepared with either a notebook or a pen, and felt that I learned a lot. I was a little disappointed to find that I like this teachers methods of teaching better than my own, who I would be returning to on Thursday after the trip to the mountain village the following day.

Principios Nuevos

As my date of departure neared, people began to ask me if I was excited and I wanted to respond that I was, but I really wasn´t and did not want to lie. I just said that I was not excited, but that I knew I would enjoy the experience when I got there. I did not know why that was, but I knew it to be true. Now I understand why.

I forgot how difficult it is when you first find yourself in a new culture, not able to speak the language and not knowing how to get around. All the little things that you do so easily at home, like purchasing groceries or going to the bank, can take all afternoon. Studying a new language and just doing a few daily chores can be exusting.

But, there are those things that make all the early struggles worth it: the time you have to sit back and enjoy things you don´t make time for at home like relishing a cup of tea in the morning, and the satisfaction you get by turning the most suspicious glare into a smile with a simple, Buenas Dias. That is definitely my favorite part of being here.

Hola de Xela

I was told my flight from Miami was to begin boarding at one forty five p.m. At two ten, I looked at my watch and panicked. I had been absorbed in a book and hadn´t heard the boarding call! Luckily for me, there hadn´t been a boarding call. We began boarding five minutes later.

The flight was short and uneventful. I think I saw the southern tip of Mexico from the plane and that was really neat to see. Guatemala is really a sight to see from the air. It is surrounded by mountains, made up of populated plains dotted with business and neighborhoods separated by deep canyons. It was like nothing I have ever seen. I thoroughly enjoyed our descent.

My flight arrived early and I was soon through customs and waiting outside the tiny airport with my bags. I searched the crowed for a woman with a sign with my name on it to no avail, so decided to park myself in the corner behind the passenger gate, trying my best not to look lost and forlorn. After twenty minutes, I began to think that it might have been smart to have purchased a phone card ahead of time or to have called the woman who was to pick me up from the states before I left and began to wonder how I should go about getting a cab and a room without looking like a complete tourist (i.e. pulling out my Lonely Planet). Luckily for me, just as a plan began to form, I saw a woman walk up to the railing and pull out a sign that said¨, ´´Sharon Brown.¨ I was thrilled. No extra effort required.

Maria introduced herself and her daughter Monica, who proceeded to accompany me to exchange dollars to curtails (7.5 to one USD) and talk to me all about her three brothers, two sisters´-in-law, niece and new born nephew and her desire to study to be a chef. We returned to the car to find Maria in the back seat, remaining there despite my protestations, so I sat in the front next to Monica. Guatemala City, as everywhere I´ve been, reminded me of other places I´ve been, most like Mexico City with touches of Ecuador (trees with their bases painted white, homes behind high walls, thrown in). There were also reminders of Thailand in the form of metal crosswalk bridges. I felt completely safe with Monica driving, but a few times I noticed that we were driving in lanes with arrows going the opposite direction and wondered if we just might be heading into oncoming traffic. Fortunately, it seems those arrows are painted backwards and we arrived at Maria´s son´s house with out altercation.

There was no explanation made to me as the reason for this stop, so I simply followed them in and met Maria´s son, his wife and their beautiful new born baby boy. We were soon joined by Maria´s youngest son. The family chatted for about 30 minutes, with me sitting looking on. A few times, a question was directed at me, but for the most part, I was mute, trying in vain to discover the topic of a an ever changing conversation.

I have to interject an admission of ignorance on my part here. Coming from South Florida where my only knowledge of Guatemalans is of the small, dark men who work cutting people´s lawns, I was surprised to find Maria´s family to be lighter skinned than me and no shorter than most American families. I should have anticipated the diversity of the population given the history of Spanish Conquistadors, but I did not, and hope to be more aware in the future.

After a brief visit, we left Maria´s son´s house and headed for her home, making one stop at a small panaderia for breakfast buns and another at a road side DVD stand for a copy of the newest pirated DVDs. Monica had wanted the latest Jennifer Aniston
movie, but wound up getting ¨40 year-old Virgin¨ instead.

When we arrived at their home, I met Simon, their mini-chiuaua, and was shown to my room (a bed at the end of a hall used as a washroom). Maria asked me if I would mind waiting a while to eat and I said that that would be fine even though I was slightly
hungry. They put in the movie and we proceeded to watch it in English with Spanish subtitles (all of Maria´s family is fluent in both languages). It was somewhat surreal, watching an American movie on DVD in the home of a middle-class Guatemalan family, a night after I had left my home for an adventure in a new culture, but it was a welcome break for the evening.

During the movie, Maria made dinner of some sort of vegetarian omelet on a bun, spread with black bean paste. It was very tasty.

Afterwords, I excused myself to my room and Monica and Maria went back to the airport to pick up another student who would be traveling with me to
the school in Xela the following morning.

I did not sleep well, woken often from disturbing dreams, only to find myself under full attack by the resident bed bugs. I hate bed bugs and repeated this sentiment over and over in my head as I got out the bug spray and sprayed down my sheets hoping to soon fall fast asleep and wake only when the bugs had burrowed back into their mattress home.

I awoke at six thirty, thankfully free of all signs of my late night visitors, and met Sally, a medical student from Kentucky who had arrived the night before. Maria and Monica drove Sally and I to the bus station, where we met Bob and Ross, who were
also going to Xela. We all talked while we waited for the bus and then Sally and I spent the ride on the bus chatting and watching the scenery from the windows. We drove past sprawling farm land bordered by mountains punctuated with the occasional farm house. Cows, pigs, sheep and chickens grazed by the roadside and every so often, an indigenous woman could be seen in the distance, distinguished by her brightly colored garments and the impossibly large bag carried on her back.

We arrived in Xela at twelve thirty and found it to be a relatively small city, its size most likely found in its sprawl, made up of old one story cement buildings and countless shops closed up in observance of the Sunday day of rest. We parted ways
with Bob and Ross and went straight to the school, conveniently located around the corner from the bus stop, to settle in and find something for lunch. We
were greeted by a man who introduced himself and told us that our families would come to meet us and would serve us lunch.

My new ¨mother¨ is Marina and she (now we) lives in a house with 13 other people. Marina, her spouse, her three children and nine grandchildren. And two dogs. We talked as we walked and I found that my past few months of Spanish review had served me well and I was able to carrying on a conversation about her family and our surroundings without missing a beat.

My new house is an interesting set up of rooms surrounding an inner courtyard with cement floor and a wash basin tucked in the corner. My room is big enough to house three students, but at the time only houses me. Among the rooms in the house are a kitchen, dining room, bathroom and, I presume, a whole bunch of bedrooms. I am not quite sure if there is enough room for all of those people in that house with me taking up a room all to myself, but I figure that I am not there to pass judgment and will hopefully contribute needed income. I am a little anxious about sharing a house with fourteen people and being able to get in needed study and down time without coming across as unfriendly, but I have decided that I will try to spend my time at the house being social and visit a local cafe when I need time on my own. I think it will be an interesting experience. I just hope there are no bed bugs!

Tomorrow, we will attend an orientation at eight o´clock in the morning and will then be assigned to a teacher. There are activities scheduled every day of the week - Mondays are movie afternoon, Tuesdays are for stove construction in the local villages, Wednesday are for conferences about Guatemala and the social and political issues it faces, Thursdays are for volunteering at the day care connected with the school and Fridays are all day field trips to surrounding areas. Weekends are reserved for rest or travel. I have already found a restaurant with notices posted for local activities and events that sound like a lot of fun. I am looking forward to getting into a routine and seeing if my dream of finally being able to hablar Espanol will finally be a reality.