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.
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