Al Fin (In the End)

The interior of Honduras has given my trip a welcome blast of adventure. The scenery is spectacular and the town of Copan Ruinas is beautiful and refreshing. After a week of muggy island living, the afternoon rains are a nice change of pace. This morning I got up early and visited the Copan Ruins, which is an unsettlingly tranquil spot filled with elaborate Mayan architecture. This settlement was the most important one in Honduras for a long time and it is famous for producing the stone sculptures that are found throughout the region. Wandering around the town is also fun because it has a distinctly different feeling than life in Guatemala, even though the boarder is a few miles off. Along with the excitement of this new discovery comes the feeling that it is impossible to see enough of Central America, to dive deeply enough into the life of it's people, or to understand the systems of government, nature, and society all converging under the same sky. 

There was an amazing book store in Antigua that I stumbled across and I wanted to read every book on the shelf about this place and its painful history, which would inevitably lead me on an intellectual journey across the world and through the human psyche. An overwhelming thought is just how many different regions of the world there are out there to 

explore, with parallel complexities and histories to this small piece of the whole. Each day, billions of people are experiencing life in an infinite amount of ways, and I can't help but observe how powerfully our lives are influenced by where and to whom we are born and be inspired by the incredible strength of people all over the world who are finding their own innovative ways of changing their condition. My good friend wrote these words when we were fourteen: "If something is etched in stone, all you need is a little dynamite." She has given me strength to believe that there will always be people who will find a way to overcome even the most atrocious injustices, and I am bearing witness to that in Central America today.

One more quote, but this one is in Spanish: "La vida is corta, pero ancha." Literally, "Life is short, but broad." Just how "broad," or deep, life actually is seems to be  a matter of how we seize it, how we process our experiences, and who we have to remember our moments with. This trip, although it is at its end, seems to be unfolding more with every day. It will be a part of the direction of my life, as is the case with everything we do. It is nice to look at the end of something so moving as this adventure on foreign soil and see it as an opening. It makes me blink away those silly nostalgic feelings that make leaving difficult. And so, it with these open-ended feelings and reflective thoughts that I smile more freely than before and step with a little more energy in the direction of home.

Unraveling in Utila, Honduras

I´m in love. In the past few days I have spent nearly as much time under water as above, and I am completely enthralled by the world down there. It has been many years since I felt so excited or passionate about a new activity, but this is truly unique. Admittedly, I just got scuba certified in one of the world´s most beautiful diving spots. What has been most exciting about it is seeing the same kinds of organisms under water here that we are familiar with back on Catalina but in different variations. Since it´s not really possible to jump up and down with excitement in water, I was swirling around and doing flips down there, just enjoying the feeling of being suspended in water and observing a new world. The impressive quality about the fish and other critters down there is that they just let you stick your face right up close to them and observe, often without fleeing if you approach carefully. I found myself thanking them yesterday for giving me the opportunity to see life in a different way. Maybe that was the nitrogen narcosis, but either way, it was close to something spiritual.

Can I list a few of the things I saw without boring the reader? The list is impressive: turtles, sting rays, moray eels, squid, nudibranchs, fireworms, comb jellies (they really exist! unbelievable!), sea horses, christmas tree worms (really big ones), jellyfish, parrotfish, sponges and corals, tiny fish that hide in holes, anemones, flatfish, and the list goes on and on. We logged all of our dives, so the geeky ocean explorers out there who are interested can hear more details later. It is just like Finding Nemo, where you are there on this reef and then sometimes it just drops off into open blue ocean. It is so fun to watch everything interacting-- to watch fish feeding on plankton, to

 find their homes in crevices, to see a sea horse wrap around some algae to keep from floating away. I´m just so excited!

When I got here Monday, Meagan and Courtney greeted me and we dropped my stuff off at 

their house and jumped directly onto the boat for a snorkel. Then Tuesday was a theory day and Wednesday the diving began. It took some serious concentration, and trust in my lovely 

instructor Meagan, to pull my mask off and put it back on under water. That was challenging. It brought on this panicky feeling but I´m getting over it slowly as I get more comfortable 

breathing underwater. Between Wednesday morning and Friday at noon, I went on 8 dives, including the grand finale, which was a deep dive where we went down to 100 feet. That felt just about like 40 feet, but the bag of chips that Meagan brought down was totally compacted and I know I was supposed to think of my lungs and remember to always keep breathing. Scuba diving could be a form of therapy because you never ever stop breathing slowly and steadily. Anxiety or distress are just not options. Every movement is slow, deliberate, and calm.

This weekend is all about rejuvinating and enjoying the relaxation of being in the arms of good friends in a beautiful place. We celebrated a friend´s birthday last night by treating her to a 

sunset sail around the bay. We laughed for an hour and a half straight with our German guide and then made our way into town to continue the celebration. My hosts have been the 

most gracious you could ask for and the week here has flown by. The unraveling that has taken place for me is the best kind, just like falling in love where you let yourself relax into something much bigger than yourself. I guess I let the whole mellow feeling get away with me the other night when I left my wallet in the bar. It only had 50 cents in there and some lip gloss, so no big deal, but I´m going to have to readjust for the departure. Well, what more can you ask for in life than this? I guess I´ll have to leave soon, but even then, the journey to come sounds amazing: visiting some ancient ruins on the way back to Antigua where I will get ready to fly out. (Make any requests now before the bags are filled!) And the further adventure of returning to my beautiful home, great friends, and amazing job keeps me feeling positive even about the end of this amazing journey.

Giving Way

The women in El Salvador certainly did not waste any time shedding whatever traditional or conservative clothing their ancestors may have once worn. The number of indigenous people still alive in El Salvador is very low, and the conservatism of the mountains of Guatemala gives way to a steamy coastal lifestyle here. By far the most entertaining thing about being here are the bus rides. There is a custom here of exploiting the opportunity that the buses provide to sell, sell, sell! So every time the bus stops (or almost stops), on jump hoards of ladies in tight tank tops and short skirts toting any number of local foods, plus children selling water and cold juices, and men from the market trying to sell you an ice cream or a bag of cucumbers. You can eat very well on a bus. My favorite treat was the fresh coconut sorbet they I got on one particularly hot day on the way to the city.

San Salvador itself seems like an interesting place to explore... worlds apart from Guatemala City, where I did not really even consider getting out of the colectivo. El Salvador catches some bad press for its gang activities that account for most of the country´s high murder rate. Mostly, it is like gang activity in the US where you don´t even see it if you are not involved in that life. There are much more dangerous places to travel, that is clear. People here are generally warm, open, and very candid once they get talking. They also seem to have a business savvy that functions very well.

There is a striking contrast between Guatemala and El Salvador not just in the attire and overall culture that is dominated by Latino influences, but also in the development rate. Here there are shiny new malls, modern roads, and billboards prompting us to throw our trash in the bin to keep El Salvador beautiful. Here you find a country that is really ready to jump into the modern world full swing since they have little to tie them to a traditional past. That is the impression, at least. I really wanted to jump off the bus up in the mountains and explore the lush green hills and remote towns to see how they differ from the coast, but alas, the journey goes on, and much about this country will remain a mystery.

Yes!

There is no way to describe the past week in the time I have, so I´m just writing to say that I´m here in Utila with Meagan and Courtney (good ol´ island friends) and just completed my first scuba dive! I will write more in a bit, but wanted you all to know that I am happier than ever and having a great time here in Honduras. More to come soon,
H

Frog in the Shower, Dog in the WC

... and happy to report that there are no scorpions in my bed, yet. The frog in the shower, I understand, but the dog sleeping next to the toilet? Not sure what that´s all about, but I could have guessed it because the little WC smells just like a barn and I am grateful that it is outside. This is where I am staying, and it´s great so far. We could have opted for the luxurious yet rustic resort next door, complete with a swimming pool, restaurant, surfboards and surf classes. But we can use all of their services anyway, so we might as well pay less to sleep. This is El Salvador. It is certainly a lot more raw than Guatemala so far, and I wish I had more time to spend here.Yesterday I attempted to surf. It´s been a while and after a few hours trying, I was actually able to ride a few waves in. Well, do you call surging whitewash a ¨wave¨? I´m gonna count it as that because the waves themselves scare me. They are like our biggest days on the island, with that same close-out nature. I could have sworn I was pulled out a bit in a small rip current yesterday. It was around the time that I found myself uncomfortably close to the bigger waves without trying at all. Good thing I spent so much time looking at the Oceanfront Lifeguarding book last spring. I did read this morning that there plenty of rips here, but I´m not so worried about them. For the most part, the water is much more pleasant than I´m used to, with gentler wave action and almost too warm! Did I really say that?

So what am I doing in a cyber cafe if the surfing is so great? Well, first of all, it takes all my might to paddle around out there since I´m not talented at this sport, so I need the rest. Secondly, my face go burned yesterday, despite my efforts to plaster on the sunblock. It´s 

unavoidable, unless you just take a break from the sun. Anyway, it´s fun exploring town a little and seeing what the locals are up to. Over time, I feel as though my writing is degenerating into train of thought sentences. I really don´t talk much here, so I´m in a similar state verbally, caught between languages and long hours of letting my mind wander. I have been reading a book on Rigoberta Menchu that was left on the island (Kenny?) and the story is staggering. She is a Mayan woman who grew up in the 60´s and 70´s in Guatemala, and you would think she was writing from a hundred years ago or more. The stories of the oppression of the Mayan people and poor ladinos are beyond what I could have imagined. After overcoming countless barriers in her life, she ran for president last year without victory in a newly created indigenous party. Talk about overcoming. My next text is in Spanish and is also about the history of Guatemala.

The restaurant service here is really different from what I am accustomed to. You have to place an order at least an hour before you want to eat. Does this mean that everything is very freshly 

made? I think so, because a few weeks ago when I was visiting the market in Santiago with some teachers, the other students were using the old joke, ¨Are they out there killing the chicken or what?¨ Well, just about a minute later, the waitress came bustling in with some eggs from the market to make our breakfast. This is the norm. I watched a woman at a fresh fruit stand run across the 

street for more sugar when she ran out in Guatemala City. And a while ago some friends commented that they had never gotten into a collectivo without stopping for gas on the way out of town. Well, I thought that it was pretty great the other day in San Salvador when even the taxi had to stop at the gas station before bringing us to the bus station a few miles away! Is it a hand to mouth existence or just a cultural quirk?

I may not have time to write again until I am up in Honduras next week. If not, enjoy your weekends! People only sort-of have those here, which has put our whole work system into a new perspective for me. Life is work. You can work for vacations, work for more money, work for a nicer home, work to travel, or work just simply to put food on the table. Being here has certainly made me want to learn so much more about how this society was created and what the nuances are between each part of Latin America. I could go on and on traveling and never get the full answer. But one thing I have been wondering: has anyone written ¨The Bicycle Diaries¨ yet? That would be a good story about this place. I´m sure it´s been done. Although I do not know much about El Salvador, beyond what is in Lonely Planet, the use of the US Dollar as currency speaks volumes. The dollar?? It says ¨United States of America¨ right on it. Oh, that´s right. We gave them over $6 billion not so long ago to aid in the further repression of the poor majority to rise up and be treated humanely. I probably should not simplify what I don´t know much about, but I imagine it was just easier to phase out their old currency and keep ours.

No Middle Road

Climbing Volcano Pacaya was like a Sunday walk in the park after Volcano San Pedro, but it was a whole different experience. Our guide, Ronny, was a rather humorous fellow and mentioned that we couldn't climb all the way to the top because the ground on the way up is not firm and you could fall through into the volcano. Fine, he said, if you like marshmallows. Ha ha. Seriously, you could not pay me to climb this thing any higher than we did. As it was, we were scrambling over lava so fresh that it was melting our shoes and impassable unless you ran in some spots. People were literally pointing and commenting to each other about my choice of footwear: Chaco sandals. Those were fine for me, but what I have been lamenting is not bringing shaving cream, but as Jon mentioned, I could just singe my leg hairs as he did. I have footage of this thing spewing out some rocks that created small avalanches on their way down. Apparently, last week some tourists only escaped being hit by boulders "by sheer luck." It was very mellow for us today, thankfully. But if you are not worried about being robbed at gunpoint anymore there, you are concerned you might sink through into the hot lava or get hit by a rock, or worse, get buried under another eruption (the last one was two years ago.) I have to laugh at my safety-paranoid American mentality. There were so many tourists up there with us, so it can't be that dangerous, but then again, couldn't it be? I wonder how much of a warning they get before an eruption happens... Is it like an earthquake where you have time to evacuate? Something to ponder.

One of my many revelations yesterday on the ride to Antigua was that my dad's cows are the luckiest cows in the world-- grazing happily on fresh green grass in the summer without a care in the world. Some of the things I observed on the drive: A group of guys picking up their motorcycles and shaking off the pain of a collision, two dead dogs in the road, the saddest cows I've seen tied up by the roadside in the strangest of places, two kids riding double up a massive hill on a bicycle in jeans and t-shirts, and whole families strolling through beautiful countryside with loads balanced on their heads in obscure parts of the highway. There is a lot more, but the bottom line is that the Highlands part of the country is truly caught between worlds. If the first one is the Latino culture and the second one is the Mayan culture, then I think I would like to make a motion to add a third world: it is us. The traveler, the "gringo" (I hate that word), the ones with loads of money and expensive gear. How are we changing this place? What is the hidden cost of tourism?

Down here back in Antigua, I feel like I am looking into the future of Guatemala, with nice paved and cobblestone roads, hip restaurants, and painted buildings. The difference is that very little of Guatemala will ever see the money this place sees. My perspective on this town is drastically different from when I first arrived. Then, I saw a place that was trying to be posh but still developing. Now I see luxury all around me. What has changed? Perhaps it was a month in a Mayan pueblo that made me see life through a slightly new lens. I miss the friendly greetings from everyone up in the mountains but I am basking in the glow of development. Will you hate me for loving my hot shower last night and Thai food today? I feel so conflicted, but that is nothing new. What I want to buy most of all is a bar of natural hand-made soap I found (a diamond in the rough here) that costs 30Q ($4). I could buy a meal for that, or a night in a hostel, or a 4 hour bus ride. I want to buy it to send the message to keep producing things like this. Supply and demand will eventually bring the price down, right? It makes me feel like I am 20 again to struggle with such a decision. In reality, my actions here should reflect my ethics almost moreso than back at home. I am going to buy the darn soap. Better that the person who made it by hand gets the money (and the water stays chemical free) than giving my money to a factory process.

Buena Suerte

Graduation took place at the school today for the four of us who are departing after about a month here in San Pedro. We had to prepare a ¨discurso¨ upon receiving our certificates, so I rambled on for a few minutes in Spanish. I felt true sympathy for the folks who were shaking up there while reading their papers and simultaneously felt grateful that at least I´m accustomed to the miserable feeling of standing up in front of much larger crowds than this. The general form that the speeches take is to thank everyone for the great adventure, which I did. But I also felt compelled to appreciate the structure of the school because it provides the opportunity to learn the language through immersion in the culture. The experience exceeded my expectations by far, and I recommend the San Pedro Spanish School to anyone interested in similar experience.

My housemate, Jon, and I also received diplomas for our volunteer work with the students this week. It was all very formal, considering the unstructured nature of the week. Three young students stood up and individually thanked us with a brief speech, and then implored us to talk too. We felt very emotional about the whole thing for a second, but I guess they do that every week. Jon bought them a soccer ball to replace the ragged one they played with all week. After a rocky start on Monday, we quickly developed a rapport with these students and I was again reminded of why I love what I do.

There are so many times when I wish my camera would upload its contents and today is no exception. With the 18 students, we collected 10 large bags of trash yesterday on the way to a nice swimming beach. The kids cheerfully carried the bags back to school after swimming and listened attentively as I described to them what happens to plastic in the environment. A friend once told me that many people here just don´t realize yet the difference between the things they threw on the ground in the past (biodegradable) and the things we manufacture now. The whole concept that something will not biodegrade is new within the past few generations and they just need to understand the affects of plastic and other materials on the environment. I asked them to please tell their family and friends how much easier it would be to put the stuff 

in the trash in the first place rather than collect it later. The kids were so enthusiastic about the process that a man came down from his house to thank us for our work. His words were this: ¨I don´t know what you did, but I´m watching the same kids who would normally throw trash on the ground searching for trash to pick up. I guess I was pessimistic. I thought it would take three generations to change things, but here you are making it happen today. Thank you.¨ Of course I told him, ¨Yes, we are making it happen in this generation.¨ What more could I ask for?

There is only one day left in San Pedro and a relaxing night across the water, and then it´s time 

to face the open road on a chicken bus. These things are really wild... old school buses painted in much nicer colors than yellow and with absolutely no exhaust regulations. I´m distributing my stuff into different bags and pockets so that I won´t loose everything if one item gets snagged. I don´t like thinking that way, but I´ve heard too many stories. This time next week, I hope to be surfing in El Salvador, but we will see! The phrase of the day seems to be, ¨Buena suerte¨ as we all say our goodbyes to people we may never see again but have grown to consider friends. Now that I feel equipped with the language skills to navigate this adventure, I guess the rest really is up to luck, which I feel is on my side.

Contamination

So remember how I described all of the women wearing purple in the market in Santiago? Well as it turns out, the use of these colors were born out of something much less festive. I am beginning to wonder: is there any part of the culture here that really belongs to the people and is not tainted by blood, sweat and tears? According to my teacher´s account today, the colors originated when the Mayan first became slaves of the finca (farm) owners. They were set to work in separate villages, but as you can imagine, some tried to escape to other nearby villages. Then there were disputes about which finca owner that person belonged to, so the owners started to color-code their workers, so to speak. The people of Santiago wore purple, the people here wore white, other villagers, red, yellow, green, and so on.

Like so many of the aspects of society that were forced on these people (take Catholicism, for example) they adapted the rule to make it their own. They added adornments, like embroidered flowers, birds, and other colors that signified something to each other. Now they cling to this traditional clothing despite its colonial origin. Most of the women up here in the highlands wear the traditional skirt and blouse with a belt but the men generally wear jeans, slacks, t-shirts and jackets. Supposedly, this is because the men tend to work outside the house and travel around more, and they do not want to face the ridicule and discrimination that the traditional clothing draws. Furthermore, traditional materials are very expensive because they are hand woven and sewn locally, so they reserve these items for festivals, church, etc. Another mystery unraveled... at least the first layer.

The work with the children in the school was a bit disastrous Monday. It was better not to write then. But the past two days have been excellent, with the students enthusiastically participating and learning a bit of English along the way. Yesterday we had them draw a tradition that they participate in her in San Pedro and then explain it with some basic English words. Today they had to draw the village of their dreams, complete with their chosen types of transportation and buildings, and sources of water and food. Then they explained what they had drawn in English. To finish, we discussed the lack of trash in their pictures and why we will go to pick up trash tomorrow. For some incentive, we will finish up at the lake tomorrow with swim lessons and soccer! I just hope we don´t all get sick from picking up the trash... I´m confident that latex gloves do not exist here. Wish us luck!

Now I have to go conjugate about a thousand verbs until I finally get it right! Yipee!

Fire in the Belly

The trip up the volcano here in San Pedro was a nice little excursion into the countryside of Guatemala. The landscape stands in contrast to the open spaces where we hike in the US in that it was dotted with agricultural crops growing amidst the naturally-occuring plants. We passed through large stretches of coffee trees and then sugar cane on the lower portion of the hike. After ascending up through the agricultural area, we began to climb unrelentingly uphill for the next two hours. There were literally no flat areas until a five minute portion about thirty minutes from the top. The terrain there was a lot like the rain forests of our Pacific Northwest, with all types of algae 

growing along the paths and trees. 

The most remarkable site was a massive cluster of caterpillars on the trunk of a tree next to two slug-like critters. I could not get close enough to check them out more, but their color was a brilliant green. At one break spot, we could not help but feel a little silly slumped in the shade as a man around the age of 55 hunched by with a load of firewood on his back bigger than he was.

What should have been disappointing weather was invigorating for me; the top of the volcano was socked in by a chilly mist that obstructed the view completely. Somehow the cool, damp air made me feel a bit more alive. After journeying back down, some friends joined me at the solar thermal pools for a muscle-relaxing soak. The weather cleared and the hot water was a treat after a series of chilly showers and the exerting exercise. We had a wonderful dinner and enjoyed some drinks on the terrace of a nearby restaurant where they cook pizza in the belly of the laughing Buddha made of adobe. A bit controversial, but nice ambiance. A girl from California played guitar and sang all of the songs that I know so well. I knew she had to be from San Francisco. This is eco tourism alive and thriving in Guatemala and bringing with it all of the mixed sentiments of a rapidly changing culture and economy.

Tomorrow my housemate and I begin lessons with the local children. Our theme, ¨¡Que Paso en El Lago?¨ (¨What´s going on in the lake?¨ but maybe in broken Spanish) should tie together the themes of geography, mathematics, English, and environmental issues, all in a format that should suit these elementary-aged kids. Our hope is to get them thinking about the relationship that they have with the travelers coming here, their natural environment, and their traditional Mayan heritage. We are shooting in the dark, not knowing what level math they have, how much they know about the geography of the globe, their control of English or what they have already learned about the natural world in school or at home. That is not even the most unnerving part though... it´s that it all has to take place in Spanish. Ahhh....! I´ll report back soon! 

Define ¨Very Difficult¨

Yesterday in my lessons I tried to make myself feel better about not having done enough homework by explaining how difficult it is to balance what I want to accomplish down here with the fact that I am on vacation. ¨It´s very difficult to find a balance,¨ I said too many times. Then I used some lousy mountain metaphore to explain the lingual plateau that I´m on this week, and my teacher graciously drew a mountain and explained how she would help me climb to the top over the course of the next week. I´m a bit nervous, but it may just work. Monday, I begin morning classes from 8 am- 12 pm and return to volunteer with the local school children from 3-5 pm. (Yippee! We are going to start by picking up garbage and learning why-- that is for sure.) Then I have conversation club from 5-6 pm, followed by the evening´s lecture, and dinner back at the house with the family. No time for English, you see?

The complimentary event at the school last night was a lecture by a war survivor. As he described his capture at age 16 by government soldiers, the torture and execution of his fellow Mayan villagers, and his excruciating journey back home after having been shot twice, he kept saying, ¨It was very difficult at that time. Very difficult.¨ The war in Guatemala, some say, is still going on, although it ended decades ago and peace accords were signed ten years ago. Many people say that the agreements are not being upheld. It sounds exactly like all of the treaties the US government signed with our indigenous population, all the way up until the time that we forced them into reservations or sent them into extinction. Very difficult times...

My teacher brought us to the market in Santiago today. The town is much bigger than this one, and it is the victim of a landslide in 2005 that buried 200 residents alive while they slept. Today you would never know that such tragedies as the war and the landslide and disappearances of people each week had taken place. The color that the women wear in Santiago is purple, and many shades of it. Perhaps it was strategy and not luck that put my teacher in a red shirt so that we were able to stay with her as we wound our way through the beautiful booths of weavings, fresh foods of all kinds, and unending rows of shops. Despite the gruesome stories of the past and the hardships that these people still face, I am continually impressed by their gentle spirit, openness, and kindness.

Walking on The Left

People in San Pedro generally step to the left to pass oncoming pedestrians. It is something that is easy to notice after repeated awkward moments in the street, trying to get out of the way. Today I finally embraced it and actually started to pace out the way to the gym on the left, and I found it very liberating. Perhaps it was only because it was different, but it seemed better over there, until... ´round about the time I encountered some travelers like myself. What a mess then! We didn´t know what to do. I mean, I was going left, they always go right. I was bumping into this whole crowd of tourists. The whole thing was awkward. But give it a try sometime. Go to the mall and walk on the left side of the median and see what happens.

Salsa lessons tonight followed a somewhat predictable format. I should tread lightly, but I probably will not know how: The, eh hem, shorter men from around here know how to dance but it just does not work with a girl who is a foot taller, and the taller men are generally other travelers and do not really know what they are doing. So I mostly watched tonight as some seasoned salsa dancers lit up the place. It is a whole different language out there on the dance floor, and they were fluent. Some day maybe... at least I can dream.

Last night I watched The Motorcycle Diaries about Che Guevara´s life. I saw the film a few years ago on a frigid evening up in Telluride, Colorado and remembered loving it. This time, I enjoyed it in a whole new way. The scenery in South America is stunning and lures me south, but not this time around. I was saddened and enraged by his encounter of the same old story that we see all over the world: indigenous people being kicked off of their land and treated in inexcusable ways. The capacity for humanity´s cruelty is disheartening, but we can at least be inspired to combat these inequities in our own lives, no matter how small the impact is.

I´ve booked the thermal pools for a group of us who are hiking the San Pedro volcano 

Saturday. We will begin ascend the 4,500 feet up the volcano at 6 am and return before lunch. The warm pools are solar heated and cost less than $5 for as much time as you want to spend in them gazing out at the lake (and the volcano). Tomorrow I am also going to try out the yoga class down on the lakefront at 9 am, so I need to go rest up. I stayed up too late swaying in the hammock last night because it was one of the first really warm evenings here.

Mayan Market?

The market we visited today is like nothing I have ever seen. The colors were stunning and the sheer volume of woven goods was completely overwhelming. And... I bought a belt. That´s it. What struck me was that booth after booth was selling all of the same items, but they were all ¨hand woven¨ and all of the stones in the jewelry were ¨from Guatemala.¨ How dumb exactly do I look? I´m going to go to a market that is a bit smaller and with actual local goods that are hand made by the artists selling them. It seems that is the only way I can ensure that the artist is getting the money and not some factory. The experience was still fun. I paid too much for my belt, but how can $4 be too much? The bartering thing does not come naturally to me.

Tomorrow will be the beginning of another week at school. It has to be working because I found myself translating for the group of English speaking friends who were with me at the market. Hopefully this week will be equally as fruitful, but first I´m going to enjoy another dinner with the English speakers tonight in a little restaurant that overlooks the lake. A glass of red wine is in order after yesterday´s adventure, which included paddling accross the lake in waves bigger than I usually kayak in on the Pacific to get to a small town on the other side. It was glorious for me, but unfortuatley we got split up a bit and some of the others did not enjoy the experience 

as much. I had the very important job of keeping the cameras dry (what idiot brings their camera on a trip like that? Oh, me, and the lady who capsized... glad I took her bag for her!) so I felt a bit bad about paddling away from everyone. But in the one moment where I got slightly distracted because I thought I saw a shark fin (forgot where I was I guess) a good sized wave came over and filled the boat. Never turn your back on the ocean, or lake in this case. So I paddled fiercely to the shore and helped the others find the way after the cameras were safe and sound, while our guide escorted one kayaker back to town. The instructor in us never sleeps.

I hung my head in shame as the local men loaded our five kayaks into the shuttle boat and we hopped in and rode home like that, 

with boat bows popping out of every window and me gripping onto the one on the roof so we wouldn´t lose it. Gringo move, or what? Too bad I cannot upload that picture. There are many observations I´ve been making about the Americans traveling here, but the one that bothers me a lot is the lack of spacial

 awareness. Every time an American moves, it seems like he or she is bumping into someone, blocking the path, or whacking an old Mayan lady carrying a load on her back with something dangling from their backpack. And they don´t even notice it. We have a lot of space in the US, I guess. Well, cheers to all of your Sundays!

Windows and Doors

There is a weight that lifts when you laugh for the first time in another language. I mean, the laugh itself doesn´t change, or at least that is a level of comfort that I have not yet had the privilege of attaining. But there is a little glimmer of hope when you first hear something funny and manage to make people laugh with you for the first time. The subtleties of the language are hard to describe, and I am sure I would just leave you all shaking your heads if I tried. But one thing is clear: geekiness follows us fluidly through the door that leads out of the terrain of our mother tongue. My joke was grammatical today, but at least they laughed. Perhaps they were laughing at nuances beyond my reach, but I don´t even care. It felt so good to laugh.

The last few days have been incredibly full. The school that I am attending offers many activities outside of the classroom context, so I have taken a salsa lesson, stumbled through an explanation of renewable and non-renewable resources with my limited vocabulary, watched Indiana Jones in Spanish, and learned about the education system in Guatemala. As far as I understood, their system is a lot like ours in its structures. Students attend school for 12 years, receive grades like ours, and have many of the same classes. The fascinating part of the lecture this evening was that the ideology of the educational system neither matches the reality nor serves the people in the way that it should. According to the laws, each child has the right to go to

 school, but not every student can. (Sound familiar?) And the school provides an education that advances the student through each grade, but it does not take into account teaching standards or the needs of the individual student.

Through my questioning of various locals, it seems that the local Mayan language, which is spoken by almost every adult here as the first language, is endangered, so to speak. The children can understand it because it is spoken in the classroom, but not all of them can speak 

it fluently. Many of the Mayan traditions are passed down through this language and are thus in danger of being lost with the language itself. But since Spanish is more effective worldwide, most schools teach with it. The students in this area are therefore combating an additional barrier by speaking one language in the home and being expected to excel in a different language at school. It reminds me of the immigrant children in the United States who are at a similar disadvantage when they learn to speak Spanish in the home but have to learn English in school while also learning all of the topics that each student is taught. If they manage to make it through all of that, I suppose they reach an advantage later in life by being bilingual.

The speaker´s criticism tonight of the Guatemalan school system is that it is too rigid and does not honor the ethnic diversity of a nation that houses four major ethnic groups. In this area, it has always been the tradition to attend school from February to November and then have a 

break during the coffee picking season.... You are catching on? It is crucial for the local economy to have the labor of the students during the harvest, but the national system does not take these kinds of local issues into account. There are also many holidays that are celebrated nationally but that are not relevant to all of the citizens, but the calendar lacks holidays for key 

Mayan holidays. Certainly there are a lot of common concerns in our own country. Of course, this information is all what I have come to understand with my broken Spanish, so take it with a grain of salt. I will keep asking questions and finding new sources of information to paint a balanced picture. For now, it is fascinating to look through this lens. The school offers the opportunity to volunteer with local children to enhance the effective outcome of the educational system, so I may participate in that when I can communicate a bit more.

Be sure and laugh a few times today. It is easy to forget how important it is. Here´s a little help for those of you who know how to count to five in Spanish: What do you call four bullfighters in quicksand? (Scroll down for the answer.)







Cuatro Cinco... Get it cuatro ´sink-o´? He he. Some of you can guess who told me that one!