I'm home now, but it would feel quite incomplete not to reflect on the last days of Guatemala (this year).

Arriving in an American airport after being abroad is always an experience. I don't know that I'd call it culture shock per say, but just the recognition of a number of things that you lived with out, without realizing. Things like Homeland Security. Football games and college sweatshirts. The mid-western accent. PDA. Then there's the language adjustment. This is the first travel I've done where I actually spoke the host language, so at first I walked around sort of assuming that the people walking past didn't speak English. I bought TCBY from an Asian woman in Salt Lake City and for a split second didn't know how to ask for what I wanted, trying to find the words in Spanish, and then realized that she didn't look like someone with a reason to know it. The Chocolate or Vanilla question brought me to my senses.

It was not as depressing as I feared it would be to leave Guatemala, I was ready to be home. Ready, but still shocked to find out my brain was deceiving me to believe that my flight home was a whole day later than it actually was. With the sudden realization that I had less that 24 hours left, I began counting my blessings that I left San Pedro the week before. The last 2 days there of wrapping up my lessons and saying goodbye to my teachers and host family left me with the feelings of mi corazón en el estómago. I have learned incredible amounts about the Mayan culture, about San Pedro, and about these peoples’ lives. In some ways I feel guilty that I can just go somewhere and start a life and just leave, but for me that’s the most important part of travel, is to dig in deep enough to see the humanity in other people. As different as Tacoma is to a pueblo in the highlands, I believe we are all the same with consequences that inform how I live my life in the States. I truly have a family in San Pedro and need to return, and knowing that a year from now it’s possible satiates me for now.

When I left San P I headed straight for Santa Cruz del Quiche to meet my friend Melissa from Spanish School. Sorry to anyone who’s been and enjoyed it, but Quiche isn’t worth mentioning in a travel blog. We went together to Chichicastenango on market day. The guidebook makes the market out to be an absolute must do for tourists, and underemphasizes the spiritual significance of the city. Go if you like to shop, the market is very cool, but the town itself is the charm. The former monastery of ChiChi is where the Popul Vuh was discovered, a written version of the QuicheMaya cosmology that survived the Spanish conquest and most if not all other renditions of the tradition. All throughout the highlands people embody a mix of traditional spiritual practice and Catholicism, but in ChiChi the mix is more obvious, with Mayan rituals occurring inside the Catholic temple. I wish I could have been there on a non-market day as well, just to get a less polluted feel for the place, but not this trip. This trip I shopped.

From Chichicastenango I left my friend and went up into the Cuchumatanes Mountains for 3 days, staying in the pueblo of Nebaj. Of course I would arrive at night in the rain, totally turned around, and of course the only other gringo on the bus was a Peace Corps guy from Kansas. Trust the world, people. The hostel I stayed at and the company I hiked with were both projects started by the Peace Corps to provide job opportunities for young adults in Nebaj. If you ever go, look up El Descanso, because they got it going on.

I primarily went to Nebaj for the hiking, which was excellent, but the most interesting aspect of the Ixel region is its recent history. The “Ixel Triangle” refers to the three major villages (and some 180 other small villages, most without road access) associated with one of the smaller Maya ethnic groups which were nearly obliterated during the Guatemalan civil war (henceforth, La Violencia). According to Nicolas, my 60+ year old hiking guide, during La Violencia the population of Nebaj swelled as people fled more remote mountain communities. The Guerrilla forces (ultimately seeking land redistribution and civil care for the Mayan peoples of Guatemala) were very strong in this neglected, isolated region, and the army response was correspondingly deadly. The army razed some 20 villages to the ground in attempt to route out support for the Guerrillas, going to the lengths of arming locals and forcing them to participate in “civil patrols” to kill Guerrillas and local sympathizers. I asked how many people of Nebaj died in the conflict, and received only the answer “bastante” (enough). Nebaj was removed from maps of Guatemala until after the war. Ironically, the post-war reconstruction effort has dramatically improved life in Nebaj, according to my guide. Pre-war there was no paved road out of town, but now the government has paved in between the three principle villages of the region, and connected then to the main highway, dramatically increasing job prospects and educational opportunities. The UN came in and built tons of “model villages” in the mountains to resettle the highlanders. I hiked to one, Acul. There really isn’t anything “model” about it- there is zero infrastructure. Sort of like developing a suburb on a Sim game and letting it get populated. I don’t think the people living there now are necessarily who lived on that land before. Sadly, many people who fled on to Nebaj, but into the mountains as single people and families have never returned to their communities. For me, it’s fascinating how strong Nebaj seems 14 years later. Next to San Antontio, it was the most traditional (larger) village I visited, and the community there felt very strong. I really enjoyed exploring down random paths past houses and through corn fields (because “private road” just isn’t a concept in a village).

I forwent traveling to Coban in favor of an extra day in Antigua with Melissa (turned out to be a good choice, I was ready to relax by then, and otherwise it would have been much harder to make that flight I nearly missed by 24 hours). Antigua is very pleasant, and very clean. I heard someone describe it as “middle class” for Guatemalans, but I don’t really know if that’s correct or not. Let’s just say that I didn’t see much traditional anything, but that the people didn’t seem “Guatemala City” either. The town has an eerie feeling of fakeness- it’s like Levenworth, WA, where no business signs can protrude from the edifice and Burger King and Pollo Compero (Guatemalan KFC) have nice carved wooden signs without neon. That said, it’s a very pretty place in the valley next to a volcano (photos forthcoming). I think a lot of people come to “Guatemala,” but really just come to Antigua and arrange 1 or 2 day trips. More expensive, but more comfortable for sure. As the former Spanish capital of Central America, the place is full of intact and ruined churches to explore, fantastic food, and museums. A description would not be complete without mentioning the central park fountain, modeled after an Italian one. I’ll let it speak for itself:

I had a fantastic time in Guatemala, and literally can’t find anything to complain about. I know that a return trip is in my future, but for further Spanish study, and to explore the many other parts of the country that I did not see on this trip, which was high on culture and happiness, and low on sightseeing. A perfect 6 weeks.

Well friends, its been awhile. For quite sime time i didnt really feel like i had much to say, but this past weekend i finially left san pedro for a bit to see other parts of the lake. I started out by taking a lancha to Panajachel, the city i came through to get here in the first place. I was there about 10 minutes before I decided to leave. Its a long established spot for tourists, so it was crawling with gringos, and overall felt dirty and uninviting. I knew there was a nature preserve nearby so I walked about 1km out of town and down a very plesent road lined with extremely nice hotels. I had planned to go for a hike in the reserve, but instead I hiked and went ziplining in a canyon. By far the most expensive thing Ive done in Guatemala for a measly 23 bucks. It was very cool to be above the trees and look down through them. There were also monkeys, but god knows ive seen enough of those to really care. The reserve also had a butterfly sanctuary, which im pretty sure contained 2 mariposas. The flowers were much for interesting. From Pana I rode in the back of a pick up, under a tarp, in the rain to another village called San Antonio Popolo. Its more or less the opposite side of the lake from San P, and is pretty much the definition of tranquil. I was only there for about an hour, but it was well worth the trip to see the differently patterened and colored traje tipica in a community with different Maya heritage, and a different language than San P.
The next morning I set out to climb La Nariz, a peak more or less behind the pueblo of San Juan that I visited in the last blog (and again 2 weekends ago when the lovely Katie Bray came to visit from her orphanage in Parramos. I finially broke down and bought something touristy, a woven make up bag of sorts, made from natural dyes.). It took two hours to walk from San P to the top of the peak, which was intermnitanly shroweded in fluffy white clouds, but otherwise provided a stunning vista of the lake. I could bore you with yet more pictures of the lake, but to you it would only be scenery, same ol, same ol. Because it rained while I was above the clouds the decent also took 2 hours, and thus I was a useless human being for the rest of the weekend, emerging only to feed my soul by making spagetti. FRESH VEGABLES. A miracle really.
I will now interupt this post to reflect on the oddity that is my diet here. Yes Ive mentioned it before. Im taking my carbohydrate consumption to new hights now. Yesterday Id had pancakes, a tamale (corn), rice, and freshly fried jojos by lunch time. Today breakfast was a piece of white cake offered to me with a tup of chocolate frosting, if id like, to go with my half a deep friend plantain. The school always offers us a snack, and today if planned to pass, but it was just so bizarre I couldnt help myself- more or less a hamburger bun topped with an egg, guacamole, purred black beans, cooked carrots, and CHOW MEIN. wtf? Jose joked that it was a sandwitch multicultural. (say it with an accent, the words are the same). And ya know what? It was damn good. However, by far my favorite thing my host mom makes is rediculously simple. Its pretty much instant chicked broth with tomatos, onions, noodles, and mint. Normally I hate mint in food, but this soup is sooo good.
Speaking of my host family. Im extremely greatful for the expreience of living with them. Really, this whole trip, but especially the homestay part has been exactly what I wanted to experience. It is a truly unique window into the life of my mother, a traditional mayan woman who may or may not have finished high school, and devotes her entire existence to the life of her family. I see the clash of modernity between my sister, a hannah montana and basketball loving girls and her father, a fairly strict traditional man (especially in the gender role sense, at times I find myself rolling my eyes uncontroably for his expectations of his wife). I find myself wondering if she has any chance to become the teacher she deams of becoming.
All in all, their home has been a wonder experience, but Im beginning to withdraw and seek more time to myself. Im sad to be leaving San Pedro for good this trip, but I need a break from my family, and especially from studying. Im thrilled with all ive learned, but its becoming more and more frustrating that my speaking skills dont progress as quickly. Yes, I could try harder, but Im just kind of tired. Im realizing now that ive pretty much done a j-term language class, something I always thought sounded like a dumb idea. I wish I could take 2 weeks off and come back to it, and I plan to locate another calss as soon as I get home.
Instead of coming back Ill be moving on for a week before I fly home. I have a rough idea of where- first to Santa Cruz del Quiche to meet a friend with whom Ill go to the massive market Chichicastenango and visit the some Mayan ruins. From there Im going alone north to Nebaj, in the Ixil Triangle, the three principle village of a small Ixil speaking people from some highland hiking. From there Ill try to get north of Coban, to get in some caving at Candelaria before I go back south to meet my friend again in the former spanish capital of Antigua.
From there its time to go home! I think Ill be ready after this last week of exploring. Right now Im just trying to soak up a few more spanish concepts and enjoy the company of my teachers, but I cant help but look forward to being home just a little bit. What can I say, I love to travel, but Im a homebody at heart, and while Ive loved building a home hear (I certianly plan to return) I have lots of goodness waiting for me in Tacoma.
Checkfacebook soon for more photos, and take care!

When it rains, it pours

Only a few outstanding events this week. Both of my amigas aqui have left for other ciudades , so theres been a lot of me time.

This afternoon I went with my teachers to express condoences for a woman whose mother died last week. Back up- one of the women who boards students for la esquela, it fue her madre who passed. It was a rather traumatic experiance for mi amiga, who experienced perhaps the most distressing of communication barriers with her family over the issue. In this cuture it was more appropriate for her to stay living with the family for the last 4 days rather than move. Death in the mayan culture is also like most other non-western places- people actually express their grief. They wail for days on end, no attempting to -hold it together- as we do. Here, people bring uncooked food- eggs and beans, primarily, so that the greater extended familia tiene enough food to feed an endless stream of visitors. Mi amiga dijo que the family and many, many visitors played music and wailed all night long for two days, and then the funeral happened. I didn´t go, but she described a really beautiful processional where as the casket was carried from the iglesia to the cemetary draped in lace, everyone in the street stopped what they were doing, removed their ubiquitus backwards baseball caps and either bowed their heads or joined the processional.

As it were, I did visit the cemetery this week with mi maestro. We walked around for casi un hora as he pointed out prominant community members tombs. Yes, tombs. Of course people used to bury their dead in the ground, but as modernity progresses, people want to do right by their loved ones, so now their are large multi person tombs with very fancy headstones. First it was bible quotes, then pictures of the Virgin or the Son, then dipictions of the persons work, and finially actual photos of the deceased behind glass. Recently, some tombs include metal bars in front of the headstones, kind of like security bars for windows. We visited his father, and the parents and grandparents of my host father. Muy intresante.

Anyway, today went to this woman´s house to represent the condolences of the school. The family brought us coffee and bread and we just sat with her . We brought money and eggs, and sat in a circle around the crying woman. My teachers took turns expressing their condolences in an interesting mix of Espanol and Tuztuil that I only understood as -i am sorry, and its very important for us to express condolences, and we´re certan she is in a better place ahora. It is extremely difficult to sit in a room with a crying woman and not cry yourself, even when youve never met them before. I cant imagine what it would have been like to stay in that house for 4 days like that, wishing you wernt being cooked for and not knowing what to say.

In other news, I walked to the next town over, San Juan with a teacher yesterday. We watched women weave scarves, explored the small library , and watched a girls championship basketball game. Normal life in a small pueblo. With the excessive rain the lake is swallowing up fields and docks more and more by the day.

My spanish is of course progressing, and I find myself shocked and sad that I have only 2.5 weeks left here to study and enjoy my new family at the school. It is going to be extremely frustrating to make progress and then go back home to Tacoma.

Well, thats about it. Off to salsa.