We have now officially begun the rainy season here in Guatemala. I am told that it will carry through until around September or October, when we will begin the not-rainy season. During the rainy season, it rains every day (sounds like home, right?) for several hours, usually just in the afternoon. Some years it is really predictable and always starts and stops at a certain time. Some years, it is a little more random. Who knows what kind of year we will have.
The bad things about the rainy season are discussed a lot around here and lamented about to me by other volunteers. Your clothes never dry, you get rained on wherever you go, Guatemalans don’t go out in the rain, there is mud everywhere. Every volunteer I talk to hates the rainy season and assures me that with time, I will find a special place of disdain in my heart for this time of year.
Maybe it is the Northwesterner in me, but despite it all I still love the rain. There is a certain kind of understanding that the rain brings, and a certain part of my soul that really feels the emotion of the rain. It doesn’t make me sad, just content, like the world understands me a little better. Rain makes everything smell cleaner, makes the corn in the fields grow tall, and makes the land a little greener. The sound of the rain lets me sleep better at night.
Guatemalans think I am crazy to like the rain. They have a level of respect for the rain that makes their crops grow, but they personally hate it. They hate getting wet, they hate mud. When it rains here, the streets are completely empty. The sight of someone walking in it, especially without an umbrella and without a disgusted look on their face, is very strange. I have lived my whole life with rain, and I have learned not to let it slow me down. If I had plans to go out, I go. If I need to walk somewhere, I enjoy the fresh smell and the feeling of raindrops on my head.
Rain reminds me of home. They say I will grow to hate it, but I don’t believe them. I am from the Northwest: I have rain in my soul.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Picture Day
On Wednesday I took my camera to the school to get a few pictures of kids. They insisted on taking a picture of me...by myself. I tried to explain why I wouldn't want a picture of myself but they didn't quite understand. Atleast you guys might get to enjoy it!
This is a group of the youngest kids I work with...esentially kindergarten/preschool. They are actually the bravest out of all when it comes to talking to me and being my friend.
This kid really wanted his picture taken. He is drinking atol which they serve the kids during snack. It is kind of milky-rice drink. I really love it. He does too!
This is what happened when I told him to smile... I love the other kid looking so concerned in the background. They are really happy kids, I promise. There is something ingrained in the Guatemalan mind that smiling in pictures is silly.
This might be my favorite that I took. 
Me in the sea of children. I have 3-4 other pictures just like this with the kids switched out for other ones...I chose this one to show you.
Ok, now the real work I do is right here...tooth-brushing! This school has already got it down, it is furthest along out of all of them.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
German Youth
Tuesday, May 13th
I found a dead rat in the pila while I was washing my dishes...good news: it was already dead. Bad news: the rat poison/burning survivors alive didn't get rid of all of them.
One of my friends in Germany is organizing a ¨Youth Task Force¨in his church to go out and combat things like hunger and poverty in their city. He is giving this huge inspirational speech in June and he asked me to write something that he could use as an example of someone out in the world working in development. I had a lot of trouble doing it because I feel sometimes like what I am doing doesn't quite qualify as ¨development¨work in the sense that people might expect. I am teaching kids to brush their teeth and wash their hands--not exactly what you see in the movies. I was talking to my mom about it and she pointed out that the fact that life here working in Guatemala isn't neccessarily rewarding, exciting, or difficult is important for people to know. Moms do always know best. So here is what I wrote to my friend:
“I guess one thing I would like to say and I don’t really know if this is relevant or not…but I don’t feel like my life right now is what people would expect when they hear I am working for the Peace Corps in Guatemala. I am actually pretty comfortable here (I have electricity and running water). The help I am giving people isn’t really as obvious as feeding a starving person or keeping someone from getting AIDS. Suffering in the world doesn’t always look exactly like what they show on the news or in the movies or in commercials on TV. Thinking about writing this for you or sending pictures, I found myself thinking that the people I work with aren’t “needy enough” to be an example to anyone. I realized how stupid that way of thinking was. I think a lot of people who want to “save the world” seek out the neediest people they can find where aid work is really obvious when in fact there are people suffering next door. There are people everywhere that need help and the point isn’t where or who you help but that you are doing something to better the life of someone else. The people here are needy even though they aren't desperate. I know that I am in the right place, but I didn’t have to come here to find someone who needed my help. On the other hand, I could have gone somewhere that they needed my help more than they need it here. The point is in the attitude. The point is to do something for someone other than your self. It doesn’t really matter who you are helping, what they need, or how badly they need it. It isn’t always as obvious as putting food in the mouth of a starving person in Africa, but it is often a lot simpler and a lot closer to home than that.
I hope that makes sense. I am actually kind of having a hard time because I don’t feel like I am making much of a difference here. I am teaching kids to wash their hands and brush their teeth. It isn’t exactly my world-development dream. The truth is, I know that what I am doing is important, and at least it is doing something for someone other than me. It is “preventative” work rather than “reactive” so it doesn’t feel as urgent. I can’t see the difference that I am making but it is there. It is just a hard adjustment because it isn’t exactly what I imagined when I decided I would save the world. It is good for me though. I feel like maybe I am growing up a little and I am definitely learning a lot about myself which could turn out to be just as valuable as the things I am doing for others. ”
I found a dead rat in the pila while I was washing my dishes...good news: it was already dead. Bad news: the rat poison/burning survivors alive didn't get rid of all of them.
One of my friends in Germany is organizing a ¨Youth Task Force¨in his church to go out and combat things like hunger and poverty in their city. He is giving this huge inspirational speech in June and he asked me to write something that he could use as an example of someone out in the world working in development. I had a lot of trouble doing it because I feel sometimes like what I am doing doesn't quite qualify as ¨development¨work in the sense that people might expect. I am teaching kids to brush their teeth and wash their hands--not exactly what you see in the movies. I was talking to my mom about it and she pointed out that the fact that life here working in Guatemala isn't neccessarily rewarding, exciting, or difficult is important for people to know. Moms do always know best. So here is what I wrote to my friend:
“I guess one thing I would like to say and I don’t really know if this is relevant or not…but I don’t feel like my life right now is what people would expect when they hear I am working for the Peace Corps in Guatemala. I am actually pretty comfortable here (I have electricity and running water). The help I am giving people isn’t really as obvious as feeding a starving person or keeping someone from getting AIDS. Suffering in the world doesn’t always look exactly like what they show on the news or in the movies or in commercials on TV. Thinking about writing this for you or sending pictures, I found myself thinking that the people I work with aren’t “needy enough” to be an example to anyone. I realized how stupid that way of thinking was. I think a lot of people who want to “save the world” seek out the neediest people they can find where aid work is really obvious when in fact there are people suffering next door. There are people everywhere that need help and the point isn’t where or who you help but that you are doing something to better the life of someone else. The people here are needy even though they aren't desperate. I know that I am in the right place, but I didn’t have to come here to find someone who needed my help. On the other hand, I could have gone somewhere that they needed my help more than they need it here. The point is in the attitude. The point is to do something for someone other than your self. It doesn’t really matter who you are helping, what they need, or how badly they need it. It isn’t always as obvious as putting food in the mouth of a starving person in Africa, but it is often a lot simpler and a lot closer to home than that.
I hope that makes sense. I am actually kind of having a hard time because I don’t feel like I am making much of a difference here. I am teaching kids to wash their hands and brush their teeth. It isn’t exactly my world-development dream. The truth is, I know that what I am doing is important, and at least it is doing something for someone other than me. It is “preventative” work rather than “reactive” so it doesn’t feel as urgent. I can’t see the difference that I am making but it is there. It is just a hard adjustment because it isn’t exactly what I imagined when I decided I would save the world. It is good for me though. I feel like maybe I am growing up a little and I am definitely learning a lot about myself which could turn out to be just as valuable as the things I am doing for others. ”
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Peanut Butter Brownies
Author’s Note: Don’t be fooled by the cheery title---if you are at all sensitive to rodents, animal cruelty, or laundry, you should probably just skip to the recipe at the end. The title won’t be quite as witty but you will save yourself some tears.
Today when I got home I decided to get some laundry done. I was down at the pila washing my clothes (by the way, washing clothes by hand is awful and takes a zillion years) when I saw a movement over by where the chicken were pecking at the concrete.
To back up a little, we had all come to the agreement that we had rats in the house somewhere last week. They had been eating my tomatoes at night and also eating clothes in Reina’s room. So, Reina put out some rat poison, which subsequently was gone the next morning. The assumption was that the rats had eaten the poison and had crawled away to some hidden location to die a slow and painful death by poison.
It turns out, a few rats were smart enough or not hungry enough and escaped the trap, because out from behind the crates of empty bottle crawled a RAT. Now, I have spent the better part of two weeks phobically afraid of these guys. I never thought I was scared of rats, but come to find out, they are one of the few things in the world that give me the heebie-jeebies. I have lain awake at night imagining that I hear them skittering around my kitchen. I have run to the bathroom at night as fast as I can because I am afraid they will jump out at me. However, to my dismay, out crawled this rat, and it was CUTE. It was not this giant, hairy, menacing creature I had been imagining. It was this little, cute, furry animal.
So now, I feel bad for trying to kill the little things. I try to imagine all the diseases they carry, all the tomatoes they have eaten, and the swarming capability of twenty of them reproducing behind those crates, because otherwise I kind of wanted to cuddle with it. Roberto (7 years old) came out and asked me if he should kill it. I told him he could kill it, but I didn’t want to see. I was already feeling morally torn and kind of sad for the ones I had already poisoned. So, he proceeded to take a board and throw it on top of the poor little thing. Now, it is halfway squished and suffering, so I told Roberto he needed to kill it all the way because it was hurt. All of the sudden, Roberto is too scared to go near the tiny, half-dead, cute rat. He threw a basketball at it, and a coat hanger, before I realized he did not have the guts to go through with it (I guess he is only 7). So I stood over the dying rat and tried to come up with the courage to kill it. There was a hatchet nearby and I contemplated it, but I just couldn’t do it. I could already feel tears welling up in my eyes.
So, I asked Roberto to go get one of the men who was working on constructing the new apartment at Reina’s house to come kill it. A man came down and stood at the top of the stairs looking down for ten minutes. Meanwhile, the little rat had dragged itself out from underneath the board and was crawling with its front paws back toward the crates (its back legs were already broken from the first blow dealt by Roberto). The man told me he was scared of rats (grown man + construction worker + fear of rodents?) but I finally coaxed him down. By now, the rat had crawled between the crates and he had to pull it out with a broom handle, into a dustpan, where he brought it into the yard onto a pile of garbage. Roberto then proceeded to grab a can of gasoline and some matches. They both looked at me like burning a rat alive was a perfectly reasonable solution. I told them how cruel I thought it was and that they needed to kill it first at least before they burnt it. The man assured me it was already dead. However, when I turned around the leave before I had to see it burn, I saw its little gasoline-soaked body trying to crawl away.
I admit, I cried. I am not a fan of rats, I am annoyed that they keep eating my vegetables, and I don’t blame anyone who wants to kill them. However, being a witness/accessory to the burning to death of that cute little rat was more than I could take. So, I made peanut butter chocolate brownies, courtesy of the supplies sent to me by Ryan Strash and Andrea Skjonsby. Here is the recipe:
Slow and Painful Death by Peanut Butter Chocolate Brownies
2/3 cup Crunchy Peanut Butter
1/4 cup butter or margarine
1 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
3 eggs
3/4 cup flour
3/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
2 cups chocolate chips
Cream peanut butter, butter, sugar, brown sugar, and vanilla. Add eggs. Add dry ingredients and mix until smooth (besides the crunchiness of the peanut butter). Add chocolate chips. Bake in greased pan at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes (I can’t vouch for that time/temp because I used an improvised stovetop oven).
Today when I got home I decided to get some laundry done. I was down at the pila washing my clothes (by the way, washing clothes by hand is awful and takes a zillion years) when I saw a movement over by where the chicken were pecking at the concrete.
To back up a little, we had all come to the agreement that we had rats in the house somewhere last week. They had been eating my tomatoes at night and also eating clothes in Reina’s room. So, Reina put out some rat poison, which subsequently was gone the next morning. The assumption was that the rats had eaten the poison and had crawled away to some hidden location to die a slow and painful death by poison.
It turns out, a few rats were smart enough or not hungry enough and escaped the trap, because out from behind the crates of empty bottle crawled a RAT. Now, I have spent the better part of two weeks phobically afraid of these guys. I never thought I was scared of rats, but come to find out, they are one of the few things in the world that give me the heebie-jeebies. I have lain awake at night imagining that I hear them skittering around my kitchen. I have run to the bathroom at night as fast as I can because I am afraid they will jump out at me. However, to my dismay, out crawled this rat, and it was CUTE. It was not this giant, hairy, menacing creature I had been imagining. It was this little, cute, furry animal.
So now, I feel bad for trying to kill the little things. I try to imagine all the diseases they carry, all the tomatoes they have eaten, and the swarming capability of twenty of them reproducing behind those crates, because otherwise I kind of wanted to cuddle with it. Roberto (7 years old) came out and asked me if he should kill it. I told him he could kill it, but I didn’t want to see. I was already feeling morally torn and kind of sad for the ones I had already poisoned. So, he proceeded to take a board and throw it on top of the poor little thing. Now, it is halfway squished and suffering, so I told Roberto he needed to kill it all the way because it was hurt. All of the sudden, Roberto is too scared to go near the tiny, half-dead, cute rat. He threw a basketball at it, and a coat hanger, before I realized he did not have the guts to go through with it (I guess he is only 7). So I stood over the dying rat and tried to come up with the courage to kill it. There was a hatchet nearby and I contemplated it, but I just couldn’t do it. I could already feel tears welling up in my eyes.
So, I asked Roberto to go get one of the men who was working on constructing the new apartment at Reina’s house to come kill it. A man came down and stood at the top of the stairs looking down for ten minutes. Meanwhile, the little rat had dragged itself out from underneath the board and was crawling with its front paws back toward the crates (its back legs were already broken from the first blow dealt by Roberto). The man told me he was scared of rats (grown man + construction worker + fear of rodents?) but I finally coaxed him down. By now, the rat had crawled between the crates and he had to pull it out with a broom handle, into a dustpan, where he brought it into the yard onto a pile of garbage. Roberto then proceeded to grab a can of gasoline and some matches. They both looked at me like burning a rat alive was a perfectly reasonable solution. I told them how cruel I thought it was and that they needed to kill it first at least before they burnt it. The man assured me it was already dead. However, when I turned around the leave before I had to see it burn, I saw its little gasoline-soaked body trying to crawl away.
I admit, I cried. I am not a fan of rats, I am annoyed that they keep eating my vegetables, and I don’t blame anyone who wants to kill them. However, being a witness/accessory to the burning to death of that cute little rat was more than I could take. So, I made peanut butter chocolate brownies, courtesy of the supplies sent to me by Ryan Strash and Andrea Skjonsby. Here is the recipe:
Slow and Painful Death by Peanut Butter Chocolate Brownies
2/3 cup Crunchy Peanut Butter
1/4 cup butter or margarine
1 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
3 eggs
3/4 cup flour
3/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
2 cups chocolate chips
Cream peanut butter, butter, sugar, brown sugar, and vanilla. Add eggs. Add dry ingredients and mix until smooth (besides the crunchiness of the peanut butter). Add chocolate chips. Bake in greased pan at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes (I can’t vouch for that time/temp because I used an improvised stovetop oven).
Monday, April 28, 2008
Bacon Vacation
On Friday, I went with Chorjale to play sports against Las Ventanas, another of the big schools around here. I spent all day in the sun watching first girls, then three different boys teams play soccer. We lost every game. We also lost every game of basketball they played simultaneously up at the school. In Guatemala, they don’t really go for the “the most important part is that you had fun” philosophy so the kids were pretty disappointed. I had a good time though and we get another chance to win this Friday when the school is coming to play on our home turf in Chorjale. We also rode there in the back of a giant truck which was pretty fun. They tried to insist I sit up front with the driver but I told them I wanted to ride in the back with the rest of the teachers and students. It was a great game trying to keep my balance on the rough dirt road. When they went through to drop me off in Cabrican, the other two teachers climbed over the side and tried to tell the driver to put the ladder down for me but I insisted on climbing over the side too. I just want to be like everyone else as much as possible because I look SO different.
I left at 5am Saturday morning to go meet some people at Lake Atitlan. I got to Panajachel at 9:30am and found out that everyone had gone across the lake to go swimming. Thankfully, they left one person waiting for me and we took a launch out to a hotel where they let us swim because we bought lunch there. They had these great stone patios that you could sunbathe on a dive off. I also got to enhance my sunburn from being outside all day Friday. The lake was SO beautiful and the water was perfect. You have this amazing view of volcanoes all around you. The lake itself is a huge crater left over from a monumental volcanic eruption in the past. It has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. After swimming, we went back to the hostel and rested before meeting some Guatemalan friends for dinner. We went to a restaurant owned by a Canadian man where I ordered a bacon cheeseburger. It was HEAVEN after not having anything of the sort for 4 months. We also stumbled upon a punk/ska concert that was happening across the street. It was almost like being home for a night.
In the morning, I woke up too early as usual and left for home at around 7:30. I stood on the side of the road watching buses pass too quickly to stop for me for awhile before I finally got one to stop. The problem was, there weren’t any seats left so the ayudante sat me down in his spot, which is on an upside down bucket in the front with the driver. I had to hang on for dear life around all the curves through the mountains. We were almost to Xela before a seat opened up for me. I politely declined the free ride to San Marcos they offered me. I had to get back to Xela early because the last bus leaves for Cabrican on Sundays at 1:30pm. I got back in plenty of time, did some civilization-shopping (I got cheese, butter, coconut milk, measuring cups, a wooden spoon, and nail polish) and got on a bus that was leaving at noon which put me home around two. I was so exhausted that I slept for 2 hours when I got home. I hung out at Sara’s house and ate popcorn for a few hours and went to sleep at 8pm because I was still so exhausted.
This morning half my teachers didn’t come to school. The ones that were there didn’t really feel like working and invited me to eat scones and coffee and go across the street to the store to drink soda with them. I also got roped into playing basketball for an hour after recess and when I finished, the teacher that had brought me to school had left without telling anyone. I was going to take the bus but the teachers all insisted I get a ride home with a local man they knew because the bus was “too rough” on those roads. I opted for the free ride over paying for the bus. I also got invited to eat dinner at a teacher’s house tomorrow because they are killing a turkey to celebrate Labor Day (Thursday). Life just keeps getting more interesting around here.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Deeper Thoughts
Author’s Note: I apologize in advance to you casual readers who aren’t ready to hear the serious thought-provoking side of living in Guatemala. I promise the next one will be really funny and witty, don’t worry.
Today my school got canceled so I decided to go on a hike. I just finished reading Donald Miller’s book “Through Painted Deserts” which is about an outdoorsy-finding-yourself type of road trip so I was feeling extra adventurous. I decided I would go up the road past the police station and see where it might take me. It took my down a winding hill (not quite as much fun on the way back) and through some houses before giving way to a lonely road all the way down to the river. There, I found a perfect grassy-picnic-knoll where I could sit, eat lunch, and do some good alone-in-nature-thinking. I thought I might share with you a little of what I wrote in my journal while I was there…enjoy my deeper thoughts!
“It’s funny, at least five Guatemalans told me on my way down here that they couldn’t believe I was walking alone and I was going to get robbed [side note: I know there are times when you should definitely listen to the locals and I assure you mother, I was not doing anything unsafe]. It is so tranquil here; it doesn’t really feel unsafe at all. We Americans, we love to be alone. We love the freedom and the independence that comes with doing things on your own. We love the tranquility and serenity that comes with being alone in nature. To concentrate, we need silence and to pray, we want to be alone. Guatemalans don’t understand that part of us. They think it’s ridiculous to go on a walk by yourself, they think it a waste to live alone and a tragedy to be away from your family. I don’t think they really think I am doing something unsafe so much as they think I am doing something strange and unnecessary. They are always around family, always cooking for ten (or twenty), always looking for someone to talk to, and they always, always know each other’s business.
To us, God exists in nature, in silence, in a “still small voice.” We feel God most intimately in the quiet times and the quiet songs. I think for many Guatemalans, God exists in the laughter of friends and the joy of community. For Evangelicals here especially, God is loudness and joy and movement and LOUDNESS. I don’t think either way of thinking is wrong, but which makes more sense?
The awful truth is, I am not sure if I really fit in Guatemala. I never felt like I fit into life in the United States. When I went to South Africa, I got caught up in the miracle of Ubuntu and the strength of human kindness there. It is a human spirit that I am sure exists here and I know exists in the states in some people and exists most definitely exists in my heart. The thing is, I can’t decide if I could do more good in a place where I fit in or a place that I don’t.
It is safe to say that when I joined the Peace Corps I had definite thoughts of “finding myself” (and the Latin man that I have given up hope on, by the way). Seriously, the truth is that I know who I am, I just don’t know where I belong in this world. I just know there is a place out there with my name on it. I am not feeling like Guatemala is it, which doesn’t mean I can’t love my time here and grow a lot because of it. Sometimes I just think I don’t make sense. I didn’t make sense in the U.S., I don’t really make any more sense in Guatemala. I made more sense in South Africa but I was only there for a month so it is hard to know. I just know there is a place out there where who I am makes perfect sense and where I will feel at home being exactly who I am.”
Today my school got canceled so I decided to go on a hike. I just finished reading Donald Miller’s book “Through Painted Deserts” which is about an outdoorsy-finding-yourself type of road trip so I was feeling extra adventurous. I decided I would go up the road past the police station and see where it might take me. It took my down a winding hill (not quite as much fun on the way back) and through some houses before giving way to a lonely road all the way down to the river. There, I found a perfect grassy-picnic-knoll where I could sit, eat lunch, and do some good alone-in-nature-thinking. I thought I might share with you a little of what I wrote in my journal while I was there…enjoy my deeper thoughts!
“It’s funny, at least five Guatemalans told me on my way down here that they couldn’t believe I was walking alone and I was going to get robbed [side note: I know there are times when you should definitely listen to the locals and I assure you mother, I was not doing anything unsafe]. It is so tranquil here; it doesn’t really feel unsafe at all. We Americans, we love to be alone. We love the freedom and the independence that comes with doing things on your own. We love the tranquility and serenity that comes with being alone in nature. To concentrate, we need silence and to pray, we want to be alone. Guatemalans don’t understand that part of us. They think it’s ridiculous to go on a walk by yourself, they think it a waste to live alone and a tragedy to be away from your family. I don’t think they really think I am doing something unsafe so much as they think I am doing something strange and unnecessary. They are always around family, always cooking for ten (or twenty), always looking for someone to talk to, and they always, always know each other’s business.
To us, God exists in nature, in silence, in a “still small voice.” We feel God most intimately in the quiet times and the quiet songs. I think for many Guatemalans, God exists in the laughter of friends and the joy of community. For Evangelicals here especially, God is loudness and joy and movement and LOUDNESS. I don’t think either way of thinking is wrong, but which makes more sense?
The awful truth is, I am not sure if I really fit in Guatemala. I never felt like I fit into life in the United States. When I went to South Africa, I got caught up in the miracle of Ubuntu and the strength of human kindness there. It is a human spirit that I am sure exists here and I know exists in the states in some people and exists most definitely exists in my heart. The thing is, I can’t decide if I could do more good in a place where I fit in or a place that I don’t.
It is safe to say that when I joined the Peace Corps I had definite thoughts of “finding myself” (and the Latin man that I have given up hope on, by the way). Seriously, the truth is that I know who I am, I just don’t know where I belong in this world. I just know there is a place out there with my name on it. I am not feeling like Guatemala is it, which doesn’t mean I can’t love my time here and grow a lot because of it. Sometimes I just think I don’t make sense. I didn’t make sense in the U.S., I don’t really make any more sense in Guatemala. I made more sense in South Africa but I was only there for a month so it is hard to know. I just know there is a place out there where who I am makes perfect sense and where I will feel at home being exactly who I am.”
Monday, April 21, 2008
Encyclopedia Guatemalteca
Author´s Note: I killed atleast 20 of those beetles in my room before I went to sleep on Saturday night. Thank goodness they aren´t rats...
Today I rode home from school 6 deep in a 2-door Volvo with a group of encyclopedia salesman. Life is so strange.
On Friday I went to Xela and met with Ashleigh for lunch. Before I left I went to the post office and I had TWO packages…one from my parents and one from the Strash family. I was SO happy. So I went to Xela and we went to a Mennonite bakery that is only open Tuesdays and Fridays and I bought some wheat bread. I also went and bought a guitar which will make me very very happy. I might not have to resort to watching the Desperate Housewives DVD that Sara gave me.
On Saturday I got to go with Brian to an aldea close to here named Coralles where he has a stove project. I got to help him build the bases for 4 stoves. A lot of people here are still cooking on fires on the floor of their house or on stoves without chimneys so respiratory problems are a HUGE deal here. So, his project is to build 73 “estufas mejoradas” in houses there. It was really great to be able to go into people’s houses and see their lives from that perspective. Everyone was SO nice and welcoming. They all fed us several times. I also got to do a little manual labor which felt good. We used cement block and cement and basically built a box on the ground (the hardest part is making sure it is level) and when it is dry they will fill it with sand or earth and then build another box of brick on top of it where they can put the metal cook top. They have chimneys so they can still use wood to cook and it will heat the house but there won’t be smoke. It’s great because respiratory problems are some of the most serious illnesses here. It is nice because he teaches people to do it so they can build their own and he doesn’t do it all for them. Also, a lot of the women end up working on it which is great because it isn’t the kind of job they normally let women so around here. It is great to see everyone work together and get something accomplished that is so good for them.
Sunday was market day and I had to buy another blanket for my bed because it has been really cold here at night. I spent all day cleaning and washing my clothes because it takes SO long to wash them by hand. I also make quicoi (kind of like zucchini) bread which turned out really well in the oven I made on my stove top. Next step: chocolate chip cookies with the chips Ryan sent me! It felt really great to bake something, I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.
This weekend I get to go watch the schools play sports against each other on Friday and on Saturday I am meeting some of the people from the training group at Lake Atitlan to hang out. It will be nice to have a vacation.
Today I rode home from school 6 deep in a 2-door Volvo with a group of encyclopedia salesman. Life is so strange.
On Friday I went to Xela and met with Ashleigh for lunch. Before I left I went to the post office and I had TWO packages…one from my parents and one from the Strash family. I was SO happy. So I went to Xela and we went to a Mennonite bakery that is only open Tuesdays and Fridays and I bought some wheat bread. I also went and bought a guitar which will make me very very happy. I might not have to resort to watching the Desperate Housewives DVD that Sara gave me.
On Saturday I got to go with Brian to an aldea close to here named Coralles where he has a stove project. I got to help him build the bases for 4 stoves. A lot of people here are still cooking on fires on the floor of their house or on stoves without chimneys so respiratory problems are a HUGE deal here. So, his project is to build 73 “estufas mejoradas” in houses there. It was really great to be able to go into people’s houses and see their lives from that perspective. Everyone was SO nice and welcoming. They all fed us several times. I also got to do a little manual labor which felt good. We used cement block and cement and basically built a box on the ground (the hardest part is making sure it is level) and when it is dry they will fill it with sand or earth and then build another box of brick on top of it where they can put the metal cook top. They have chimneys so they can still use wood to cook and it will heat the house but there won’t be smoke. It’s great because respiratory problems are some of the most serious illnesses here. It is nice because he teaches people to do it so they can build their own and he doesn’t do it all for them. Also, a lot of the women end up working on it which is great because it isn’t the kind of job they normally let women so around here. It is great to see everyone work together and get something accomplished that is so good for them.
Sunday was market day and I had to buy another blanket for my bed because it has been really cold here at night. I spent all day cleaning and washing my clothes because it takes SO long to wash them by hand. I also make quicoi (kind of like zucchini) bread which turned out really well in the oven I made on my stove top. Next step: chocolate chip cookies with the chips Ryan sent me! It felt really great to bake something, I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.
This weekend I get to go watch the schools play sports against each other on Friday and on Saturday I am meeting some of the people from the training group at Lake Atitlan to hang out. It will be nice to have a vacation.
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