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.