My favorite Guatemalan celebration: CARNAVAL!


What is Carnaval? Basically it’s Fat Tuesday, but way more crazythan anything you see on channel 5 reporting live from New Orleans. It is always the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday and it is ridiculous. The idea is that kids act like little devils because when Lent starts there’s no more fun.

 In Guatemala the celebration is mostly in the schools (lucky for me) and revolves around eggs. Yup, that’s right, eggs. Back in the day one would crack eggs on the heads of their friends and enemies (this is still done in some schools). Now kids save egg shells, once they’re dried they fill them with confetti and use tissue paper to close them. The final touch is some paint. The final product?A cascaron, to be broken on the head of friend or foe. (read: confetti in your hair!)


The confetti here is called ‘pica-pica’ and it’s beautiful. Imagine little polkadots of every imaginable color. You can also mix in some glitter (which is EVIL, it’s really hard to get glitter out of your hair). So kids come armed to school with around a dozen cascarones and at least a pound of pica-pica in a bag. And the war begins.


400 kids in the school patio having a confetti war. I told you that it’s the best holiday EVER!


So, after being sneak attacked all day (I’m kind of tall so it makes for a good challenge to crack the cascaron on my head), I was ready for some payback. My two host brothers had attacked earlier and I told them to watch their backs as I retreated into my house. So, I went to the market and picked myself up TWO dozen cascarones and a pound of pica-pica (it was on sale at this point). Then I called for reinforcements.


Rene is an expert, I mean, he’s got years of carnaval up his sleeve. We had ammunition and just needed a strategy. Our strategy: we’re a lot bigger than them plus they are super ticklish. Result: BAD. Those kids are good.


In the end:

Last year this great organization called A Drink for Tomorrow funded a water project at one of my schools in the community of Santa Maria de Jesus, Zunil.  This year they asked me to film some footage for a video.  I did my best (should have taken some film classes in college), and then shipped it off to the wonderful people at A Drink for Tomorrow...

Check it out:

I saw it and I knew that it was meant for me. I knew it in a way that only a lifetime thrift store shopper knows. Our stars had aligned, our destinies crossed paths in an irreversible collision. I was going to take that down comforter and duvet home with me.


I know what you’re thinking. Sam, you’re ridiculous. I know. This is what happens when you've lived in Guatemala for a while (you go CRAZY haha). The past two years I’ve had the mentality of living with less. And it’s been good. But sometimes living with less doesn’t have a point. Living with less with intention has a point (donating the money you would spend on stupid stuff).  But selfpenance is really just self indulgence.  For example: I have been using two woolen blankets for the past four months to keep me warm. I HATE these blankets I hate them with the same passion as I hate watching sports or god forbid, meat (over exaggerationdingdingding). They are ugly and hold on to dog hair with every fiber of thei rbeing (get it?! haha). They are impossible to clean well. But they kept me warm at night. As my dad would say,"Sambo, if it ain’tbroken, don’t fix it (and if it is broken, just use duct tape)."

This was a silly philosophy. I’m not talking about buying a refrigerator or a car, I’m talking about a new comforter. A used comforter nonetheless. And I was feeling guilty, because when push came to shove, I really didn’t NEED a new comforter. I was fine with the woolen mess. But I knew that the duvet at my favorite thrift store (called pacas here) was there for me.

And so I slept on it. Not the comforter, but the idea about buying the used comforter. It was a good idea to think it over. We are so quick to buy things without really assessing their utility and our needs. But the next day I woke up with a prance in my step, I would not wake up under the woolen mess ever again.

At the paca store: Got the price down to Q150. That is just under $20. For a queen sized down comforter and a duvet cover. Score.

In the streets of Xela: Me carrying said huge down comforter and taking up the whole sidewalk (OUT OF MY WAY, FATTIE COMING THROUGH).

At the Laundromat: How fast can you wash this huge down comforter? Four hours. What? Are you going to dry it with a hair blow dryer?

Four hours later in the streets of Xela: I might need a couple of trash bags to carry the thing home…

Tienda (store): You got any trash bags? Is that a fixed price?

Laundromat (again): So the down comforter isn’t quite dry, we’ll take Q10 off the price.

In the streets of Xela: OUT OF MY WAY (visual: Sam carrying a huge purse plus two full ginormous trash bags filled with wet bedding)

Getting on the bus: Mr. Ayudante (bus helper) please take care of my bags in the back of the bus…

Getting off the bus in Almolonga: Seño Samanta what’s in the bags? Hey guapa, whatcha got in the bags? Where you taking those bags? Samanta, what’s with the bags? (I kid you not, everyone was so interested in what I had in the bags)…

My boss in Almolonga: Samanta, what’s in the bags?

Women who sell me lunch: Samanta, what’s in the bags?

Bus to Zunil: Mr. Ayudante, did you just throw my bags onto the highway when it’s not my stop?

Zunil: Take the wet comforter out of the trash bag and hang to finish drying.

Zunil (an hour later): Dry you stupid comforter!!!!! (I lose it sometimes; I talk to myself or yell if I’m mad)

Zunil (three hours later): It’s dry enough I guess.

Zunil (at dusk): ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

injustice

This weekend I was feeling a little under the weather.  Basically I wanted and needed to recharge.  So what does this Peace Corps volunteer do in the mountains of Guatemala?  She watched about 3 hours worth of TED talks (society and culture).  It is intense, because each talk points out something that we are doing or letting be done that needs to change.  Sometimes these things are internal (let's talk about vulnerablility) or societal (doctors make mistakes) or cultural (atheism needs to adapt).  The themes really are fascinating. 

But this talk by Bryan Stevenson blew me away.  He is without doubt the most articulate, intelligent, and compassionate human being I have ever seen.  Be a decent human being and hear what he's got to say...

 Happy 2013!

I love to celebrate New Year’s; it’s a time for reflection, for moving forward.  It’s also the culmination of a week of celebrations (Christmas, my birthday, and New Year’s).  And now that I’m getting older, these days mean something more.  They mean my life is getting shorter…

But they also mean that my perspective changes drastically.  Each year, I’ve changed with the world around me.  We learn new recipes, walk new trails in the woods, meet new people, follow new blogs, watch new tv series. We make mistakes, both professional and personal.  And all of these things, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant, they change us.  And that’s why I like New Year’s.  That day lets me remember what I was like one year ago, and thank God that I’m not the same person anymore.

Now, on a Guatemalan note, these days of fiestas are beyond fun.  Like in the U.S., most pass them rather inebriated.  The fun part? They burn things, firecrackers, fireworks, sparklers and all sorts of little burnable things that we don’t even have words for in English due to their illegal nature (it is a coming of age things for boys, they start around age 5). 

I was really worried about celebrating the holidays away from home, it was a big first for me.  And it was sad, because although you might think that a girl who up and abandons her family has no conscience, it is not the case.  Being away from my family hurt.  And it made me appreciate them more.  

Christmas:

My image of what Christmas should be like, is very small.  For example, snow and sweaters and gifts and candles and trees and stockings and Nat King Cole.  This year the gifts I received, were food.  Is that not crazy?  Paches (the traditional food).  AND I did not buy a single Christmas gift!  Parents usually take their kids into town to buy gifts together (but it’s normally clothes or something the kids will need).  Adults to adults, no gift giving.  So while a part of me missed opening presents, a bigger part of me thinks it’s great to eat a lot of food and set things on fire. 

First off, Christmas in Guatemala is December 24.  On ‘real’ Christmas everyone is hung over and tired.  But leading up to Christmas there are ‘posadas’.  The ‘posada’ is a reenactment of Mary and Joseph (Jose and Maria) looking for a place to stay.  There are statues of both Jose and Maria that people carry from one house to another house.  Arriving at the new house the people sing a song of Jose to the owners of the house, in the end the owners let the statues and accompanying people enter and everyone drinks hot fruit punch and the church choir keeps singing.  The following night the ‘posada’ moves to a new house (this goes on from Dec. 10-24).

On the 24^th I ate dinner with Cruz and her fam and then we went to mass at 8.  Everyone brings the baby Jesus’ from their nativity scene to mass for the priest to sprinkle holy water on them.  By 10:30 mass was over and we headed home to wait for midnight (I chose to take a nap in this time, haha).  At 12 the whole town starts lighting their fireworks, and let me tell you that it’s crazy.  Way bigger than any firework show finale I’ve ever seen in my life.  By 12:15 it’s all over and the kids and their parents go to sleep and the teenagers keep drinking. 

It was lovely and low-key, and cold.

My Birthday:

I went on a trip.  To the beach. 

No need to be jealous, you too can enjoy the black beaches of Guatemala.  GET A PLANE TICKET! 

Some pics to insure that you get that plane ticket:

Happy Birthday

Oh no, a wave!

Oh, well...

Sea turtles making their way to the ocean!

5am morning boat tour!  Beautiful sunrise and birds!

Baby turtle!

And now here we are 15 days into the New Year.  Hope it’s everything you wanted it to be because in a quick second it’ll be 2014…

When vacation started this year in October, I wanted to try starting a girl’s group in a community called La Calera. La Calera is tiny with a thermoelectric plant and a little school, and I had a feeling that the girls there would be stuck at home every day when school let out. The idea was simple: meet twice a week in the afternoons and hang out. I kid you not, that was what I had in mind. Turns out we did lots of fun stuff (English classes, played TONS of basketball, made earrings ect.) It was a fantastic experience, these girls mostly speak K’iche’ and are very timid towards people from outside (aren’t we all?). Even though they already knew me from school it took time for them to really trust and include me. And that was a beautiful process.


This week we had an end of the year party! The GAD Committee (Gender and Development) of Peace Corps gave me funds (I love you guys!) to buy the materials. The main activity: decorate planting pots! Each girl painted her pot and then used marker to write her name on her pot. Then each girl had to write a complement on every pot. In the end we each had a pot with 13 complements on it. Ummm, precious? Why yes, yes it was!

When I explained the activity the girls said that they didn’t understand. Turns out those smarty pants just didn’t want to do it, but I insisted. I told the girls that the complements had to be about the girls’ character not her outward appearance. My pot is now one of my most prized processions. We then planted Dalia seeds and played basketball and ate delicious cake!

On the way out the door the girls told me that they want to continue next year: SCORE!

Now, where did we leave off?  Oh, that’s right, a 30 foot pine tree laying on the floor in my house…

Gotta love a guy with a machete

What a good looking tree!?

Does that branch look right?

The puppies!

Final product!

Popcorn!

Eggshell santas!

You bought a wreath? Well, that´s lame

Wreaths for the whole family!

Merry Christmas!

It’s Christmastime!  Things aren’t quite the same here as in the US, no trees, no cookies, but instead there’s hot home-made fruit punch and twinkling Christmas lights that play music.  Here in Zunil people don’t ‘do gifts’, which I find kind of nice.  They’ll instead buy their children any clothing articles that they need, but no wrapping or anything like that.  It’s kind of refreshing but also sad, nothing like some fun knickknacks (and candy) in the old stocking.

I was a little depressed about not having a Christmas tree, some traditions die-hard, and I mentioned it to Rene.  There are some perks about dating a forest man!  Last Friday he and his minions (who look after the municipal forests) and I went to a pine tree estate and cut 16 down for the municipality and one for you know who.  I think that pictures tell the story better than words, enjoy!

Road up the mountain

Snacktime!

The trees were legal

studs! (and 16 trees)

love this picture!

the tree in my house...

view from where we cut the tree

there she is!  30 footer

No fancy machine to tie her up

happy! (and cold)

tree graveyard

these  dudes wanted their picture taken

oversized load?  and that´s only half the trees

we almost didn´t make it!

Coming up next- How to fit a 30 foot tree in a house with 12 foot ceilings?!

‘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!