¡Aqui Estoy!

Dia Uno

Amazing how things change going from Minneapolis --> Atlanta --> Guatemala. What a beautiful, diverse world we live in.

My last flight was entirely in Spanish and I sat beside two Guatemalans - I asked, “esposa, esposo?” and they laughed and replied, no no amigos!!! We were able to get through that this was my first trip to Guatemala (el primero viaje) and that I spoke pocito espanol. We talked about how long the flights for me were (dose horas (twelve hours) – ohhh! Muy cansado!) And that they lived in Guate, but were visiting family in Boston. After landing, even before I left the airport more than four people welcomed me to Guatemala. Tremendous vibes.

I met Jim upon arrival and sat up front while our driver drove us through the beautiful city. He told me in 1996, the year the war ended, bodies would be lying on the street and the city has come a long way since then, yet still has a long way to go. As promised, we spoke only espanol in the car, which resulted in a lot of, “Despacio, despacio!” from me (slow, slow) and we laughed a lot. I met the employees of the Casa Xelaju (the school) where we were staying and had a shower in an electric shower that is fit for a 5'5” person and was told repeatedly two things – do NOT touch the showerhead and do NOT put any toilet paper in el inodoro (toilet). In true Tamara fashion, I had a near-touch experience with the showerhead (let's be honest - I am definitely not 5'5” and crouching for 10 minutes causes a person to want to stand) and I had to fish out by hand the paper that I threw into the toilet. Score.

But, here's the thing, I'm so graciously lucky to be on another great adventure in a strange new land. I almost can't believe I'm back to this beautiful cultural experience so quickly, I feel like I only just left the land of tuk tuks and horns to find myself going to sleep to the sounds of dogs barking and sirens blaring.

Dia Dos

After a deliciosa breakfast of mangos, bananas and oranges, we were off on a four hour bus ride to Xela (the shortened form of Quetzaltenango (ketz-alt-eh-nango) – where my Spanish teacher is from). Guatemala City was one thing...a beautiful, colourful, vibrant city alive with motorists, people and smog. But once you get out of the city and into the Guatemalan countryside, things begin to change. There is lush countryside everywhere, planted with vegetables of all kinds; corn, tomatoes, potatoes (Did you know: the potato was invented in Guatemala, no joke), peas, beans and greenhouses full of herbs and flowers. Nearly everywhere you look there is lush greenery, open fields, valleys stretching on forever and high mountains in the distance. The buses are full of people who will get on for 10 minutes, make a sales pitch and try to sell you anything ranging from coca cola, to frusi treats, to eucalyptus for any ailment. No one speaks English. Along the way Jim and I were able to chat about times past for him here, how everything is changing. There is so much construction from his time here (he studied 8 years ago and has only returned to El Salvador since) that he didn't recognize certain stretches of the highways. He told me of a tragic story when, during the Guatemalan war, he knew the Human Rights Officer of the Kaqchiquel Presbertery: Manuel Saqic. Manuel was working for justice, yet as he continued to dig into stories of the “Disappeared” (those that were seized by the government and never found again) one day he found himself being kidnapped shortly after eating breakfast. His body was found four days later, in a corn field. He had been hung by his toes and “poked” to death with a sword. They figure it took him a full day to die, slowly and painfully. Manuel was indigenous and it is/was a capital offence for an indigenous person to question the military or the government. As Jim was relatively expendable – meaning the Guatemalans couldn't really touch him, one year later, Jim was asked to do the sermon at his memorial. We also learned this weekend of a story involving two students who ate radishes out of a garden that wasn't theirs, and the town surrounded them and lit them on fire. It is such a strange thing, being so close to all of this death and rebellion. It was less than 10 years ago; however, it feels untouchable. I will see many more of these stories as the days continue and we get to know more people. I'm trying to be open to the sorrow and pain, knowing that without that, we cannot feel the joy and hope on the horizon. To lighten things up a bit, there were quite a few mothers with their babies who got on board the bus during the trip and, after one was crying for what seemed like 10 minutes, Jim merely said, “He's crying because he just found out about the political system here.” I laughed for about a half hour.

This picture doesn't do it justice as it was out the bus
window...muy muy bonito.

A la greenhouses

We arrived right to our host familia's house. They are a beautiful couple, Edelmira y Romeo. They have quatros hijos y una hija (four sons and one daughter). Most married and out of the house. There are three rooms in the back, with our own entrance, a plethora of flowers and two parrots. Who speak more spanish than me right now likely. Arturio y Lorenzo. The bathroom is outside and there are bugs and birds everywhere, of course, but it's more than comfortable. This is home for two weeks.

Arturio & Lorenzo

After exchanging the pleasantries that I could manage – where are you from, are you married (one letter separates I am married from I am tired; casado or cansado, so I have to be careful there), and what is your family like – we sat down to a delicisia dish of chicken (pollo), rice (arroz), bread (pan), corn (mais) and the hottest peppers you'll ever find. Much more than jalopenos. They are tiny and named Chiltepe. I found out pretty quick they weren't actually for eating alone, more so to play a joke on the unassuming blonde foreigner who can barely speak Espanol. After downing about two glasses of fresh lemonade, I was able to laugh at the joke too. I think my new nickname almost became Chiltepe. Our other roommate, Esparanza (Hope in Spanish, Holly in the U.S.) came home from school to join us, and Jim & her launched into a short theological discussion in Spanish that felt like hours. I have so much to learn. I don't know for sure if I've ever been quiet at a dinner table for more than 5 minutes at a time, ever. So, the lessons are already starting! Patience Tamara. My thoughts are if you think that you're doing pretty good in life, you think you're pretty cool – head to a foreign country where they don't do English and see how you feel then! The good news is that I can pick up half of what they are saying. The bad news is that my right brain hasn't kicked in so when I go to reply, it comes out half French, half Italian or half massacred Spanish. Si.

Anyways, we then walked to the school where we'll be studying, past a beautiful cemetery on what is about a 20 minute walk. Mountains in all directions (I could get used to this). We met many of the students who seemed wonderful and also wonderfully advanced in their Spanish (really?) No other Canadians. And then I discovered we actually have individual teachers. I have a one-on-one Spanish teacher for the next two weeks. If that can't get me somewhere, nothing can!

El cemetario on the way to school.

We spent a beautiful, 27 degree afternoon in the park (yes, Central America decided to pick up the weather a notch), drank sweet corn tea, wandered markets and I purchased a book (surprise). On politics. In Spanish. Jim seems adamant that it will help me learn. I question him at this point, but creo (I believe) in his faith.

After returning to our rooms to rest, I received another gratuitous experience. I made homemade, hand rolled tortillas with Edilmera while the men watched TV in la sala with Latin music playing lively in the background. I watched, and then rolled tortilla after tortilla on her wood-burning cocina and watched as she fried bananas to serve with a delicious pureed friolle sauce (bean sauce). Topped with scrambled eggs and chille tempe (a hot salsa like sauce with onions, cilantro, tomatoes, etc.) this is the “grandfather” typical dish of Guatemalans. What a dish it was. Since the Chiltepe peppers were used in this sauce and I had yet another tears-to-my-eyes experience, I think it's fitting that my new nickname is just that. Chiltepe.

Whimsical doors of
Quetzaltenango

Gracious Latin Americans, so friendly

The shoe-shine man was 78, with
no hope of ever retiring.
We couldn't talk, but we shared a
dozen smiles.

Edelmira making tomalitos

y tortillas

Chile tempe - so delicious

The "Abuelo" dish of Guatemala

And this weekend? Muy contento. I spent most of my time with Jim and Esparanza, who both love to discuss great reads and music and different philosophies on life. We wandered the streets of the market, bargaining for cozy purses and scarves, buying enormous avocados and mangos and raw cacao. We enjoyed much time relaxing and Esparanza was able to share many of her notes from class this past week. It feels so nice to laugh and discuss the logistics of learning this beautiful language with someone. I was fortunate to be able to witness first-hand the making of tomatillo's (con queso, the most amazing homemade meal yet) by our host mama and to create first-hand a delicious chocolate pudding from the raw cacao we bought. I will be bringing much cacao home to make it for my family. Finally, after watching a beautiful Catholic procession in the streets today, we went up to the top of the foothills today and took in the beauty and majesty of the entire city.

These days of wandering the streets, shouts of buenos tardes and muchas gracias, siestas and nights of thunder roaring and fog swirling around the mountaintops is just what i needed to relax and settle right into this whimsical town of Quetzaltenango.

Parque de Central 

Esparanza y Rovin looking over Xela

Cacao + grinder = chocolate pudding

Pastille por Rovin's feche

And to end our weekend, a thunderstorm. As I write this in my small room, I can hear the heavens roaring above and unleashing. It's a beautiful, cozy sound and I am oh so very tired. But, if I'm cozy already, things are going to be okay. I now understand how absolutemente vital it is that I'm learning as much Spanish as I can if I want to communicate with any of the indigenous here and handle any development project. So, this week, estudiando mucho espanol. This is home. Two weeks. Go.