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...!