Wow, thank God for the revision process. After school today I wrote the angriest blog ever. I knew it was pretty ugly, so I decided to save it rather than post it. I´m glad I did that, or some of you might have been disappointed to find out that I´m not always the happy-go-lucky person you think I am...lol
The last few days, in general, have been frustrating. Not just with school, but with life here in general. Spending just a few weeks forces you to go through the stages of culture shock at a very rapid pace. The honeymoon period has definitely ended...now I´m pretty regularly finding things that annoy me, and annoy me they certainly do.
I thought this past weekend would make things better, you know, take a trip to Antigua and see a ¨UNESCO World Heritage Site.¨ Take it all in and bask in its glory, but no, it was crap. Well, I guess that´s a bit of an exaggeration...it wasn´t terrible, but it was certainly disappointing. Although beautiful, it was completely overrun with tourists and was incredibly tacky. Street performers. Gringos EVERYWHERE. Overpriced food, drinks, hotels, etc. The list goes on. On the flipside, Antigua really is a beautiful place. Right next to the city lies the ¨Volcan de Agua,¨a massive volcano that completely dominates the landscape. Not to mention the beautiful mountains, valleys, and stunning architecture. Antigua definitely has some things going for it!
When I got there, I immediately signed myself up for a trip to the recently erupted Pacaya Volcano...come to find out that ¨private bus¨meant nothing more than a shitty microbus with hellishly uncomfortable seats and an asshole driver that couldn´t seem to grasp the concept of braking smoothly. Also, come to find out that ¨private guide¨ means nothing more than a mute 14-year-old local boy. Oh, and we can´t forget that ¨short trip¨ and ¨small amount of walking¨means a two-hour drive each way and a one-mile walk to see the lava beds that certainly did not live up to their descriptions. On the way back down, it started raining torrentially, soaking everyone and everything. Did I mention that I was wearing shorts and the one pair of shoes and socks that I brought? Yeah, going sockless in wet shoes for the rest of the day/night...good times. The only redeeming part of that trip was the incredible 12-ounce filet mignon and cuba libres. That TOTALLY redeemed the trip (think ¨Dumb & Dumber¨here, and if you don´t ¨get it,¨ I don´t know how we´re friends in the first place...lol).
I went to sleep early and slept like a champ that night. I awoke early the next morning because I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to get home. Lucky for me, there´s no direct route between Xela and Antigua, so on the way back, and after getting dropped off as far as the first bus went, I was stranded in a local town, left to figure out how I was going to get back to Xela. It´s times like that that provide the perfect opportunity for mild panic attacks...not knowing where the hell you are, sticking out like a gangrenous sore thumb, and wondering if you´ll ever be able to find your way home. Luckily, I asked enough people to find my way to the central highway and rode a ¨chicken bus¨all the way back. Now, you´d think I would have been annoyed by the chicken bus (AKA ¨death cruiser¨), but I was actually pretty delighted by driver´s complete disregard for his life and the lives of his passengers. I figured if this was going to be how I died in the end, what a hell of a way to go...careening off of a cliff in a tricked-out school bus, or going head-on with a Mac truck because my driver needed to pass the guy delivering fried chicken on a moped (on a blind curve, uphill, seriously) to save five seconds...hey, I would have died ¨doing what I love,¨right? I grabbed the ¨oh shit¨handles, and braced myself for the four-hour trip. In the end, it was actually a pretty fun ride!
I got back last night, and went to take a shower. Here, since they don´t have gas, they have these little water heaters that attach directly to the shower head. You have to flip the circuit breaker (yeah, while standing in water) to get it to turn on, which is the perfect recipe for more death. I hadn´t had a problem with it in the past, but yesterday had to be the day. Since I apparently turned on the water too far (just beyond a slight sprinkle), it stopped working. So, I tried to reset it. Still didn´t work. Then I tried again. Nothing. Now, Carmen is practically yelling at me about something having to do with the switch. I´m standing there in the shower, thoroughly irritated by the whole situation, with shampoo burning my eyes. I decided then and there that shower time was over and got out. After I opened the bathroom door, in comes Carmen to verbally reprimand me for hitting the switch multiple times. She tells me that I´m doing it wrong and proceeds to do the EXACT same thing I´ve been doing the whole time..the only difference being that it worked for her. She continues ¨teaching me¨ how to use the shower while my anger level continues to rise. At that point, I imagined myself lunging at her, but decided to just walk away. She later confronted me at dinner about me getting mad at her...I just laughed it off. I guess you could say I had my first ¨fight¨with my Guatemalan mom. My real mom knows that this can be a frequent occurrence, and should feel somewhat relieved to know that I do this with everyone :)
I was prepared for today to be a tough day at school, but wasn´t prepared for how truly horrible it ended up being. The things this woman has me doing are often beyond my capability, and she doesn´t seem to understand the concept of things being at the ¨instructional level.¨ What makes this problem worse is the fact that I´m nearly ¨done¨ (verb tenses and grammar). Now I just need lots of ¨practice¨(or so she says). Whenever I try to explain that something is too hard, she replies that it´s not. I love that. SHE tells ME what is too easy or too hard for me. Wow. And in the end, her answer is always that I need to ¨practice more.¨ I´ve been halfway tempted to pull the move I did last summer, which is tell the professor what they are doing is wrong (sorry again for that ugliness Daniel, if you´re reading this...lol) and proceed to tell them what is ¨right.¨ At one point, towards the end of class, I actually told her I needed to leave the room for five minutes to cool down. I was getting seriously pissed. She had me translating this children´s story (I don´t know many ¨children¨who could read it), and I was failing pretty miserably. The problem here was that I had to keep switching the verb tenses back and forth and I was getting super confused. Not to mention the fact that I didn´t know a lot of the vocabulary. I mean seriously, how am I supposed to know how to say ¨scaffold¨in Spanish?! WTF even uses that word in English?! Let´s just say that I now know, and DESPISE Diego Rivera.
Again, I´m reminded of how tough it is to learn a foreign language. Often in class, I think about my own students and how short I can be with them at times. I guess, in a sense, this is karma. It makes me laugh to think of how delighted my own students would be to see me struggle the way I do. It´d definitely bring smiles to their little faces!
In the end, I decided to take today off from the ¨orphanage¨ (which, it turns out, is not a real orphanage...it´s just temporary housing for kids who have been taken from their families). Instead, I decided to do some homework in the hopes that tomorrow is not as terrible. Blogging is a nice distraction because when I´m done here, I get to go home and write a story. Yippee Ki Yay!
Thanks for reading, I feel better now.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
¨Mr. Poo Hands¨
I´ve got a quick 30-minute break, and since I´m getting HAMMERED (not the good kind of hammered that I´m so accustomed to) in my Spanish class, I thought it would be nice to go into English mode and relate a quick story about a little boy I like to call ¨Mr. Poo Hands¨...
So yesterday was my second day at the orphanage, and I´ve got to say, it´s a pretty entertaining place! You just never know what´s going to happen next... Our first day, we spent about an hour playing soccer with about 10-12 kids, and then we were locked (by a padlock) in the boys´dormitory, not knowing what the hell was going on or if we were ever going to be let out. The kids were pretty cool that time, but I still don´t quite understand why this seemingly otherwise upstanding institution chooses to lock up the kids in this depressing dorm for an hour and a half when we could be doing other things. It really creates kind of a prisoner/Romanian orphanage mentality amongst the kids...it´s very distressing. But, that´s the way it goes, and it´s not like in my three weeks here I´m going to embark upon instituting change. So, we just go with the flow.
Well yesterday, I got there and most of the kids were gone. Now, I know my Spanish isn´t the best in the world, but I´m confident in my abilities to ask simple questions like, ¨Where are the rest of the kids?¨ I got three different answers yesterday...at school, swimming, and at church. I could only assume the kids were learning new prayers in a pool. If not, at least that made for a pretty entertaining visual...
So anyway, as is typical, I spent the first hour and a half helping with homework (well, not really because half the time I didn´t know what the kids were even talking about, nor did they seem particularly interested in my two-cents worth), and then the second hour and a half locked up in the dorms with them. When I got to the orphanage, no other volunteers were there, so I knew that I´d be on my own and that it would be a weird afternoon. Fortunately, Wes showed up at the last minute, just in time to get locked up with me. Before I continue, I have to tell you about Wes. He´s a 19-year-old kid from Ontario, Canada. He´s about 6´5¨, has braces and red hair. I finally figured out how to describe him yesterday...picture the bully from ¨A Christmas Story¨all grown up. That´s him. He´s a really cool guy, mellow, and very funny. It was a relief to see him walk in last-minute...you need back-up at this place!
So, after getting locked up, it was the two of us and about six boys. Plus, their teacher, who comes in and out at his pleasure, always making sure to lock the doors with the padlock. It´s very strange. So, it´s mostly just us and the kids. Now, the dorm has a bathroom, but the teacher chooses to lock it up so the kids can´t use it. Why, I don´t know. But what I do know is that when he locks it up, he makes sure to place a plastic jug outside the door that the kids are supposed to use if need be. Yeah, creepy and gross, huh?
One of the kids yesterday, ¨Mr. Poo Hands¨ told the teacher (in one of the brief moments he was in the dorm with us) that he had to go to the bathroom. Now, just to give you a visual, M.P.H. definitely suffers from some sort of affliction...maybe Autism, FAS, or something else fairly serious. Besides enjoying activities such as ¨goosing¨volunteers, licking people, and spitting, he also spends much of his time trying to pull out the few teeth he has left, which is, for me, kind of distressing and bothersome. I keep trying to tell him to leave his teeth alone and that he needs them to chew his food. But for some reason, he pays no attention to my advice...what do I know anyway? So, the teacher asks him if it´s a number one or a number two, and he replies that it´s the latter. Great.
I tell Wes, ¨Be careful when he comes out because I don´t feel comfortable with his wiping abilities, nor do I think he´s washing his hands after.¨ Wes gets this nervous look on his face, and we both wait in anticipation for M.P.H. to return from his ¨activities.¨ After about 10-15 minutes, he emerges and comes towards Wes. Wes is cautious, but when M.P.H. walks past him, Wes lets down his guard. Suddenly, M.P.H. lunges at Wes´s face. Wes immediately jumps up, and at the same time, grabs the child´s chair he´s been sitting on and puts it between him and the kid. It was like Wes was, in that moment, a lion tamer. It had to be one of the funniest things I had ever seen in my life! It wasn´t that M.P.H. had visible crap on his hands...we just knew it had to be there. So, M.P.H. proceeds to chase Wes into the other room, where Wes quickly jumps up on top of probably a seven-foot tall cabinet to get away from the kid. I overhear him asking the kid if he had washed his hands, and the answer was obviously NO. I came in and picked up the kid under his armpits and carry him back to the bathroom. I take the soap and literally wash his hands, along with mine, while singing a little ditty about how washing hands is a fun thing to do and how he should do it all the time.
Once M.P.H. had clean hands again, we all proceeded into the other room and played a dangerously entertaining game of ¨throw little kids long distances onto mattresses on top of bunk beds,¨ which obviously, was fun AND funny. M.P.H., minutes later, finally succeeded in pulling out that tooth, and then bled all over the place. That time, I waited for the teacher to come back in. Blood was not something I was prepared to deal with...
We´ll be off again today and I´m sure there will be more stories to tell. Just you wait...
So yesterday was my second day at the orphanage, and I´ve got to say, it´s a pretty entertaining place! You just never know what´s going to happen next... Our first day, we spent about an hour playing soccer with about 10-12 kids, and then we were locked (by a padlock) in the boys´dormitory, not knowing what the hell was going on or if we were ever going to be let out. The kids were pretty cool that time, but I still don´t quite understand why this seemingly otherwise upstanding institution chooses to lock up the kids in this depressing dorm for an hour and a half when we could be doing other things. It really creates kind of a prisoner/Romanian orphanage mentality amongst the kids...it´s very distressing. But, that´s the way it goes, and it´s not like in my three weeks here I´m going to embark upon instituting change. So, we just go with the flow.
Well yesterday, I got there and most of the kids were gone. Now, I know my Spanish isn´t the best in the world, but I´m confident in my abilities to ask simple questions like, ¨Where are the rest of the kids?¨ I got three different answers yesterday...at school, swimming, and at church. I could only assume the kids were learning new prayers in a pool. If not, at least that made for a pretty entertaining visual...
So anyway, as is typical, I spent the first hour and a half helping with homework (well, not really because half the time I didn´t know what the kids were even talking about, nor did they seem particularly interested in my two-cents worth), and then the second hour and a half locked up in the dorms with them. When I got to the orphanage, no other volunteers were there, so I knew that I´d be on my own and that it would be a weird afternoon. Fortunately, Wes showed up at the last minute, just in time to get locked up with me. Before I continue, I have to tell you about Wes. He´s a 19-year-old kid from Ontario, Canada. He´s about 6´5¨, has braces and red hair. I finally figured out how to describe him yesterday...picture the bully from ¨A Christmas Story¨all grown up. That´s him. He´s a really cool guy, mellow, and very funny. It was a relief to see him walk in last-minute...you need back-up at this place!
So, after getting locked up, it was the two of us and about six boys. Plus, their teacher, who comes in and out at his pleasure, always making sure to lock the doors with the padlock. It´s very strange. So, it´s mostly just us and the kids. Now, the dorm has a bathroom, but the teacher chooses to lock it up so the kids can´t use it. Why, I don´t know. But what I do know is that when he locks it up, he makes sure to place a plastic jug outside the door that the kids are supposed to use if need be. Yeah, creepy and gross, huh?
One of the kids yesterday, ¨Mr. Poo Hands¨ told the teacher (in one of the brief moments he was in the dorm with us) that he had to go to the bathroom. Now, just to give you a visual, M.P.H. definitely suffers from some sort of affliction...maybe Autism, FAS, or something else fairly serious. Besides enjoying activities such as ¨goosing¨volunteers, licking people, and spitting, he also spends much of his time trying to pull out the few teeth he has left, which is, for me, kind of distressing and bothersome. I keep trying to tell him to leave his teeth alone and that he needs them to chew his food. But for some reason, he pays no attention to my advice...what do I know anyway? So, the teacher asks him if it´s a number one or a number two, and he replies that it´s the latter. Great.
I tell Wes, ¨Be careful when he comes out because I don´t feel comfortable with his wiping abilities, nor do I think he´s washing his hands after.¨ Wes gets this nervous look on his face, and we both wait in anticipation for M.P.H. to return from his ¨activities.¨ After about 10-15 minutes, he emerges and comes towards Wes. Wes is cautious, but when M.P.H. walks past him, Wes lets down his guard. Suddenly, M.P.H. lunges at Wes´s face. Wes immediately jumps up, and at the same time, grabs the child´s chair he´s been sitting on and puts it between him and the kid. It was like Wes was, in that moment, a lion tamer. It had to be one of the funniest things I had ever seen in my life! It wasn´t that M.P.H. had visible crap on his hands...we just knew it had to be there. So, M.P.H. proceeds to chase Wes into the other room, where Wes quickly jumps up on top of probably a seven-foot tall cabinet to get away from the kid. I overhear him asking the kid if he had washed his hands, and the answer was obviously NO. I came in and picked up the kid under his armpits and carry him back to the bathroom. I take the soap and literally wash his hands, along with mine, while singing a little ditty about how washing hands is a fun thing to do and how he should do it all the time.
Once M.P.H. had clean hands again, we all proceeded into the other room and played a dangerously entertaining game of ¨throw little kids long distances onto mattresses on top of bunk beds,¨ which obviously, was fun AND funny. M.P.H., minutes later, finally succeeded in pulling out that tooth, and then bled all over the place. That time, I waited for the teacher to come back in. Blood was not something I was prepared to deal with...
We´ll be off again today and I´m sure there will be more stories to tell. Just you wait...
Monday, June 14, 2010
Catchin´ Up
First, I want to thank everyone again for their birthday wishes. You´d be surprised how much it means to me to receive so many messages. God bless Facebook.
Next, a disclaimer. I´m known for being wordy with my blogs, and I´m just telling you right now that this is going to be epic. I need to dump a little bit, so for those of you who are reading this right now, you probably are going to go with one of two options...either close the window right now, or grab a beer and get comfortable...
I just finished my first day of classes, and damn, that´s always a humbling experience. The only sure thing about my studies is that the more time I spend learning the language, the more I realize how much more there is to learn (and subsequently, how little I truly know). However, before launching into Xela and my classes, and for the sake of some sort of coherent organizational pattern, I´ll take it back to my second day in Guatemala City.
I think I left off by saying that I was going to go watch the World Cup match between England and the USA. We did that, and I´ve got to say that watching soccer in a Latin American country is an entirely different experience. Right now, with Paraguay playing Italy, you can hear the TV´s all around you and occasional yelling. Man do they love them some soccer down here!
After leaving the bar, I rested up before the three of us went back out for dinner and some club-action. I won´t bore you with details about dinner, but I will say that the clubs were pretty awesome. We met this dude who kept trying to talk us into going to the strip club, and when he finally realized it wasn´t going to happen (and that he wasn´t going to make any commissions from our going), he resigned himself to just hanging out with us. This dude was like the self-proclaimed mayor of the city...he seemed to know everyone. He got us into a lot of clubs and was a good guy to have around. At the height of the evening, the power went out in the bar. Now, you´d think that bad news for a club, but no, not in Guatemala. Before I knew it, flashlights and candles were everywhere and people were still dancing like nothing had even happened. Realizing it was getting kind of late and that I had an early bus to catch, I took this opportunity to pull my ¨Knight-Houdini¨ move and BOUNCED. Didn´t even say goodbye. I stopped by the liquor store to buy (nope, not booze but good guess)...water. Upon leaving the store, I stepped right onto the slippery sidewalk and my feet came right out from under me and I bit it HARD. Right onto my tailbone. Needless to say, I´ve been in some pain, but nothing too bad. What really got hurt were my feelings...lol
So on to the bus. Throughout the trip, I imagined myself dying a gruesome death, or even worse, being seriously injured and stuck in some ramshackle Guatemalan hospital with nobody knowing what ever happened to me. The trip to Xela is about four hours, complete with the supposedly ¨direct¨ bus stopping every 15 minutes to let people on to sell you random crap you don´t want or need. Although, I did go out on a limb and buy a ¨chicken tortilla¨ from a lady...that, in my mind, was living life on the edge. Oh, and there was this dude who got on and basically screamed bible verses to us for about 20 minutes. The whole time I´m thinking to myself, ¨He can´t be doing this because he thinks he´s going to convert anyone. Besides, any Guatemalan on here is undoubtedly Catholic anyway and the few gringos aren´t going to convert because he told us to. What´s his angle? Better yet, what crap is in that bag that he´s inevitably going to try to sell us?¨ Well, my second guess proved to be true because after he had preached, and then performed quite the elaborate prayer (complete with eyes rolling back into his head and speaking in some weird tongue under his breath) dude pulls out a sack of candy and starts trying to sell it to everyone by describing, in graphic detail, the delicious fruit flavor and how it´s the best candy in the world. Now, I´m no religion major (like my sister, who was but doesn´t go to church...figure that one out), but I have to believe that if there is a God, and he was looking down at that precise moment, he would´ve been pissed that this dude was using his good word to sell fruit candy for a measly Quetzal (which is about a dime). I´m pretty sure that was sacreligiousness at its highest form...
So, after a million stops by the bus driver, who was apparently going for some sort of philanthropy award for letting the most free riders onto the bus to sell crap, I guess he decided that he needed to step up the pace. This resulted in him careening around corners, up through windy mountain passes, for the next two hours. I seriously felt like Keanu Reeves on ¨Speed.¨ I was absolutely terrified out of my mind! This guy was hitting mach-3 in some ancient Pullman bus that likely hadn´t been serviced in years. I´m thinking to myself, ¨Does this guy have so much faith in these tires that he´s willing to risk all of our lives to save a few minutes?¨ And the answer to that was a resounding YES. He really did. I´m not kidding when I say he was taking the corners way too fast...at one point, the tires actually screeched (or maybe that was me screaming). You´d think that this would phase him, but no, he went on to do it two more times after. I kept checking my alarm clock for time, and to my horror, we had more than one hour to go after the first tire-screeching incident. I thought for sure this was how I was going to go out. But finally, we made it, and I got the hell off that bus as fast as I could!
Arriving in Xela, as in any new city, was overwhelming. It´s a huge city set in the mountains with a largely indiginous population. It´s actually pretty cool to see the old women in the traditional clothing speaking one of the many ancient dialects...it´s like going back in time. The city itself isn´t very impressive or beautiful...it´s cobblestone streets and crumbling buildings in the typical third-world style, but it´s definitely what I expected. I arrived at the school and was greeted, in English, by a girl working there who obviously started school and then decided she didn´t want to leave. The director is this HUGE man named Juan, who seems to be a really nice guy. He got me set-up and called my family to come pick me up. A few minutes later, Carmen walks in and gasps when she sees me...I´m assuming not because of my strikingly good looks, but perhaps rather my size. She comes straight up to me and puts her arms around my waist, explaining that she was my new mom and I her new son. Very sweet. We left for the house, which is conveniently right around the corner, and I was led to my new room...about the size of a prison cell with less amenities. But, I didn´t have a problem with this until I met Eli, the other student staying at the house, whose room is easily three to four times bigger. But then again, he´s been here for five weeks, so who am I to complain, right?
I laid down for about an hour, just enough time to have some sort of really troubling nightmare that I don´t remember. That was awesome. It basically thrust me into a mild panic-attack for the duration of dinner while being surrounded by Carmen, her husband, her three daughters, and a five-year-old girl who insisted on playing Pattycake with me. While all of this was happening, I prayed for the apocalypse. Then, Carmen found out it was going to be my birthday and everyone started singing the birthday song with their funny accents...that lifted my spirits a bit. After dinner, Carmen proceeded to hug the life out of me as Eli and I tried to escape to go have a few beers in the Parque Central. Which, by the way, is an absolutely beautiful spot that I never would have expected to be in a city like this one. I´ll have to post some pictures later.
And all of that brings us to today, which was pretty uneventful. I woke up to Carmen singing to me and giving me more hugs, telling me that we´re eating chocolate cake tonight. Can´t complain about that! Class itself was, as I said earlier, humbling. I started in gangbusters, throwing out my knowledge of different verb tenses, but after a while, it became fairly apparent that I have a long ways to go. We reviewed a shitload of verbs, seemingly none of which I knew. Once that starts happening, the affective filter gets raised, and I begin to shut-down somewhat, dismayed by my lack of skills. But, having been in this situation before, I took it in stride and just did the best I could. For our last hour of the day, we took a walk to the local market and really got immersed in the culture. The only word that I kept thinking of was ¨authentic.¨ This place is the real deal! Very few tourists, colorful Mayan clothing, fruits and vegetables abound in local markets, and just general chaos. It´s a bit overwhelming right now, but I´m starting to get used to it.
Alright, I guess I´ll leave it at that for those of you that even made it this far. Thanks for indulging me with your attention. I fell better for having recounted my experiences so far. Things will get easier (but not the Spanish, I´m sure) over the course of the next week or two and hopefully I´ll find my groove. This weekend, I´m going on a two-day hike to what is supposedly the highest point in Central America (thankfully I remembered my asthma medicine, not socks, but medicine), and for my third week, I think I´m going to hit a school in Antigua for a change of pace. That decision remains to be seen...
Talk at you later!
Ben
Next, a disclaimer. I´m known for being wordy with my blogs, and I´m just telling you right now that this is going to be epic. I need to dump a little bit, so for those of you who are reading this right now, you probably are going to go with one of two options...either close the window right now, or grab a beer and get comfortable...
I just finished my first day of classes, and damn, that´s always a humbling experience. The only sure thing about my studies is that the more time I spend learning the language, the more I realize how much more there is to learn (and subsequently, how little I truly know). However, before launching into Xela and my classes, and for the sake of some sort of coherent organizational pattern, I´ll take it back to my second day in Guatemala City.
I think I left off by saying that I was going to go watch the World Cup match between England and the USA. We did that, and I´ve got to say that watching soccer in a Latin American country is an entirely different experience. Right now, with Paraguay playing Italy, you can hear the TV´s all around you and occasional yelling. Man do they love them some soccer down here!
After leaving the bar, I rested up before the three of us went back out for dinner and some club-action. I won´t bore you with details about dinner, but I will say that the clubs were pretty awesome. We met this dude who kept trying to talk us into going to the strip club, and when he finally realized it wasn´t going to happen (and that he wasn´t going to make any commissions from our going), he resigned himself to just hanging out with us. This dude was like the self-proclaimed mayor of the city...he seemed to know everyone. He got us into a lot of clubs and was a good guy to have around. At the height of the evening, the power went out in the bar. Now, you´d think that bad news for a club, but no, not in Guatemala. Before I knew it, flashlights and candles were everywhere and people were still dancing like nothing had even happened. Realizing it was getting kind of late and that I had an early bus to catch, I took this opportunity to pull my ¨Knight-Houdini¨ move and BOUNCED. Didn´t even say goodbye. I stopped by the liquor store to buy (nope, not booze but good guess)...water. Upon leaving the store, I stepped right onto the slippery sidewalk and my feet came right out from under me and I bit it HARD. Right onto my tailbone. Needless to say, I´ve been in some pain, but nothing too bad. What really got hurt were my feelings...lol
So on to the bus. Throughout the trip, I imagined myself dying a gruesome death, or even worse, being seriously injured and stuck in some ramshackle Guatemalan hospital with nobody knowing what ever happened to me. The trip to Xela is about four hours, complete with the supposedly ¨direct¨ bus stopping every 15 minutes to let people on to sell you random crap you don´t want or need. Although, I did go out on a limb and buy a ¨chicken tortilla¨ from a lady...that, in my mind, was living life on the edge. Oh, and there was this dude who got on and basically screamed bible verses to us for about 20 minutes. The whole time I´m thinking to myself, ¨He can´t be doing this because he thinks he´s going to convert anyone. Besides, any Guatemalan on here is undoubtedly Catholic anyway and the few gringos aren´t going to convert because he told us to. What´s his angle? Better yet, what crap is in that bag that he´s inevitably going to try to sell us?¨ Well, my second guess proved to be true because after he had preached, and then performed quite the elaborate prayer (complete with eyes rolling back into his head and speaking in some weird tongue under his breath) dude pulls out a sack of candy and starts trying to sell it to everyone by describing, in graphic detail, the delicious fruit flavor and how it´s the best candy in the world. Now, I´m no religion major (like my sister, who was but doesn´t go to church...figure that one out), but I have to believe that if there is a God, and he was looking down at that precise moment, he would´ve been pissed that this dude was using his good word to sell fruit candy for a measly Quetzal (which is about a dime). I´m pretty sure that was sacreligiousness at its highest form...
So, after a million stops by the bus driver, who was apparently going for some sort of philanthropy award for letting the most free riders onto the bus to sell crap, I guess he decided that he needed to step up the pace. This resulted in him careening around corners, up through windy mountain passes, for the next two hours. I seriously felt like Keanu Reeves on ¨Speed.¨ I was absolutely terrified out of my mind! This guy was hitting mach-3 in some ancient Pullman bus that likely hadn´t been serviced in years. I´m thinking to myself, ¨Does this guy have so much faith in these tires that he´s willing to risk all of our lives to save a few minutes?¨ And the answer to that was a resounding YES. He really did. I´m not kidding when I say he was taking the corners way too fast...at one point, the tires actually screeched (or maybe that was me screaming). You´d think that this would phase him, but no, he went on to do it two more times after. I kept checking my alarm clock for time, and to my horror, we had more than one hour to go after the first tire-screeching incident. I thought for sure this was how I was going to go out. But finally, we made it, and I got the hell off that bus as fast as I could!
Arriving in Xela, as in any new city, was overwhelming. It´s a huge city set in the mountains with a largely indiginous population. It´s actually pretty cool to see the old women in the traditional clothing speaking one of the many ancient dialects...it´s like going back in time. The city itself isn´t very impressive or beautiful...it´s cobblestone streets and crumbling buildings in the typical third-world style, but it´s definitely what I expected. I arrived at the school and was greeted, in English, by a girl working there who obviously started school and then decided she didn´t want to leave. The director is this HUGE man named Juan, who seems to be a really nice guy. He got me set-up and called my family to come pick me up. A few minutes later, Carmen walks in and gasps when she sees me...I´m assuming not because of my strikingly good looks, but perhaps rather my size. She comes straight up to me and puts her arms around my waist, explaining that she was my new mom and I her new son. Very sweet. We left for the house, which is conveniently right around the corner, and I was led to my new room...about the size of a prison cell with less amenities. But, I didn´t have a problem with this until I met Eli, the other student staying at the house, whose room is easily three to four times bigger. But then again, he´s been here for five weeks, so who am I to complain, right?
I laid down for about an hour, just enough time to have some sort of really troubling nightmare that I don´t remember. That was awesome. It basically thrust me into a mild panic-attack for the duration of dinner while being surrounded by Carmen, her husband, her three daughters, and a five-year-old girl who insisted on playing Pattycake with me. While all of this was happening, I prayed for the apocalypse. Then, Carmen found out it was going to be my birthday and everyone started singing the birthday song with their funny accents...that lifted my spirits a bit. After dinner, Carmen proceeded to hug the life out of me as Eli and I tried to escape to go have a few beers in the Parque Central. Which, by the way, is an absolutely beautiful spot that I never would have expected to be in a city like this one. I´ll have to post some pictures later.
And all of that brings us to today, which was pretty uneventful. I woke up to Carmen singing to me and giving me more hugs, telling me that we´re eating chocolate cake tonight. Can´t complain about that! Class itself was, as I said earlier, humbling. I started in gangbusters, throwing out my knowledge of different verb tenses, but after a while, it became fairly apparent that I have a long ways to go. We reviewed a shitload of verbs, seemingly none of which I knew. Once that starts happening, the affective filter gets raised, and I begin to shut-down somewhat, dismayed by my lack of skills. But, having been in this situation before, I took it in stride and just did the best I could. For our last hour of the day, we took a walk to the local market and really got immersed in the culture. The only word that I kept thinking of was ¨authentic.¨ This place is the real deal! Very few tourists, colorful Mayan clothing, fruits and vegetables abound in local markets, and just general chaos. It´s a bit overwhelming right now, but I´m starting to get used to it.
Alright, I guess I´ll leave it at that for those of you that even made it this far. Thanks for indulging me with your attention. I fell better for having recounted my experiences so far. Things will get easier (but not the Spanish, I´m sure) over the course of the next week or two and hopefully I´ll find my groove. This weekend, I´m going on a two-day hike to what is supposedly the highest point in Central America (thankfully I remembered my asthma medicine, not socks, but medicine), and for my third week, I think I´m going to hit a school in Antigua for a change of pace. That decision remains to be seen...
Talk at you later!
Ben
Saturday, June 12, 2010
I found the hole!
The "Goat Whipper"
"Palacio National"
"The Hole"
Well, I'm just past my first 24 hours here, and things have been fairly interesting...
The plane ride was pretty mellow, and I honestly don't remember much of it. That could have something to do with the fact that I took a Xanax AND a Dramamine prior to boarding, but that's just a theory. After I boarded, I slapped on my noise-canceling headphones and awoke only when I heard a woman screaming some guy's name. THAT'S not something you ever want to have to awake to...that or opening your eyes and seeing this large man bounding down the aisle towards you. After he passed (and crushed my foot in the process), I turned around to see a horde of people surrounding someone who was obviously in medical distress. It got a little crazy for a while...people were in a mild panic, but nobody really knew what was going on. In the end, it was a teenage boy who I can only assume went unconscious. In the end, he was fine, and I decided to let the foot-squashing go seeing as it was the guy's son. That, and I was afraid he'd pummel me if I brought it up...
Getting to the hostel was really easy. I'm situated in the nicest/safest part of town. This place is really cool; it's got an awesome location right in the middle of all the nice bars and restaurants. I shelled out the $30/night for a private room as I'm not much into the whole room sharing thing. Been there, done that. I dropped off my stuff and headed straight out to find some food and a beer. That didn't take long. I found a cool Mexican spot which had delicious food...homemade corn tortillas (the lady was making them right in front of me) and amazing guacamole. I washed my food down with a couple of beers and went back for a nap (a 5-hour "nap" to be exact).
After getting up, I found another cool Mexican restaurant and took in the scenery. I decided I might as well eat dinner there, and did just that. After being seated, the server asked me, "Te gustas beber?," meaning, "Do you like to drink?" I only wished the whole "Does Howdy Doody have wooden balls?" line would translate. Oh well. So yeah, I answered appropriately, and before I knew it, I was in a 3-hour all-you-can-drink situation. Cupa libres flowed, and life was good.
This morning, I set out to buy tomorrow's bus ticket, check out the city, and of course, to find "the hole." I thought about grabbing a taxi, but thought better of it. I mean, a bus is SO much more exciting (in a "I might die today" sort of way). I asked a few people on the street and jumped on the bus. Then I was on my way. After riding for perhaps too long (and strangely, never paying), I basically rode to the end of the line where I was ushered off the bus. Normally, being dropped off in a random location can be a little unnerving, but I just remembered tips I had learned over the years: 1. Look angry 2. Act like you know where you're going and 3. Walk quickly.
I had the address of the bus company, so I started exploring the streets. But please keep in mind, I have absolutely no sense of direction so this was challenging. I walked for about an hour, and when the road I was walking started going steeply down a hill into shantytown, I decided to hail a cab. This was the best decision I made all day. Not only was I eight billion miles away, but this dude (Oscar) was super friendly and took me exactly where I needed to go while putting up with my very rusty Spanish.
After buying the ticket, I told him I wanted to see "the hole." He took me there and unfortunately, it was all blocked off by the police. Oscar to the resuce! He told me that some police are nice and pulled the car over so we could ask them if they'd let me get closer and take a picture. And what do you know? They did! We went past the gate, under the caution tape, and got right up on it. I could literally feel my heart beating through my shirt as I slinked close enough to get a good pic, but far enough away that I didn't think I'd fall in and meet my fate. In the end, it only cost me one Coca Cola for each of the six cops!
After that, I basically just wandered around the downtown, which is exactly what every guidebook tells you...a complete DUMP. I could go on and on with the ridiculous things I saw people doing or the complete third-worldishness of it all (like the dude whipping his four goats stopping only to occasionally milk them (and drink it himself), or the guy with no legs pushing himself down the street on a skateboard) but unless you've been to this type of place, it's difficult to describe. And if you have, you don't need me to tell you...
So now, I'm back. I've seen enough of that crap. Time to go to an Australian bar with a couple of guys I just met here in the hostel to drink beer and watch some World Cup action!
I'll write more once I've gotten to Xela...adios!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I should be packing...
Alright, well here we go again with yet another installment of me going south of the border for some good old-fashioned travel adventures! Guatemala has been on my list for some time now...actually I think the idea was born sometime during last summer's 11-hour bus ride back up from Nicaragua to Costa Rica. It's funny because when I think of countries like Guatemala or Nicaragua, I'm reminded of the 80's where you'd hear these names and think, "Those places sound really dangerous! I'd never want to go there!" But really, from my experiences, these countries are some of the best-kept travel secrets around. Why? They're beautiful, the people are friendly and welcoming, and perhaps the best part...they're CHEAP! Seriously, where else can you get 25 hours of one-on-one language instruction, three meals a day, and room and board for $150 a week?! Honestly, I'll spend less money down there than I would up here. Plus, seriously, what on Earth am I going to do in Stockton for two months besides eat and drink myself stupid?
So I leave tomorrow. My friend Eric is going to take me to the BART station mid-afternoon where I'll fart around until Meis (frat brother, former roommate, and one of the few people in this world who I've known for a long time AND still puts up with me) gets off of work. I figure we'll do dinner (maybe Cha Cha Cha's off Haight?) and then he'll swing me by the airport for my 1:30 AM flight. Speaking of which, last summer's trip was set in motion much the same way, and when I got to the airport a tad bit late (meaning NOT three hours early), they had overbooked the flight. While initially annoyed, this resulted in a $400 voucher being issued and paid for more than half of this trip. I'm hoping I can get lucky and have the same thing happen this time, not to mention the fact that I'm already thinking Peru next summer...
So anyway, that's the deal. If you keep up on FB, you've probably already read that I decided to stay in Quetzaltenango or Xela (pronounced "shay-la) for short. I was initially going to live in Antigua, but I decided that I wanted to be around less tourists and have a slightly different travel experience this summer. Don't get me wrong, hanging out with 20-year-old Dutch girls and the college crowd is nice (even though it makes me feel like a dirty old man), but this summer needs to be all about the Spanish. Right?
Oh, and perhaps you've seen Guatemala in the news recently. They've had a number of natural disaster(ish) things happen lately. First, it was the eruption of Pacaya (one of the many volcanoes, and also the one that I'll be hiking my second weekend there while in Antigua). Then, it was tropical storm "Agatha" (which I think was good timing as it washed away a lot of the ash) and finally, the giant sinkhole that swallowed up a three-story house and, so says my sister, "Goes down to the core of the Earth." I'm going to try and get a picture of it...and maybe even throw a nickel down into it and make a wish. We'll see. People keep asking me if, amidst all of these happenings, I still want to go. My answer? HELL YES! The way I figure, there's a slightly smaller chance of any of these things happening while I'm down there since they already happened. But to say that also disregards the fact that since these are independent events, the risk is always there. But this is MY blog, so I get to make the rules!
I'm including a couple of links below...one of the school I'll be attending and the other has info on the city where I'll be living.
¡Bueno, gracias por leer mi "blog" y hasta luego!
http://www.spanishschool.com/index.php
http://www.xelapages.com/index.htm
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