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.