‘These two lives I lead.  I hope that one day they lead to each other.’ –sb 12.11.12

Yesterday I wrote that in my journal.  It’s harder than it seems living here.  I love it.  In the same way I loved DC.  In the way that you love the life you build for yourself.

I love that the rooster in the dirt patio is still crowing.  At 11 am.

I love that my dog is cuddled up on my bed.  I love the early morning walks we take everyday.

I love my host brothers.  With their disheveled hair and makeshift soccer games.

I love what I do. 

But I hate thinking about what I gave up in order to have that.  The other life.  The one that has my family in it.  The one that understands me.

And when those lives merge, or at least interact for a bit, it really messes with me.  I get confused.  I wonder about what I want.  I wonder if what I want is what I really want.  I wonder if I made a huge mistake.  I wonder if it’s the first time I didn’t make a mistake.

So that’s where I am now.  ‘Somewhere in between’.  Modern vernacular: I’m in a funk.

Besides that, reentry has been busy.  I want to tell you about my host sister-in-law.  Her name is Cruz.  And she is fantastic.  She’s forty, wears traje, and has four sons.  That is, until last year.  As the story goes she and her second oldest went to the mountains to cut firewood.  When they were coming down the mountain she checked her phone and had about 10 missed calls from her husband, Juan.  Of course, she freaked out thinking that something had happened at the house or with her other sons.  When she called him, he said that all was fine but wanted to know when she’d be home.  Half an hour later she’s home and my host mom had cooked lunch, strange, thought Cruz.  Everyone kept saying that nothing was wrong, but she didn’t believe them, they were all acting strange. She called her oldest son over to her and was asking him what was going on (thinking that he had eloped while she was up in the mountain).  He sat by her and kept reassuring her that he was in fact not married.  Thank god, she said.  No one would tell her what was up, so she went to bathe in the baths of Zunil.  When she came back, the whole family was there and drinking hot chocolate (let me explain: hot chocolate is only for special occasions, like birthdays).  Now she was really peeved and demanded the truth. 

That was when Juan asked her if she would like another child.  She laughed and made a joke about her age and said that she was done.  She was done with washing all the baby clothes.  Done getting up in the middle of the night.  She was done.  So no, she would not like another child.  And then he made her an offer.

As it turns out, someone who knew Juan (and knew that he had four sons) thought that maybe their family would adopt a week old baby girl from Zunil.  So my host mom goes into another room and pulls out the most precious 8 day old baby and puts her in Cruz’s arms.  The deal was done, Cruz agreed to keep her.  And last Sunday we celebrated Maria Celeste’s first birthday!

Maria with her cakes!

My host mom (Laura) and I singing ¨happy birthday¨

It´s like a wedding, the birthday girl gets her face pushed into the cake

Cruz and Maria

Piñata time!  

Piñata is going DOWN!  

So there's someone I would like you to meet!  This is super cheesy and frankly it's really weird but hey, its been six months and I thought you might like to see the boy in my life that inevitably pops up in conversation...

 This is René.  He's pretty awesome, and I'll tell you why. 

He likes trees.  A. Lot.

He also likes mayonnaise. On just about everything.

He plays the piano. And the trumpet.  And the bass guitar.

He doesn't know how to be angry.

He always has a baseball hat handy.

He is extremely generous.  Even when he shouldn't be.

He has a pet turtle named Manito.

He doesn't like pictures.  

He never gets sick. Except when he eats raw onion.

He has two pairs of pointy cowboy boots.  

When he cleans his house, he cleans everything.  And I mean, everything.

He's really good with computers.  They listen to him.

 Manito!

René is a 'forestal', which means he works in the mayor's office mapping and turning in projects to create and keep protected areas (forests) here in Zunil.  He's not from Zunil, and so his life is incredibly like that of a Peace Corps volunteer.  We met doing a eco wall project in one of my schools.  And bam.  

He's an incredible artist... Painted this for me on a Sunday afternoon

Alright, now that you've been introduced no need for awkward questions face to face, okay? haha

I have been a horrible blogger this month.  The good news is it's because I've been busy!

I had the opportunity to host a group of Returned Peace Corps Volunteers in my site!  They came to Guatemala with the National Peace Corps Association and an organization called Discover Corps.  It was an incredible experience to hear their stories (most were volunteers in the 60s and 70s and served in different countries all over the world).  Together we completed a World Map Mural at one of my schools...  Here are some pictures:

Painting!

Some things about Peace Corps never change!

The wall is painted and the map is drawn in pencil

The finished product (labeled!)

Talking with a RPCV who served in Nigeria!

Assigning kids country colors

Credit for the photos to Erica of the National Peace Corps Association
See here for more pics

More posts to come this week!  

the beach.

a while back, i needed to get away.  this happens to me a lot (in peace corps and in life).  you feel it coming, the way you feel a cold about to attack (that tickle in the back of the throat) or the way you feel a rain storm hounding at the door (the certain heaviness in the air).  it feels like tiredness.  like a match burning down to the last bit of wood.  and it happens just about every two months on the dot.

you see, we all get caught up in our lives.  op, i've got a wedding this weekend and need to do laundry and i promised so and so that we'd get a coffee.  it's the same here (except it's more like, 'i promised so and so that we'd fly kites or have an enchilada and talk about the crops').  and i wait.  and wait.  until it becomes absolutely necessary to take a weekend or a saturday and GET OUT!  haha...

so a month ago rene and i took a day trip to the beach.  now, this was not a resort, crystal water, pina colada in hand, beach chair kind of beach.  but no matter, we hopped on some buses and in three hours were splashing in the waves...  the most scary, horrifying waves (seriously strong undertow).  but, it was beautiful and warm and there was something healing about the salty water drying sticky on my skin and the sand that i was finding in my hair days after we'd returned.

and it was just what i needed. 

take a break. 

you work too hard. 

Life has its ways of keeping us in check.  Its going well, great even and then crack.  It all breaks.  Òr we break it.

That is a complete exaggeration.  My life did not break.  But let`s just say, I got caught in the crossfire of an unhealthy relationship and it hurts to watch someone you love turns against you.  Long story short, it was a hellish week but everything happens for a reason.  So now I am officially moved out and living at the house of a teacher I work with and her family.  I have the first floor all to myself (besides pia of course)!   

Here are some pics of life in Zunil!

Independence Day Parade, Zunil (can you spot me?)

The new place!!!

My inspiration center...

My very own kitchen!!!!

Where I work! haha

The boyfriend is in a band (marching band, that is)

You know, just wearing traje, talking on the cell, in the muni... typical peace corps

church, mountains, flag.  GUATEMALA!

My host niece, she's not walking yet, but the girl knows how to wear traje!!!

TORTILLAS!! 

During my visit with Sam’s host family, I had the privilege of watching Dona Maria making tortillas from start to finish. It’s somewhat involved, but she makes it look so easy. For some reason, I find this process very intriguing. Maybe it’s all the different textures and gradients of yellow involved or the working with your hands to make something from scratch. Or maybe it's the fact that this is almost straight-up corn and water. Or maybe it’s that they have some hidden addictive quality that turns ‘I-kind-of-like-tortillas’ people into ‘I-have-to-eat-them-everyday’ people. I have never liked tortillas all that much, but even I was under the tortilla spell.

1. grinding (cooked) corn kernals at the

molina. where do you find a molina? on every block in almolonga.

 2. the ground corn is a doughy texture…then carried back to the house in a bowl (on your head of course)

3.) grinding the dough one more time, but by hand on a special rock to get the dough to just the right texture.

5. the corn mixture is ready to roll into balls

 7. this part is fun to watch. they take each ball of            

corn dough and toss it from hand to hand until it

becomes a perfectly round tortilla. they do it so

fast, it looks like they are clapping ferociously.

 8. the final product! cooked over the stove.

So I have this amazing friend named Christina.  We met in the girls bathroom at Solon High back in the day and turns out she came to guatemala for a while and we had all sorts of adventures.  Life isn't the same without her here... But here's what she's got to say:

BLOG #1: Weeding is sacred

“Do your knees hurt, Dona Maria?”

She looks down at her knees. “No.”

“Not even a little?”

“No, not even a little.” She laughs.

We are weeding in her garden, and the backs of my thighs are permanently glued to my calves; my knees are begging to be straightened. But she's been sitting like this since she was a small child, so she's quite accustomed to this position. 

We are talking to the weeds as we rip them out of the soil. “No tenga miedo...te voy a encontrar...y te voy a matar". Don't be afraid...I will find you...and I will kill you. My first sarcastic joke in Spanish, I’m feelin good.

My attempt at joke number two didn’t quite go as planned. I said, "Dona Maria, did God really have to make weeds?" 

I was completely thrown off by her response. “If we had no weeds we would have no work.” 

Her words hung in the air for a few seconds before my mind could really grab hold of them. It was such a simple statement, but something about it struck me from a new angle. And I still can’t put my finger on the reason it was so poignant…if it was the statement itself or her lack of hesitation. 

If what was so profound was the nature of the statement itself, then I suppose what struck me was how representative it is of the work ethic of Almolongan women. Work, in and of itself, seems to be so highly valued. Regardless of the extent to which it fulfills all passions, solves all world problems, or subscribes to the latest career trends—simply the act of working is significant, is good for us, is sacred. And to so strongly value this naked concept of work, I think, fosters such a unique and powerful work ethic that is evident throughout the community.

Weeding is sacred. 

Now, if the profundity of her response was not in the essence of her words, it’s quite possible that what struck me was the confidence and lack of hesitation in her voice. The sureness. This woman is filled to her 4'8" brim with a lifetime of experience that adds immeasurable depth to the simplest of statements. And credibility I suppose.

How can people who have seen so much, endured burdens so heavy…how can these people have such sureness about life and how it's supposed to be? Such inner strength. Is it a coping mechanism to carry on…or is it more than that…I mean, it seems as though my new Almolongan friends each have an extra organ in their chest pumping raw strength through their veins. Where can I get one of these? I could use some extra mental/emotional/spiritual endurance…not to mention some extra blood flow in my knees.

i'm a worrier.  i worry about the future.  about what i should eat for lunch.  about how often i should bathe my dog.  about whether or not it's good to floss.

but being a worrier isn't all bad.  worrying lead me to planning.  type 'a' pyschopath list making.  umbrella carrying, hand gel using, 'let me see if i can pencil you in'.  i'm that girl.  obnoxious?  well, yes.  but at least you'll know who to ask for nail clippers on a chicken bus bouncing through some mountainside of guatemala.

two weeks ago i had a worrier's nightmare.  my three bestfriends came to guatemala.  let me clarify:  there was nothing more magical than the idea of my ladies here.  but let me clarify: guatemala is hard to predict.  enter: worry.  but i've got my handy remedy, mr. plan-the-heck-out-of-the-trip itinerary.

and so, here we were.  waltzing around guatemala together.  reaquainting eachother with the small details that make our lives ours.  hearing about little drama, attractive men, endless work, growing family, and watching our dreams float around us...

there comes a time when you start to appreciate what you have.  why is that?  and it has taken me a while to see how special it is to grow up and grow old with three women who inspire me in such distinct ways.  who keep me in check.  who teach me how to give more of myself.  who know, just as well as i do, that no matter how far away we live or how different we become,

we are four pieces

and one heart.

Sixth grade girls at school- Calera, Zunil (my bball buddies! p.s. we play barefoot)

The teachers have an event to pick the queen of the school  district

Fantasy costume

Each school cheered for their candidate (this was no joke...)

Kids brushing their teeth- Xeul, Almolonga

just thought i'd share...hope you like

 Zunil

 Zunil

 Almolonga

Lake Atitlan

My wonderful Aunt Leslie came to visit in February and we had a blast waltzing around Guatemala!  It was so special for me to be able to share this place and the people that have become a part of who I am... Thanks Aunt Leslie, you made all the difference!


A visit to Guatemala, to Xela, Almolonga, and Zunil, the “lake” and Antigua.  Magical places.  Amazing sights, sounds, experiences.  But nothing topped seeing Samantha, and seeing her in the setting that has become so precious to her.  A beautiful young woman in a special place.  Learning much, much to learn.  Strong opinions being chiseled and formed by opportunities far beyond what most of us will ever experience.  I can’t wait to see what the future holds for this niece of mine.

Public health was my profession, and seeing Samantha embrace and teach some of the most basic messages of public health was a delight.  To see her in the classroom, all eyes glued to her, certainly because of the enthusiasm she brought to the room; perhaps helped by the long blond hair and light complexion rarely seen in that part of the world, was a hoot!

To see her interact with friends and acquaintances, to hear her language skills praised by local professionals, to see her struggle with the loneliness that comes with the separation from family and long-familiar friends, to see how she deals with it all; that was a big part of the joy of visiting.

For me, it was a second visit to Guatemala, the first being about 40 years ago; a time when young women could travel safely anywhere in the country.  To see/hear of the dangers now to tourists (and Peace Corps volunteers) is so sad, especially since much of it is likely related to drug trafficking to the U.S.  To see how little has changed in the lives of the people of southwestern Guatemala, to see what seemed to be very limited teaching going on in the rural schools I visited, to see only the very basic level of water and sanitation available to the people, to see the seemingly limited impact of the Church in the lives of the people, was sad.  To see the resilience and graciousness of these amazing people, the fruits (mostly vegetables!) of their hard work, the curiosity and playfulness of the children, the beauty of their traditional textiles, the spectacular beauty of the countryside, all this was amazing.

Kudos to Samantha, and all young people who, in giving two years and working hard for others through organizations like the Peace Corps, gain so much themselves.  Sam, you will never be the same!