Photos de Guatemala

The town in Guatemala where I spent my first days (and also where I receive training)

The view from a classmate´s roof (with smokey volcano in background)

Antigua with my friend Leah

Antigua

Artisan Market in Antigua

It´s not much, but hopefully this will tide you all over. Until next time, mis amigos.

The Tourist Vs. The Peace Corps Volunteer

There is something to be said about the way Peace Corps training has us (the PCTrainees) thinking about our image in-country.

We are told to dress professionally and according to what we see around us rather than don shorts, tank tops and sandals. Likewise, we are expected to glean pertinent information from our communities in order to integrate within our towns rather than stick out like a sore thumb. I didn’t realize though, how  pertinent these PC suggestions were until I visited a new location in Guatemala.

A few of my classmates and I were visiting a local treasure this past week when a woman, from Los Angeles I’m ashamed to say, was walking with her local guide. As she stepped into this local treasure, her Chanel glasses, bright orange tank top, and green cargo shorts immediately gave her away as a tourist.  But what caught my attention was not her bright plumage, or the fact that she seemed to direct this tour guide more like a slave driver than someone hoping to learn something about the culture she was visiting. No, it was something that she uttered from her botox-ridden lips, Oh my gosh, I can’t believe what these people are doing? What are we doing here?

[First of all, let me stop the story here. If you didn’t want to come, the door is right there. You can just as easily tell your guide to lead you to a new destination. Heck, you could probably (by the looks of your Coach bag) book a flight out tonight. But I digress…]

I continue watching this woman, puzzled by what some may call cultural insensitivity. She continues going further into this Guate treasure and is now standing merely feet away from locals with camera in hand. I bite my lip, hoping that what I’m thinking in my head will not happen; heck this woman was at least 50+ years old, she couldn’t be that insensitive. But no, she stands close, like a child looking into a fish bowl, and starts taking pictures (with flash) of what is happening before her. Sure some Americans, heck, most foreigners, might see what was going on in this plaza as something weird, but this Guatemalan treasure was meaningful to the people who were participating. This was not a marimba band or a group of dancers dancing, but something heavier--something that felt too sacred to photograph.

I, seeing myself as a part of this community now (despite being only in-country for three-ish weeks now), told the woman that maybe she could at least turn off the flash or hide the camera because this wasn’t a circus. What I got in return was a middle finger.

Sure, I could have retaliated or made a spectacle but I knew that I too, would be portraying an image of the U.S. that was worse than the reality. So Peace Corps, I thank you because even in this short time, I know you have trained me to see how I fit into this community rather than to see myself outside of it.

Guate Soundtrack

Now--I was never someone who lived in a quiet neighborhood. In fact, I lived in Los Angeles; sirens, helicopters, and random shenanigans would lull me to sleep on a regular basis. But it wasn’t until I came to Guatemala that I actually realized how good I had it in the ‘sleep soundtrack’ realm.
The small, but hilly town where I live holds a treasure trove of local sounds (gallos, pavos, perros, morranos, y caballos make up the bulk of the nightly lullaby). Then there are the ‘bonus tracks’.

One thing you should know about my town before I go on, is the fact that it is quite a boisterous yet conservative town which houses citizens who are proud to be Catholic or Evangelical. Well, those bonus tracks that I mentioned above, are arenas for them to shout to the rooftops-- I love me some Jesus.

When the Catholic church has the mic-- it is an older man or a younger child praying over what seems to be a loud speaker that has a direct connection with my wall. Que Dios los Vendiga is something said over and over while folks sing hymns . Every Sunday, like clockwork, at 8pm, 10pm, Midnight, 2am, and 4am there is music and worship. And you would think I’m guessing about the times, but luckily (or the complete opposite in fact) the first Saturday in my town, I was afflicted with a little bug that had me sprinting to the restroom every two hours… just in time for me to hear the prayers out on the streets.
Now one would think, Well at least that’s just on Sunday. Well, you’re wrong. The Evangelical church also hosts it’s town worship on Thursdays (and sometimes Saturdays). Marimbas and singing over loud speaker fill the air so ‘the big guy’ can hear. But it does not stop there folks. In fact, I believe there is some godly van or bus that blasts this service over the night sky and throughout each and every street--making sure you heard that last plea. This theory comes from the fact that although there is the constant loud ceremony happening some place in town, it is amplified tenfold every fifteen or so minutes when it can be heard from the other side of every wall in my host family’s house.
So sure, helicopters and sirens are one thing… but nothing competes with this town’s loud speakers.

---Random Note----
I promise to attach more pictures next time! Internet cafes are killer when it comes to uploading photos!

Big Change, Big Hills (Training in Guate)

It has been exactly one week since I have been in Guate! Huzzah.

I have made it through an amazing first host family-- The Lopez family, no less -- who were a great first face to see in Guatemala. My P.C. hermana, Abra, and I definitely bonded with the family and even managed to learn a traditional dance from Gabriel, our host parents' eldest grandchild. Abra and I practically have la cancion numero seis seared into our heads.

Currently, I am living with a new host family in a larger, hilly town. Apart from sweating profusely and turning tomato red in the sun, I am learning more about the culture and what it means to be a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Sorry I don't have any pictures for you! I promise, next time, I will carry my thumb drive when I head over to the internet cafe.

P.S. For those still wondering... one bag finally arrived half an hour before leaving for National Airport. Bag number two though, is lost with all my clothes, shoes, and P.C. items. I was prepared for big changes, and I guess this is my first...

Hasta Luego Estados Unidos

Today (seeing as it is 2am D.C. time), I'm heading off to Guate!

After an eventful trip from the West Coast to the East Coast (delayed and cancelled flights a-plenty), I made it to Staging on Monday night! Sure, my luggage didn't quite make it here, but I'm safe and sound and surrounded by forty-five other Peace Corps Trainees!

I'm missing home just a little bit, but I can't wait to touch Guatemalan soil and know that there's this whole adventure just waiting to start.

Now if only my luggage could make it's way over to me... then I would just burst into song.