The Good Life

I didn’t realize until I started writing it all out that we actually had a very busy and exciting week. We saw lots of people, and I got to watch Brooks take two very important steps in his life, including his baptism and getting his first tattoo. And for my second to last week in Huehue, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way; my days here are numbered and I am ready to continue to enjoy them to the fullest. 

Monday we finished our San Cristobal de las Casas trip with a seven-hour bus ride back to Huehue, heading over to the orphanage in the afternoon (like I’ve said before, just leaving for a weekend makes me miss the kids). Tuesday evening we enjoyed breaking a piñata with our host family, which conveniently occurred when we were already Skyping my sister. We brought the computer down with us so she could see the festivities, and a precious 3-year-old neighbor boy, José Pablo, was completely mesmerized by my computer and Skyping with my sister. It was hilarious. 

Wednesday was a beautiful and fun day at the orphanage, where we had a party to baptize Brooks. Brooks had left early in the morning to go to the orphanage, and filled up 400 water balloons and set up a large inflatable pool we borrowed from our neighbors. Mom and I came over at 10:30am for the baptism ceremony, where Brooks spoke a few words, Hermana Sandra prayed, myself and some of the older kids read Bible verses for Brooks, and then the defining moment, when Pastor Ubaldo and a friend of his baptized Brooks in the pool. It was a beautiful ceremony, and then what made the day even better was our announcement after the baptism that everyone needed to change their clothes, because we were going to have a massive water fight. The weather all week had been cold and overcast, but on Tuesday the sun shone brightly, as if God was smiling on Brooks’ baptism and us. We pulled out all the balloons, and Brooks yelled “1, 2, 3, go” and pure chaos ensured. All the little kids and some of the older kids jumped into the pool, water balloons were being thrown at all angles, pastors and volunteers were being thrown into the pool, and once all the water balloons were gone, the kids started grabbing buckets and filling them with pool water to throw at others. It was incredible. After the intense water fight, everyone changed again, and we enjoyed popsicles Brooks had bought to share; the kids loved it. After popsicles (dessert before the meal, right?), all of the lunch tables were set outside in a long row, and we enjoyed a lunch of chicken, rice, tamales, and lemonade together. Needless to say, it was a fun and beautiful day, probably one of the best we have ever had at Fundación (which is saying a lot, because we’ve had some pretty incredible days there).

Thursday morning we invited our tienda friends out to coffee with us, which changed from coffee to ice cream pretty quickly and desirably. Our friend Leidy, one of her sisters, her sisters’ two kids Valeska and Greta, and the mom/grandma joined us. This family has been so kind and generous with us during our time in Guatemala, giving us free ice cream and always greeting us with kind words and friendly conversation, we were so glad to finally have the chance to be generous with them in return. We all went to Pops in Paiz, ordering four banana splits, two ice cream sundaes, and one Coca-Cola float. We enjoyed conversation with them, and smiled realizing we were so blessed to know this family. Friday morning we had a repeat of good company and good food when we went out to eat crepes with our friends Guisela and Ubaldo. We spent pretty much the whole morning talking about the orphanage, and again I felt like I was basking in the glow of enjoying the company of incredible people.

Saturday our day started with a bang when I joined Brooks to get his tattoo. He had met a guy through the man that runs the pharmacy at the orphanage, Wilder, and decided it was time for him to get his tattoo. He had asked one of the older boys at the orphanage, Jhony, to design something for him, and he came back with a beautiful cross and verse tattoo. Saturday morning Brooks and I walked over to the orphanage, got Wilder and Jhony, and walked over to the house of the man that would be doing the tattoo. This tattoo experience was so Guatemalan it’s not even funny, but I think Brooks wouldn’t have had it any other way. We met his wife first, who told us to wait because he was still working on a car at his second job, a car wash. We chatted with the wife a bit, who was very nice, and who we learned was selling ceviche out of the back of her car and asked if we wanted to buy any. From there we followed the man into his house (a few minutes late of course), and walked to an upstairs balcony that had nice couches set out on it. He already had Brooks’ design, and had shrunk it down a bit. After looking at the design again, he then started setting up his “shop”, which consisted of pulling out the tattoo gun, needles and ink, and setting it all up on his coffee table. He stenciled Brooks’ tattoo on, and the whole tattooing process took place on his balcony, with Brooks laying down on one of the couches. It took about two hours in total, but the finished product looked great. It was a tattoo experience to remember. From there we headed home for lunch, and afterwards my mom and I left to wander the city center of Huehue. We went to the outdoor market and checked out some Christmas stalls, but unfortunately there’s not too much to see in the Huehue city center; in an hour or so, we saw most of it. At 4pm we joined Brooks and Cony in the central park where they were having a grand opening for the park, complete with a mariachi band and many city officials. We hung around for an hour, but after nothing happened an hour after the scheduled time, we decided to skip out and get some dinner. Cony joined us for dinner, and we had amazing pizza at a place called Lakaf (finally seeing the nicer restaurants of Huehue). After dinner we said goodbye to Cony, and walked on to the orphanage; they were just finished up with a visit when we arrived (their third visit of the day, what? All complete with lots of cake and lots of candy). After enjoying the end of the visit with them, we decided to start the beading party we had planned. My mom brought tons of beads from the States, donated by her beading group, and she thought it would be fun to have a quiet beading party with some of the girls. Well, this of course in not what we got. Most of the older girls had left for church that evening, leaving us with some younger girls and a lot of boys. Although we decided to open it up to some boys, we didn’t realize how that translated to everyone else until mom and I found ourselves in a room full of 25 loud 5 to 12 year old boys. We had Brooks take away and occupy the youngest boys, and some girls started trickling in to balance out the numbers a bit. Although it was hectic and loud, we had no idea how much the boys (and the girls too) would love beading. They ended up making some very beautiful bracelets and necklaces, with really cool designs and tiny, meticulous beads. Mom and I were utterly impressed, and so content with how it all turned out. Many even asked if we would be doing it again the next day. After cleaning up from beading (we surprisingly didn’t find too many beads on the floor), mom and I headed over to the Pequeñas room for the night to sleep.

Sunday we awoke at the orphanage, went home for breakfast, and rested a bit before heading out again. My mom wanted to see Paiz, the second largest shopping center in Huehue, which is really just a grocery store in a mall-like building surrounded by small, somewhat deserted shops. I had decided to get my haircut there, more out of curiosity than need (and because it cost Q40, around $5). I was amazed to walk into one of the nicer looking salons, to realize I was the only customer, and to be done with my cut and wash in about seven minutes. She did a pretty good job actually, and it was definitely worthy of the experience and the $5. After shopping around in Paiz, we went back home for lunch. We took naps, and while I was sleeping Brooks worked on our massive Pen Pal collage project (more to come on that in a later blog). We spent most of the afternoon doing mundane things and making sure the Pen Pal collage looked good, but it was an enjoyable afternoon.

With the clock ticking down on my departure, part of me wishes I could just fast forward to next Monday, past all of the sad goodbyes. Although this next week is going to be a good one, with my dad coming, Christmas with our family, and our Fundación Christmas party coming up, it doesn’t change the fact that I hate goodbyes. This is simply weird, leaving, and I wish I had more profound things to say about it; at this point, though, I am mostly in shock that December came so soon and that my six months passed by so quickly. Luckily, I’m almost positive I will be back again, meaning the “adios” came be an “hasta luego”, a much easier end to such an amazing experience. 

San Cristobal de las Casas

This weekend my mom, Brooks and I enjoyed a relaxing break from Huehue life with a trip to San Cristobal de las Casas. Brooks and I had met an American woman living in San Cristobal months before at the Spanish School, and her invitation to stay in her house was coupled perfectly with my mom’s arrival to Huehue, and Brooks’ need to renew his Guatemalan visa. My mom had only arrived the Wednesday before (actually the day of the “Burning of the Devil” in Guatemala, a dangerous yet fun holiday where people haphazardly set off fireworks, burn devil piñatas or dolls, and eat tamales), but we decided to keep her trip exciting with a mini-vacation to Mexico. Friday morning at 9:30am we were greeted by our taxi, which took us to a gas station to wait for a shuttle bus to San Cristobal. Because we didn’t want to deal with the hassle of chicken bus-taxi-walking-taxi-chicken bus, we splurged for the fancy shuttle option, which was a great choice. The shuttle found us about an hour late at the gas station, and cruised onto the boarder where we passed through various passport checkpoints. After the checkpoints we got on another shuttle on the Mexico side, and headed onto San Cristobal, only stopping once for a delicious, late lunch. Once in San Cristobal, Brooks and I were amazed by our surroundings, and felt we had been transported much further away from Guatemala than Mexico. San Cristobal greeted us with clean, cobblestone streets, nice stores and restaurants, and less general chaos than we were used to seeing in Guatemala. We quickly found Alison’s house, said hello to her and her husband, and headed out to the “andador” (a walkway with lots of shops and restaurants) for an incredible Italian dinner. Brooks and I soon realized this was going to a great gastronomic weekend.

            The next morning we awoke around 7:30am, and were unfortunately more awake than the rest of the town when we went searching for our breakfast place. We settled for the only open restaurant, which actually offered an amazing, and delicious, selection. From there we wandered to the central park, and then onto Templo Santa Domingo, where an open-air market was set out in front. We spent hours wandering between the stalls (poor Brooks. He was a trooper, but I know it wasn’t his first pick of activities), looking at colorful blouses, scarves, and pottery. From there we grabbed a snack of jicama on a stick (dipped in chili and strawberry powder – very interesting but very good), got some lunch for Brooks, and headed back to our little apartment to eat lunch (leftovers for mom and I) and take a nap. Alison’s second floor, our accommodations for the weekend, was a precious and pristine little apartment with two rooms, three beds, a bathroom, coffee maker, fridge, microwave, and TV. Brooks and I were in American-luxury heaven. After our naps, mom and I decided to head out again to visit Templo de Guadalupe while Brooks rested a bit more. The weekend of our visit was actually the time when all of Mexico (and some of Guatemala too) was celebrating the Virgen de Guadalupe (a darker version of the Virgin Mary), and it was the perfect time to be in San Cristobal. Groups from all over Mexico had been making pilgrimages all week to San Cristobal, running in relay teams passing a lit torch. Up at the church (which rose above the city on a large set of stairs) mom and I witnessed the groups finally arriving to the virgin, entering the church crawling on their knees, and singing songs to the virgin. All leading up the church the streets had a carnival-like atmosphere with games, rides, and food booths. It was a really cool site to see. That evening we enjoyed a delicious dinner at a place called “TierrAdentro”, a restaurant with hippie vibes, and came home to watch a movie on our TV (the first movie in a long time Brooks and I had watched not through a bad internet connection).

            The next morning we planned to hit the andador a bit later to have breakfast at a bagel shop, but were disappointed to discover the staff hadn’t shown up yet and we therefore could not eat breakfast there. We returned to our trusted breakfast spot from the day before, and enjoyed another great meal. From breakfast we took a walk to Templo de San Cristobal, set high on a hill up a series of switchback stairs. When we arrived at the church, we learned that it was actually the church of the drivers, such as taxi and bus drivers, which was one of the most unique dedications I have ever heard of for a church. After enjoying the view from up top, we descended the stairs again and decided to head out on an adventure to an orchid garden we had read about. Although the guidebook said it was only a mile outside of the city center, after 20 minutes and many suspicions of being lost, we realized the guidebook was wrong. We found ourselves far outside of town, walking along a busy road that reminded Brooks and I a bit of our experience walking along a highway in Venice (a long, but funny, story). Eventually we came upon the orchid garden, which was actually a hippie utopian dream project. We met the owner and creator of the orchid garden, an older hippie from the States, who gave us a private tour of the property and taught us more about plants than I think I ever needed to know. All of the plants on the property had been rescued from forests that were being clear-cut, and had been transplanted to create a large, lush garden. After our tour we entered the prize of the land, a cool and creatively constructed greenhouse, filled with thousands of plants and a moist jungle feel, complete with piped in jungle sounds music. After seeing the greenhouse we decided to take the hiking trail from the property, which we only intended to see for a bit, and then ended up continuing on for the full 2.2 kilometers. After our hike we were tired and hungry, and decided to catch a taxi to the finally open bagel café instead of walking the whole way back into town. We enjoyed some INCREDIBLE bagels (seriously. I think it was because I was so hungry, but it was absolutely delicious), and then walked home for a nap and showers before dinner. We took Alison and her husband, Enrique, out for dinner that night as a thank-you, and enjoyed nice conversation and amazing Italian food yet again. After dinner we walked home with Alison and Enrique, and were blessed with some perseverance on their part, calling many travel agencies in San Cristobal to figure out a) what shuttle company we were going home with, and b) if they knew where to pick us up. It turns out they didn’t know where to pick us up, and it was a good thing we had called.

            The next morning we took the shuttle bright and early at 7am, and enjoyed a peaceful and uneventful shuttle ride home (aside from the many runners on the road on their way to San Cristobal, but I slept through all of that). With only a week and a half left in Huehue, I am experiencing very mixed emotions yet again, where part of me is panicking about having to say goodbye to Huehue and the kids at Fundación Salvación, and the other part of me is ready to move onto other adventures. Only time will tell how I actually end up processing these last days here. I have had an incredibly blessed time here in Huehue, and it has all almost been too good to be true. This experience has been nothing short of beautiful, inspiring, and life changing, and I know I’m a better person because of it. I will miss the amazing people and the incredible children I have met here, but thank you Lord that I have had this experience to miss. 

The Gift of Beauty: Natural and Relational

After relaxing on Sunday from our crazy Thanksgiving week, Brooks and I found ourselves busy again with catching up with our pen pal program and our social lives here in Huehue. On Thursday we had pizza with our friend Gaby, the girl that works at the front desk at our gym, and enjoyed getting to know her even more. By Friday it was time to leave town again to conquer the climb up Tajumulco over the weekend.

            We were planning to leave for Xela early Friday morning in order to have time to visit Xocomil again, the amazing water park an hour from Xela. But after I realized on Thursday that I was still a little sick, and that going to a water park would not help that, we decided to stay home and head over to Xela Friday afternoon. We left right after lunch on Friday, catching a 2pm bus to Xela. Unfortunately the ride was slow and with an unknown transfer in the middle, meaning we arrived later than intended in Xela. We rushed to catch a micro to the city center, and then walked quickly to Casa Argentina, where we were expected for a Quetzaltrekkers meeting. We came too late for the meeting, but fortunately because Quetzeltrekkers is so relaxed, they gave us a private meeting and set us up with the right gear for the trek. We checked into a room, and called our friend Doris to meet us for dinner at El Sabor de la India, one of our favorite restaurants in Xela. Doris met us at the restaurant with her daughter and her daughter’s friend, and after a delicious dinner we made a drive to the Agua Viva campus. Agua Viva is a missionary group based out of Xela with an extensive campus of missionary housing, a school, and soon to be an orphanage. We went over to Agua Viva because Brooks is currently working on a dream to build a school at the orphanage, and knowing that Agua Viva has a school on their campus for missionary children, we took advantage of the opportunity to meet with some of Doris’ friends that help run the school. After a sleepy meeting (it was late and almost everyone was exhausted), Doris drove us back to Casa Argentina so we could get some sleep before our early morning wake up call.           

At 5:45am the next day we met up with our trekking group, which we had actually not met before because of our M.I.A. status during the meeting. Our group consisted of three guides – Patrick and Rachel, who both attended Willamette University in Oregon, and Santi, our Guatemalan guide from our last trek – as well as three other trekkers and ourselves, Kate from Australia, Kevin from San Luis Obispo, and Lisa from Germany. It ended up being a great group whose company Brooks and I really enjoyed. We all loaded into the back of a pick-up truck at 6am, and were driven to the bus “terminal” (a large space with a lot of buses and food stands) to board the bus to San Marcos. After an hour and half drive, we all slowly loaded off the bus and entered a nearby building filled with comedores. There we enjoyed coffee with pancakes and fruit, and our last real bathroom for the next two days. From San Marcos we got back on a bus, a very crowded and uncomfortable bus, and drove about an hour up a winding hill to be dropped off at the base of Tajumulco. From there it was three hours of uphill, with lots of breaks thrown in of course. Tajumulco, as the tallest point in Central America, is obviously at a very high altitude (4200m to be exact), but the trek luckily only covers 1200m because we started at 3000m. The trek wasn’t very steep or difficult; what did make it more difficult, though, was the slight altitude sickness I was feeling, my first ever experience with altitude sickness. By 2pm we arrived at our base camp, an open area with plenty of space to set up our tents. We set up camp, and then had a delicious lunch and a much needed nap. At 4:40pm we were awoken from our nap to begin our sunset hike, a short hike up the smaller peak of Tajumulco. Once at the top, we marveled at how “on top of the world” we all felt, realizing that the next day we were going to be even higher. The sunset was breathtaking, with perfect rays of light shining through the fluffy clouds, and beautiful colors painting the sky. As beautiful as the sunset was though, the unfortunate thing that comes with a sunset is the lack of sun in the sky… And the terrible cold that comes with that; at 4000m, it got pretty cold that night. After the sun was completely gone we slowly made our way back down to base camp, where we layered on more clothes and started boiling water for our hot drinks and dinner. By evening I was wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, a short sleeve t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a fleece, a down jacket, gloves and a hat, and was still a little cold; by the next morning it was even worse. We all climbed into our sleeping bags around 8pm, but had a terrible time falling asleep due to the other campers around us, the cold, and the lack of oxygen at that altitude.

The next morning we awoke at 3:30am, quickly stuffed our sleeping bags in our backpacks, and were hiking the last 200m to the top by 3:45am. This part of the trek was the most difficult, given that is was steeper and even higher up. The nausea from altitude sickness was really bothering both myself and Lisa, which was good because we could stop together, and bad because we both wanted to throw up and stop hiking the entire time. After just an hour though, we made it to the top and set out our sleeping pads and sleeping bags, climbing in to wait for the sunrise to begin. After about 20 minutes colors began appearing in the sky, and more and more people began trickling up the mountainside or emerging from their tents (some people camped at the top). The sunrise that we witnessed from Tajumulco is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and almost brought tears to my eyes. The sun rose just behind another volcano chain to the east in Guatemala, making for amazing picture opportunities. We stayed until the sun was past the cloud line, and packed up our stuff to make our way back down to breakfast. The night before Brooks and Patrick had been talking about the volcano crater and how much they wanted to climb into it, so they (along with Kevin, Kate and Santi) sped ahead while Rachel, Lisa and I took our time, taking pictures at every vantage point possible. The walk back down was beautiful, which indeed included circling around the volcano crater, a pretty shallow crater at this point in history. The climb down was probably about 50m, and at the bottom of the crater was an array of names and symbols spelled out in rocks people had left behind. The boys and Kate enjoyed a moment in the crater, and then met the three of us at the top to walk the rest of the way down. By 8am we met up with Santi at the camp, and enjoyed a delicious breakfast of oatmeal and hot drinks before packing up camp to head back down. The trek down was surprisingly painful, with my knees and toes bothering me, but the view was again stunning. We stopped a few times on our way down, but blasted most of the end to make it to a restaurant and earlier bus in time. The restaurant we ate lunch at was very nice, with a large, airy space, beachfront feel, and real bathrooms for us to use. Our group was exhausted, yet very satisfied with our trek and our delicious lunch. After lunch we hurried to catch a bus by 12:45pm, which Brooks and I were hoping would mean being back in Xela in time to catch the last bus to Huehue. Our first bus ride was crowded and pretty terrible (it’s hard to sleep on a bus when you’re person number three on the seat, and the bus keeps whipping around curves in the road), but luckily by our second bus ride we all had seats and could sleep a little more comfortably. Back in Xela Brooks and I unloaded our borrowed gear on the group, said our goodbyes, and boarded bus number three back to Huehue. We were so thankful to be heading back to our showers and warm beds, the quick walk home in dark didn’t even bother us.

Unfortunately we didn’t have much time to rest after this adventure, because by 8am on Monday we were back at Fundación Salvación, ready to witness a very special morning. Guisela and Ubaldo used to work for Agua Viva, and because of this connection were able to ask Agua Viva if they would come to the orphanage as part of their annual Project Shoebox event. Every Christmas Agua Viva puts together hundreds and hundreds of boxes of donated gifts and distributes them to kids around Guatemala with the help of a large mission team that comes down from the States. Monday morning was Fundación Salvación’s time for a Project Shoebox visit; they had the kids ready and lined up by 8am, but unfortunately the team didn’t make it to Huehue until around 9:30am. They had a quick skit for the kids explaining the real reason for Christmas (I’ll give you a hint: Jesus), and sang some Christmas songs in Spanish. After this they lined the kids up again, and walked them over to the big room at the orphanage where all the boxes were stacked up. They would give a kid a box based on their age and gender, and after each kid received their box they were ushered over to another open space where they could sit down and open their box. And that is where the madness began. All of the boxes were taped up with packaging tape, and those that couldn’t get passed the tape ended up ripping whole leaves off of their boxes to get into them. The excitement on the kids’ faces was amazing; they were so overjoyed to receive so many presents and candy. All of the kids would hold up their gifts and say “mira, mira!” (look, look!), even for things like flashlights and toothbrushes. The kids loved the gifts, and it was such a joyful morning. Sadly the team had to leave after about an hour (because they had another destination to get to), so we all waved goodbye and helped the kids carry their presents to their rooms where they could admire them some more. It was a beautiful weekend to be in Guatemala.     

Thanksgiving Celebrations

Although Thanksgiving is obviously a purely American holiday, Brooks and I did our best to celebrate it to the fullest down here in Guatemala. As part of that celebration, we decided to organize a Thanksgiving dinner for all of the kids at the orphanage; this decision resulted in a very busy, yet totally rewarding, week. I realize now that it was kind of a crazy task to take on, but I think in order to accomplish anything here in Guatemala – and at an orphanage with 100+ kids – it takes a little bit of crazy mixed in with your planning to make it a possibility.

            Tuesday morning Brooks and I met with our friends Guisela and Ubaldo to talk about all of our recent ideas for Fundación Salvación. Although we talked about some other ideas we all had, the main focus of the coffee date was to share with them our plans to put on the Thanksgiving dinner. Brooks and I are so blessed to know Guisela and Ublado, and even more blessed that their heart has grown so much for the orphanage that they have the desire to love and spoil these kids as much as Brooks and I do. After our three hour, fast-paced meeting, we had successfully called a few crucial people in Xela (including one woman that would cook everything and another woman that would bring nine pumpkin pies for us), had made plans for food shopping, and had ironed out all of the other details. Without the help of these two, the Thanksgiving dinner that resulted would not have been as nice or as well executed as it was. I will say it again – we are so lucky to know them. 

            Brooks and I spent every spare moment we had this past week working on the Thanksgiving meal, including making placemats with every child stating three things they were thankful for about a friend, making Indian and pilgrim hats, and making turkey hands with every kid, decorated with their name and one thing they were thankful for. Although none of these crafts sound too difficult on their own, the process of tracking down and sitting down every child in the orphanage was a pretty incredible feat.

            Wednesday evening Brooks and I had a little break from the Thanksgiving craziness by attending a going away party for one of Brooks’ housemates, German. German had lived with Brooks’ host mom, Cony, for over three years now, and obviously knew Cony and our family very well. We had a delicious dinner of tamales and bread followed by a no-bake cheesecake Brooks and I made, layered between short going away speeches for German. Although I didn’t know him well, it was very sweet to hear the kind things everyone had to say about him, and the love and friendship that was alive in the room that night was beautiful to be a part of. Aside from amazing moments at the orphanage, it’s times like these that I step back and realize how blessed I am to be here.

            Thursday evening, continuing with the Thanksgiving theme, Brooks and I helped organize our own Thanksgiving meal with our family. Brooks and I made a quick shopping trip to Paiz, and came home to nap and make our apple pies, homemade stuffing, and gravy. Unfortunately, neither cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie filling, nor real gravy exist in Huehue, so we made due and improvised. At 3:30pm Brooks and I began preparing the apple pies in a relaxed fashion, but once he left at 4pm to Skype with his family, I realized we still had a lot to do and not enough time to do it in. I quickly starting putting together the pies, and rushed to make the stuffing in a kind of haphazard fashion, which luckily didn’t affect its tastiness later. Brooks and I had been expecting our other three Huehue gringa friends to join us, but unfortunately all were unavailable; fortunately though, we knew three other Americans that could join us and help with the cooking as well as the sentiment of Thanksgiving. In the end we had a total of 17 people; our Guatemalan family, their friend Manuela, Cony, her two house guests Juanita and German, our friend Katie who had studied at the Spanish school, one of her friends from Aguacatán, and two other American friends of hers currently living at Lake Atitlán doing Masters research. We had a delicious dinner of potatoes, stuffing, chicken, and green beans, all topped by our makeshift gravy, which had been made from something called “cow tail soup”. It was fun evening, and after going around the table saying one thing we were thankful for, we enjoyed apple pie and the perfect full Thanksgiving feeling.

            Our Thanksgiving coma unfortunately didn’t last long, as Brooks and I went to the market at 7am the next day with our friend Guisela to buy all the ingredients for our Fundación Thanksgiving. The proportions of food we bought was incredible, including 40 pounds of potatoes, 35 pounds of green beans, and 25 pounds of apples. After weaving our way through the open-air market and finding all of our ingredients, we went over to Paiz to buy our final ingredient – the turkeys. We ended up with three 20-pound turkeys, which luckily was enough to feed 120 (those birds are not cheap in Guatemala). After our shopping spree I went home to rest (I had, and still have, a very persistent cold), while Brooks went to the orphanage to unload the food and help with a scavenger hunt one of the other volunteers had organized. Friday evening Brooks and I were back at the orphanage again, finishing up with our hand turkeys and placemats, and attending a good-bye ceremony for two of the other volunteers, Lela and Maribel. They had some amazing performances by the kids, including a skit and several dances, the most inspiring performed by some of the mentally and physically handicapped at the orphanage. Every time a volunteer leaves it forces me to think about my own departure (which is coming up unfortunately soon), and still I am having an impossible time processing this goodbye. It’s going to be tough. After doing turkey hands until every last child was in bed, Brooks and I finally climbed into beds in our respective rooms (him with parvulos and me with pequeñas) and had obnoxious dreams about hand turkeys and mashed potatoes for 120.

            The next morning we awoke at 6am with the kids, went home to nap a bit and shower, and enjoyed a delicious breakfast before it was time to go back to the orphanage to pull off our Thanksgiving day. At one point I told Brooks I was really hoping we could just fast forward to the night and the meal; I was not looking forward to what was ahead of us. We arrived at the orphanage around 9am, and finished some final placemats and made a giant tree on the wall with the turkey hands. Luckily, unbeknownst to us, the woman who was making our Thanksgiving dinner, Pilar, had arrived the night before and was already in the kitchen, organizing the older girls to help and starting her food preparations. I cannot express enough how grateful I was to have her there, doing everything for the food and leaving us entirely to worry about the other details. Around 11am Brooks and I greeted our friend from Xela, Doris, who had come to the orphanage that day to teach a course to the older kids on how to make soaps. Doris teaches these courses for a living, and was kind enough to give us a free session; the kids absolutely loved it, and later were in Sandra’s office giving her the schpeal about the products they had made. After Doris’ class we had plans to join all of the volunteers, Sandra, Doris, Guisela, Ubaldo and others for lunch, but soon realized (once they hadn’t left by 1pm when plans were to leave by 12pm) that Guatemalan unpunctuality would win over this time, and Brooks and I had to eat lunch elsewhere that would be a little quicker. We got a ride over to Telepizza, and after enjoying our pizza and ice cream break, were headed back to the orphanage to plan and organize some more. Although it was a busy day not without stress, I really enjoyed spending an entire day at the orphanage, having small moments to just hang out with the kids. It made the gift we gave them that evening even better after having spent the entire day enjoying their company. One of my favorite moments came in the afternoon when I was supervising Jose and Daniel, brothers, making their placemats. I was sitting with Israel on my lap and other kids were coming in and out, and Jose and Daniel’s mom, Migdalia, was watching and laughing with me at the cute things her kids were writing and drawing.

            By 3:15pm the kids were eating snack, and Brooks was heading over to the fútbol stadium to prep the goals. Because in America watching football is such a big part of our Thanksgiving celebration, Brooks had the idea that it would be really fun for the kids to play a game of fútbol (or soccer) in the professional Huehue stadium on their Thanksgiving day. Myself and the rest of the kids left at 3:45pm to met him at the stadium, and after a short walk we were inside of the large stadium, not impressive by American standards but which left the kids completely awe-struck. While Brooks and older kids played fútbol, I found myself watching the little ones, making sure they didn’t fall on the concrete stairs they were jumping around.

            After playing soccer, we headed back with the group at 5:45pm (most of the group at least. Brooks stayed with some that wanted to finish out their game), and sent the kids to all of their rooms to get dressed up in their nicest clothes. This was now crunch time for Brooks and I; once he returned, we put all the placemats and hats in everyone’s place, and made sure the food was going to be hot and ready to go. By 7:15pm, after trying to sit down all the kids and tape their Indians hats on (which a lot of the girls refused to wear), we realized the only way we were going to stop them from getting up and wandering around was by starting. Brooks and I made a quick speech about the history of Thanksgiving and the meaning of Thanksgiving nowadays, and then rushed to the kitchen to start putting food on plates. Luckily we had a lot of volunteers there that night, so the work of putting mashed potatoes, green bean salad, a piece of turkey and gravy on each plate seemed to go surprisingly fast. We quickly had 125 plates served, with some food leftover. Side note: Although the traditional way to serve a Thanksgiving turkey is to carve it, we had neither a sharp knife, an electric knife, nor anyone in the kitchen that knew how to carve a turkey. The resulting bird distribution ended in Migdalia hacking at the turkeys with a butcher’s knife, ripping the bird apart. Not the prettiest, but some of the lucky boys did end up getting an entire turkey leg from this. Along with our Thanksgiving meal, Pilar had made a delicious apple cider that the kids drank every last drop of.

Brooks and I had about 10 minutes to sit down and eat our food before we were up again pulling pies out of the fridge. Unfortunately, it was getting late for the kids, and they were fading fast. Some had fallen asleep before the dinner was even served, and some were really grumpy because of their tiredness. One boy even cried because he felt his friend hadn’t colored his placemat enough. Yeah, tired, emotional children. Some of the younger kids didn’t make it through pie time, but those that did were rewarded with a delicious pumpkin pie, something I don’t think they had ever seen before. After pie it was time for bed, and all of the kids started to slowly trickle off to bed, cleaning up a bit and walking up to us with wide eyes saying how “rico” the dinner was. It was a delicious meal, and although it was pretty chaotic, I’m still very proud and content with the results. Brooks and I, after cleaning up a bit, got a ride home from Doris and feel asleep quickly with another grand night at Fundación Salvación behind us.

I am so thankful for the help we received to make this meal possible, including Doris who brought the pies, Guisela and Ubaldo who took us shopping and made a lot of connections for us, Pilar who cooked the food, and Migdalia, who although was not in charge of serving this one meal at Fundación (she’s the head cook at the orphanage), helped out immensely anyway. Also I am so thankful for Brooks’ cousins who donated the money that actually made this happen. We are blessed, blessed people; this will certainly be a Thanksgiving I will never forget.  

Breaking From the Ordinary

This week I have kind of neglected my blog, and only have enough “ganas” to give a short recap. But as many weeks we have had here in Guatemala, what we expect to be normal and routine surprises us with novelty and excitement. Brooks and I have learned well to expect the unexpected, accept invitations, and approach our days with flexibility and willingness to always try something new. This has served us well in Guatemala.

            For starters, when we arrived home Sunday after our long trekking week, our family surprised us that evening with homemade pizza and chocolate cake. Although we have grown quite accustomed to Guatemalan food, and have actually been very happy with our food lately, there were definitely points when all Brooks and I could think about what all of the great foods we missed from the States. This was such a sweet surprise from our family, and such an unexpected slice of home.

            Tuesday evening we had four teenagers from the orphanage join us in our yoga class, who battled through and lasted the whole session. They were incredibly sore the next day, but all expressed genuine interest in coming again, hopefully to learn the routine well enough to someday realize Brooks’ dream of running a yoga studio out of the orphanage.

            Thursday, after spending a morning at the orphanage, we were informed that that night the other volunteers were planning a talent show for the kids; we did not want to miss out. After rushing through our yoga class (which ended with only ourselves and one other person), we headed over to Telepizza to get some dinner, and then onto the orphanage. They made it through the singing portion Thursday night, which unfortunately consisted mostly of music with words being played loudly over the kids’ voices; it was a great event nonetheless. It was wonderful to see some of the kids come out of their shells to perform, and Brooks and I are both very thankful for the current batch of volunteers at the orphanage that are there to serve the kids wholeheartedly, and to bless their lives. They even set themselves up as a judging panel, telling the kids how great the songs were once they were done. I love witnessing things like this, and it was great to have the chance to just sit back and enjoy it all. Friday morning they continued the talent show with the dancing, jokes, and poetry sections, which just brought us more joy and happiness.

            Saturday Brooks and I had tried to plan out a day filled with necessary shopping (for a project at Fundación. More to come on that one later) and a coffee date with our friends Guisela and Ubaldo. But after our coffee date fell through and we realized our shopping needs were not as extensive as we had thought, we were blessed to find out we had been invited by Cony, Brooks’ host mom, to a wedding. Again, any new experience like this is a good experience, and we were excited to see what a Guatemalan wedding looked like. Although the invitation said the wedding would begin at 3:30pm, we showed up at 4pm and still waited half an hour for the ceremony to start; and it did not start like a wedding would traditionally start in the States. It began with a jazz band, followed by a mariachi band, worship music, a duet sung by two other artists, a sermon-like chat from a pastor, and a elaborate procession of the bridal party. Around 6pm the caterers actually passed out tamalitos and juice, a mid-wedding snack. Brooks and I had to leave at 6:30pm to be home for dinner, and still after having been there for 2½ hours, we failed to see the actual “I dos”. Although we were informed this was not a traditional Guatemalan wedding, that this was a wedding of the “ricos”, it was still so unlike anything one would see at a wedding in the States.

            That evening our dinner plans included a large cena with our family as well as our host cousin’s brother, wife, and three kids (as well as a Guatemalan ex-Eugenian hippie that joined us from a nearby town). We had a fun dinner of meat, potatoes, beans, guacamole, and salsa, followed by a no-bake cheesecake (which turned out well this time). Halfway between the dinner the lights went out, so we continued eating and listening to guitar music by Juanito, the hippie friend, in the dark. It was another great evening of family bonding.

            The next morning we had breakfast with Yesi’s nephews, followed by an acorn searching party outside (the little boys really wanted some acorns like Lucia had, and somehow I was the one that ended up supervising the search). I bonded with the boys at this time, them learning my name and calling me over every time they found an acorn. After the acorn search, the family piled in the car to visit the ruins in Huehue, leaving Brooks and I behind to complete a craft project.

            This upcoming Saturday Brooks and I are planning a Thanksgiving meal at the orphanage, complete with turkey, potatoes, green beans, gravy, pumpkin pie, and construction paper turkeys. Brooks and I spent a couple of hours Sunday morning cutting out 84 hands to be made into turkeys, as well as hundreds of feathers, with more to come to make Native American hats for the kids. Our plan for Saturday is to set up tables at the orphanage with a placemat for each kids, listing their name and three reasons that a friend is thankful for them. We will make pilgrim hats with half, Native American hats with the other half, and then have a Thanksgiving feast, precluded by some soccer in the local soccer stadium. It’s going to be a great day, and although we are still working out the kinks, are feeling oddly confident about this big feat in front of us. As we learned from Xela, the kids are always worth the effort, and we are so excited to share this tradition with them, and to spoil them a little with one great big meal.    

Nebaj to Todos Santos

So two Aussies, one Kiwi, three Israelis, two Americans and a Guatemalan walk into a room… No, I’m just kidding. I’m not trying to make a bad joke; this was actually the eclectic mix of trekking friends we met for our Nebaj to Todos Santos trek. One of the things about traveling that still fascinates me is how many different people and different cultures one can meet while traveling. Brooks and I left for Xela Monday morning, ready to sign up for our trek and get our adventure started. Part of me was still very scared about what I was about to sign up for, but more of me was curious to see if I had it in me. We arrived in Xela around 11am, took a micro over to the Quetzaltrekkers office, filled out our paperwork, paid our money, and from that point on were committed to the trip, all 60 km and mountains up and down. We got a room at Casa Argentina (the hostel Quetzaltrekkers is attached to), and then set out to find a good lunch spot in Xela. Although we both had our hearts set on Indian food (because we had discovered an amazing Indian restaurant on our last trip to Xela), we were crushed when we learned it was not open on Mondays. Recalculating our options, we finally found a vegetarian sandwich shop some American girls had told us about during our walk to the Indian restaurant; we both enjoyed sautéed tempeh sandwiches, a flavor I had not tasted in months. From there we headed back to Casa Argentina, and took our traditional post-lunch nap. After the nap we were successful in contacting our friend Doris, whom we had met at the Jornada Medica a few weeks ago, and who lives in Xela. We made plans to meet up with her for coffee, and she ended up taking us to a very sweet little café with antique relics arranged on the walls. Accompanying us where her son and daughter, Aura and Aaron, who made great company and chatting companions. After enjoy smoothies and coffees, we all loaded back into Doris’ truck and left the city center to go see Doris’ house. Her house was unlike anything I had seen before in Guatemala – it had a courtyard design with a center area for parking cars, and rooms all around the edge. Doris showed us her shop (she makes perfumes and hand sanitizers and such), as well as the massage clinic her son Aaron has in the house. Doris, along with her two children, share the house with many more family members, and it had the feel of a good family sitcom. After the house tour, it was unfortunately time for us to head back to the Quetzaltrekkers office to meet our group and get last minute instructions. After grabbing our stuff and testing out our packs (they were pretty full, and I was pretty nervous about this), Brooks and I headed out for a delicious pizza dinner before hitting the sack to get plenty of sleep for the next couple of days.

            We awoke the next morning at 6:30am and met the group for a breakfast of toast and eggs, and chatted before throwing on our packs to walk to the bus terminal. Over breakfast we learned that the two Aussies, Shannon and Sam, had actually been traveling in Central and South America for 14 months already, and were planning to travel another couple of months before heading home; non-Americans really know how to do travel. The 30-minute walk to the bus station, our first full pack experience, was actually a slightly tiring and sweaty experience. At this point, I was getting more and more nervous about what was in store. We loaded our packs on the top of the chicken bus (a first for Brooks and I, we usually guard them on our laps), and headed into the bus. This was also the first time Brooks and I had, a) heard of a bus that ran on a schedule, and b) been early for said bus, not essentially running and jumping onto it. The 3-hour bus ride from Xela to Quiche wasn’t terrible, and we were in Quiche just long enough to use the restroom and then cram into a microbus. Never will I ever have a Guatemalan bus experience where they have not tried to shove every last person possible onto the bus. It’s terribly uncomfortable, but then again, TIG. And only 20 minutes into the ride, our bus pulled over for about 10 minutes so the bus driver and some of his buddies could change the tire; I think they were riding it until it’s last moment of life. We loaded back into the bus, and after a winding and squished 3-hour micro ride, we finally arrived in Nebaj, sore and sweaty. We all piled out of the micro and walked over to Popi’s Hostel, our hotel and restaurant for the evening that helps support a Mayan Hope project. There we enjoyed some veggie sandwiches, a nap, a hot shower (hot for 5-minute intervals at least), and a jumping of point to explore the town. Nebaj is a small rural town, although much larger than many of the other villages we saw along the trek. Brooks and I explored the town center, complete with a large church, and then got some ice creams and headed back to the hostel. We played a rousing game of “Jumbling Towers”, and chatted with our group before dinner. Interestingly enough, there was a dental mission group having dinner at the restaurant right before us, so we kind of sat on the outskirts of their dinner and got to enjoy their entertainment, a choir of young Guatemalan girls led by an American man that sang some awesome songs in English. After enjoying the concert, we feasted on our own dinner – pesto pasta and salad – and played soccer with the two little boys whose moms were working in the kitchen. Unfortunately one of the little boys took a strange liking to me, both kissing me on the cheek and then coming into our room later to show me how cool his hand sanitizer is (yeah…).

            The next morning we awoke at 6:30am again, packed up our stuff, and enjoyed a delicious breakfast of fruit and pancakes at Popi’s. After that it was packs on and trek on. Luckily the first day wasn’t too tough, where we did a little bit of climbing but mostly meandering through cornfields and villages. We took a break in a small village called Acul to buy cheese for the rest of our days, and stopped for lunch in a cow pasture. After lunch it was more meandering and a bit more climb, with the last cruel climb leading us right to our stay for the night. We were sleeping in a small school building in one of the tiny pueblos, and although it seemed rustic at first, I soon realized this was one of our more luxurious stays of the trip. And I lucked out and got to sleep in a hammock for the night (not quite as comfortable as I had hoped, but also better than the floor), making my night extra luxurious. After hanging out and stretching for a bit, two by two we all got to enjoy the traditional Mayan tamascal, a type of sauna which they use as their showers. Unfortunately I am not a fan of small, dark places, and when I realized the crawling and darkness that was part of the tamascal, I didn’t quite stay calm. It was essentially a small mud hut with a little opening that one crawls into and enjoys the sauna steam as well as hot and cold water to wash oneself. Although I was willing to do anything to get clean, I think I nervous-giggled the entire time. The warmth felt amazing though, and after it was done I was glad it had happened. After our turns in the tamascal, we walked down to a house where a family served us a delicious dinner of rice, beans, tortillas, salsa, and peach juice. After dinner we were all ready to sleep, because our wake up call the next day was going to happen at 3:30am. I tossed and turned a bit (not easy to do in a hammock; I was afraid of falling on the guy sleeping beneath me), but had a good and quick night of sleep.

            Unfortunately the next morning we were all woken by something other than our alarms; one of the Israeli travelers, Yav, had gotten sick and was running outside to throw up. The rest of us continued packing up our bags, and headed out leaving him, our guide, Tom, and Yav’s friend Evia behind. The poor guy – once he had a few minutes to collect himself – had to walk 3km, take a tuk tuk (a small rickshaw vehicle), take a micro, and take a bus to get back to Xela. It took him and Tom mostly all day to get home, with goodness knows how many bathroom breaks in between. The rest of us continuing on the trek were on our way to meet the toughest portion of the entire trip, a legendary set of 87 switchbacks straight up a mountain. The steepness never quit, and while I was way behind the group the majority of the trip (Evia started out about 30-minutes after us and almost beat me to our breakfast spot), I was darn proud of myself when I finally made it to the top. We stopped about 2/3 of the way up to make oatmeal for breakfast, and the view of the sunrise we were enjoying was absolutely stunning. One of the interesting things about this trek, different than any hiking place you will go to in the States, is that the trails we are hiking for sport many Guatemalans have to hike in order to get food or to transport fire wood. On the way up I was passed by many speedy Guatemalans walking in rubber rain boots carrying machetes, accompanied by their dogs and horses. After the rest of the 87 switchbacks (Brooks was counting on the way up and informed me that there were actually many more than 87), we found ourselves in a forested area that reminded me of Eastern Oregon. We meandered through the forest for a bit, and then outside of the forest area we began another ascent past giant limestone boulders. This may have been one of my favorite sceneries of the trek; it was unlike anything I had seen before or expected to find in Guatemala. We stopped at the top for a while, and took lots of pictures and admired the view of both volcanoes Santa Maria and Tajamulco. After the rock field, we winded our way through some green pastures and tiny villages before stopping under a cluster of trees for lunch. Brooks and I both took advantage of the stop and pulled out our mats for a nap, but were greatly disappointed when we woke up sweaty after falling asleep in the sun. After lunch we walked through more green pastures, and found ourselves on one of our first steep descents toward our home for night three. On our way we passed children and families saying “hola” and starring at the weird group of Gringos walking through their village. We stayed that night outside of a school building, which was unfortunately dusty and cold, but warm enough in our sleeping bags. I took a nap to pass the time (and to keep myself warm), and around 7pm we all enjoyed a pasta dinner made by our Guatemalan guide, Santi. After dinner I played cards with the two remaining Israeli trekkers (we played Taki, basically Israeli Uno) and then fell asleep quickly despite the obnoxious birthday party that was going on higher up in the village (a birthday party complete with a loud speaker system of some sort). Unfortunately my good sleep was interrupted by rain (we were sleeping under the overhang of a school building, and the edge of my sleeping bag was sticking out just a bit). But it didn’t stop me from only pulling my feet in more and falling asleep again.

            The next morning we awoke at 5:30am, packed up all of our stuff (you get really good at packing after multiple days on a backpacking trip), and descended again further down into the valley to find a river, our breakfast and bath spot. The water was freezing, but the dip felt good, and although my teeth would not stop chattering for about half an hour, it was still completely worth it. We had a breakfast of oatmeal again, and then set out for another ascent. Unfortunately, we learned quickly that whatever goes up, must come down, and vice versa. We began climbing our way up past cornfields, through steep pastures, and then finally through a small forest area. Luckily, after this climb we found ourselves on another flat portion, walking down a long and lonesome road. After stopping at a store to get bread, we continued into a pasture were we sat under a large tree to eat our lunch. Across the road from us was a colorful and surprisingly large cemetery, juxtaposed against the hill behind it. After more flat walking we finally reached the last hill of our day, charmingly called the “Hill of Terror”. Although it only took me 18 minutes to complete (and our guide about 9 minutes; Guatemalans have freak amounts of strength), it was definitely the steepest portion of the trek we had faced. Once at the top we took in the view of all of the villages down below, and descended again to stop in a small town where we were to wait for a chicken bus to our next destination. Unfortunately the buses didn’t come as frequently as we had though, and after waiting for about an hour, we finally settled to cramming into a full micro to get to our destination. It was a quick and cozy ride, and after half an hour we piled out at a town called La Ventosa, a village of about 12 families. We were staying the night in a spare room the village leader owned, which thankful had enough beds for all, and unfortunately had beds with holes in them (like the awesome bed Brooks and I got to share). Once we arrived I played more cards with the Israelis (a game called Yaniv this time, that I was terrible at the first night and ended up rocking the following night), and then got to enjoy my second tamascal adventure of the trip. Luckily this tamascal was a bit larger than the first, and it was so cold that evening there was no question about whether I was going to go in or not. After cleaning up and bundling up, we were invited to dine at the house of the village leader, which consisted of the seven of us cramming around a small table while the rest of the family hung out in the kitchen and watched us eat. We had a dinner of potatoes and salsa, and after dinner it was bedtime again; something about hiking all day makes you very tired and ready to go to bed at 8pm. 

            We awoke the next morning around 6:30am to pack up our stuff and eat another meal in the family kitchen – a breakfast of rice, beans, tortillas, and salsa. After breakfast it was ascent time again, straight up the hill behind the village. Although I didn’t know it at the time, we were actually working our way up La Torre, the tallest non-volcanic point in Central America. Luckily I found out what we were doing when we were only 15 minutes from the top (I had thought this was a pre-hill and La Torre was still to come), and powered the rest of the way to top. The view from La Torre was again incredible, with a sleek cloud layer and a view of Santa Maria and Tajamulco again. After resting at the top a bit, we continued on, winding through African looking fields before finally descending down to a lake. Apparently we had caught the trek at just the right time, because the lake is only full after the rainy season, and is miserable to get to during the rainy season. We enjoyed our lunch sitting by the lake, unfortunately bundled up because the sun was hiding behind the clouds (only Brooks was crazy enough to take a swim). After lunch it was descent time again, and man was it a painful descent. We had about two hours of 45-degree angle descent, painful on the knees and requiring excessive concentration to not fall. Unfortunately I lost that concentration for a bit, falling on my butt a total of six times and even trying to slide down at one point (no, it didn’t work better than walking). After the exhausting descent we popped out near a highway, where we were going to try our luck again in catching a chicken bus. Luckily we only had to wait about half an hour this time, quickly climbing on the bus and heading to our final destination of the trip, Todos Santos. 

            Once in Todos Santos, we got down all of our stuff and made one of our final walks with backpacks on. We were staying that evening with a family that had an American Peace Corps volunteer staying at their house (she wasn’t there at the time, but basically they were a family used to having Gringos around). We ditched our stuff, changed our clothes, and began exploring Todos Santos. Todos Santos is a small village with one main road and a few streets branching off, famous for it’s beautiful setting (placed between fog speckled mountains), the fact that most of the men in the town wear the traditional “traje” – red stripped pants and a white-stripped shirt with a decorative collar, and the fact that they have the wildest Day of the Dead celebration in all of Guatemalan. Brooks and I found the church and town center, and then wandered down the main street, looking for gifts for our host families. During our walk we ran into an Italian and a Dutch man, one of which was doing thesis work in Todos Santos, and the other who was studying Spanish there. We chatted with them for a bit, going through the strange traveling phenomenon of getting to know someone really quickly and then realizing you will never see them again in your life. After that we headed back to the house to take a nap, both to cure coldness and exhaustion, and were joined later by the rest of our group for dinner. Dinner was again in the kitchen of the family we were staying with (actually on the porch outside the kitchen), and again we were a table full of foreigners being looked at oddly by the Guatemalan family. That evening after dinner we all joined in another rousing game of Yaniv, and climbed into our sleeping bags set on an uncomfortable bed for one last night.

            The next day we awoke at 4:15am, did our final pack up, and walked in the dark to find our bus to Huehue. I slept the whole bus ride, partially induced by anti-nausea pills, but Brooks told me the ride home was beautiful, with a close view of Tajamulco. As our bus approached closer and closer to Huehue, I got more and more excited to be coming home again. We said goodbye to our trekking friends and started the walk home, which led us straight to breakfast, hot showers, and our comfy beds. Although it was an incredible trek with beautiful scenery, and was by far the hardest physical challenge I have taken on to date, coming back to Huehue and the orphanage always makes us happier than any travel experience can. 

Día de los Muertos: Side Affects

Well, this has been an interesting week. After the let down of such an exciting activity as our Xela trip with the kids, I was expecting a somewhat mellow week; but not in the way this week came. There were overwhelming, group control experiences, a lot of food, food poisoning, and to top it all off, me worrying again about my future and what I'm going to do when I return from Guatemala. Oy vey.

On Monday, Brooks and I joined some of the older kids from the orphanage and the other volunteers to attend the annual Day of the Dead festivities in town. Although we initially thought we were accompany the kids to enjoy the carnival-like sights, we were later informed that the kids were actually going to sell pens and coffee to raise money for the orphanage. Brooks and I took to the sidelines of the selling activities, hoping to slip away from the group at some point to meet up with our host family at a restaurant. Although group management in crowds in usually difficult, early in the evening we had experienced a power outage, meaning some of the blackened streets made walking with and keeping together a large group even more difficult. We started over by the cemetery, and after asking everyone around to buy pens or coffee (myself even unsuccessfully asking a drunk man to buy. Oops), we decided to round the kids up and head over to the city center, where serenade music was playing later in the evening. Of course, we failed to make plans concerning a time and place for everyone to meet up, and after waiting for about half an hour, loosing and gaining kids here and there, we finally had the whole group together to move to the city center. At this point Brooks and I decided to try to meet up with our family at the restaurant, and after calling them and getting some directions and telling them we would see them there soon, we headed out. I am still very timid about walking in Guatemala at night, and although this was a busy night with lots of people in the streets, I was still not really enjoying being out at night. Brooks and I went to the restaurant, called our family to say we were there, and ordered a licuado and waited. After an hour of waiting (and Brooks and I both getting progressively more tired), we decided to call again to see where they were. Although we were 99% positive the plan was to meet at the restaurant (they had been talking about it earlier in the day as well as with us on the phone), they told us after we called again to meet them at the city center. We paid for our licuados, and headed back out into the cold night (Brooks and I both unfortunately dressed in shorts) to find our family in the crowd. We quickly found them in front of the church, and regretfully told them our plans to go home. We got some keys for the house, and started heading out. As we were leaving we ran into some girls from the orphanage, and after telling them Sheny and Otto were around as well, lead them over to say hi. We chatted for a bit with the family again, and afterwards found ourselves in kid crowd control again, trying to round up the kids to move on. We quickly realized we were too cold and did not have enough energy to be effective, said our goodbyes again, and headed home. 

Luckily, our next day, the actual Day of the Dead, was much more fun. We joined Yesi and her French student, Francis, to visit the cemetery. The cemetery here is a beautiful space with colorfully painted tombs, all stacked and scattered about like mausoleums. Almost every tomb we found had a beautiful arrangement of flowers placed in front, all meticulously arranged by friends or family of the deceased. Although it had a carnival-like feel to it (with the food stands and carnival games outside, and mariachi and marimba bands and food and gifts sold inside), it only took minutes to realize what we were a part of was a beautiful and respectful homage to the dead. Many came with their whole families and seemed very joyous as they remembered their loved ones, while others, including a widow we saw, were still crying painful tears in memory of their lose. We weaved through all of the tombs with Yesi, stopping at the graves of some of her family members to place flowers. After snapping some pictures and taking in the atmosphere of the cemetery, Brooks and I headed over to the orphanage to see the kids. We had been asked the week before by one of the employees, Hermana Christi, if we wanted to buy one of the traditional Day of the Dead meals being served at the orphanage cafe. Out of desire to support the orphanage's efforts to raise money, we both gladly said yes. When lunchtime rolled around, we sat down in the cafeteria space attached to the orphanage, and had a strange yet pleasant experience of eating there for the first time. We were both served a dish called Fiambre, a mixed salad of sorts with an extravagant number of ingredients. They were delicious and filling, and Brooks and I took the remainder of our dishes to share with the kids. After heading home and having a relaxing afternoon (our yoga class had been cancelled because of Day of the Dead), we walked downstairs for dinner only to find Fiambre on the menu again. Although it was tasty, it's a very acidic dish, and not the best intestinal choice two meals in a row.

By Thursday morning, Brooks and I were both sick with food poisoning. Although we've been very careful here in Guatemala, we realized this week was not our most careful, with a combination of drinking a strawberry licuado (known to be more bacteria-ridden than many fruits), eating fiambre at the orphanage, and eating a tamale on Wednesday handed out by a visiting church group. We spent most of the day in bed, either sleeping, watching TV on the computer, watching movies, or going for short walks to the tiendas to buy medicine or foods that sounded good (which only included popsicles and gatorade). Brooks was worse than I, afraid most of the day that he may have gotten typhoid. Luckily, after one painful day, we were both feeling much better the next day, and hoping that our plans to travel on Monday were still a go. 

On Monday, Brooks and I are planning to leave for Xela, from which we will embark on a six-day travel experience unlike any we have had before in Guatemala. The trip leaves Tuesday from Xela, drives up to a small town, Nebaj, located in the Northern Cucumatanes Mountains. From here our trekking group (organized through a group called Quetzeltrekkers, who plan hikes and treks all over Guatemala to raise money for a school for street children in Xela) will begin walking and hiking for four days to another indigenous town, Todos Santos. Brooks and I are both really excited for the trip, realizing it's going to be both a very memorable, and extremely difficult, experience.

Premature Nostalgia

            Today, and this whole week, I have been in a very content mood. The previous weeks I had been feeling very sad about my approaching departure date, but now I think I am finally at a point where I can appreciate this experience for what it has been, and can be excited for more adventures to come after I return home. I think the trip we took this week with the kids to Xela was a sort of capstone experience for me; it was the perfect experience to have with Fundación Salvación to leave me very satisfied with my time here. We have also had a very festive week with our host family, which surprisingly didn’t make me sad about leaving, but all is already starting to feel nostalgic.

            Tuesday night our family put together a grand birthday party for Yessi, our host cousin; I think I have helped cook for and have been a part of more birthday parties here in Huehue than I have ever been in the States. I didn’t realize this, but Brooks and I have been around for the birthdays of all three of the adults we live with, as well as the mother of Sheny, and my own birthday. Needless to say, I feel like I have this Guatemalan party thing down. Brooks and I again contributed a dessert (a chocolate cake, sadly somewhat burnt on the bottom) and some mashed potatoes. It was a delicious dinner, and I will never grow tired of sitting around a table here and laughing with my host family. This party plus the Xela trip made for a busy week, and more than any other weeks this one has moved by rapidly.

            On Friday night we had another party, a going away party for Katie, a student who had been living with us the past three weeks. Sheny made delicious tamales, Yessi fried plantains, and a student from France, Francis, made an amazing salad. After stuffing ourselves with dinner (which is rare here – lunches are usually the bigger meals), we all took a short nap and then headed out to “enjoy the night life” of Huehue. It was honestly one of the first times I had been out so late at night in Guatemala, and it was refreshing to enjoy this normalcy I took for granted in the States. Yessi, Brooks, Francis, Katie, Lucia and I all walked to the city center around 9pm to meet up with Otto and Sheny (who had ridden by moto) at a restaurant run and owned by a former American missionary turned Guatemalteca (practically; her Spanish is impeccable and she’s really well integrated into the Guatemalan culture). Kayla’s restaurant was a beautiful place with a wide-open courtyard, and side rooms with comfy couches. We all ordered drinks, and sat around listening to some live music, performed by a Guatemalteco that actually goes to Brooks’ and my gym. Ironically, three other Americans came in later, obviously the highest concentration of American’s in all of Huehue that night. We chatted with them only to find out the girl in the group is from Beaverton, Oregon. Small world. The live music was great, the atmosphere was joyful while we watched Lucia and her mom and dad dance around, and I found myself often with a big grin on my face, taking in every moment without sadness about leaving, but happiness that I have had these experiences.

            On Saturday I finally had the opportunity to enjoy something of a social life. Saturday afternoon I walked over to our gym and waited for my friend, Gina, to pick me up to go out to coffee. Like most good Guatemalans she was a half an hour, but I have learned to not let things like that phase me anymore. We jumped on her moto (which are SO fun. Wish they were more popular in the States) and headed over to a pizza place in Huehue, which had a very friendly and cozy atmosphere. We enjoyed a pizza and some drinks, and chatted the afternoon away. I don’t know if it’s the Spanish language or the Guatemalan nature, but out of the two coffee dates I have been on here in Guatemala, there has never been an awkward silence to fill. After our meal Gina drove me over to the orphanage, where she came in and met all of the sweet babies and some of the older kids. Brooks and I were planning to spend the night at the orphanage, and had a crazy evening passing out pen pal letters and playing with incredibly hyper kids. By 8:30 pm it was time for everyone to start tucking into bed, and while this was kind of difficult in my Niñas room (because, like I said, they were all pretty incredibly hyper), by 9 pm the lights were out and the girls were silent.

            Sunday morning Brooks and I found ourselves at the orphanage again, there to watch a futbol tournament organized another volunteer. She had split the older kids into four teams – Manchester, Rojos, Real Madrid, and Barcelona – and had them all play games of about half an hour. Brooks ended up being the ref, but I enjoyed the game sitting on the sidelines with the younger kids, half paying attention while playing with the kids around me. It was a fun morning, but by the time we walked home I found that I was extremely exhausted. We ate a quick lunch, and then I took a nap before leaving the house again to hang out with Gina. She had invited me to attend her cousins’ babies’ birthday party, and I have learned in Guatemala to hardly ever turn down invitations (unless given by creepy men); although it’s all normal for them, for me almost everything is a fun, new cultural experience. It ended up being a great and extravagant party (extravagant for a one year old at least, who had no idea what was going on); there were two clowns doing funny things with the kids and doing some magic tricks, they had THREE piñatas, and cake and tamales afterwards. Apparently, if I want to recreate a Guatemalan party back home, the only four things I really need to include are clowns, piñatas, tamales, and cake. These four things seem to be a part of every Guatemalan festivity (clowns and piñatas optional at adult parties I guess), and as Gina said, “It’s not a party without a piñata”.

            Brooks and I have been talking a lot recently about my impending departure date, and we have decide it is important to leave something like this with both sadness and happiness; if you’re not sad when you leave, it probably means you didn’t enjoy the experience as fully as you could have. And if you’re not happy when you’re leaving, it probably means you don’t have something to look forward to when you return. I am feeling a mix of both of these emotions, which makes me content to know I am probably exactly where I should be.

The Happiest Place on Earth

            Some say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth, but I’m starting to think the happiest place on earth is actually the Xela mall. On Wednesday, Brooks and I took our much-anticipated trip to Xela with the kids, and it was nothing short of amazing. About a month and a half ago Brooks and I had asked Sandra, the director of Fundación Salvación, to tell us what she dreamed of for the kids at Fundación. To our surprise, the first thing she told us was her wish to see the annual Xela trip reinstated. Because of a lack of funds, they had not been able to take their trip to Xela, which celebrated the end of the school, for the past three years. As Brooks and I sent out the message for the start of our pen pal program, we mentioned in a short paragraph our desire to be able to take the kids on this trip, and how much donations would mean to us towards this endeavor. God blessed us greatly, giving us many generous hearts making generous donations to make this trip a possibility. At one point I was worried about how much money we lacked for the trip, but only a few short weeks later we found ourselves with enough donations to more than cover the trip. A special thanks must go out to Lisa Baumgartner and Anthony Ruddy, Stephanie Weaver, Casey Stepan, Phil Zapf and Bonnie McDowell, Lexi Stickel, and Anthony Sciubba, who were our generous benefactors and made this wonderful trip a possibility.
            Brooks and I arrived at the orphanage bright and early at 7am, and helped load the kids on the bus and make sure everything was ready to go. We had a slight scare when we opened our locker and found that the bag of money, that was going to be used to pay for the trip, was missing; luckily, Sandra had discovered our locker open the day before and moved the money to a secure place in her office. Kids were running around, excited, we were putting nametags on the little ones, and a bunch of girls in the kitchen were frantically putting beans in bread for our snack. After a half hour of chaos, we loaded everyone on the bus – 55 kids and 10 volunteers – and headed out. Like all bus rides in Guatemala, there is always something to stop for; our bus stopped once to change a tire, and then a second time to get gas. The drive to Xela was slow; the week before Guatemala had heavy rain and storm-like conditions because of a hurricane in Mexico, so the roads were still showing the effects of the damage. We had to stop once in a line-up of cars because they were trying to fix a landslide on part of the road. We took this as an opportunity for a potty break though, and about 20 kids loaded off the bus and went pee behind a parked truck. About three hours after leaving Huehue we found ourselves in Xela, on our way to our first stop, the zoo. Brooks and I have laughed before at the lack of directional knowledge Guatemalans seem to possess, but we were astounded when we realized the bus driver didn’t know where either the zoo nor the mall were (our only two destinations in Xela, and only five minutes from one another). Someone needs to invest in getting GoogleMaps Guatemala ready. After making some turn arounds, we finally found the zoo and quickly unloaded all the kids in their groups. I was put with the little girls ages 4-6, which was both one of the best experiences I have ever had, and one of the most hectic. We quickly passed out a snack, and then went into the zoo (which was free! Totally awesome with a group of 65). Our first stop was the bathroom, which obviously took forever with such a large group. After that we wandered around the zoo a bit, checking out the different animals. Although we had heard several times that the Xela zoo was nothing spectacular, the kids absolutely loved it. They had a variety of colorful birds, monkeys, one lonely lion, and some other animals. Unfortunately I had to leave quickly to go to the mall and order pizza, but after looking at the animals the kids played on some giant slides they had at the zoo. For some, the simple joy of the zoo was their favorite part of the day.

            At the mall, after walking 10 minutes from the zoo, I went to the food court and ordered 25 medium pizzas for our group to be ready an hour later. We thought 25 pizzas would be more than enough, but we found out later we had grossly underestimated that. I met up with Jeanie, Cony’s niece who lives in Xela, and we marched over to WalMart to buy sodas for the kids. Again, we thought eight-3 liter bottles of soda would be enough, but not with our kids. After buying the soda and carting it upstairs, we sat down to enjoy a granisada (a snow cone with extra toppings) before the kids arrived. We soon realized our presence was not enough to scare people away from sitting down at the tables near us, and we had to enlist the help of some mall employees to help us move tables and chairs into a long line. Everyone in the food court quickly began staring at us, and I realized what 66 people all in a line would look like. It was a sight to see. By 1pm the kids started rolling upstairs, finding their seats, getting cups and soda, with pizza boxes placed in front of every two. Within minutes the pizza was devoured, and Brooks and I ordered another six pizzas, and then another eight pizzas, and then finally another four. We wanted the kids to be able to stuff their faces, and enjoy the experience of being able to eat pizza until they were full; we just didn’t realize to what magnitude they could do that. One boy ate 12 slices of pizza, and a six-year-old girl ate six slices of pizza. After the pizza escapade, we had an activity planned where each kid received 5Q (about 75 cents) to buy anything they wanted in the mall. For the older kids it was a really successful activity, but unfortunately with my little girls it was kind of tough. After a long bathroom break, we made our way upstairs to a toy store (it was like herding kittens the whole time), only to realize most of the toys cost more than 5Q; although we gave all the kids the option to share their money with a friend and buy something together, that concept didn’t quite register with the little girls. After looking at many bright pink toys, me telling them how many friends they would need to share money with, and them not being willing to share, I realized it was time to find some candy to buy that would require less math. Luckily, on our way out they found bags of small jelly candies, and settled on buying three bags of candies between the six of us. After buying our candy, we left the store and headed over to the escalator. The girls had neither seen nor ridden one before, and after timidly getting on the first time, they commenced to ride the escalator up and down about four times. They were so cute, and while I was snapping some pictures of them, I again got to bask in the simple joys they find in life. After our multiple escalator rides, I gathered them up and found some stairs to sit on to eat our candies. By 3pm, we met up with the group at the movie theater, where we were getting ready to see Winter – El delfín. We filed all of the kids into the movie theater, and then started passing out soda and popcorn to every two kids. Again, I felt for the employees as they were trying to pump out massive quantities of food for the kids. The movie was a wonderful movie (I almost cried at the end, and sometimes awkwardly clapped when the characters clapped, only to realize I was getting too into the movie); I was quite happy that I could understand a movie that was dubbed in Spanish. At one point, all of my five little girls needed to use the bathroom, and I have a beautiful mental image of the six of us, all walking in a line, holding hands and giggling on our way to the bathroom. They were so precious. After the movie we all filed out of the theater, made another bathroom stop (which, again, took forever), and then climbed on the bus to go home.

            It’s hard for me to describe how incredible that day truly was, how special this was for both the kids and for us, but I was seriously riding the bus home with a perma-smile on my face (despite the fact that I was sitting in gum someone had left on my seat…). The kids were so thankful for the experience, and one girl told me she had never had a day so happy in all of her life. They deserved this experience, and I am overjoyed that we could help make it happen and could enjoy it with them as well. It will be a long talked about day at Fundación Salvación.  

The Meaning of Mission

Have you ever had an experience that felt so far from your regular life, that when you return to normal life you wonder if you dreamt up the whole thing? You might think my entire Guatemala experience would be like that, but in all actuality my time here has become very normalized for me. This last week, though, I found myself at an event that, when I returned to Huehue, was hard to both understand and reconcile with my normal life here in Guatemala.

This past week, Brooks and I traveled to a town near the Mexican-Guatemalan border to help with a medical mission, which was being put on by a mission team from the States, partnered with Guatemalan doctors and missionaries associated with an organization here. Our new friends Guisela and Ubaldo told us about it, and Brooks and I were initially so excited about participating, we essentially kept asking them about it until we were invited to come. On Tuesday evening, Guisela and Ubaldo picked us up and we set out on our journey. Comically, we didn’t make it far, just to the orphanage and a gas station in Huehue, because Ubaldo was trying to find a replacement truck that had broken down (carrying the luggage for a team coming for the States), and then we were waiting to meet up with the team from the States. As I’ve said before, Brooks and I have gotten used to being the only Americans or English speakers in Huehue, and it was weird to meet 30 Southern Americans in a small gas station convenience store in Huehue. We met the team, comprised of both North Americas who had flown down the day before for this mission trip, and some North Americans that had actually been living in Xela for years as missionaries. By 5pm or so, we loaded into our car and took off for our destination about two hours away. We went first to the host church, met more of the team and had a dinner and orientation for what the week was going to look like. It was weird being a part of a mission trip, but not really being a part of the mission team. Brooks and I felt like we were hard to place the whole time – not Guatemalans obviously, but not really subscribing to the North American label either. To further distinguish our different-ness, instead of staying at the hotel with the other Americans, we ended up staying with a family whose son had previously been involved with the organization. We were originally placed there because the hotel was full, but it ended up being a great blessing, because it saved us some money and we got to know our Guatemalan host family well.

The next day we got up bright and early, and were driven over on moto by the dad of the family we were staying with. Riding on a moto was secretly on my Guatemalan bucket list, and I’m excited that I can cross that one off. We went over to the church, had breakfast, a small worship service, and then went for the first time to the medical mission site. They were offering dental services (teeth pulling actually), medical services (drug distribution essentially), and optical services (honestly, mostly reading glasses). Brooks and I were first assigned to the prayer section of the event, which came last after the person had visited with their respective doctor. Once in the prayer section, we learned quickly that the main purpose of this prayer portion was to convert people to Christianity, and to ask them to accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior right then and there. Although I’m all for praying with people that are going through rough times, I am not interested in conversions and blanket evangelism. Jesus was a relational minister, and I believe it is though relationships we are all called to witness to others. Brooks and I awkwardly struggled through the morning, happy to pray with those that wanted prayer, and fumbling through the conversion spiel when we met someone that didn’t know Christ. Luckily I was saved (no pun intended) by the afternoon, as I was asked to help translate for a nurse from the States over in the medical section. Free from the spiritual and mentally draining experience of prayer (because obviously all these prayers happened in Spanish), I enjoyed my afternoon listening to the laundry lists of issues everyone was facing, and translating them over to the nurse so she could highlight the right drugs to give them. We cleaned up by 4pm, and Brooks and I went back to our house for a quick nap, and a confused debrief of what we had just been a part of. Obviously a lot of emotion and perplexity came out of this experience, but one of my leading thoughts for the week was how happy I am that we can be here in Guatemala, somewhat as Christian missionaries, but without the quick conversion, Evangelical component. After our nap we went over to the church, took a shower (because our house didn’t have running water), and had dinner with the group. After dinner, we all shuffled into the church sanctuary, where church services were being held all three nights the team was there. They began labeling them as “Miracle Nights”, and after worship songs, and a long Hell “fire and brimstone” sermon (given by an American and translated into Spanish), everyone would be invited to the front to be prayed for and to ask for God to do miracles in their life. Again, not my type of church service. I believe that God is capable of doing miracles in our lives, but I do not subscribe in the type of statistical, mass-produced miracle they were asking to be performed. Brooks and I went back to our house that night, confused, exhausted, and overwhelmed.

Thursday was essentially a repeat of Wednesday. We had breakfast in the morning, a small worship service, and then headed over to the medical mission site. I spent my morning at prayer again, this time not worrying about the conversion spiel but simply praying with people, and then spent the afternoon translating. Brooks, because we really could not handle the prayer time anymore, switched himself up to paperwork and greeting, collecting papers and saying goodbye to people as they left. Again, after the mission it was nap, shower, dinner, and church service. It was by Thursday that we both began to realize that the main purpose of the medical mission was not medical, but evangelical. The medical services they were offering were quite limited – the dentist could only pull teeth, the doctors could only pass out drugs (only certain drugs at that) and the eye doctor, although they had a select few prescription glasses, could really only refer them to be fitted for reading glasses, and to buy eye drops at a pharmacy. Although I’m sure a few people were genuinely helped, the majority waited in line for an entire day, some even fainting in line, to receive a few Advil and a prayer. As Brooks pointed out, we were trying to help in a place of entrenched poverty, and the pain and suffering this population had been facing their whole lives could not be cured by anything we could do in one day. Most, when asked what their complaint was, would say they “hurt all over”, pain caused from years of grueling work, in a culture where personal care was limited based on their means to provide it.

Friday, because my spiritual reserves – and also my Spanish abilities – could not handle another day of prayer, I slyly moved over to optical. I ended up being a glasses runner; once people were fitted with a reading glasses prescription, I would walk over with three or four styles for them to choose from. It was a quick day, and I was on my feet most of the time, but I welcomed the change of pace and the break from speaking in Spanish. After the medical mission was over, we packed up all of the eye glasses, meticulously counting each one, and set off home to do the same thing we had done the previous days – shower, have dinner, and go to church. After the church service it was time to say goodbye to the friends we had made over the past three days; although we met many great people from the North American team, there were still many others which we wondered their motivations for coming to Guatemala. The majority couldn’t speak a word of Spanish, and their servant heart didn’t really make themselves blatantly evident.

After the church service our plan was to leave with Guisela and Ubaldo, because they had an event early the next morning in Huehue. We hurried over to our house, packed up our things, and said goodbye to Rosa, who, although awkward at first, was now a dear friend of ours. From there we went back to the church, picked up a friend of Ubaldo’s, and went over to the hotel so Ubaldo and Guisela could get their things and eat some dinner. Although I thought we were in a hurry to get back home, I forgot that nothing in Guatemala really happens in a hurry. We ended up sitting around for an hour or so, eating, drinking coffee, and chatting with some new friends. It turned out the friend we had picked up from the church is the owner of a large company here in Guatemala, as well as some property and coffee fincas. Another man we met at the hotel restaurant was the owner of both that restaurant and another café in Huehue. We ended up talking about the Slow Food movement, the intricacies of coffee processing, and the different types of coffee. They also all talked quite a bit about the orphanage, something near to their hearts, and how to elicit social change in Guatemala. I absolutely loved the conversation, both because I love learning about coffee and enjoyed meeting our first Guatemalan foodie, and also because it was beautiful to meet Guatemalans with such optimism for their country. After the chitchat and dinner, we left in a carpool around 11pm, with Brooks and I actually in the car of Guisela and Ubaldo’s friend. The whole ride Brooks and I were fighting against the urge to sleep, and ended up dozing off a few times in between questions and conversations. We finally arrived home at 1am, called Sheny to let us in, and within minutes I was in my bed, glad to be home and still trying to process the experience I had just had.