How to Have a Feliz Navidad…Chapin Style

Recipe for a Chapin (Guatemalan) Christmas:

-One billion tamales

-Ponche (a hot Guatemalan beverage that consists of pineapple, papaya, banana, raisins, cloves, cinnamon, water)

-Every type of firework you can imagine (and so very illegal in the United States!)

-Loud Music, preferably Banda or Marimba

-Mandatory prayer to baby Jesus from each family member

-2 hour mass (if not more…!)

-Angelitos (marshmallows)

-Bonfire in the house (yes, IN the house) or yard if you have one…

-Uvas (grapes)

-Manzanas (Apples)

-Nativity scene in your house (does not have to have people, can use muppets, dolls, or other figurines—Barney is especially popular—but a Baby Jesus figurine is mandatory)

and…voila!

For those of you who know me or were in my Peace Corps Spanish class, you will know that “en realidad, yo no celebro Navidad” (I don’t celebrate Christmas) (I said this to my Spanish teacher after he asked me what I did for Christmas like the first week of classes. The expression on his face after I said this was priceless…he looked like a 5 year old who was just told that there, indeed, is no Santa…Sorry to those of you reading this who previously believed in Santa…oops, my bad…)

However, this year I got to experience a very Guatemalan Xmas. My host family from my training town invited me to return to their home and celebrate Navidad with them, and I have to say it felt awesome to be so included in such an intimate family gathering. Let me first say that I love, love, LOVE my training town host family. I actually feel like they are my real family, which is a great feeling to have when you are so far away from home and your family. They are loving, warm, and gracious, and they treat me like I am one of their own and like I belong. I never feel awkward or like I am walking on eggshells when I am in their house (I often feel this way with my current family, even though they are very hospitable; there is just this sense that I don’t belong). It was so relaxing and comforting to be around them, even if I did have to sit through a 2-hour mass on Christmas Eve(my first one ever!). Totally worth it!

Anyway, so the morning of Christmas eve we got to work making a billion (this might be a slight exaggeration…) tamales. We also made chile rellenos, because my host mom knows this is my favorite meal ever and that I wanted to learn how to make them (See why I love this family?? They know the importance of food in my life!). Then we just chilled until mass, which was at 9pm. After mass we came back to the house and built a bonfire and basically waited for midnight. At midnight everyone prayed to Jesus and said how grateful they were (as guest I got the honor of going first…awkward but nice…it felt a little like thanksgiving…and afterall, I had (and have) a lot to be grateful for; ie: I now have two wonderful families, my biological family who is amazing and my Guatemalan family, also quite wonderful).

After we said our prayers, we ate the delicious, delicious tamales!(Incidentally, I never want to see another tamale again...at least not until next Xmas) We also ate cookies, grapes, apples, roasted marshmallows and drank ponche, which is like a Guatemalan punch I guess, and is the official beverage for any fiesta here in Guatemala. ( I am not a huge fan since it has the dreaded papaya in it…but most people—both gringos and chapins— find it delicious. After this my 12 year old host nephew, Memo (Guillermo) was super excited to teach me how to “quemar cohetes” or shoot of fireworks. I was scared that I would lose a major appendage since I have never actually played with fireworks, being the law-abiding citizen that I am, but not wanting to disappoint my nephew I gave in…And let me just say in the states all of the fireworks we shot off would most definitely be illegal. Regardless, it was super fun, I eared the status “profesional” from Memo, and I still have all my fingers, toes, hands, and feet! So, all in all, I would say this was a very successful Christmas.

Cheers, Happy Holidays, and a very Happy New Year!! I am off to celebrate the New Year at Lake Atitlan!!

Talk to you all in 2011!

Tell me lies, tell me sweet, sweet lies...

In my personal opinion, sometimes while living or working abroad, it is necessary to tell a white lie. Some of my Peace Corps friends are worried because they think I may be becoming a pathological liar, but to all of them I would like to defend my actions and say:

When a creepy guy in a camioneta keeps talking to you and 20 minutes later asks you whether or not you are married and you have about 4 more hours of sitting next to him on a bus, I think you have to lie and say that your fiancé is back in the states and yes, it is a challenge everyday being so far apart, but luckily he is very supportive of all your endeavors. He understands that this is something you need to accomplish before you get married and settle down (If I had a fiancé back in the US I am sure he would totally say this…so it is not really a lie, right?)

Also, religion here is huge. In Guatemala people seriously are either Catholic or Evangelical…While there is a very small minority that represents other religions, and even ancient Mayan beliefs, it is really not the norm and no one really says they are anything different. I made the mistake my first night in Guatemala of being honest about my religion. I told my first host family (I only lived with them for 2 nights) that I was Muslim…they stared back at me in abject horror, and were pretty much speechless…After that I told my next family (who I was with for 3 months of training) I was Protestant (This got tricky when they asked me detailed questions about being Protestant). So for this current host family (I have to stay with them my first 3 months at site), I told them I was Hindu…I figure I am Indian, I can figure it out…(and I do know enough about Hinduism to get by…). And since this is the family that called me Osama Bin Laden’s daughter, I am guessing I made a good decision not telling them my true religion…

I know some of you might be wondering if I am not suffering from sort of identity crisis or mental crisis, and becoming a pathological liar…And I know part of the Peace Corps mission is to inform host country nationals about the diversity in the US, but sometimes this just is not safe, especially with current perceptions of Islam around the world. (I’m just sayin’…) Actually, because religion is HUGE in this country, the Peace Corps advised us all to say we believed in God. Apparently, in the past volunteers said they didn’t believe in God, and host country nationals thought this meant these volunteers were devil-worshippers…because of this some of these volunteers had to leave their communities…I was just trying to avoid this but still educate about other religions…perhaps not my own…!

I have probably told more lies…oh, like I am allergic to papaya…I am not allergic to papaya, I just think it tastes like dung, and I have ever since I tried it as a little girl in India…But here in guatemala if someone offers you something and you don’t accept, it is very rude. I seriously can’t eat papaya…it makes me gag, so naturally, it is easier to say I am allergic. I don’t see anything wrong with this.

Lastly, if I were a pathological liar, I wouldn’t admit any of my lies here on this blog…or would I to fool you all? Hmmm….

And to my peace corps friends who claim I am a pathological liar, you know you are lying if you say you haven’t told one single white lie while living here in Guatemala….

Down the Rabbit Hole...

Last night, as I stood yet again in an awkward and uncomfortable space filled with Ex-Pats, Guatemalans and chuchos (dogs--don't ask why, it is guatemala, just embrace it!) all wandering a dimly lit cafe, I had an epiphany...

Living and working abroad, especially though the Peace Corps, is pretty much like in Alice in Wonderland when Alice goes down the rabbit hole...

Often times it is uncomfortable and awkward beyond description or even imagination...it is dark and mysterious, and you have no idea what lies on the other side...

But, as Peace Corps volunteers, we have entered the rabbit hole, chasing the bunny...or in my case, I have entered Guatemala chasing my end goal of successfully completing the Peace Corps, which to me means, making long-lasting relationships with Guatemalans, learning about their culture, sharing about my own culture, and hopefully completing a few projects related to my program (Municipal Development).

Anyway, on the other side of this rabbit hole are crazy adventures, many a strange encounter and uncomfortable situation, but amazing and invaluable life experiences that, though at times are hard to handle, I would not trade for anything...

And so I shall continue free-falling down the rabbit hole...and a free-fall is exactly what the Peace Corps feels like...hoping that I come out unscathed and perhaps even a bit wiser when I return from this journey...

Seek to Understand...

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle...

~Plato

For those of you who don't know me very well, you might not know that before doing the Peace Corps or getting my MA, I was, in fact, "teaching for America." Although things did not go as I planned with Teach for America and I ended up resigning, I still learned a lot from the little time I did spend in that program, and while in the end it wasn't for me, I still think it is a great idea with a lot of potential (problems as well, but still great potential) and I met many amazing people in the short time I spent in TFA. I also learned a great deal from this experience...one useful phrase I learned was, "seek to understand"...

If we just take people's words and actions as they are without seeking to understand the true meaning behind these, or without trying to understand other people or other cultures, we will never really know that person, who they are, or what their culture is...we will never really know why they are the way they are or why they do and say the things they do. (kind of sounds like basic psychology but so easy to overlook) This little saying, "seek to understand" has come quite in handy during my time thus far in Guatemala. Sometimes, especially after many a frustrating event, I forget to seek to understand. However, sooner or later it always pops back into my mind.

For those of you following my blog, you will remember that I had been having some frustrating experiences throughout November. Right before Thanksgiving I had my first minor meltdown (I was actually quite proud of myself...it took me about 4 months before I cried or threw up in the Peace Corps! haha!). I was having a rough time both at home and at work. I felt little support from either end, and then, right before Thanksgiving, I got really sick. Dealing with racist comments, an absentee counterpart (The guatemalan who I am assigned to work with for 2 years, who is supposed to help me and be my partner), and feeling like death were all just too much for me to handle...

I broke down. I started crying and my host mom came into my room. She thought someone had died because I could not speak, nor could I stop sobbing hysterically, and quite loudly. I was a mess. I told her how I had been feeling and how I was sick, and she didn't say anything; she just gave me a big hug, and told me everything would be alright and that every problem had a solution. I think in that instant, she realized I was only human and was going through a lot and needed some support.

Needless to say, the racist comments have stopped. As for my counterpart, once she found out I was sick, she was actually very supportive and personable! We hugged for like the first time, and I think her walls have started to come down. I have learned a lot about her these past two weeks, and let's just say that she has her share of problems, as does my host mom and host family, in general. Neither she, nor my host mom have had the easiest of lives...and I am trying to understand their points of view and learn more about them.

As frustrated, sick, sad, homesick, fed up with living abroad, etc., as I get sometimes, I try to remember that we are all human and we are all batting through our own demons. Sometimes we get so caught up in our own problems that we can't understand any one else's situation; however, we are all connected by our humanity and the fact that we can empathize with one another, support one another, and learn from one another, and for me, this lesson, though simple, is one that helps me every day.

Paciencia y Flexibildad

As a Peace Corps volunteer, I am expected to practice patience and flexibility, and I think these two traits are always necessary in every avenue of life, but especially when living and working abroad. I pride myself on being both patient and flexible; however, these past few weeks at my new site have been especially trying, and some days I just want to SCREAM.

Everyday is a constant battle where I am forced to prove myself, or mainly my identity as an American, but a South Asian American, to a multitude of Guatemaltecos, primarily to my new host family, which is also very difficult for me, because with my previous host family, there was this instant fit; like I just belonged there. They didn’t ask me borderline racist questions. They were my people. Not really the case here…It is very tiring having to defend my identity to my new host family everyday. As a minority, I knew beforehand that my experience as a Peace Corps volunteer would differ from the average Caucasian American Peace Corps Volunteer. I am not saying that they do not have there share of challenges here, I am just saying our problems or challenges are very different. I am not Caucasian. I am not blonde. I am not white. I am South Asian American.

To many guatemaltecos, especially those in the campo who have never left Quiché, this is absolutely baffling. “Aren’t Americans white? There is no way you could be American. You probably immigrated to the USA but were born elsewhere, right?” These questions are asked with absolute certainty that I must be mistaken. I try to be patient, and actually, I believe I have been patient, but when every day my host mom introduces me to different people as “Osama Bin Laden’s daughter,” and says that I am from Afghanistan, some days I just want to shout, “you make NO sense and that is not funny…where did you even come up with that crap!!!!” (Of course I would never do that…not only for the Peace Corps core expectations, but because for those of you who know me, you know I am a mediator, a pacifist, and well, let’s be honest, pretty darn passive…)

However, I do remember the Peace Corps tenets of flexibility and patience and try to use these moments to educate my host family, as they have no concept of geography or other cultures, or diversity in general, and the Peace Corps is all about cultural exchange. I made the mistake of sharing with my family that I am half Indian and half Pakistani (should have just stuck with Indian….though then that would be like lying about half of my identity). They equated Pakistan with Afghanistan with Saudi Arabia (don’t ask.), and thus (obviously), I became Bin Laden’s daughter. After the first time this happened, I patiently explained the MANY things wrong with this, and I turned to the world map to help me, as well as to history, etc.,; you know, all for the cultural exchange, the opportunity to teach Guatemaltecos that North Americans come in all shapes, sizes, colors, etc.,

But now it has been TWO WEEKS almost every night at dinner or sometime in the afternoon when this comes up, and I have tried to educate them (Lord knows I have tried), since I know this all stems from IGNORANCE, but as I said before, it is extremely challenging, especially when I am at a baptism with tons of extended family members who I have never met before and my host family introduces me to the crowded room quite loudly as “Osama Bin Laden’s Daughter”…Oh, not awkward at all; great way to make new friends. Thank you very much host family number two. However, I will keep on being me, and hopefully they will see that their “jokes” are not funny, but offensive, and they will realize the numerous things wrong with stereotyping people, and then I will have prevailed with at least part of the Peace Corps’ Mission, which entails helping host country nationals attain a better understanding of who Americans are…

Two Year Roller Coaster

Every day, no every hour, in the Peace Corps is so different from the previous one with indescribable ups and downs, highs and lows. I wake up expecting one thing to occur, but by the end of the day a million other things have transpired...some coming at me completely out of left field...

Today, I wasn't really sure what to expect, and to be quite honest, I was dreading going out in the 40ish degree weather...I was dreading having to wait an hour outside the office in the blistering Quiché cold for my counterpart (host country national who is, for all intents and purposes my partner at work) who always shows up late. And even though I know this, my stupid work ethic keeps me from being anything but punctual...However, I forced myself out of the warmth of my my many, many covers only to find a missed call from my host dad from San Luis Las Carretas (SLLC) (from my first host family). I called him back and he said that he was going to be in Quiché, because he had some business there and hoped that if I wasn't too busy we could grab some coffee. Too busy...ha ha! Don't make me laugh. Considering I still have no idea what the heck my job entails and I spend many hours listening to my counterpart make phone calls (some of them very interesting, like when a friend called her for medical advice for her sick baby, and my counterpart replied that the child was suffering from the evil eye and the mom should draw a cross on the child's head, get holy water, and pray....yes, I swear, this actually happened), I told him I was sure my counterpart would allow me to meet up with him.

Best Monday ever! I love my first host family so much. I was very lucky with them; we just seemed to click. I remember when I first got to that house in SLLC. My host mom and sister were making tamales, and even though I had no idea what I was doing, I joined in and we just starting chatting about all sorts of random things, including of course what most conversations in guatemala center on--boyfriends and marriage (poo poo to both...!). We fell in to an instant comfort right from the get-go. Anyway, it was nice to catch up with my host dad and hear about my host family and how they all miss me (it makes me feel loved!). Most of all, it was just nice knowing that somewhere in Guatemala there are people who get me and who care about me and consider me family. And who I can always turn to (He reminded me that I have to visit...and I intend on going back when I am finally allowed to travel)...

After we met for coffee, I brought him to the office to meet my counterpart, which was an awesome idea, because I think me introducing him to my counterpart showed my counterpart that 1) I am a human being, not just a strange North American and 2) I must be a somewhat decent human being if, in fact (in the words of my host dad) I "won the hearts of my entire family" (his exact words, I swear!). It was also nice to have a parental-like figure bragging about me to my counterpart, just to reassure her that, indeed, I am quite capable...and likeable!!! Or at least some people find me likeable, anyway!!!

So after my host dad left and we said our goodbyes, I was met with yet another surprise...

my counterpart gave me a KEY to the office! This may not seem like a huge deal to anyone other than myself, but let me reassure you all, this was, indeed, a momentous occasion. To me this signified that she is beginning to trust me, if just ever so slightly, more. Also, it means I no longer have to sit out in the cold, freezing my bum off. Happy days!!!

For me it is these little surprises that make it all worth it. Even though there have been, and will be many more ups and downs, the Peace Corps is a roller coaster that I am willing to ride for the next two years, because the highs make it all worth it...or maybe i am just an adrenaline junky and like the rush...or maybe I am a masochist...!

Día de los Muertos

Yesterday was Día de los Muertos (or difuntos...), and I was lucky enough to be invited to partake in the activities with my new host family. At first I was kind of dreading it as holidays in general can be slightly awkward, but a holiday in a foreign country with people you literally just met the day before equals a recipe for extreme awkwardness if you ask me...(Awkward encounters seem to be one of the main themes of my peace corps adventure thus far...!) However... I was pleasantly surprised, and any awkward feelings I had were drowned out by the immense beauty of the holiday.

My new host family and I woke up at 4am to go visit the cemetery (Lucky for us we didn't have to walk far as the cemetery is across the street; however, people come from all over, close by and far away...some walking, some via buses or car...). Most people wake up early, go to the cemetery, and then decorate the graves/tombstones/mausoleums of their loved ones. My host family started the preparations the day before by cooking a billion tamales and fiambre, which is typical dia de los muertos food--basically like every vegetable and type of meat possible (I am not the hugest fan) but it is pretty fancy stuff since it includes a little bit of everything, and meat here is pretty expensive, especially the fancy sausages they include. I helped my "nieces" make garlands of flowers, which was actually pretty fun and easy (I had never done this before!).

After all the preparations, we went to bed by 8pm in order to wake up at 4am! And as soon as we got to the cemetery we got to work decorating tombstones. My host family explained that on this one day they are able to honor their deceased family members and show them they are not forgotten by going all out with the decorations. At first I thought it was all a tad morbid--walking around graves and decorating them--but as the day went on and the decorations kept on getting more elaborate (as though people were competing with one another to prove that they loved their deceased family members more) I was able to see the true beauty of the holiday...A full day dedicated to your deceased loved ones to ensure they are never forgotten. After decorating and sitting around at the graves for a while (praying and singing), we headed back to the house to eat a feast of fiambre and tamales. (Tamales, YAY! Fiambre...not for me!) In the old days, families not only decorated graves, but they also cooked the deceased family member's favorite food (or a fancy dish like fiambre) and left it on the tombstone along with alcohol...however, nowadays this is no longer done because of wild dogs and Bolitos (drunkards!/ usually homeless alcoholics)...

Anyway, I was honored that I got to partake in such an intimate family celebration...

Take Two...

Starting all over again in a new community is somewhat frustrating and awkward...and I wish I could just fast forward to three or so months from now when I am feeling more settled and comfortable here in my new, and very permanent, site. Just as I had gotten completely (almost) comfortable in my training town and with my training host family in the small aldea of San Luis Las Carretas, I was snatched out of my this created comfort zone and placed in Santa Cruz del Quiché with a whole new family, who has never had a Peace Corps volunteer. This means not only do I have to explain who I am and what I am doing here, I also have to fully explain the Peace Corps...over and over and over and over again...because the Peace Corps is a strange concept to many people (even including within the United States) and explaining it in a foreign language can be quite trying....

So for the second time, I find myself trying to carve a niche for myself in a family that is not my own. While my new family is very gracious and warm, the fit between me and them hasn't been as instantaneous as it seemed to be with my prior host family. They also ask a lot more questions, many of which are the same questions over and over again...like,

"do you speak English well?"

"I sure hope so since it is my native language...!" (Ok, I don't actually respond that way, but I want to!)

"Wait, so you do speak English?"

"Yes, I was born in the United States where the national language is English, and therefore, I had to learn it"

"But your parents are Indian?"

"Yes, but I grew up speaking English in the house"

and this conversation carries on indefinitely...

or: "Wait, were you really born in the United States? Because you don't look like other North Americans"

"So, you are American?"

"You were born in America?"

then I have to explain that the USA is very diverse, etc., which is fine, but having to do this like 30 times a day, sometimes explaining this concept to the same individual is trying...And then when the day is over and a new day begins, they ask me the same questions, as though maybe I was lying the day before and they are testing me, waiting for me to admit to not speaking english and not being born in the USA....Actually, in retrospect it is actually pretty funny, but at the time this usually happens, in my head I am super frustrated, but of course I answer patiently...over...and over...and over again....

Sometimes I feel like I am playing 20 questions, except it is more like a billion questions, and sometimes I just don't feel like answering anymore. But of course I have to, and of course I have to understand where my host family is coming from. They haven't met many North Americans, so, understandably, they are curious. It is just hard having to start from scratch...again...However, I did it once, and I can do it again...!

So, take two...

From Trainees to Volunteers!

Yesterday I woke up a Peace Corps trainee and went to bed a real Peace Corps Volunteer. And how do I feel? Well, it is hard to describe…Yes, I am a tad scared, nervous, and excited. Although we have had three months of training to prepare us for this moment, I still feel like I am entering into a world of uncertainty…While training was definitely helpful, I still feel like no matter what, each site and each volunteer is so drastically different, that each PC experience depends on the volunteer; as much as it can be a collective experience, shared with other volunteers, community members, host families, and work agencies, it all comes down to the individual volunteer…though of course, there are many variables at play…

According to other PCVs, these feelings of uncertainty and anxiety are absolutely normal…So, I am resolved to just take my time getting used to my house, my new job (whatever it entails!) and to just enjoy the ride…However, I am already aware of the fact that I am going to have to be proactive and take the initiative, especially because unlike most PCVs, I don’t actually directly work with my immediate community. Through the women’s NGO (CODEFEM), I will be working with three municipal governments about 4-6 hours away from my site, which is awesome because I will get to travel to other communities. However, this will make it hard to meet people in my own community. However, I hope to find some secondary projects (perhaps working with an all girl youth group or local women’s group) in my actual community. Also, unlike most PCVs, my site is actually a HUGE city (65,000 people), so for me at least, this makes it harder to make the more personal connections…(big city life…) that I found so easy to make in my training community (which was pretty much one street!!!)

Anyway, this week has been charged with emotion; lots of goodbyes…starting with my host family, who actually threw me my own personal despedida (goodbye party) complete with dominos pizza and my very own purple traje jacket (Traje is the typical skirt and shirt worn by indigenous women). My host parents and even one of my host sisters started crying, which made me cry, and it was all kind of a mess! I am going to miss my host family so much as they were amazing…

The following day, all the host families of San Luis Las Carretas (my training town) threw all four volunteers (four of us lived in one training community) a joint despedida. Also, we had our swearing in ceremony at the US Ambassador’s house (it was pretty fancy!) then we all went to Antigua to celebrate and say goodbye to one another…It is strange because we won’t see each other again for three months (we have an event called reconnect where Peace Corps checks in with us after our first three months; also, after our first three months, we are officially allowed to travel to other sites as well as take vacay time…for our first three months of service we have to stay put! So most of us really won’t see each other again until February) Hence, it was a little sad…

but every end just leads to another beginning, right?

A little recap (in case you missed this mass email...)

So, first I want to apologize in advance for what will most likely be a very long and grammatically incorrect reading experience; thinking in Spanish for the last 3 months has ruined my English, which is sad because I used to be such a grammar snob...oh well...I did hear that the Peace Corps does change people…! =)

Anyway, the last three months have been a whirlwind to say the least, and I am barely able to catch my breath as I write this. I have had so many adventures and great experiences, some all time highs, and very, very few lows (thank goodness), and I can't believe that my three months of training are almost up (this Friday marks the training end date!). For those of you unfamiliar with the Peace Corps experience, the first three months is spent in training in local communities. For this reason, I have been living with a wonderful family, who I really have come to love, for the last three months. My host parents are kind and very generous, and all the adults have an awesome sense of humor, so I can comfortably joke around with them, which is also pretty nice. And the children are always fun to play with, whether it be tag or soccer, or even the occasional English lesson (which they consider playing…!) Saying goodbye will be difficult. My host parents have already told me that they are going to talk to the director and ask if I can just stay with them for the next two years! haha.

The Peace Corps has actually given us some money to throw a thank you party for our families today and to say goodbye in style...we are going to cook them a great feast of spaghetti, garlic bread, and cake (very American, right?? maybe not...but on our peace corps' budget it is all we can afford for about 30 people!!!)

Also, this Friday there is a big, official ceremony at the US ambassador's house where we swear in as REAL Peace Corps Volunteers (I think we get a mini diploma saying we have graduated from trainees to full volunteers; which is a definite Peace Corps Rite of Passage!). Saturday we move to our permanent sites--the place where I will spend the next two years of my life...it is all so crazy...and scary…and exciting…and I can barely process all of it.

So, about the site...

This last week I was able to visit my site, Santa Cruz del Quiché, which is nice because it is a Cabacera (or capital). This means I have an actual grocery store and a Dominos (in case I get homesick for subpar pizza! Yay! And I know I will…), as well as a superb open-air market pretty much seven days a week with most every type of produce I could ever want. After living in my small Aldea (village) (like barely 1,000 people), I have to admit that upon first arriving in Santa Cruz, I was more than a little overwhelmed as the cabacera has about 65,000 inhabitants…which was shocking after being so sheltered these last 3 months. Also, It was a little hard to swallow at first because my partner organization (a women’s non-governmental organization called CODEFEM, which basically stands for the women’s collective for the defense of the woman in English….it sounds better in Spanish, I swear) which partners with municipal governments in an effort to strengthen women’s political participation and access to basic services in line with basic human rights, although is centered in the Cabacera, actually works with 3 municipal governments about 4-6hours away. So, immediately, I was like how in the world am I going to get to know my community if I am never here!

Also, in terms of housing, for the next three months, I have to live with a family (Peace Corps’ policy for the first 3 months of service) (this does not include the three-month training period where we also live with a family). However, my family does not live in the cabacera; they live about 15 minutes away by microbus. And their Aldea is TINY. The whole point of living with a host family is so that they can help you integrate into the community where you work, but my family doesn’t live in the community where I will work…So, anyway, I had all these thoughts floating around, but in true Guatemalan style, I have to remind myself of the very popular Guatemalan adage, “Poco a Poco” (Little by little) and just give myself time to let it all work itself out…which I know at some point, hopefully sooner rather than later, it will…

Oh, and a little descriptor of my new house…Rustic…no hot water (sometimes no water in general), bucket baths (when water is accessible) and no flushing toilets (now this is the real peace corps experience! Up until this point I have totally been spoiled in training with the luxury of a real stand up shower and flushing toilets…oh well, good bye material comforts…!) The town is basically one street (I think there are seriously like 10 houses…if that). It is very removed and the area is silent (which is rare for Guatemala!) However, like I said, I just pop on the microbus for 15 minutes to get to the center…

Anyway, while my new host family seems nice (one mom, her two fully grown kids-son, 28 and daughter 26 (so maybe we can be friends! yay!), I am ready to move out to the cabacera and live on my own (so I can feel like a real adult once again!). However, I will take advantage of being surrounded by people, and try to build some strong friendships, like the ones I have already been lucky enough to form with my current host family! And hopefully, poco a poco, I will start feeling like a member of my new community rather than an awkward extranjera (outsider)

So, that is all for now

One Crazy Ride…

Every ride on the camioneta is a different adventure. In fact, I am considering creating a separate blog especially for camioneta rides, since I am almost always going somewhere on a camioneta, and each ride usually involves a crazy story or adventure, if not misadventure… That being said, my latest camioneta ride was no exception. I went to go visit a volunteer just outside of San Marcos (a town called San Antonio Sacatepequez), which is located in the western part of the country, also known as the occidente. How to describe the occidente? Hmm, in one word: COLD. In two: VERY COLD. However, maybe that is just my thin SoCal blood talking because it rarely gets below 40 degrees farenheit out west. And for those of you asking, “Isn’t Guatemala supposed to be warm and tropical?” My simple response is: “NO.” However, every region of this country seems to vary, so parts of it are, indeed, warm and tropical (what one might expect), and other parts, well…not so much! Have I mentioned that besides weather extremes, this country is also subject to sinkholes, hurricanes, storms, landslides, earthquakes, volcano eruptions, and probably every other type of natural disaster imaginable? (Don’t worry—I am fine! So far anyway…!)

Anyway, for someone expecting warm, sunny, even tropical weather, 40 degrees was a big surprise for me, and my body just wasn’t prepared for the cold. Although, I am not sure where I will be placed for my two years (I find out Thursday, keep your fingers crossed that I get a site where I will be happy for 2 years!!), I have it on good authority that I am most probably going to the west (and now I am regretting not bringing more winter clothes. Though I am grateful that I packed my long underwear! Phew!) So, currently I am trying to mentally prepare myself for two years of cold. (Well, summers are temperate, so hopefully my thin-blooded body can handle it…and yes, I do realize that I somehow survived 4 years on the east coast…I honestly don’t know how. I think it made my body weaker because I totally can’t handle the cold like I used to…or maybe it is old age? Hmm…)

Anyway, getting back to my camioneta story…So after a three day journey to the West, I was back on the bus, ready for my 5 hour ride home, when all of a sudden a lady decides to sit next to me with her baby. This was fine until the woman decided to start breastfeeding in MY personal space. I am all for women’s rights, etc., and sure, breastfeeding in public is fine with me as long as the breast is NOT in my face. Might I add that the highway I was on was pretty windy, with steep curving paths, so while this lady was breastfeeding with one breast already in my face, she was also slamming into me with her child who happened to be kicking me while suckling. NOT. FUN. Also, just a tad awkward…Excuse me ma’am, your breast is in my face and your baby keeps kicking me…might you consider breastfeeding on your side of the seat instead of in my face? I definitely did not learn how to say that in high school Spanish…!

Anyway, in an attempt to look away from the giant breast in my face, I happened to look up and see the reflection of a MIDDLEBURY sweatshirt in the big mirror that is always at the front of blue bird school buses (I actually owned this very same sweatshirt from my alma mater before it got stolen—who knows maybe it was mine!) The sweatshirt was being worn by an elderly Guatemalan man! That pretty much made my day. (I know, for me it totally is the simple things in life that end up making my day! I am strange like that.) All over Guatemala there are thrift-stores called “Pacas,” which carry second-hand merchandise from the United States. Seeing the Middlebury sweatshirt on an old Guatemalan man reminded me of how small this world actually is, and through globalization, it is increasingly shrinking.

It also reminded me that life is one crazy ride—maybe even crazier than a camioneta ride…! Though that is still TBD…!

The Late Night/Early Morning Potty Blues

Have you ever contemplated life from the toilet? Well, when it is so late that it is actually early and you are sitting on the toilet, sick as a dog, watching the hours go by on your wristwatch, there really isn’t anything better to do. I will spare you all the gory details, but last week during field-based training to Chiquimula in the Oriente (the Eastern part of Guatemala), I had my first jaunt with the Big D (refer back to previous post entitled D-Day if confused as to what D may be).

I am trying to be discreet, since I realize that after seven weeks in the Peace Corps, we trainees pretty much share all the vivid details of any sickness with one another, but I don’t want to scare you all off from reading my blog with graphic details. So, I’ll stop here. But as I sat on the toilet, clenching my stomach and writhing in pain feeling like death run over, I realized that this night would just be one of what I am sure will be many (though I can dare to dream of good health for 2 years!) Anyway, although I still feel very happy to be here, this little encounter with poopiness (pun intended) was definitely a low point; but really, the only one I have had thus far. However, my roommate, the PC staff, and other volunteers took good care of me.

As I mentioned earlier, I was on field-based training meaning that I was gone for the week to shadow other volunteers, and I missed a day, because there was no way I could travel in the van to visit a volunteer (the toilet in my hotel room and I did some heavy duty bonding this day if you know what I mean). However, despite my little adventure, or misadventure if you will, I enjoyed my time in the Wild Wild East. I call it this because the Oriente is known for its cowboys, boots, and of course, pistols. Apparently, people love to fire their guns here for no reason. (and as a consequence, there is a high death rate here) Oh, and did I mention in the winter it is like 95 degrees Farenheit…I don’t want to even imagine summertime here. And yes, the Oriente is where I could possibly end up for two years. But I could end up in the Occidente (the West), too, where it can get chilly. I find out my permanent site and more detailed job description in less than three weeks! Eeep!!

The Simple Things

The Simple Things

by Edgar A. Guest

I would not be too wise--so very wise

That I must sneer at simple songs and creeds,

And let the glare of wisdom blind my eyes

To humble people and their humble needs.

I would not care to climb so high

that I
Could never hear the children at their play,


Could only see the people passing by,


And never hear the cheering words they say.

I would not know too much--too much to smile


At trivial errors of the heart and hand,


Nor be too proud to play the friend the while,


Nor cease to help and know and understand.

I would not care to sit upon a throne,


Or build my house upon a mountain-top,


Where I must dwell in glory all alone


And never friend come in or poor man stop.

God grant that I may live upon this earth


And face the tasks which every morning brings


And never lose the glory and the worth


Of humble service and the simple things.

Everyday I wake up, I find myself chuckling a little because I still can’t seem to get over the fact that I am actually here in Guatemala waking up to the sound of a neighborhood rooster crowing his little heart out or the neighbors blasting reggaeton at 6am. I find myself thinking, “Oh my God, I will be here for the next two years!” It is as though I am dreaming—is this actually my life? Do I really live in Guatemala? Seriously? How did this happen?

Through my Peace Corps application process, I was bounced around quite a few regions—from the Middle East/North Africa to French Speaking West Africa to Sub-Saharan Africa in general. Then somehow I landed in Guatemala, and oddly enough, it feels right (so far anyway, knock on wood!). I have to admit, when I first got my invitation, I was bit surprised since Guatemala is NOT in Africa (I admit that I am pretty bad at geography, but even I am aware of these continental differences…). But as the saying goes, things happen for a reason.

I love it here. I hope this initial honeymoon period lasts since so far I have been completely happy. Though I can’t say that I have had any major problems or spells of homesickness just yet (and I am sure once I move to my permanent site I will have my share of ups and downs, especially if I am the one volunteer like 10 hours away from any other volunteer, which is possible knowing my luck), there are days when the absurdity of living in another country does seem overwhelming; like when the chicken buses are bursting at their seams with people, I can’t breathe, and my backside is literally in the face of some poor indigenous woman who is carrying a basket of cilantro on her head, a baby in her arms, and has her own worries, besides the backside of a strange foreigner right up in face because there is no other space for me or my bum. It doesn’t help that I am also like 5 feet taller than the average Guatemalan (Yes, in this country I am considered TALL, who knew that would ever be the case?!)

However, then something crazy will happen. Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance” or Shakira’s “Lobo” (in English, not Spanish!) will start blasting through the crowded bus, and I can’t help but laugh, as I lose my balance and fall into the indigenous woman on my right. Or I’ll make it to Antigua, catch my breath at an internet café, and my favorite aria, “Belle Nuit” from Tales of Hoffman will start playing (for those of you who don’t know me or don’t know this fun fact, I used to sing opera growing up, and Tales of Hoffman (Les Contes de Hoffman) is by far one of my favorite operas).

And then, after all this, I am back to just laughing and appreciating these simple pleasures that remind me of what a truly globalized world this is or remind me of home, or of my former life in the United States like Lady Gaga, bagels, my gummy vitamins, my favorite opera, etc.,

But, I also laugh because life is so equally ridiculous and beautiful at the same time that really, there is nothing to do BUT laugh.

ChocoKrispies and La Copa

I have always had this dream that I would be a wizard in the kitchen. I like eating food (er, love eating), so I thought that this passion for food would magically transform into amazing cooking skills. Sadly, this is not the case. In fact, in the wake of my cooking, there is usually some mishap…let’s not dwell on this, however.

So, anyway, some of the other PC trainees have been cooking small meals for their host families, like French toast or chili. Things that, theoretically (if you aren’t me), should be pretty hard to screw up. However, because I like my host family and do not want to burn down their house, I decided to start small. Very Small. Rice Krispie treats seemed appropriate, because 1) I have actually made these successfully throughout my life, 2) they are pretty “American,” and 3) they don’t really require “cooking,” per say.

Note: Guatemala does not sell rice krispies, but rather CHOCOKRISPIES—chocolate flavor rice krispie treats. Magical.

So, I bought the necessary ingredients, came home, and asked my host mom if I could steal the kitchen to cook something. My host family knows my hesitations when it comes to cooking (not to mention cooking in kitchens in other countries…), so my host sister jokingly asked me if she needed to called the bomberos (firefighters). Har. De. Har. Har. (See why I love my host family? We have the same sense of humor! They really are awesome!)

Anyway, all I can say is that the rice krispie treats were a hit. (and my host family now thinks that I can cook, which might be a bad thing, since this seriously is the extent of my cooking skills) Oh, and might I add that rice krispie treats are soooooooo much better with chocolate rice krispies—way more decadent (and a little fancier if you ask me). And my host mom was so cute, she said, “I never could have imagined you could do all this with chocokrispies and angelitos (marshmallows!) How amazing!” All in all, it has been a good Sunday.

Additionally, for those of you wondering about the futbol championship with my host nieces and nephews, we women won ( I had to teach the boys a lesson).

Random aside, if you were wondering how to say “penalty” in Spanish, it is not “penaldad.” It is “penal.” One of my host nephews (the one who wasn’t playing keeper) totally cheated and touched the ball with his had, so I yelled “PENALDAD” (because they always yell penalty when my little niece touches the ball and I thought this was the right word; apparently I made this up). They thought this was hilarious, and they both fell over laughing at me. They now call me “penaldad.” Whatever makes them feel better for losing the championship game! And no, those silly little cheating monkeys did not give us a penalty, but I did learn the correct word in Spanish for penalty, and we mujeres remain futbol champions. GOOOOAAAALLLL!!!

One Month!

I have officially been in Guatemala for one month! Happy one-month anniversary to me! One month down, 26 more to go! Actually, I am not really even counting down, because I really have been enjoying every moment here (knock on wood…). Plus, after talking to many a PC volunteer (both current and returned), I know this time will fly by, so I really am trying to live in the moment and soak it all up (I know very cheesy). I want to take advantage of my time here so that I have no regrets, because after all (oh, get ready for a cliché and some more cheese people), life really is short.

Oh! I just noticed that I have 26 more months to go…and I am turning 26 in 10 days (birthday mail welcome!). Eeeep. For my older audience, I won’t mention how I feel old because I don’t want to get yelled at (yes, you can get yelled at via emails…), but I have to say it is crazy to think that if I make it through this Peace Corps adventure, I will be twenty-flippin-eight when I return to the good old US of A. Wow.

I need a moment of silence for my youth.

Standfast!

Every Peace Corps country has an emergency action plan based on the needs and policies of that country; Peace Corps Guatemala uses a five-stage system: 1) Alert, 2) Standfast, 3) Consolidation, 4) Evacuation, and 5) All Clear. Currently, all volunteers here are on standfast due to the heavy rains, not to mention the landslides and flooding as a result of these heavy rains. What does this mean? Well, on standfast all volunteers have to remain at their sites (community) and await further instructions. It also means that we should begin preparing for a possible consolidation, where we would all move from our sites to a main consolidation point (depending on where you are placed in country, there are different consolidation points—mine is Antigua, which is not a bad place to be stuck if you ask me). This also means, all activities for tomorrow are cancelled. Boo! However, this actually works out for me, because the mayor is distinguishing my host dad tomorrow for his service to his community (my host dad is pretty awesome; he holds vocational training for community members and builds houses for those without homes—I just found this out a couple dinners ago; we had a heart to heart), and now I get to go because I don’t have class or training! Silver lining!

On another note, it is crazy to think that I have not even been here a month (this Wednesday is our one month marker!!!) and already, we are on standfast. This does not happen too often, though the last time volunteers were placed on standfast (according to my handy dandy Peace Corps Guatemala Handbook and Emergency Action Plan—you would be surprised how many flippin’ binders of PC manuals and books we have!) was due to tropical storm Agatha this past May (before this, volunteers hadn’t been placed on standfast for about 5 years…) According to my host family, the rains this year have been pretty strong, and also, rainy season started early here. So, I am thinking we might be on standfast quite a bit this month…Usually, the rains begin in September, but this year they started in August and are only getting stronger. Exciting stuff.

But to all concerned, please don’t worry. I am fine. The PC staff here are amazing and well-organized, and they are definitely looking after our safety and well-being!

Imagine (getting serious for a moment here people)

In 1929, Virgina Woolf wrote A Room of One’s Own, a fictional extended essay, which basically posited that if women had their own room, their own space where they were free to do as they please, there would be no limitations to what they could achieve. Maybe Shakespeare would be a woman. Who knows? The book follows Shakespeare’s equally, if not more, talented sister, who eventually ends up killing herself. All that talent is lost because she had no space of her own to let her creative juices flow.

Ironically, women have always had their own space, not of their freewill, but because of their biologies. Because of their bodies, throughout time women have been relegated to the domestic realm, while men have been free to roam the public arena, usually in order to make a living and financially support their families. Yes, women had their own space, however, they were not free to create masterpieces like men; they were expected to care for their children and keep house. Because of this, much potential female talent has been lost (or so claims Woolf).

While I would love to tell good old Virginia that women finally have this space—a space they choose and a space where they can develop their talents— sadly, I cannot say this is true for all women (the United States included, though we have come a long way in terms of women’s rights). Yesterday, when meeting at the women’s municipal office in Pastores where my group will be doing a mini practicum to get us ready for our real volunteering positions, the woman in charge of the women’s office told us of their main concerns. One was that in many public schools, there were no bathrooms for girls. In these same schools, boys also have their own fields to play on, and some even have art rooms or some extra space just for boys.

No girls allowed.

While to the average person this may not seem like a big deal, let me share some of the ramifications with you. No bathrooms for girls means that many girls will not be willing to go to school (in fact I can assure you that enrollment rates for female students here is LOW, to say the least), especially pubescent girls, who are menstruating. Results: ill-educated women, lower rates of literacy, probably higher incidents of health and hygiene problems because women will not have a good basic education, and when they have their own children this may leak into the way they care for their children and themselves. It may even affect their own children’s education.

Lesson 1: education for women is essential for development, and even more, the right to a basic education is a basic human right. Lesson 2: every one has a right to an equal education, regardless of sex, age, race, etc., Lesson 3: Sadly, this is not the case everywhere, and I mean everywhere.

Imagine how much potential talent we have lost so far...what a sad, sad thought.

Hot Tamale

Due to heavy rains, Saturday Peace Corps activities were cancelled. Although the rain eventually let up, the main concerns here in Guatemala when the rain gets intense are landslides and flooding. Apparently (if I understood my host mom correctly…Big If here…) there was a landslide on part of route 14 (the Inter-American Highway). A bus got hit by the landslide and flipped over; there were many injuries and even a few deaths. So, yes, we volunteers were mandated to stay put, which was fine by me because instead of having Spanish class and an intercommunity exchange where my group would get to visit the town of another group of volunteers and vice versa, I got to help my host mom and sister make tamales, which I have really wanted to do ever since I got here. Ok, and by help I mean primarily put the masa on the big plantain leaf, throw some sauce, a piece of meat, and a thin slice of chili on top, and wrap it all up like a tasty little present of deliciousness. But still, that is sort of cooking, right? I am getting there, and as they say here in Guatemala: Poco A Poco…(little by little).

My host sister, Lucy, makes tamales every Saturday to sell. I never knew there were several different ways to prepare the masa. Today for example, they just used Maseca (Corn Flour), salt, and ground up rice. (Incidentally, to make tortillas—which I did in Spanish Class—you just use Maseca and water, make little balls, flatten them out and put them on the stove. Salt to taste). However, sometimes they use potato in the masa instead rice, and in my opinion, this is way more delicious. Although they had already prepared the sauce, they let me in on their secret sauce recipe. Basically just roasted tomatoes, tomatillos, and like three different chili peppers (not spicy, just flavorful)—chili pase, chili seca, and chili verde—all blended together with water, and like most every other food in Guatemala, SALT. Anyway, that was my Saturday adventure. By the end of my two years, I will be a Guatemalan food making pro…( a girl can dream…that is kind of the theme of my entire Peace Corps journey so far…)

Oh and as an update to my previous blog about playing futbol with my niece and nephews, yesterday we played another round, and the Girls won, despite the boys’ many efforts to cheat. Take that boys! Tomorrow we play for the championship (My little nephews even made a trophy out of newspaper and styrofoam cups painted gold! I think they are taking this a little too seriously…! I might have to let them win so that they are not scarred for life, but if the girls win I am teaching the boys a valuable lesson that girls, too, are fully capable of playing some hard core futbol…hmm…what to do…Oh, and I fully realize that I am like 4 feet taller than everyone and I have an unfair advantage…oh, well.)

Party on the Camioneta

The common method of transportation here in Guatemala is the camioneta, or chicken bus. These buses are old blue bird school buses from the United States that are revamped, have bright lights on the outside, and are painted outrageous colors (think metallics: gold, silver, orange, blue, red etc.,). Most have names painted on top of the windshield, adding to each bus’s individuality (The Primarosa is my valiant steed that faithfully carries me to Peace Corps Head Quarters every Tuesday…I have a feeling that the Primarosa and I will be good friends these next 27, well 26 now, months).

Every time I am on a chicken bus, sweating profusely from being pushed up against at least four other people on all sides (these buses are almost always crowded with three people sitting on the two person-seats and people standing in the aisles almost out the door—yes, I have been that person with my backside basically hanging out the bus doors!) holding on for dear life amongst the sharp curves, turns, and hmmm, “adventurous” driving (this is putting it mildly), and wishing for that North American sense of “personal space” which definitely does not exist on the camioneta, I stop and think to myself how crazy it is that I am in Guatemala, and I stop and laugh. Sometimes out loud, which is awkward since the Guatemalans sitting next to me probably think I am crazy.

As frustrating and tiring as being on a crowded camioneta sometimes can be, especially when I am standing up and holding on for dear life, for the most part it is more entertaining than anything else. The music and sometimes music videos help out in this area. Although reggaeton seems to the be the popular favorite among most Guatemalan bus drivers (not to mention my host nieces and nephews), my personal favorite music selection for a bus ride so far has been a nod to the classics (and by classics I mean middle/high school for me): Coolio (Gangster’s Paradise), Shaggy (It wasn’t me), Eminem (Slim Shady). Oh, I can’t remember the rest of the songs that played that bus ride, but suffice it to say, it was AMAZING, and basically like being in a club. I wanted to dance. Though, probably it was too crowded to move let alone dance. Either way, Best camioneta experience EVER! Oh, and not all of the bus rides entail old school jams...on my ride into Antigua today Lady Gaga's Bad romance was blasting throughout the camioneta.

I think I am going to like it here...!

D-Day…as in Diarrhea Day…

(Don't worry I haven't been sick yet...knock on wood)...

but now that I have your attention…

For those of you wondering exactly how I am spending my time so far in Guatemala, and what training covers, well, let me just tell you…POOP! Because everybody poops…

Last Tuesday we had a medical session in which we learned all about DIARRHEA— yes, every traveler’s worst nightmare. We even got to sing the Diarrhea song. What, you say you don’t know the diarrhea song? Well here, let me teach you: (PS, I dedicate this to my brother, because he first taught me this...who knew years later the Peace Corps' Nurse would ask us if we knew this song...) Ok, here goes:

When you’re sliding onto first and you feel something burst…

DIARRHEA, DIARRHEA

When you’re heading for a double, and you feel something bubble

DIARRHEA, DIARRHEA

When you’re heading into third, and you feel a little turd

DIARRHEA, DIARRHEA

When you’re sliding into home, and you feel something foam

DIARRHEA, DIARRHEA

First, let me just say, that this was the best Tuesday medical training session EVER! And two, also for my brother, I learned that beans really are the magical fruit, and they do, according to the fart chart (pictures to come soon, I promise!) that the nurse so nicely made for us, cause gas.

Seriously though, the Peace Corps really wants us to know the ins and outs of preventing diarrhea and other illnesses (worms, malaria, you name it, we might contract it). Because of this, we spend a few hours every Tuesday learning how to correctly clean, disinfect, and prepare food, how to prevent illnesses, and God forbid, how to handle and even treat certain illnesses. It is very in-depth and useful. We are lucky to have such a dedicated medical staff. In order to keep the information from getting dry, the nurses are awesome and try to have a sense of humor about every category, including diarrhea, which when you think of it, is not funny at all. Ok, that is all for now. I promise to have a more mature post for you all next time...

Cheers from Guatemala!

Labyrinth (not the movie from the 1980s…)

Yesterday I went to Antigua with my Spanish class, and I have to say, that it is gorgeous…I would totally consider becoming an Ex-Pat in Antigua. There is a law that says all buildings in Antigua must be constructed in a colonial style, thus, everything has a colonial air to it—even McDonald’s! Seriously, the McDonald’s in Antigua is the most beautiful McDonald’s I have ever seen. It is pretty fancy. (And no, I am not advertising McDonald’s. I’ll have you all know that I DID NOT buy any food there!) First of all, this McDonald’s is HUGE. You step inside, and it just keeps going to a back part, that is like a huge courtyard with a beautiful fountain in the middle surrounded by green trees and benches. There is an outdoor patio near the courtyard with comfy armchairs and even some desktop computers for internet (there is free WIFI, too!) Ok, I’ll stop talking about McDonald’s now…

The streets of Antigua are cobblestone, and the building are brilliantly painted with bright yellows, greens, blues, and any other color imaginable. There is a central park, with a huge fountain, and an old cathedral in the background. Although beautiful, Antigua’s bright, cobble-stone streets all look alike, and thus, they do not help my already lacking sense of direction…I think I will often get lost here, but that is fine with me! Antigua also has a central market, which is even MORE confusing that the streets of Antigua. This market is a labyrinth; you could go around for hours and find millions of different products, from cow intestines to soap, and just entrench yourself further in the maze. This will be a problem for me, too. Oh, well… All part of the adventure, right?

“Confianza”

For our first three months in country, the Peace Corps considers us trainees, and not full volunteers yet. There are a set of goals we must accomplish and training we must complete, which include: language, culture, field-based/technical training, as well as training on medical, safety and security measures. Our schedule is pretty hectic, with Sunday as our only free day. However, it is nice to stay busy, as it keeps my mind so preoccupied that as of yet anyhow, I haven’t even had time to feel homesick (though, I do miss my SO CAL Mexican food—bean and cheese burritos— and I could totally go for a slice of pizza right now…I don’t think you can send me these items…)

Mon/Wed/Fri we have Spanish class from 8am to 4pm usually in our training neighborhoods. My town is called San Luis Las Carretas and is teeny tiny, the highlights include the church, the “park” (which is the concrete area right in front of the church) and the futbol field, which happens to be right in front of my house (Score!). There are 3 other volunteers in my neighborhood (these volunteers are my Spanish class and the people I see the most often) Saturdays we only have Spanish class from 8am to noon, then we are supposed to spend time with our host families. Tuesdays we have a full day of medical, safety, security, and technical trainings with the entire group (there are 32 of us), though for technical training we are divided up by project group (municipal development for me, and there are about 15 of us…I think). I have to leave my neighborhood by 6:30 (via bus) to get to the Peace Corps Headquarters by 8am…then we usually stay until 4:30 pm (LONG DAY for ME)But is great to see everyone and share all our stories. Thursdays we are just with our project groups at site, 8am-4pm. Basically, I love Sundays now.

“Confianza” (Spanish for trust) is a huge part of the culture. In order to integrate into our communities, we have to be accepted by our families, and then communities. Spending time with our families through chatting, watching tv with them, helping with household chores (cooking or whatever), playing with the children, or even some “chisme” (gossip, though I don’t say anything, I just listen…!) will help us build strong relationships with our families. If our families accept us, then our communities will follow. To “Gringos” (or north Americans in this context) this may seem trivial, but here you’d be surprised how important this is. “Confianza” is a lot like social capital. I was sitting with my “madre” after dinner, and we were just chatting, and she was like, “we had one volunteer who only came out of her room for meals, and never talked…we didn’t have much confianza in her, and she had a hard time…she ended up leaving early”…Confianza can really make or break a volunteer’s Peace Corps experience. Thus, I am working hard to build up my “confianza” to make the relationships and solidify the friendships and resources that will hopefully lead to my future success as a volunteer…and for the more obvious reason—in development, if the community you are working with has no faith in you, then you won’t really be working in development for too long…!

Noorita Menchu…

Like most places in the world, the United States included, in Guatemala my name seems to confuse people, eliciting what I personally find to be the most entertaining expressions ever, and pronunciation is nearly impossible. Additionally, without divulging too much of my personal information, for those of you who 1) know how to correctly pronounce my last name (clue: the “h” is silent) and 2) know any Spanish, you will notice that the first part of my last name sounds like a bad word in Spanish. When I first introduced myself to the Peace Corps Spanish teacher conducting my oral interview for placement in Spanish class, she paused for about a minute, then told me that 1) my first name would be too difficult to pronounce for the average Guatemalteco, and 2) my last name sounded like a bad word in Spanish. She suggested I use a new name when I conduct my workshops (yes, I will be holding trainings and workshops in the not too distant future!), since I would most likely be working with children (who would definitely snicker at my name, especially those loveable, but oh so predictable high schoolers—they are the same in every country I find…wow I feel old typing that…!)

Flash-forward two days when I am being dropped off to my family or training site where I will be for the next three months until I get my permanent site…of course my family could not pronounce my name, but they were really awesome about it, and my host madre asked if she could call me Noorita, because that was easier for her to say, plus she said she liked nicknames (especially diminutives, that is what she uses with her own daughters). Then my host dad offered his last name jokingly (Menchu), since after all, I am his daughter now. Thus, Noorita Menchu was born…That is now how family talks about me…Although I find this pretty comical, one thing I have noticed with Guatemaltecos, especially, my host family, is that they are warm and actually have an awesome sense of humor. Also, when they say I am now their daughter, my host parents really mean it, and they already feel like family that I have known all my life.

My host parents are amazing—very generous and kind. They have two daughters, Lucy and Rosita; each one is married, and with their families, they live in the house, which is like a compound with a central courtyard. Lucy has three children: Ana Belen (14), Guillermo (10), and Luz Maria (8), and Rosita has two children: Andre (7) (or Andrecito as we all call him) and Alessandra (1 year 10 months) (Ale) ( I LOVE HER!!) They call me their aunt, and they are all so fun. Today I played futbol with the boys (they didn’t believe me when I told them I used to play goalie!), then Luz Maria joined in, and the boys decided we should play boys vs girls (hombres contra mujeres) Although they said they won, they totally cheated and didn’t count our goals…! I sense a rematch soon…

One Week 'Till Takeoff!

So in an effort to fully commit to this blog (yes, I even have commitment issues to blogs...I know, I'm working on it) I decided to post at least once before I leave for my Peace Corps assignment to Guatemala (aka Hotamala)...So here goes...

Many people have asked me if I am excited to begin "the toughest job you'll ever love" or if I am ready for "the adventure of a lifetime"...in truth right now I am just scared. Scared sh*tless for lack of a better descriptor. All my life I have been preparing myself for this dream of mine--the Peace Corps. I have spent summers interning or volunteering abroad, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, challenging myself to see if I could handle it to make sure that the Peace Corps was 1) something I could actually do, and 2) something I still want to do. I've always felt confident about my decision to pick up and leave for 27 months and do something fully connected to my two passions: human rights and international development; however, now the doubts and misgivings are creeping into my mind, like a disease, growing bigger and bigger, commandeering my brain. I have all these crazy, irrational fears, and friends sending me links about giant sinkholes in Guatemala or newspaper clippings citing the ever-growing statistics of cases of violence against women there are not exactly helping to boost my confidence and ease my nerves (you know who you are, but I still love you guys!)

But this has been my dream since I was 16, and so, I am going for it. Yes, of course I am excited. But I am scared, nervous, etc., too. However, I suppose as with any big decision, these feelings are normal, and definitely warranted...or at least I am telling myself that...

Well, I'll talk to you all next post!

Until then, hasta luego!