tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72669217047607378262024-03-13T05:32:32.544-07:00Fumbles and Faux PasLindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-65831656718492426622011-02-01T20:06:00.000-08:002011-02-01T20:09:39.187-08:00Cross-dressing, Floats, and Possible Alcohol Poisoning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TUc15cLG0lI/AAAAAAAAAPg/1nbvifx7kkE/s1600/DSC_0123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TUc15cLG0lI/AAAAAAAAAPg/1nbvifx7kkE/s200/DSC_0123.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>So what celebration allows usually <i>homophobic</i> men to get trashed while strutting around the streets of a town in short skirts and dresses? Give up? It's the Convite! (-Insert sarcastic hoot of joy here-)<br />
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</div><div>Okay, I'll begrudgingly admit that it is a little more than that. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>At the essence of the holiday, a town celebrates their Patron Saint with a town-wide parade, a dance, and lots of other activities.<br />
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Sara and I decided to watch the main event, the town parade, from my roof with a wide-array of snacks and mugs filled to the brim with tea. And while we were the only ones who chose to watch from above, I have to say, we had the best seats in the house.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we begin with men making fun of the same ol' Mother in Law/Suegra trope (really, again?)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently we were also a part of that Antonio Banderas movie, 'Once Upon a Time in Mexico'</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TUjT0y9kUmI/AAAAAAAAAPk/ZFv8waClpRM/s1600/DSC_0090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TUjT0y9kUmI/AAAAAAAAAPk/ZFv8waClpRM/s320/DSC_0090.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cast of Harry Potter showed up with pretty cute costumes!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TUjUNgKvFyI/AAAAAAAAAPo/yoAo6PfvyzQ/s1600/DSC_0109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TUjUNgKvFyI/AAAAAAAAAPo/yoAo6PfvyzQ/s320/DSC_0109.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And finally the Homoeroticism/Bro-Love was out of control, but it's okay... they were drunk so it doesn't count (sarcasm).<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So it wasn't too bad. Although I was biting my tongue the whole time during the drunk homoeroticism, I did have fun watching the dances, floats, and costumes. Well done. Just next year, can we stop with the mockery towards women (including, and I joke you not, Rigoberta Menchu). Thanks.</span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-90206752326551461212011-01-19T21:35:00.000-08:002011-01-20T17:02:50.578-08:00Lessons of the YearNo, this is not <i>another</i> post about the New Year and how Suzie Q wants to go back to the gym and how Peter Parker is cutting back on the snarky comments for 2011. Nope. This is a post celebrating the fact that I have been in Guatemala for a mother flippin' year! And with that, I'll share some knowledge I've gained since deciding to drag two backpacks on an airplane and forget about the luxuries.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://gurgaonshoppingmalls.com/store/images/categories/154093_lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://gurgaonshoppingmalls.com/store/images/categories/154093_lg.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><i>What I, Linda, have learned in a year of Peace Corps service in Guatemala</i>:<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Malaria, Going Deaf, Bleeding from the Inner Ear, and Gastrointestinal Amoebas are not just diseases/illnesses/afflictions you study in High School Biology: they <b>happen</b>.</li>
<li>A huge percentage of the towns/cities/municipalities/etc. are named after saints: <i>Santa Apolonia, San Francisco La Union, San Andres Xecul, San Juan Comalapa</i></li>
<li>Holidays play a huge role in Guatemala---and despite the name, Mother's Day is a <b>month</b> of motherly love.</li>
<li>Know the bus drivers and have them know you. If the bus picks up a pervy, drunk or simply annoying drifter, the driver and the ayudante will have your back.</li>
<li>Sexism is everywhere---you have to learn how to defend yourself against it.</li>
<li>When it comes to your project, gain the trust of everyone you're working with by being approachable and honest. And it doesn't hurt to throw some humor into the mix.</li>
<li>Everyone, and yeah... I do mean everyone, will poop their pants during their service.</li>
<li>If an horchata (rice drink) tastes fishy, make your work partner/sitemate try it because if you know you're going to Diarrhea-ville, take them with you!</li>
<li>Make connections at your site, sometimes they can lend you a hand when you're in need.</li>
<li>Dating in a machista society? Yeah... no.</li>
<li>Your first aid/med kit will become your greatest ally.</li>
<li>Your emotions are cranked up---be honest with yourself about them and you will survive.</li>
<li>Do not miss 'snack hour' no matter the circumstances. This is prime 'connection building time'.</li>
<li>You don't need TV to survive, but if your internet is as slow as mine... stock up on DVDs for your laptop.</li>
<li>Your phone will FAIL 80% of the time.</li>
<li>If you're a woman, your community friend base will be made of girls younger than 18 and women older than 35.</li>
<li>Sing while you do your own laundry, by the time <i>Party in the U.S.A.</i> has been on repeat for an hour, you would have done a load.</li>
<li>Since you'll be behind on pop culture, you will have certain guilty pleasures <i>(ex: Baby by J. Beiber or Party in the USA by M. Cyrus) </i>because those songs will be used in all advertising attempts.</li>
<li>Advertising in Guatemala means blasting music across the whole town and announcing the 2 for 5Q chicken pieces at the local <i>Chicken Little</i> fried chicken stand.</li>
<li>Love your sitemate, they'll be there when you're most vulnerable.</li>
</ul><div>And finally,</div><div><ul><li>Although it's been a year, you will probably feel like you've only just arrived. Time flies, so enjoy it.</li>
</ul><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TTfJOTOk80I/AAAAAAAAAO8/QVYEXFF6Uhs/s1600/Photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TTfJOTOk80I/AAAAAAAAAO8/QVYEXFF6Uhs/s320/Photo+2.jpg" width="320" /></a>So Happy Freaking Bloody First Year to ME! I'm coming back soon America.</div></div><div><br />
</div><div>-----</div><div>In other news, since there has been a Military Siege in the Department of Alta Verapaz due to Narco Trafficking <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(yeah, I won't really get into that because I'm still confused and partially afraid of what that means to Peace Corps as a whole)</span>, I have had the pleasure of hanging out with a fourth 'faux' sitemate: Whitney! Check her out (as well as Sara and I). We're all tired and halfway into PJs, but hope you appreciate the pictures I forced them to take!</div><div><br />
</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-11683826626374479682011-01-01T22:01:00.000-08:002011-01-02T11:50:37.820-08:00Stuffing, Vacation Vacations, Pyrotechnic Specialists and Hugh Hefner<i>Oh the holidays!</i><br />
<br />
The themed, Christmas-centric, commercials (Santa proposing with diamonds, polar bear Santa treating the cubs to a Coke, Santa saving the day with a tampon [oh wait, I just made up that one up---apologies], etc.), the holiday decorations flooding the stores, and the smell of pumpkin, turkey, and pine in the air.<br />
<i>Let's take a minute to enjoy those things, shall we</i> because I did not get to experience any of those---well, except the pine smell but that is the visual marker that a party is happening <b>here</b> and <b>now</b><i> </i>so get your butt in here, stranger! But despite my pumpkin latte withdrawals and the lack of commercialism in my life, I have had a great holiday season.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSABp7iytbI/AAAAAAAAAOk/pVZ1PwfLJcA/s1600/DSC_0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSABp7iytbI/AAAAAAAAAOk/pVZ1PwfLJcA/s200/DSC_0065.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Thanksgiving was surprisingly traditional with overeating, board games, and unbuttoning pants <i>(and no, I'm not talking about <b>that</b> kind of unbuttoning)</i>. The day was filled with cooking, laughing, and making Guatemalans confused with our ability to eat and eat in a slightly competitive manner. I have never seen so many confused faces as ten or so of us PCVs would stuff our faces with turkey, mashed potatoes, and mac and cheese then hurry off to the buffet table to snag another plate-full of food. Unlike us, the Guatemalan guests had half a plate of food and skipped the pumpkin pie desert! And to the wonderful American restaurant owner who took us, poor souls, in for the sacred holiday, thank you! Thanks for the space and the mouth watering stuffing! <i>Why yes, Oliver, you may have some 'mo </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(If you fail to understand that reference, I officially disown you---joking)</span>!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSAOWgopZYI/AAAAAAAAAOo/UTZwy9eN63U/s1600/DSC_0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSAOWgopZYI/AAAAAAAAAOo/UTZwy9eN63U/s320/DSC_0010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>And speaking of <i>'mo</i>, my holiday spirit wanted to crank this vacation into hyper mode, so it, and I, went up north for a little while---to Mexico! Seriously, Peace Corps Washington, if you're reading this: please create a volunteer exchange program in which I trade places with a volunteer in Mexico for a few days! I will love you forever. But let me step away from the groveling for a minute to just tell you that the places I visited (San Cristobal de las Casas, Puerto Escondido, Palenque to name a few) were beyond my wildest dreams. There was so much to do, so much to see and I was conveniently there during the celebration of <i>La Virgen de la Guadalupe</i>, the largest holiday in Mexico! Oh and if you are ever in San Cristobal, you <b>have to</b> eat at El Caldero, especialy if you are a huge Caldo fan like me! I am in love. San Cristobal de las Casas is now listed under one of the cities I would love to live in (right below London and Marseilles)! Who wants to go with me next?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSAZnzRWUMI/AAAAAAAAAOs/QKqN895chBo/s1600/DSC_0544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSAZnzRWUMI/AAAAAAAAAOs/QKqN895chBo/s320/DSC_0544.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Well, while many people aren't jumping to travel to Mexico nowadays, I was as happy as my thirteen year old self with a new Tiger Beat during the Christmas season because my lovely Mother and sister came to visit! We travelled, we bickered, we hung out with my lovely PCV/local friends and all in all, I hope they enjoyed their stay. I know it was a drastic transition from Los Angeles, but hope it wasn't too boring for them (though I can hear my sister reading this and giving a sarcastic retort).<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSAbvf6D8GI/AAAAAAAAAOw/UpsrtwXB9ck/s1600/DSC_0651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="137" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSAbvf6D8GI/AAAAAAAAAOw/UpsrtwXB9ck/s200/DSC_0651.JPG" width="200" /></a>And beyond enjoying my town and one specific restaurant in general, I know they enjoyed the fact that Christmas Night, every house in town has as many pyrotechnics as a KISS concert! I mean, we feared for my house since there were huge bomb-like fireworks shaking my thin walls, Fourth of July-esque fireworks that seemed too far from the skyline and too close to my roof and people yelling and screaming until about two A.M.. On second thought, I think KISS can't afford the pyrotechnic specialists that flooded the Christmas air with explosives! But overall, miss you guys! And I know I'm not alone on that sentiment since Frijolita, after heavily bonding with you guys for a few days, sat by the door for hours waiting for you guys to come back. Somehow, I managed to pry her away from the waiting with a few kitty treats---thanks for those too Mom/Sis!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSDVi-6T9UI/AAAAAAAAAO4/oM9OBfo8XHE/s1600/DSC_0689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSDVi-6T9UI/AAAAAAAAAO4/oM9OBfo8XHE/s200/DSC_0689.JPG" width="133" /></a></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSDT4BqtmHI/AAAAAAAAAO0/HC1oh2ckWF0/s1600/DSC_0677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TSDT4BqtmHI/AAAAAAAAAO0/HC1oh2ckWF0/s320/DSC_0677.JPG" width="320" /></a>And finally there came New Years Eve! Overall, it was a pretty fun holiday! Fireworks, sparklers, tamales (some even made by Sara), BBQ, dancing and a Block Party that lasted until 4am. It was definitely a fun way to ring in the New Year! And since most of the available/attractive folks were over an appropriate age to kiss, I decided to skip out on that one pesky tradition (though many tried and failed that night---huzzah). After all, Hugh Hefner would be the only grossly older gentleman that I might take advantage of and he recently became engaged to his 24 year old girlfriend (ah, we're the same age), Crystal Harris, in which he proposed with a Little Mermaid ring box*. And fun fact for you guys out there, Mr. Hefner was already 63 when the Little Mermaid was out in theaters for the first time! So keep that in mind, Mrs. Future Hefner. If you were able to keep your food down and are back with me... <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Happy 2011 ya'll!</span> </i>I wish you all peace, harmony, and love to you and yours! And hope you didn't have to kiss anyone who was old enough to be your grandparent when you watched your favorite childhood movie in theaters!<br />
<br />
P.S. If you still haven't checked it out, and have made a resolution that has to do with blogs/art/etc., check out <a href="http://antiretrograde.tumblr.com/">AntiRetrograde</a> today!<br />
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*<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Oh and seeing as how Hugh Hefner's 'romantic practices' have been leaked (pun intended) on the internet--- I feel no desire to actually be with such a man. Here's a few hints: kleenex, baby oil, and a lot of mimicking of a dead fish. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Blegh!</span></i>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-68305087856714244112010-11-20T20:06:00.000-08:002010-11-20T20:18:34.210-08:00Catching Up with Pixels<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">October 31st: Dia de Los Muertos (Day of the Dead)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">While Halloween is one of my favorite holidays of the year, mostly because you seem to find glitter/body paint/hair dye in weird places for <i>several</i> days after the fun, I decided to keep it low key in 2010. Instead, the sitemate and I decided to join in on the local festivities. And I even made a few friends who had never seen a camera---and decided to take mine out for a spin.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Families visit loved ones at the cemetery</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOh1T-wK-oI/AAAAAAAAANo/szycB2N5vAU/s1600/halloweenbarillete.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOh1T-wK-oI/AAAAAAAAANo/szycB2N5vAU/s320/halloweenbarillete.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They celebrate by flying kites, lighting candles, and painting the tombs a new shade of color.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New friends who took my camera for a ride.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">November 1st: Todos Santos (All Saints Day)</span><br />
<div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">After consuming a coffee filled IV drip and slathering some sunblock on our appendages, the Santiago Kite Festival group was off to check out the (in)famous Kite Festival. Although weary at first, I have to admit that even if you do not care for kites, you <i>have </i>to go if only to see a horde of humans try to prop a massive kite that is (awkwardly) held together by a pile of bamboo sticks. *Teaser alert* 3 out of 5 kites fail to even make it upright!</span></b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Santiago, Sacatepequez (the birthplace of the Kite Festival)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOh6IC0i4LI/AAAAAAAAAN0/3Gr2ZZ3qIDU/s1600/DSCN1199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOh6IC0i4LI/AAAAAAAAAN0/3Gr2ZZ3qIDU/s320/DSCN1199.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In order to honor the souls of the deceased, many fly kites. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOh6ynr5IAI/AAAAAAAAAN4/YF__1qjPFxo/s1600/DSCN1232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOh6ynr5IAI/AAAAAAAAAN4/YF__1qjPFxo/s320/DSCN1232.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But apart from the small 'toy kites' there are enormous kites which are tested against the elements on Nov. 1st.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<b><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">1st Week of November: <i>Dogvention</i> & Business Practices (with Guest Speaker A.K.S)*</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Our little 'ol town in this here Guatemala had a visitor---Andrew, an MBA student who is doing his research <i>around the world</i> (I mean, he just came back from Africa, right Sara and Andrew?)! But while in town, he spent his time interviewing a number of business owners and learning just a tad about makes Guatemalan business owners tick. It was a blast having him! Come back soon! *Title is an inside joke, so apologies to those who are outside of the loop. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">[Photos courtesy of Andrew]</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiFmJOTSJI/AAAAAAAAAN8/oTpeAWlL0-Q/s1600/IMG_5979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiFmJOTSJI/AAAAAAAAAN8/oTpeAWlL0-Q/s320/IMG_5979.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew, Sara and I enjoying our favorite treat, <i>Tortillas de Harina</i> (a traditional food from the east)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiFsjrAvdI/AAAAAAAAAOA/aU3WnjGdlto/s1600/IMG_6012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiFsjrAvdI/AAAAAAAAAOA/aU3WnjGdlto/s320/IMG_6012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the Mercado (on a non-market day)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiFzDfDAQI/AAAAAAAAAOE/XjCo8NS5nu0/s1600/Vet+Store%252C+Carlos+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiFzDfDAQI/AAAAAAAAAOE/XjCo8NS5nu0/s320/Vet+Store%252C+Carlos+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helping to interview the Vet in town.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b></b></div><b><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">2nd Week of November: <i>Sorpresas y Mas</i> (Surpises and More)</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">After much planning, I managed to surprise the living cr*p out of my family with a visit home (and scaring each family member by jumping out from the car, pretending to be a neighbor picking up a package, and yelling surprise over and over again! I spent some quality time with the family, celebrated my sister's 21st birthday in style, and got to hang out with all my loves from NorCal! And a special shout out to Jeff and Nicole for letting me crash at your houses! Love you guys. Sorry if I didn't get a chance to see all of you--- but next time I will make ALL the rounds! Only negative of the trip was the usual TSA drama which means me being grilled by a TSA agent (this time, they gave me a Guatemalan TSA agent) to see if I was 'really' a Peace Corps volunteer. If anyone could tell me how I can find out if I'm on some sort of black list, let me know. I'm getting tired of the grill sessions which seem to increase in correlation to the amount of drama there is surrounding the TSA itself. Exhibit A: <a href="http://www.chicagotribune.com/travel/ktla-naked-images-leaked-online,0,4426956.story">Naked</a> <a href="http://articles.cnn.com/2010-11-12/travel/body.scanning.radiation_1_backscatter-radiological-research-radiation?_s=PM:TRAVEL">Body</a> <a href="http://gizmodo.com/5692198/a-tsa-success-story">Scanners</a>.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiLVT4htXI/AAAAAAAAAOI/s_WvKQO9B-8/s1600/IMG_0723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiLVT4htXI/AAAAAAAAAOI/s_WvKQO9B-8/s320/IMG_0723.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First drink: Apple Martini. My sister is a classy gal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiLztnM7eI/AAAAAAAAAOM/anAt2GsJFQA/s1600/pika+pika+3_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiLztnM7eI/AAAAAAAAAOM/anAt2GsJFQA/s320/pika+pika+3_2.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Have you heard of 'Pika Pika'? Neither had I until I did it with Matt & Nicole! Thrilling and ridiculous.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiPi9H95KI/AAAAAAAAAOU/KFJtc9LUR4A/s1600/IMG_0726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiPi9H95KI/AAAAAAAAAOU/KFJtc9LUR4A/s320/IMG_0726.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also managed to scare one of my amazing professors with the help of Misha.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3rd Week of November: <i>Multimedia Bonanza</i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">We have finally reached the present and the present is looking sweet. So far my life has been wholeheartedly consumed with teaching people from my town about the importance of self-expression through drawing, photography and film. I am partnering up with Sara to bring three different demographics: men, women, children/teens a FREE taller (workshop) surrounding Multimedia! So far the first few classes have not only been successful, but eye opening to both the teachers (Sara and I) and the students! And I still cannot believe the support we have gotten from the town itself: 600Q for equipment, a booth/space in our Feria (which slowly began yesterday and will reach it's climax on the 30th!), and a word of mouth campaign that beats <i>Paranormal Activity</i>'s viral blitzkrieg advertising! Can't wait for the future classes and the chance of exhibiting the photos/film in an art space in Antigua (proposal is currently under review)!</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiVRbKK43I/AAAAAAAAAOc/ZZYfOCngui8/s1600/DSC_0066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiVRbKK43I/AAAAAAAAAOc/ZZYfOCngui8/s320/DSC_0066.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1: Perspective</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiUV0DqQ6I/AAAAAAAAAOY/XdnDyc9OrC4/s1600/DSC_0063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TOiUV0DqQ6I/AAAAAAAAAOY/XdnDyc9OrC4/s320/DSC_0063.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1: How I see the world</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">In unrelated, but somehow related, news--- Sara and I have a personal photography project <a href="http://antiretrograde.tumblr.com/">HERE</a>.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">It is a photographic diary of sorts that features our town and our daily reaction to it. We don't tell each other what we're posting, so it is also a bit of a surprise to us to see how each other is feeling. Feel free to peruse and add it to your favorites. It's a sort of an experiment for us and we hope you like it!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Until next time, strangers.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div></b></span></b></b></div></div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-59154353543550814602010-10-25T16:21:00.000-07:002010-10-25T16:26:16.740-07:00To Market, To MarketFor NY, it is gallery openings and fashion shows. For LA: sushi bar reveals and movie premieres. And for Guatemala (my town in particular), it is market day.<br />
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Yes, these are social events where you go to see and be seen--- and sometimes, even allowing you some time to conveniently pick up your weekly grocery list!<br />
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Sunday and Tuesday market days are the social events of the week in my town. Vendors sell their best batches of fragrant produce, while townsfolk walk through the <i>mercado </i>lugging their <i>costales</i> (colorful, plastic bags) over their finest clothing.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TMYQHWyUYOI/AAAAAAAAANg/LDJd9iqTjZw/s1600/PICT0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TMYQHWyUYOI/AAAAAAAAANg/LDJd9iqTjZw/s400/PICT0068.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing better than fresh produce!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>These are the days to catch up with friends and loved ones who live across town, snag a bit of town gossip, and even make new friends---friends who sometimes have the power to save you a Q or two.<br />
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Sara and I are now seen as a sort of Gringa Power Duo. We walk through the market in perfect unison---creating a whirlwind effect that can only be compared to seeing <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kali">Kali</a>, the Hindu Goddess, stretching her four arms across the market, purchasing wisely and with swift precision.<br />
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If time is on our side, we begin our journey with a cup of <i>atole</i> (deliciously made by one of the members of Sara's women's group) in the 'inside market' and then slowly make our way out to the veggies, fruits, and finally the grain section---exercising our 'haggling muscle' with every stop.<br />
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Sometimes though, our route and even our grocery lists go out the figurative window when something catches our eyes. For me, that usually means fresh <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lychee">lychee</a> (which, yes, is apparently grown here in Guatemala) and for Sara, it is a fresh basketful of berries.<br />
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But no matter the route and no matter how late we are to the party, we make an appearance. Because, let's face it, if you can't show off your new <a href="http://www.megapaca.com.gt/">MegaPaca</a> (Guatemalan thrift store chain) shoes while hauling around three pineapples, a pound of onions, and a bushel of broccoli, then, what is the point! Oh, and maybe it doesn't hurt that you have two opportunities a week to cement crucial connections in town via a hug or a quick hello. Yeah, that too!Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-6114433848473766142010-10-18T23:47:00.000-07:002010-10-18T23:56:53.431-07:00The Perks of Being a Site-Rat<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Site-rat:</b> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999; font-size: x-small;">Noun</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">: integrated, homebody, adjusted</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">1. PCV who happily spends most of his/her service in site. 2. PCV who most likely chooses to remain with HCNs (Host Country Nationals/Guatemalans) rather than spend yet another night in a tourist town. 3. A title taken with pride for some and scorned by others.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Example: Susie Q refused to come to the Halloween party, what a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">site-rat</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">!</span><br />
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Ah, it is October and although the smell of pumpkin spice lattes and pastries is not wafting through the Guatemalan air, there is good news. School is out! And since this girl works with the school system, that means I can actually spend time in my site. But let's rewind a bit.<br />
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In order to end with a bang, Abra and I lined up <i>taller</i> after <i>taller</i> after <i>taller</i> that had me chugging energy drinks while simultaneously hailing buses <i>en la </i><i>madrugada</i> (colloquially known in english as butt-crack of dawn). Our wonderful counterpart from the Ministry of Education quite enjoyed our week full of workshops and was beyond amazed at how much the directors, teachers, and CTAs care for us! Score!<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TL05I1-BxlI/AAAAAAAAANY/-iVC8bsCpFE/s1600/IMG_0518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TL05I1-BxlI/AAAAAAAAANY/-iVC8bsCpFE/s200/IMG_0518.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TL0415Yyc0I/AAAAAAAAANU/9-vWaW_kIGM/s1600/IMG_0517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TL0415Yyc0I/AAAAAAAAANU/9-vWaW_kIGM/s200/IMG_0517.JPG" width="200" /></a>In related news, October 15th was National Handwashing Day! And in order to share the excitement with our office and the whole Ministry of Education, Abra and I created the following bulletin board. Yes, I went back to my R.A. days to create a bulletin board complete with glitter to represent germs! And thanks to Abra, my caricature (complete with shiny snot) is hanging in the middle of our office causing hordes of employees to stand in front of it with curiosity. The title, by the way loosely, translates to: Don't let bad friends stick.<br />
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After winding down the school year with school visits, workshops, and office activities, Abra and I finally have a chance to enjoy something we've had little time for since the beginning of our service: time in our site. See, traveling every day (sometimes for four, five hours) gets a bit tedious-- especially when you end up getting home around dark.<br />
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So now, we have more time to be around our communities and to meet new people in site. I've already met my new site-mate (and her fiance), have been more involved with community groups, and have spent more time with my <i>other</i> more experienced site-mate, Sara. And heck, since being in town in a more visible way, Sara and I have received vocal support <i>AND</i> funding from our <i>alcalde</i> (Mayor) for our upcoming Multimedia Taller! Huzzah!<br />
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So why the definition at the beginning of this entry? Well it seems this is a term is thrown around quite frequently within the Peace Corps community to poke fun of those volunteers who actually enjoy their sites, have created a niche for themselves and really feel separation anxiety once they leave. While it seems like this word carries a negative connotation, I have to say, I take this title with pride.<br />
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I am completely head over heels with my site. I enjoy that I have friends in my local market who always give me a better price because they know I'm here working for and within their community. I look forward to taking particular buses with those bus drivers who I know can identify me by name and would look out for me if I were ever in trouble while on board. I relish the fact that my community's CTA wants to expand the pilot program I'm working with to all the schools in my community because he feels passionate. And I even get a kick of the night food vendors who have realized I do speak Spanish and will laugh at their stupid jokes.<br />
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So here's to you, fellow site-rats, may we serve in solidarity knowing that we are truly challenging ourselves via our interactions with the myriad characters who surround us every day!<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TL1AckLx2rI/AAAAAAAAANc/n7FEDYAdGuw/s1600/IMG_0507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TL1AckLx2rI/AAAAAAAAANc/n7FEDYAdGuw/s200/IMG_0507.JPG" width="200" /></a>Side note: Shout out to Cheryl for the greatest surprise I have gotten while in country! Thanks for reading my mind and knowing exactly what I needed: tea, room fresheners, and best of all... <b>scented candles</b>!Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-12617308905076599682010-09-26T12:30:00.000-07:002010-09-26T22:10:50.149-07:00Character Profile: For the Love of a Bucket GirlIn general, each <i>camioneta</i> has an average of 18 rows of seats on both the left and right side of the bus; seating approximately 108 people while still having an unlimited standing-room-only section that have riders dripping with sweat in the summer and providing an awkward but warm, natural heat source in the winter. But there is one seat that isn't accounted for: the bucket seat.<br />
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Now, this bucket seat isn't the colloquially known 'bitch' seat we have in the states---you know the awkward third seat in the front of a pick up or the tiny, sometimes non-existent middle seat in the back of a sedan.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://teksandwich.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/bucket11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://teksandwich.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/bucket11.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>This my dear reader, is an actual bucket strategically placed between the driver, the stick shift, and the <i>camioneta</i> door. And despite the seat being a large paint bucket rather than a cushy worn-in leather padded seat, this spot is a coveted one. The woman sitting in this seat then, is (socially) someone to envy.<br />
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How does one achieve bucket seat glory? Easy: Become involved with the driver or the ayudante (Note: I did not say 'are married to' or 'are engaged to').<br />
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Now, many women who are 'normal passengers' are bothered by this favoritism or what this seat stands for--infidelity, extramarital ties, etc.<br />
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But in a way, this seat is a position of strength. The bucket girl does not pay a fare, holds the men in power (the driver/helper) by their figurative balls and receives other tangible perks (jewelry, clothing, etc).<br />
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Heck, I've even seen a bucket girl stop a <i>camioneta</i> three times for her own personal needs and no one was allowed to speak a word.<br />
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Sure, the bucket girl/driver (or ayudante) relationship becomes a little awkward when there are very salacious feeding sessions going on (ex: shoving phallic looking food items in each other's mouths and subsequently grinning with joy), but I say do what you have to do.<br />
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In a community where women are seen solely as baby factories, house wives, or sexual play things (even without consent), I give a virtual high five to the bucket girl. You're playing in a man's world and using your wiles to go somewhere... even if it is just the next town over.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Image source: </span><a href="http://teksandwich.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">teksandwich</span></a>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-10539747044110996292010-09-16T17:25:00.000-07:002010-09-16T17:25:23.108-07:00Hey Babe, I've Got a Package for YouHere's one thing we volunteers look forward to: packages!<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>So when I noticed that my name was on the 'package log' at the Peace Corps office front desk on Tuesday, my hands were <i>jones-ing</i> for some U.S. swag similar to the way I imagine Lindsay Lohan itches to be that cute red-headed-and-like-able-Disney star she <i>used </i>to be.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I waited a minute to ponder what I might be getting, digested the idea and readied myself.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But when the package finally reached my eager hands, I began to notice some things. First thing: the Target bag speckled with the red and white logo. The next thing: the name written on the package was 'Belinda'. Umm... '<i>Okay</i>', I told myself as I found it odd that Target could ship all the way down to Central America and then get my first name wrong. But after some coaxing from Abra and one of the staff members, I opened the package.</div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TJKzFf1EAnI/AAAAAAAAAM8/xgn2BhHazQ8/s1600/IMG_0478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TJKzFf1EAnI/AAAAAAAAAM8/xgn2BhHazQ8/s200/IMG_0478.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div>It was:</div><div>a baby towel with a cute little giraffe on it. Well, that's odd. But maybe there's some prank-like message on the receipt to explain the package, I told myself.</div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;">Then, I saw the receipt. It detailed that the sender was from Ohio and that the package should have gone to a place called 'Guatemala Place' in <i>Virginia</i>! How exactly does a package that was meant to just cross a couple of states, get all the way to Guatemala (another country)?</span><br />
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I sure as hell wasn't sure, so I took Abra's advice and wrote the couple who was supposed to receive this package a note on the receipt. There is a modified picture of it below.<br />
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So Jerry and Belinda L. from Virginia... I hope your package finds you!<br />
And hello from Guatemala, Central America.<br />
Love,<br />
<br />
Linda L.<br />
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</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-13279840000777856342010-09-04T19:03:00.000-07:002010-09-04T19:03:00.696-07:00A Little Advice for Future PCVsThis is a little advice for future generations of PCVs in order to avoid <b>screw</b><b>ing over</b> the people who will either be working after you or with your counterparts:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1. Don't sleep with a work-partner/counterpart</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2. Don't party with a work-partner/counterpart </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3. Don't take your job lightly</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4. Do your FUCKING job</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now these four suggestions come after a pretty horrific work meeting Abra and I had a few days ago with a few gentlemen who will remain nameless.</div><div><br />
</div><div>From the first minute we were in the room with Se<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">ñ</span>or Big Creeper and Licenciado Bad Mouth (Clue: These are made up names) there was enough sexual harassment going on that a boss in the U.S. would immediately file a harassment suit for us. And before anyone starts blaming, I was still depressed over my dog (heck, my eyes were still red) and Abra was still being supportive... so there is no possible way to be sending mixed signals to these men who we would have to work with over the next two years.</div><div><br />
</div><div>After more body-on-body-touching attempts and a slew of weird sexual compliments, then came the comparisons:</div><blockquote><i>"Pcv Hoo-Hah was really nice and went out on a date with us </i>(there was even a few mentions of PCV Hoo-Hahs chest in this conversation)"</blockquote><blockquote>" <i>Pcv Boing-Boing takes longer in the schools and accepts <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">everything</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span>we give, even alcohol<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">"</span></i></blockquote><blockquote><i>Etcetera</i>... </blockquote><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TIBpM1Z3pUI/AAAAAAAAAMs/4mR_TlAlb_k/s1600/sorry-wasnt-see-workplace-ecard-someecards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TIBpM1Z3pUI/AAAAAAAAAMs/4mR_TlAlb_k/s320/sorry-wasnt-see-workplace-ecard-someecards.jpg" width="320" /></a>I completely understand if you just want to be seen as <i>one of them</i>, want to build rapport in an easy manner, want some local booty or even want to accept free things, but honestly, you are screwing it up for the rest of us who are truly here to do a job. We are professionals and want to be treated as such-- not like women who drop their panties for a shot of tequila. <b>No</b> I don't want to drink at 7 am and <b>no</b> I don't want to sleep with you because you would be something I would want to experience.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And for the record, I <i>can</i> understand spanish and <i>did </i>understand your backhanded comments when we refused you... along with those lewd comments you shot at us from the front seat of the car. <b><i>And</i></b> we <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">still</span> don't want to sleep with you. But see you in a month for the next workshop, okay! Oh and please remember to keep your penis in your pants, <i>kthnxbye</i>!</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-26034190695351553272010-09-02T19:01:00.000-07:002010-09-02T19:01:13.572-07:00The Girl Who Cried 'Dog'[Warning this post is <b>graphic</b>, so if you don't like talk of death, blood, etc... just skip it entirely]<br />
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I know I haven't written in a long, long time and I apologize. I had a cute and spunky update post written up a while back and I was going to publish it whenever I had access to an internet connection, but other things came up a few days ago.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TIBA69VAY3I/AAAAAAAAAMc/ql4Zc3r70A4/s1600/IMG_0437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TIBA69VAY3I/AAAAAAAAAMc/ql4Zc3r70A4/s200/IMG_0437.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>So since the last time I blogged, I was gifted a puppy (named Canela: Cinnamon) from the same family who gave me my kitty, Frijolita. She was friendly, lovable and got along with my cat so well that she believed herself to be one! She snuck some cat food, played with the cat toys, and eventually began to climb roofs.<br />
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Her roof prowling became so out of control that one day I heard her barking so far away that I went up on my roof and found her about 5 or 6 houses away lounging on a neighbor's lamina roof. That's when I decided to tie her up.<br />
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Since my house is a pretty decent size, I tied her with a leash/laundry rope combo from one of the iron poles sticking out of my roof (which Guatemalan home owners keep exposed in order to expand their house after a few years) so as to give her enough room to run around my whole house and maybe jump around one or two houses directly around me.<br />
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This plan worked for a couple of days... she would roam around, still wrestle with my cat and managed to make it into her faux dog bed that I had made when she first arrived.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TIBJHTqH7ZI/AAAAAAAAAMk/t5fZ3E_T5Es/s1600/IMG_0447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TIBJHTqH7ZI/AAAAAAAAAMk/t5fZ3E_T5Es/s200/IMG_0447.JPG" width="150" /></a>Then Tuesday Arrived. I came home to an unusually quiet house and thought my dog had escaped and wandered off to another roof. Instead, I saw my dog's rope strewn past the stairs leading to my roof and the dog toys across the floor. I mentally compartmentalized it and headed toward my bedroom.<br />
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The nook between my stairs and my bedroom is where I found her in a way that only brought back visuals from hundreds of horror movies I had seen in the past. I really don't want to scar others but I can guarantee that you will only be able to imagine a quarter of what I saw when I discovered my puppy. She was lifeless and she was bloody.<br />
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Now, she was just a memory of what Canela used to be. I screamed a silent scream that soon broke loose into a sound that still haunts me along with <i>that</i> scene.<br />
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I left the house immediately in a fit of hysterics. I began calling everyone I knew in town and no one was in town or picking up their phones. All I wanted was for someone to release my dog from its current position (that still haunted me as I hyperventilated around town) and to help me remove her from my house since I would be unable to do both.<br />
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Soon I was wandering aimlessly, crying my eyes until Abra called me to tell me that I might get some help from the <i>Centro de Salud</i>. It turns out, all they were interested in was mocking the fact that I was crying about a <i>chucho</i> (street dog). I tried to explain why I couldn't just grab a trash bag and take him to the <i>barranco</i> (trash cliff), but they just rolled their eyes and kept passing me around every office in the center so that everyone could enjoy my suffering. After I passed by the last office, the gentleman behind the desk brushed me off by saying that the Municipal Building might have an idea of what to do with a dead <i>chucho</i>.<br />
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I ran to the Municipal Building, pausing occasionally to burst into tears and finally managed to compose myself by the time I reached the front office. Once again, I explained my story between heavy breathing and just had all the older men laughing while the secretaries were yelling around the office, "Can anyone help this Gringa, her chucho died."<br />
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It wasn't until I was loosing it in the office that one woman in the office took pity on me and accompanied me out into town to find some help. Eventually, about thirty minutes or so of asking random guys to help, we managed to find the people who clean the city. With some promise of money, the head cleaner agreed to help. This turned out to be a huge mistake.<br />
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The older gentleman who was now following me back home began cracking jokes about dead chuchos, kept asking if the 'mutt was warm blooded or long gone', and then kept saying what a long walk this was going to be with a dead dog strapped to his back. And all I wanted him to do was shut up and perform the task at hand.<br />
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We got to my place and things became exponentially worse. My dog was still <i>there</i> where I had found it and the older man stood in front of my dog and sighed. "Wow what a big dog, I don't know if 10 Quetzales will cover this. And I don't know if I want this thing on my back." I began to cry, in my living room, as I offered him a higher price, gave him a costal (huge, woven bag) and some scissors to let go of my dog. And the horrific jokes kept coming along with a few actions (including calling me outside to watch and consult) that made cringe while being two rooms away and yelling 'Stop it'.<br />
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After the job was done and my dog was in the costal outside my house, the older man once again mentioned how heavy this was going to be when he had to 'dump the mutt on the trash cliff' and how the money was not worth it. Being desperate and still unable to form a proper sentence, I pulled out my wallet and slammed every Quetzal I had in my wallet into his hands as I called for a tuk-tuk (mini taxi). Then I saw him throw what used to be my dog, pretty forcefully, into the tuk-tuk and drive off. That was the last image of my dog... being treated like any other street dog and being driven off by a greedy, tactless <i>dickhead</i>.<br />
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Unable to go back into my house, I continued to cry around the corner, on the floor. Teenagers passed by laughing and pointing while men paused to enjoy the show. I was a miserable wreck.<br />
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Sure, the shock of finding my dog in such a way was painful and still haunts me (during the day and night), but what was worse was the way I was treated in a place I took comfort in. Professionals thought my problems were trivial, laughing as I was writhing in pain. Jokes were made and people ignored me.<br />
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I understand people in Guatemala don't really <i>have </i>pets and constantly kick/beat/run-over animals for fun, but what about the human aspect of this dilemma? I am a person. I was going to dozens of people across town and all they would do is laugh me off at best. I had nowhere to go when my house was still a real-life haunted house and I can't understand why.<br />
<b>How could the human connection be so lost?</b>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-62709468389171646042010-07-13T18:17:00.000-07:002010-07-13T18:17:07.126-07:00Sexual Repression & An Overly Stimulated Population<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Do you know what happens to people when they are told sex is wrong/sinful/only to happen when married<i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">while</span></i> being simultaneously stimulated by provocative imagery at every turn? </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">Tension</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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Churches, <i>camioneta</i> preachers, (some) host families and even the newspapers go on and on about the 'sinful' nature of sexual freedom--even going as far as mentioning some levels of hell that would make Dante cringe.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TD0OEtUUT4I/AAAAAAAAAME/2VmY35fY-54/s1600/oinkoinkslater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TD0OEtUUT4I/AAAAAAAAAME/2VmY35fY-54/s320/oinkoinkslater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>But looking past the proselytizing, you see the harsh reaction to such a conservative society. Every day, one can pass an energy drink poster featuring half naked women which jokes about the need for stamina during a threesome, television commercials zooming in on women's breasts/crotches/butts while discussing something as mundane as insurance, and even a section in the local daily newspaper which is blatantly emulating Playboy's Playmate spread.<br />
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This harsh crash between the national moral compass and sexual stimuli can be the only thing to explain the constant slut-shaming (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://finallyfeminism101.wordpress.com/2010/04/04/what-is-slut-shaming/">Definition:</a> Also known as slut-bashing/victim-blaming, is the idea of shaming and/or attacking a woman or a girl for being sexual, having one or more sexual partners, acknowledging sexual feeling and/or acting on sexual feelings</span>) in newspapers and the communities themselves, the harsh <i>piropos</i> (loosely translated as a flirtatious remarks) and large number of sexual assaults/crimes against women every year.<br />
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There <i>has</i> to be a correlation there.<br />
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And I'm sure that it doesn't help that the machista culture panders towards the male gaze while still severely shaming women into the 'virginity or eternal singledom' paradigm.<br />
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Who knows if things will ever change for the better in Guatemala, but this girl is sick of being harassed for wearing a skirt, a white shirt, or even donning makeup. So enough, men of Guatemala, I'm done being this pretty thing you can objectify. Next time you say something that can be clearly defined as harassment, there'll be a stiff finger in your face and harsh words in perfect spanish.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-70084308829106813932010-07-04T20:14:00.000-07:002010-07-04T20:14:44.352-07:00Independence, Anniversaries and An Intact Ear Drum<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">Happy</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">Fourth</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"> of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">July</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">AND</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">Happy Anniversary to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">The Parentals</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Seeing as I'm still slightly deaf (since the 'quick fix' would be drilling a hole through my ear drum <i>and </i>you better bet I rejected that idea<i>),</i> I decided to partake in just a small portion of the Peace Corps Fourth of July festivities.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Below are a few photos of the <i>actual</i> Fourth of July Party that took place this week which had at least a couple hundred volunteers in attendance.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And to all my sistren and brethren back in the States, hope you had some great times.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Enjoy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TDFLo4aUl0I/AAAAAAAAAL0/qi7nQnmoUcU/s1600/DSCN1045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TDFLo4aUl0I/AAAAAAAAAL0/qi7nQnmoUcU/s320/DSCN1045.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TDFN7OgDzJI/AAAAAAAAAL8/qxBmgtlywX4/s1600/DSCN1050-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TDFN7OgDzJI/AAAAAAAAAL8/qxBmgtlywX4/s320/DSCN1050-2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TDFHdfkh4CI/AAAAAAAAALk/li-eoRmE0JI/s1600/DSCN1042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TDFHdfkh4CI/AAAAAAAAALk/li-eoRmE0JI/s320/DSCN1042.JPG" width="320" /></a>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-14322445706599106192010-07-01T22:25:00.000-07:002010-07-04T13:04:25.487-07:00Viral Videos Make Me Feel Better: JulyThese are just some of the finds that brightened up my day:<br />
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1. BP related video: They're burning sea turtles alive with their clean up efforts, they deserve to be scrutinized via comedy.<br />
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<object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2AAa0gd7ClM&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2AAa0gd7ClM&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br />
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2. For some odd reason this reminds me of my family. Mostly because, we totally had a swagger van when my sister and I were growing up:<br />
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<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ql-N3F1FhW4&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ql-N3F1FhW4&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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3. Football lovers singing a 90's one hit wonder, please:<br />
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<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/K-_rf2jVxxY&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/K-_rf2jVxxY&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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4. If you knew me before Peace Corps, you knew how obsessed I was with 'The Battery's Down' (the web series)... well they made a spoof of Lady Gaga's 'Alejandro' and I'm in love. Especially since I hated the fact that the real video was all knock offs of good things: Ace of Base (I know, questionable) and Madonna.<br />
<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_U6hMk6WMKI&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_U6hMk6WMKI&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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5. And finally... Bill Murray + Poetry = great stuff:<br />
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<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rj_LYsvGF0E&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rj_LYsvGF0E&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-4795205414579959162010-06-28T23:09:00.000-07:002010-06-28T23:09:43.757-07:00Peer Pressure, An Overdue Thank You & Moving Woes Let me begin by saying that for the most part (and for most things) I have patience and restraint. Just sayin'.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TCmGlJI97pI/AAAAAAAAALU/inpIHcoI1v0/s1600/DSCN0988.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TCmGlJI97pI/AAAAAAAAALU/inpIHcoI1v0/s320/DSCN0988.jpg" /></a>About a week ago, I received a gargantuan package from home... and here is a photo to show the scale (box v. kitten). [Please ignore the censor bars I have added to avoid virtual/actual stalking.]<br />
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This box had been alluded to in many phone calls with the fam, but I had no idea that this care package was about the size of that meteor/meteorite (which is it again?) in 'Armageddon'. I mean, I even felt the need to hire a crafty team of astronauts who also slightly resembled the film's cast (you know, like a <i>chapin</i> Ben Affleck doppleganger would be doing the unpacking in a not-so-bulky astronaut suit). Guatemalan Ben Affleck or no Guatemalan Ben Affleck though, this box was going to be opened up!<br />
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My first attempt occurred the night that I received the 'Box 'o Awesomeness' as I like to refer to it. How far did I get? Well, only the first layer, which included a handful of spices and clothing in smaller sizes--which is a great thing since all my pants started to look like MC Hammer's circa 1990, <i>Can't Touch This</i>. But seeing as my three months in my current host family's house was almost up, I managed to hold off on looking deeper and unpacking all the goodies.<br />
<br />
Days passed and friends began to comment on the fact that they would have ripped the box to shreds trying to discover everything inside. And day after day, the box stood there, in the middle of my room, begging me to open it up.<br />
<br />
<i>Ah, I can't</i>, I would think to myself. <i>There are only a few more days left here and everything will just get dirty and disorganized since I have no furniture and therefore, nowhere to put everything</i>. So again, I let the now <i>taunting</i> Box O' Awesomeness in the middle of my room.<br />
<br />
Then, today arrived. After weeks of trying to see houses and being stopped by multiple factors (my host family telling everyone that I'm rich and can afford 1000Q rent out of spite [remember, I just mentioned I own no furniture... and this includes an actual bed], the torrential rain, busy home owners), I have not been able to actually <i>see</i> possible places to move <b>and</b> the end of the month is coming up. So with my moving woes, I finally opened up the box hoping that it would cheer me up. AND YOU BET YOUR A** IT DID.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TCmNZTCPU-I/AAAAAAAAALc/JzfFS84cuL0/s1600/DSCN0994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TCmNZTCPU-I/AAAAAAAAALc/JzfFS84cuL0/s320/DSCN0994.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Gummy Bears, Spices, Clothing, Cleaning Supplies, Makeup, Books, Gum, Organic Soap, Shoes, Lotion and so much more came flying out of that box. It all almost made me forget the fact that I am half deaf and that I have had so much bad luck with host families!!<br />
<br />
So here is to you family:<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">A BIG A$$ THANK YOU.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Love you guys and miss you... </span></b><br />
<b>and sorry I just used a$$</b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">... twice.</span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><b><3</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br />
</b></span>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-8618761088152787722010-06-26T20:47:00.000-07:002010-06-26T20:48:06.850-07:00Mal de Ojo, My Health, and How Am I Still Alive?Let me start off by getting down on my knees and apologizing for the fact that I've been a little silent on the <i>inter-webz</i> lately. I blame my budgeting, the fact that I've been busy at work, and the fact that my life line is getting a little shorter with every health problem I encounter.<br />
<br />
<i>What is it now?</i> is probably the question thats pulsating in your head as you continue to read this little-ol-blog of mine. Well, dear reader, this time it involved me writhing in pain and having copious amounts of puss and blood coming out of my ears (sorry to those readers who are currently eating or have consumed food in the last few minutes). Parentals, please don't freak out... which I know you will probably do.<br />
<br />
Yeah, this time it wasn't any of my past ailments which include but are not limited to: gastrointestinal issues and malaria. No. This time it was a cold that wanted more than just to stuff up my nose and have me hacking snot. It wanted to get saucy. And so it gave me the worst ear infection known to man. Maybe not <i>the worst known to man</i>, but it is still horrible.<br />
<br />
But it hit me today, after so many people questioned the fact that this<i> bubonic plague-like</i> ear infection appeared so quickly, that this near-ear-death-experience was probably my own fault. Let me explain.<br />
<br />
On Wednesday, I was coming back from work in a pretty great mood and managed to find yet <i>another</i> new route in the <i>cabecera</i> (head of the department) that lead me to my bus (I say yet another because since I've been here, the cabecera has changed so much that I have had to figure out new bus routes about 10 times, no joke). After a few minutes and a couple of chats, I found the new bus stop. Being as it was five o'clock, I was mentally preparing myself to <i>sardine-can</i> my body into this bus for forty five minutes until I got home.<br />
<br />
When my lovely green bus arrived, I squeezed in, began to <i>think skinny</i> and stood up between four rows of seats (filled to the max with three people) and held on for dear life to the top bars since I was equally smashed from the front and the back. Once my bus began to toot-toot along it's route, I began to feel a sharp pain coming from my stomach. A few minutes later, when I took my mind off my current day dream, I looked down to see a woman elbowing me. I did the courteous thing and moved the smidge that I could and apologized for the discomfort. Sadly, this did not please the nudger.<br />
<br />
As the twenty minute mark passed, the nudge became more like a shove and the elbow was replaced by both of her hands and eventually, her whole body. I was shocked. I mean, we're all in this Sartre version of hell for the next forty-five minutes, so calm down M'am.<br />
<br />
After a few more attempts of moving towards the rows behind me, it was enough. I had already had two possible falls onto the bus floor and it was time for the madness to stop.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>"Excuse me, but I can't move. Can you please, stop pushing?"</blockquote><blockquote>"*Woman speaking to friend in k'cakchiquel (my town's indigenous language) and then laughing and pointing*"</blockquote><blockquote>At this point, I let it go. I feel like speaking out in a bus full of my neighbors was enough, but in reality this little chat only spurred harsher action. The next part is when I raise my voice and everyone in the bus is silent and the bus driver is staring at me through the rear view mirror.</blockquote><blockquote>"Seriously? I have no where to go, so enough. I can't move and you need to stop shoving me around right now. If you have a problem with me, let me know, but enough."</blockquote><blockquote>At this point, my hearing was getting faint and I could only pull out some sort of insult about my weight (and for the record, she was heavier than I was) and then more pointing and laughing.</blockquote><blockquote>The laughing and the few insults I could pull out in my dimming ability to hear continued until I reached my stop. </blockquote>I'm not sure if I'm just believing local superstition or if I'm just trying to find an excuse for my current condition (muffled hearing and nastiness coming out of my ears), but this cannot be a ridiculous coincidence. This all points to <i>Mal de Ojo</i> (Bad Eye/Bad Glance); the idea that if someone gives you the <i>Mal de Ojo, </i>whether deserved or not, something terrible happens to you. My hearing immediately failed after I stood up for myself<i> </i>and the only thing that was out of the ordinary as far as my character and the cold, was that conversation.<br />
<br />
Though you might not agree, I feel like you can agree with the fact that my health (since moving to Guatemala) has made a complete 180. <i>What the heck, Guatemala</i>?<br />
<i><br />
</i>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-5709563769275096122010-05-29T10:31:00.000-07:002010-05-29T21:05:50.656-07:00'Standfast', Lockdown, and the Fact that the Weather has Gone LocoDear Readers,<br />
<br />
I write this to you (instead of enjoying my 1 out 3 possible days off a month) because I am on 'Standfast' (P.C. lingo for Lockdown) because the world might be ending outside my huge windows. Not really. The real reason? Tropical storm Agatha is approaching (which might later turn into a tropical cyclone, I am told by online news articles). <br />
<br />
According to Reuters,<br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: x-small;">Guatemalans prepared on Saturday for the arrival of Tropical Storm Agatha, the first named storm of the 2010 Pacific hurricane season, which was expected to bring heavy flooding to some areas.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Emergency workers reported rivers were already swollen by heavy rain and warned flooding could be worse than usual due to ash from the erupting Pacaya volcano south of the capital that has blocked drainage systems.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The U.S. National Hurricane Center said Agatha formed on Saturday morning and had maximum sustained winds of 40 miles per hour (65 kph). Agatha was located 170 miles (275 km) west-southwest of the port of San Jose in Guatemala and was expected to make landfall in Guatemala on Sunday.</span></blockquote><br />
Yeah. That's what's up. So instead of enjoying my weekend with friends, I am in my flooded town tending to my cat and figuring out what the heck I'm going to eat later today since those 30 or so corn flakes won't seem to make it until dinner time. <br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TAFP7Er0rnI/AAAAAAAAALM/DaKiBgTNoW4/s1600/agatha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/TAFP7Er0rnI/AAAAAAAAALM/DaKiBgTNoW4/s320/agatha.jpg" width="320" /></a> <br />
It seems like the only one getting something good out of this is my cat who doesn't have to freak out today since I'll be around, has been getting 'extra protein' when she hunts down these weird Guatemalan bugs that fly in from the cracks of my windows <em>and</em> has cat food a-plenty. <br />
<br />
The great thing is, this is what I signed up for--adventure. I'm from California where earthquakes make their appearances the way actors make their cameos; only appearing when people have forgotten about them. So, this will be a first. A storm/cyclone outside my window will definitely have me excited! And though I might starve a little with these <em>dammit</em>, now 25 corn flakes, and the fact that the stores outside are closed... but we'll just have to wait and see*. <br />
<br />
Love,<br />
<br />
Me.<br />
<br />
P.S. Here are a few articles about the storm and the recent volcanic eruption: <a href="http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/5432040/pacaya_volcano_erupts_in_guatemala.html?cat=49">1</a>, <a href="http://www.prensalibre.com/noticias/Tormenta-Agatha-inundaciones-diversos-puntos_0_270573144.html">2</a><br />
P.P.S. Keep all the people in Guatemala <em>truly</em> affected by this storm, the volcano, and the earthquakes in your hearts. Some have not been so lucky.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*Just found a tiny bag of rice... I guess I'm still safe until tomorrow! <em>If</em> the stores decide to open. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">**Photo credit: <a href="http://www.accuweather.com/blogs/news/story/32115/pacaya-volcano-and-tropical-de.asp">Accuweather.com</a></span>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-84641351645882139592010-05-25T20:32:00.000-07:002010-05-25T20:32:07.163-07:00Introductions are In Order...<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S_ySULESeEI/AAAAAAAAAK0/9Zvd_wKt884/s1600/IMG_0333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S_ySULESeEI/AAAAAAAAAK0/9Zvd_wKt884/s200/IMG_0333.jpg" width="178" /></a></div>Hello world. This is 'Frijolita' (yes, her name is derived from the spanish word for bean...don't judge). A lovely gift from a host family (not my own) with whom I became attached to during training!<br />
<br />
Frijolita is a three month old kitten who enjoys to run around my room, climb on my mountainous suitcase pile <em>and</em> attack anything that isn't tied down (wait, <em>correction</em> she attacks <em>everything</em> in my room).<br />
<br />
Although she was afraid of me at first (probably because of the traumatic <em>camioneta</em> ride into my town in which she was travelling in a box which was then stuffed into my bag), she is slowly adjusting. She now associates me as something 'important' in her tiny life--- heck, she preemptively whines and meows when I put my shoes on because she knows that means I'm leaving.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S_yVeLdUoiI/AAAAAAAAAK8/2J3UgzFAVbY/s1600/IMG_0344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S_yVeLdUoiI/AAAAAAAAAK8/2J3UgzFAVbY/s200/IMG_0344.jpg" width="200" /></a>Though we have only had one tiff-- the time she thought my earphones were a chew toy (RIP earphones)-- I am over the moon with how quickly we're bonding <em>and</em> how quickly she is learning new things.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-48557139522706301642010-05-14T20:21:00.000-07:002010-05-14T20:40:29.822-07:00Holidays, Linda Blair, and A Darwin AwardHere's the thing about Guatemala that I have been loving lately: los dias feriados (holidays). You know why? And no, it's not because we theoretically take a day off (because we really don't). Really, it's because you think you're in for one thing and you come out with a completely different perspective on whatever is being celebrated. Let's take <em>Mother's Day</em> for example (<em>Happy Mother's Day, Mom!)</em>.<br />
<br />
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Abra and I were invited to a Mother's Day celebration after work today and let me tell you that it was... interesting. Sure there was the typical singing, dancing, and joking around but there were also a few surprises. A forty-five minute dramatization about why abortion is wrong (featuring appearances by an angel and a devil to drive the message home), a competition for some mothers to peel and eat a banana without their hands (<em>hello, Freud</em>), and prize giveaways--including one for the youngest mother in the audience (<em>seriously?</em>).<br />
<br />
Most of the time, I was holding my sides and stiffling my laugh fits as I saw the ridiculous <em>actos</em> that were happening in the municipal hall---many of which were due to the fact that the men put together the event (<em>Uhum, the banana eating contest is like a big neon sign screaming: Men obviously put this thing together</em>). But there were also some genuine moments, including the fact that we got to bond with the school that invited us! Woo, <em>confianza</em>!<br />
<br />
And speaking of bonding time, my toilet and I have become best friends forever. And I'm not talking about middle school charm bracelet and matching side pony-tail BFFs. I'm talking about blood-brothers-your-DNA-in-a-vile-Angelina-Jolie-and-Billy-Bob-Thornton-circa-late-90s-early-00s BFFs. <br />
<br />
Here's the skinny... I've been metaphorically dying a slow and painful death for about five weeks, a la Linda Blair in the Exorcist (you know the scene). I scared the nurses into thinking I possibly had Malaria or Dengue and was sent to take some tests. Tests came back inconclusive (being me, I was not surprised) and so, I (being the MENSA genius that I am) decided to ignore my symptoms and go on as usual. Of course, this didn't work and I proceeded to fall deathly ill again.<br />
<br />
Currently, I'm feeling alright. Having only eaten 'soft foods' and hydrating myself like crazy, I feel like I'm doing better. Although the results of the last tests show that it's just a bacterial infection, the fact that I'm not getting meds and that this has been happening for more than a month has me a little suspicious. We'll see. The positive is that I had been streaming <em>Lost</em>, <em>Glee</em>, and <em>Nurse Jackie</em> while I was sick... so I'm all caught up ya'll (and yes, you would be accurate to judge the fact that I don't have any furniture in my room, but I do splurge on internet).<br />
<br />
You know what else happened when I was sick? I screwed up half my clothes. You know how? By forgetting that while I was dying in the toilet, I had soaked my dark clothing in a huge <em>costal</em> filled with soapy water that morning. And you know what happens to moist clothes that has been soaking for three days in that akward corner of your room that hardly gets any light? Mold. So for this week, I award myself a Darwin Award; for the most creative way of offing my too large to fit clothes while creating the most horrific stench in my tiny room.<em>Way to go, me.</em>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-67783392613960925742010-04-29T17:57:00.000-07:002010-04-29T17:57:07.094-07:00Alec Baldwin, a Suave 4 Year Old, & Glitter in the Wackiest PlacesYou know, I'm not exactly sure when it happened but I am an Alec Baldwin fanatic. Sure, it could be thanks to the fact that Lauren (a fellow Healthy Schools volunteer) and I have been watching <strong>30 Rock</strong> almost every time that we hang out <em>or</em> it may be due to the fact that shows like <em>Lost</em> had my full attention when I was back in the states. Personally, I'd like to believe it's the former.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://weblogs.variety.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/09/27/30rockbaldwin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://weblogs.variety.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/09/27/30rockbaldwin.jpg" tt="true" width="133" /></a></div>But honestly, have you <em>seen</em> <strong>30 Rock</strong>? Tina Fey's genius + Alec Baldwin's quick wit + a slew of pop culture references = comedy gold. And even funnier than <strong>30 Rock</strong> is the fact that one of the CTAs (Guatemalan version of a superintendant) who refuses to works with us, looks (somewhat) and acts like Alec Baldwin's character in the show. He's smug, refuses to do anything that he deems 'unnecessary' <em>and</em> thinks he's hilarious when he goes against the grain for fun (like being the only member at a meeting to reject a paid vacation--no joke, that happened this morning). Sure it might be a <em>little</em> irritating to have someone who ademantly refuses to work with you (for no <em>real</em> reason), but I can at least chuckle at the fact that he reminds me of Jack Donaghy (well, minus Baldwin's debonair charm).<br />
<br />
And speaking of charm, what the heck is with the males in this country? I mean, I'm pretty sure Guatemala is <em>not</em> the flirting capital of the world, and yet every male toddler and octogenerian thinks he's suave. For example, while filling out some paperwork with a CTA and a Parvulos (equivalent to a pre-school/kindergarten) director (school principal) this week, a four year old student ran into the director's office, hugged all three of us, and then stopped in front of me and said, in somewhat of a whisper, 'My heart beat in summersaults when you walked through the door'. After a silent moment or two, I looked over at both the CTA and the director and shrugged my shoulders, what else could I do? A kid who, not too long ago, had been living in his mother's amniotic fluid was gushing over me with a cheesy line he had probably heard his brother, father or grandfather spew. And soon after the pregnant pause, he was off chasing the other boys while he was pretending to be a monster. <br />
<br />
Though this little incident might seem isolated, let me give you another one that happened the day after (yesterday). My work partner, Abra, and I were actually giving our first taller (training session) to a school in one of the municipalities we oversee. Overall, the taller went great! We had an enthusiastic director who even got into an impromptu costume while he was volunteering during one of our <em>dynamicas</em>, had teachers who really gave their all throughout the presentation (taking notes, participating, and even going above and beyond what was needed of them), <em>and</em> Abra and I just kicked butt. The hitch came when we split the teachers up and gave them an opportunity to show us how they can teach health lessons using non-traditional learning techniques. Well, most of the groups did well... and in all seriousness, two groups went above and beyond creating powerpoints and even an elaborate skit within the fifteen minutes we had given them. The last group however took a weird turn. <br />
<br />
Their topic = water sanitation. At first, they began with reasons why their natural spring was adequate enough to drink from, though they ackowledged the health risks involved. Then, they proceeded to skip over the whole topic and create a 'game'. What was this game, you ask. Well let me share it with you. In this 'game', the teachers and the PC Volunteers (Abra & I) were put in a circle of desks with two people left standing up. Every time the 'proctor' yelled 'Salud' you had to move up three chairs and everytime the 'proctor' yelled 'Bacteria' you had to find the closest seat (think of a complicated version of musical chairs). Anyways, so the game began as such and soon people (who I'm assuming were clued into the <em>real</em> rules) began pushing the rest of us around to get to chairs. And then after the first 'Bacteria', I realized why... the male & female left outside of the circle were going to kiss as punishment for not making it to a bacteria-free chair. Yes, you read that correctly. You are going to kiss the person of the opposite sex who was also standing out there without a chair. And guess who got stuck outside of the chairs on the second round... yeah, me. And I'm pretty sure the whole point of the game was to get a gringa to kiss a chapin because soon after I was left standing with the young computer teacher, they all joked about how it was every Guatemalan's dream and then ended the game. RIDICULOUS.<br />
<br />
Almost as ridiculous as the fact that the glitter that Abra and I have been using during talleres and meetings (it's a complete hit as a way to show how bacteria/diseases spread via person to person) has been showing up in the most random places... including the toilet. How did it get there, who knows. That's a topic for a different blog post.<br />
Image from: <a href="http://weblogs.variety.com/on_the_air/my_name_is_earl/">Variety.com</a>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-51753404184045709252010-04-20T14:25:00.000-07:002010-04-20T14:25:30.804-07:00The Lowdown on Healthy SchoolsDon´t remember if I mentioned the fact that Leah and I made a short movie about our Peace Corps program. But if I didn´t, we <em>did</em> end up making a short little piece about Escuelas Saludables and the impact it has on Guatemala.<br />
<br />
Check it out if you have time.<br />
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<a href="http://vimeo.com/11063246">Escuelas Saludables: Peace Corps Guatemala</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user3630823">Linda Lopez</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-12731773614957072152010-04-13T21:00:00.000-07:002010-04-13T21:07:42.564-07:00Many Moons Ago...<em>Fijense que</em>... (when someone uses this in Guatemala, you know an excuse is coming, so get ready) I have been very busy being an <strong>official</strong> Peace Corps Guatemala Volunteer and I haven't had time to 'tend' to the online world. So, sorry <em>internetz</em>.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U4HnOvoHI/AAAAAAAAAKM/Zzq9k7c_Vfk/s1600/23992_522381786229_67800897_30983520_5672828_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U4HnOvoHI/AAAAAAAAAKM/Zzq9k7c_Vfk/s200/23992_522381786229_67800897_30983520_5672828_n.jpg" width="200" wt="true" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U3fsBq-XI/AAAAAAAAAKE/pEi8DD9tpvY/s1600/PICT0102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U3fsBq-XI/AAAAAAAAAKE/pEi8DD9tpvY/s200/PICT0102.JPG" width="200" wt="true" /></a>But let's play a little game of 'catch-up' to keep you all in the loop, shall we:<br />
</div><ul><li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">45 trainees were officially sworn-in as VOLUNTEERS by the Deputy Chief of Mission on March 25th 2010 in Atigua, Guatemala; that is every single person who flew from Washington D.C. to Guatemala with me!</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I moved out of my training town (woo hoo) and am living in my own little, charming town. My town has an excellent <em>mercado</em> twice a week and has a reputation for having the 'friendliest people in Guatemala'. I swear. It even says it on my 'Welcome to [Insert name of town]' package.</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U8CfhXwsI/AAAAAAAAAKc/r_LU-N6-HEk/s1600/IMG_0295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U8CfhXwsI/AAAAAAAAAKc/r_LU-N6-HEk/s200/IMG_0295.jpg" width="186" wt="true" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U7LIUrlCI/AAAAAAAAAKU/UUjXk6FJgAs/s1600/IMG_0288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U7LIUrlCI/AAAAAAAAAKU/UUjXk6FJgAs/s200/IMG_0288.jpg" width="186" wt="true" /></a>The week I moved out of my training town was <em>Semana Santa</em> or Holy Week (the biggest Guatemalan holiday). This holiday consists of reliving Jesus' suffering through Mass, Processions, <em>Alfombras</em> (rugs made out of flowers, saw dust, fruit), and acting out the Stations of the Cross. I participated in EVERY SINGLE ACTIVITY (*<em>+100 Confianza points</em>)</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As of right now, my large room consists of an inflatable bed, a tiny table, a stovetop and some stools creating a faux kitchen area to hold that stovetop.</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U8_Q7lQ0I/AAAAAAAAAKk/TB8tq6VSBj8/s1600/IMG_0301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U8_Q7lQ0I/AAAAAAAAAKk/TB8tq6VSBj8/s200/IMG_0301.jpg" width="186" wt="true" /></a>Volunteering has been a blast with my <em>companera de trabajo</em>! Although many sage volunteers of the past have advised to 'observe' in the first several months, Abra and I have been making meetings and travelling across our department! We're on a roll.</li>
<li>While away from work, I visit friends in the community, help my site-mate with G.A.D. (Gender and Development) <em>talleres</em> and even try to explore my turf.</li>
</ul>So far, I have to say (even despite the occasional 'lows'), life as a volunteer is a blast.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U9si0tyKI/AAAAAAAAAKs/He0rbImwYkE/s1600/IMG_0319+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S8U9si0tyKI/AAAAAAAAAKs/He0rbImwYkE/s200/IMG_0319+(2).jpg" width="200" wt="true" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">*P.S. Just so you know, I treat 'gaining confianza' as a video game. I give myself 'fake' confianza points whenever I successfully integrate into the community. Ex: Eat Iguana Soup---true story by the way--- (+50 Confianza points), Attend mass with host family (+25 Confianza points). It's more 'fun' that way.</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-1698214948072140322010-03-12T22:45:00.000-08:002010-03-12T22:45:27.024-08:00Guate & the F-WordBefore some people get their panties in a twist (uhum <em>Peace Corps</em> I know you're monitoring), this isn't a post about <em>that</em> F-Word.<br />
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<div></div>Instead, it's about <strong>feminism</strong>. And since March 8th (this past Monday) was the 99th International Women's Day, I thought <em>what a better time to discuss feminism than now.</em><br />
<br />
<div></div>Before I delve into the topic at hand though, let's discuss Guatemala for a little bit.<br />
And to start off, let's play a game... a word association game. So, if I could only use one word to describe Guatemalan culture, what would it be? <em>Hmmm</em>, oh yeah: <em>machista</em>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.theirtoys.com/images/sexist/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.theirtoys.com/images/sexist/2.jpg" vt="true" width="214" /></a></div>Don't believe me? Well here are some stats to back up the <em>machismo</em> (which were brought to our attention during one of our weekly training sessions, sorry I didn't get the actual source... pretty sure my jaw hit the floor when I saw this and completely forgot to cite!).<br />
Without further ado, Guatemalan gender issues in convenient 'percentage form':<br />
<ul><li>30% of Guatemalan women surveyed think it is acceptable to be spoken to innappropriately</li>
<li>70% of Guatemalans surveyed agree women should remain in the home</li>
<li>54% of Guatemalan women surveyed agree to be submissive/docile to men</li>
<li>53% of Guatemalans surveyed agree that men determine # of children in family</li>
<li>60% of Guatemalans surveyed think that men are the economic decision makers</li>
<li><em>And finally</em> 4/10 Guatemalan females surveyed think men are the superior gender</li>
</ul>I'm not sure about you, but these stats are frightening--especially when you see the effects of machismo in everyday life.<br />
<br />
For example, being a proud feminist, I decided to decorate my netbook with a 'Feminism is for Lovers' sticker; nothing fancy, just a plain sticker with a strong message on it. One night, after my host family came in contact with the sticker, they decided to sit me down for dinner and 'scare me' with a <em>wonderful</em> (read: disturbing) bed time story (which I will paraphrase/embellish below). <br />
<blockquote>There was once a strong, feminist in town who would fight for women's rights with her fog horn and picket sign. Day in and day out, she would rile up the women to stand up for their rights and rebel against the machismo in their homes and communities; singing songs that would make Rosie the Riveter and Margaret Sanger jump for joy. <em>Well</em>, one day the feminist took a little longer than expected to come home from a rally, but instead of being welcomed by her husband, she was brutally beaten while her ten year old son watched. As she cried for help, all the other 'smarter' women in town laughed their tushes off because the feminist should have known that it is a woman's job to please the husband first rather than go off galavanting and looking for trouble. The next day, the feminist appeared bruised and fragile, without her picket sign or her fog horn, because she had finally learned that her husband and son come first.</blockquote>Yeah, these are the wonderful tales I was told after dinner; and let me remind you, this was all because of a sticker!<br />
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And these real stories (which come up alot) that are supposed to teach women their role in life don't even scratch the muggy, machista surface. In fact, the place you see machismo the most is on the street.<br />
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From the moment a woman (no matter the age) steps on the street, wearing anything from greasy sweatpants to t-shirt/jeans, it begins. A slew of suggestive comments <em>shush chuch</em> noises, whistling and general cat-calling from males ranging from 10 to 60 years old. Yeah you heard me, it can be anyone from a ten year old boy (who hasn't even felt the pangs of puberty) to a wrinkled, liver-spotted older gentleman of sixty.<br />
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Most of the time, I can deal with the general nuissance, but there are times when things so vile come out of these mouths that I just want to jump off the highest (5 ft, joke) building! I've only had to deal with this for three months and yet I look at Guatemalan women who have dealt with this their whole lives and ask, <em>How do they do it?</em><br />
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While most of the population seems to be sticking to status quo, I have already seen amazing men and women trying to bring in different notions into culture through Women's groups and other organizations. In the future, in fact, I hope to partner up with my site-mate and give self-defense classes (as a secondary project) to women in our area. Who knows if it will be well received, but with the success of some of the other experimental organizations and notions, maybe we too can make a difference here.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-16054338223297896142010-03-01T19:05:00.000-08:002010-03-01T19:08:07.176-08:00Character Profile: The Ex-Pandillero Who Has Turned a New Leaf[Note: I feel, given my liberal arts background, I will sometimes have 'character profiles' featuring certain memorable folks around Guatemala. It's honestly a way to share my admiration (as a 'writer') for such great <strong>characters</strong>. Enjoy]<br />
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<em>Oh no, he has a tattoo</em> was something that both my camioneta companion, Leah, and I said as we saw him standing front and center, blocking any escape to the outside world with a stern look on his face. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Note: Sure, in the States, a tatoo is not a big deal--maybe it is a meaningful memento of times past or just a mistake you made when you were 18, but no one really pays any attention to your body art. Here in Guatemala, it's bad juju. It means you've been places (read: jail) and know people (read: know people will fear you).</span> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S4yA6uQBGWI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/WM1cdJE5Vj0/s1600-h/IMG_0236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S4yA6uQBGWI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/WM1cdJE5Vj0/s320/IMG_0236.jpg" /></a></div>The man who was now facing the whole camioneta was donned not only in tattoos, but scars-- wearing black from head to toe and carrying a box in his frightingly muscular arms.<br />
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<em>Attention to everyone on the bus</em>, he began as both Leah and I looked at each other ready to not only pee our pants in fear, but to give up all our valuables which we had cleverly hidden away in our bras, shoes, pants, and purses.<br />
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<em>I could rob you this very moment and get away with it. I've been to jail, I've killed people, I've done it all and can do it again,</em> he continued as I cursed my luck, wishing we hadn't waited an extra minute for a bus that didn't have limbs flying out of every open window and door.<br />
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<em>...but I won't. </em>At this point, everyone who had started creating a mental breakdown of their valuables (myself included), proceeds to ignore the guy and his lanky sidekick (who managed to copy his buddy by blocking the back exit of the camioneta --like two identical bookends holding everyone in the middle together).<br />
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THIS.DID.NOT.PLEASE.HIM.<br />
It was as if his words had turned off the invisible lightbulbs of fear hanging above all the passengers and things <strong>turned</strong>.<br />
<br />
<em>Pay attention to me,</em> he yelled as he banged the roof of the bus, possibly mimicking something he had done in the past (but instead of a pistol, there were rock hard chocolate bars which magically didn't break with the force). <br />
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<em>I can see all of you looking out your window and pretending that you cannot understand me, but remember that I have the power. I'm giving you the option to buy my chocolate bars in order to avoid something else</em>. Interesting. It's like we have a choice... right? Not. By this point, people were sneakily pulling out their quetzales in order to buy the chocolate and get these guys off the bus (I mean, even the bus attendant was so freaked out that he waited until both men were seated before collecting the bus fare AND he preferred to scale the outside of the bus back to the front rather than passing the guys in the middle once he was done).<br />
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Five stops later, we were at our stop and out the door. The two 'warm-hearted' ex-cons were still sitting, like two troublesome kids in the back of a classroom, assessing the damage. Who knows where they were going or which bus they were going to hit next, but so far, this duo was beyond interesting (and not to mention frightening).Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-10197911018085669182010-02-28T20:42:00.000-08:002010-02-28T20:42:57.098-08:00I Have a Feeling R.E.M. Wrote a Song About ThisThe earth has thrown everyone for a loop lately with Haiti and <em>now</em> Chile.<br />
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In the U.S. when news of a natural disaster hits, people are usually asking <em>How can I help?</em>, rather than <em>Why?</em> And this little <em>why</em> has been plaguing Guatemala (or at least my little town) for quite a while now and hit critical mass yesterday.<br />
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When the <em>terremoto</em> rattled Haiti, everyone in town turned to their place of worship as a way to understand, cope, and hope. And Saturday morning when the record-breaking shake hit the <em>chisme</em> grapevine, it was déjà vu. Once again, my neighbors were flocking to their places of worship, but this time, something was different. <br />
<br />
Local small talk, usually dominated by weather conditions, was now pushed aside by theories of the <em>coming apocalypse-- </em>with the leading theory being the complete destruction of Central America by the merging Pacific and Atlantic oceans. <em>Excuse me?</em><br />
<br />
Sure, I expect a little fear-- I mean, heck, we've had four tremors since I've been here (as well as thunderous volcanic booms that practically have you <em>stopping, dropping, </em>and <em>rolling</em>). But talk of the world coming to end? I don't know. I guess I'm still getting used to the whole idea of the culture being so influenced by religion.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*To all of you reading out there: keep all the families affected by the earthquakes (both in Haiti and Chile) in your thoughts. And think about donating some time or resources to organizations who are helping abroad!</span>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09515168461170208806noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266921704760737826.post-56287221499895359402010-01-25T12:51:00.000-08:002010-01-25T12:51:35.193-08:00Photos de Guatemala<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S14CAWI3ZbI/AAAAAAAAAJE/GMsP6j44n0I/s1600-h/IMG_0122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rmXjB9A73YY/S14CAWI3ZbI/AAAAAAAAAJE/GMsP6j44n0I/s320/IMG_0122.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The town in Guatemala where I spent my first days (and also where I receive training)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The view from a classmate´s roof (with smokey volcano in background)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Antigua with my friend Leah<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Antigua<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Artisan Market in Antigua<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It´s not much, but hopefully this will tide you all over. Until next time, mis amigos.<br />
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