Busy-ness

Almost anyone that I talk to about busy-ness in life will say, “Yeah, I love being busy”. And although I obviously also like to rest (my last blog recounts how many times a day I like to nap), I would completely agree with that statement myself. Here in Guatemala, Brooks and I have been blessed with a good kind of busy, where our days are full and good, but there is still space to be flexible, to spend more time chatting with our host families after meals or to spend more time hanging out with the kids at the orphanage. At college I was always a slave to my schedule, and it is so nice being here and finally having some flexibility with my days. I am guessing this will be a rare moment in my life and I should cherish it, but I also hope this understanding of relationships over time will carry into my life after Guatemala (because I must admit again, I have always been a slave to time). This weekend Brooks and I had a perfect combination of busy-ness and relaxation, chalk full of good relationships. On Friday, we woke up, had breakfast, and I headed over to the orphanage to cash some checks with the orphanage director. Unfortunately, I realized once I was 9/10^th of the way there that I had forgotten the key to the locker in which Brooks and I store our pen pal stuff. I was frustrated, but I decided to stay for a bit to visit with the kids to both kill my frustrated feelings and also to make my trip not feel pointless. After my short morning there, I headed back home in time to send some e-mails and go to the gym with Brooks. At this point I was exhausted – being that it was Friday and I hadn’t had my morning nap – and I was irrationally worried about what was to come in the afternoon. We came back to lunch, and I took a short and intranquil nap and headed over to Brook’s host house to start cooking. Brooks and I had been planning a surprise birthday party that evening for our host parents, and I was worried about everything – whether the guests would come (many hadn’t responded to our calls), how I would get sugar and oil out of the house without Sheny noticing, how we would distract them and get the food and decorations back into the house, if the moment of surprise would be great or ill-timed, and how the food was going to turn out. I started by making a no-bake cheesecake, which did not turn out quite right due to the lack of heavy whipping cream and heavy cream cheese in Guatemala. Ugh; one out of two things I was making for the evening was already bad. Then I chopped vegetables, tried to go back to my room to send some more e-mails, and headed quickly back over to Brooks’ host mom’s kitchen to start making a lasagna, worried it would either be ready too early or too late. The lasagna making process went along just fine, and in the end, with 15 minutes until surprise time, it all layered together quite beautiful. We changed quickly, and then ran between Cony’s house, Sheny’s kitchen, and my room, putting up balloons and signs and putting lasagna in the oven with Sheny only slightly suspicious. The moment of truth came, and Brooks and I stood by the table under our signs, and yelled out surprise when Sheny came out. And luckily, surprised she was. We told her what was awaiting her for dinner, and she was so thankful, graciously saying “gracias” over and over again. Everyone started sitting down, setting out plates, putting the salad (made by Cony) on the table, getting out water glasses. It came down to the last 10 minutes of lasagna time and everything was happening right on time. I pulled out the lasagna when it was golden brown, and although I’ve never made lasagna before, I will boldly say it may be one of the best lasagnas I have ever tasted. Everyone around the table was so joyful, and although it is normal for us to have 12 at a dinner table some nights, this night really did feel especially party-like. The meal was amazing, the company was perfect, and it all went off without a hitch; even the runny no-bake cheesecake was enjoyed. I have no idea now what I was even worried about. We ended the night watching part of Up, which we did not finish both because the DVD stopped playing, and because Brooks and I were too tired from our day to continue.

            On Saturday Brooks and I awoke, had breakfast with our family, and headed out to the orphanage in our work out clothes, ready to finally cash some checks. The plan was to quickly cash the checks, and then head straight to the gym. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but an exciting new addition to our Guatemalan schedule is the news that Brooks and I will now be teaching a yoga class at our gym. Only in Guatemala can two white people with somewhat limited Spanish and without a yoga training certificate, teach a yoga class in Spanish. It was an idea Brooks came up with after doing yoga with our host family once and realizing it is a much desired rarity here; not many people know how to teach it, and we’ve been told the last yoga instructor left Huehue years ago. The plan for Saturday morning was to make signs and start advertising for our class. But of course, Guatemala time goes by differently than American time, and trying to pack a morning with activities doesn’t always work out. We arrived at the orphanage, went to the bank with the checks, and were told they would process them and call us back in half an hour, at which time Sandra (the director) needed to come and sign the paperwork. A few days earlier we had gone to the bank to process the first batch of checks – seven American money orders – and it ended up taking 2 hours. So the promise of a call in 30 minutes was suspicious, but we were hopefully. Of course, about 2 hours ended up passing by before we got the call to head over to the bank with Sandra, and at that point we realized making it to the gym before lunch was not going to happen. We went back home, where I quickly showered and raced to get my clothes in the washing machine. Laundry is oddly a stressful activity for me here (yeah, can you tell I get stressed easily?), because we only have enough water to wash every other day, and it’s important to get the clothes washed and ready to line dry while the sun is still shining and the rain has not started yet. Plus, I didn’t bring a ton of clothes with me, so I really calculate down to the day when I need to wash again, trying to wash less and get more out of my clothes. Of course, as I’ve learned, my stressing was unnecessary and my laundry was done in time. I spent the afternoon sending e-mails, translating letters for our pen pal program, and generally organizing our project information. I was starting to stress again that every child was not going to have a pen pal, because looking down at my list there were still many people that said they would write and have not yet. But talking with Brooks about this, we realized we have more options still, like people that are willing to write to multiple kids, so I told myself to calm down and just let God lead it. That evening we left to spend the night at the orphanage, spending our time before bed hanging out with the babies, eating dinner, passing out clothes Brett and Brooks had donated to the older boys, and passing out pen pal letters. Giving the children a letter is exciting every time, and one little boy, after getting his letter and putting the picture of his pen pal’s family in his wall, pointed to the picture and told Brooks, “This is my family”. So sweet. I stayed the night again in the niñas room, and after reading books and tucking them all in, I slept quite nicely and without pee or other distractions in my bed.

            Sunday we awoke at 6:30am (which is sleeping in at the orphanage), and Brooks and I headed home to read and rest before breakfast. Brooks gave me the first of The Chronicles of Narnia books this morning, and although I never read them as a child, I decided it was now time to see what they were like. I started this morning and am already 150 pages in (so 50 pages from the end), and am loving it. Brooks brought the whole series with him (along with stacks of other books. It’s amazing really how many books he managed to fit in his suitcase), and I am excited to work my way through the series while I’m down here. Brooks and I went in for breakfast at 8am, finding the remains of a party in the living room of our house, and some leftover tamales on the stove. Brooks and I helped ourselves to tamales, and Sheny shuffled in to explain that Otto’s cousins and family had come over last night for a dinner in celebration of Otto’s birthday (which is today). Brooks and I enjoyed our tamales on the patio, and went our separate ways to read and relax. At 11:30am, Brooks and I began practicing our yoga routine, which he will be the instructor for and I the pose model. Although taking instruction from Brooks is difficult for me, we made it through the routine with only a few snide remarks from myself, and I am excited for our class to start on Tuesday. I am nervous too; I have never gracefully made it through an entire yoga routine, and the fact that I have to do it in front of a group of people in order to properly model the poses… Well, I’m nervous about this. After our yoga practice, Brooks accidentally fell asleep on my bed (he didn’t get much sleep last night at the orphanage), and I sat and read some more Narnia. Following this we had lunch with our host family, showered, more reading and some blog writing, and then naptime before church at 4:30pm. Church was again a wonderful experience. Still not quite what I am accustomed to in the States, but with great music, an interesting message comparing soccer with our relationship to Jesus (only in Latin America…), and afterwards Brooks and I met the pastor and song leader, the pastor who told us where his house was and if we ever needed anything we shouldn’t hesitate to come over. We both have a feeling this church will probably be a more comfortable and hopefully homey environment for us. Unfortunately, we only have Sunday evenings to commit to it, but even with that I am excited to see how our relationship grows with them. Sunday evening was finished off with dinner with our family (more tamales. Yum), and watching the rest of Up. By 8pm I was tired and ready for bed, but realized that was a ridiculously early time to go to bed. So I began finishing the Narnia book I had started early that day, as well as Donald Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. Although I haven’t written about this book yet, it has been ever applicable to my life here in Guatemala, and it is a book I highly, highly recommend to everyone. Donald Miller (one of my favorite writers now – a Christian writer from Portland, OR) writes basically about the notion that our lives are stories, and if your life wouldn’t make an interesting story, it is not an interesting life. Miller encourages us all to reevaluate our lives, and essentially seize the day by daring to live better stories. Although this was my second time reading the book, I still got so much encouragement and wisdom from it. Please, if you’re reading this blog, you should go out to a bookstore right now and get Donald Miller’s book. Although living in Guatemala and volunteering at an orphanage is an easy way to be living an exciting story, I strongly believe you don’t have to be on an adventure in a third world country to be living a good story; I am so excited to take the principals I have learned here, and the passion I have built for living a good story, and apply them to my life back in the States.

            This weekend was a great time of both relaxation and time to be involved. Although I have noticed through the process of writing this blog that I worry too much, I am hoping my graceful Guatemalan schedule continues to change that about me. It is important for life to be filled with the makings of a good story, but it is also important to balance these things with enough time to relax and reclaim your sanity. Life will always be a balancing act between the right amount of busy and “stop and smell the roses”, and I think it is a challenge to each one of us to continue searching for this balance in life.

Xela Trip

            On Tuesday, Brooks and I left for our much-anticipated Xela trip. We marched out of the house with our backpacks full, and went down to the bus terminal to quickly catch a bus on its way to Xela. After a two-hour, very curvy, ride, we found ourselves in the bustling “bus terminal” of Xela. Of course, this is Guatemala, and what I mean by bus terminal is a busy place where lots of buses were parked, lots of people we’re shouting, and lots of random little stands were set up selling goodies. Brooks and I wandered a bit trying to find a mirco bus, and settled on taking a taxi to the office of our trekking group. The plan was to hike the volcano Santa Maria by the light of the full of moon that night, and after chatting with the trekking office and signing some papers, we started pumping ourselves up for the trip, trying to ignore the falling rain. We left the office around 7pm and began our search for a specific Indian restaurant in Xela. It was a difficult and wet experience, but after wandering a couple of streets and asking a couple of time for directions, we finally found the restaurant. And we were so glad we found it; it was completely worth all the trouble. Brooks and I both miss the variety of food available in the States, and this beginning to our Xela trip was exactly what we were hoping for – good food from around the world. It was amazing. After a good dinner, we walked to a café near the office to boost ourselves with some caffeine to get ready for our adventure. The rain had stopped, so we hoped that meant the trek was on. After dawdling as long as we could at the café, we headed back to the trek office around 10pm only to find out they had decided to cancel the hike because of the terribly muddy conditions we would find on the trail. Luckily, the office was located in the back of a very cheap hostel (35Q a night, or about $4.75), so we talked to the owner and got ourselves a room. We were both bummed, but given how quickly we fell asleep that night, it may have been for the best that the trek didn’t happen that evening. The next morning we got up early and set out with all of our gear to look for the in-town office of the Fuentes Georginas, a natural hot springs 30 minutes outside of Xela. We had the address and were already somewhat orientated to the streets, so we were surprised when we came upon the correct street and address only to find a café where the office was supposed to be located. We wandered up and down the street, checked and doubled checked the map, asked for directions, and finally we asked a man standing outside of the café where the office was located, and he pointed to the café and said, “Aquí”. Of course. TIG. it would be too much trouble to but a sign in the café window saying, “This is both a café and the Fuentes Georginas office”, and of course all of the neighboring stores had no idea where it was, even though they see buses with “Fuentes Georginas” written on them pulling up twice a day to this location. Relieved that we had found it, we got a quick breakfast nearby and came back to the office to wait for a shuttle bus. It was fiesta time in Xela all week because of the Guatemalan Independence Day on Thursday, so the streets were crowed and difficult to navigate. When the shuttle bus randomly parked somewhere and our driver ran out, Brooks and I were only mildly surprised. Luckily, we were only parked to pick up more passengers, who ended up being from Hillsboro, Oregon! It was a mother and her two children, ages 10 and 12, and after chatting for a bit we found out the kids go to the same middle school Brooks went to. What a small world. They were great people to talk to, and Brooks and I both agreed this woman deserves a medal of some sort for taking her two small and very talkative children all the way to Guatemala. After a 30-minute and curvy ride (just like every ride in Guatemala), we ended up at the Fuentes. Stepping out of the van and walking towards the Fuentes, the smiles on Brooks’ and my face grew wider and wider. It was beautiful. Three hot spring pools and a small restaurant placed right in the middle of a cascading jungle setting. Brooks and I talked to the front desk employee, and got the key to our bungalow for the night. Stepping into the bungalow, we were even happier with our decision to come here and stay the night in one of the seven cabins. It included a small bathroom, a large hot-tub sized tube that you could fill with water from the hot springs for a private bath, two well-furnished beds, a fireplace and firewood. It was honestly one of the nicest places Brooks and I have stayed in yet, and we were slowly realizing what a relaxing and luxurious experience this was going to be. We spent the morning in the hot springs, chatting with local Guatemalan kids. At one point Brooks was surrounded by a pose of about 15 Guatemalan schoolboys, crowding in to watch the gringo speak Spanish, and randomly shouting and cheering when he said something they liked. After our morning soak, we grabbed some lunch at the restaurant, and ran into our shuttle bus friends again. They told us about the “secret hot springs”, located down a winding path deeper into the jungle. After lunch Brooks and I ventured down there, and were blown away by the beauty we had stumbled into. It was two hot spring pools with a waterfall up above, all surrounded by lush greenery. After getting our fill of the hot water and watching our hands prune, we decided to head back to our bungalow for a quick nap. After our nap it was back in the hot springs, dinner, in the hot springs again, and then bed with a slightly successful fire going in our fireplace to keep our room warm. The next morning we awoke at 4am, and got ourselves ready for a small hike from the hot springs up to a mirador point. We thought it was going to be a simple walk up, only 30 minutes and direct according to one of the restaurant workers. But it was neither simple nor direct. We walked about 20 minutes up on a steep and muddy trail, and found ourselves at a point that had a mirador sign, but was surrounded by trees. We both could not believe that this would be the mirador, because it was the worst mirador we had ever seen with a terrible view. So we wandered around a bit more and found what we thought resembled the rest of the path up to the mirador. We still don’t know if that was the continuation of the trail though, because we ended up walking about 20 minutes with shoulder-high greenery surrounding us, saturating our pants with dew and scratching our arms. At one point Brooks asked me if I was okay, because I was sick that morning and struggling with the hike. I simply replied, “I’m okay, I’m just unhappy”. I was not enjoying our adventure. It was all completely worth it though once we reached a better mirador point and watched an incredible sunrise over volcanoes and the looming Volcano Santa Maria. It was gorgeous. Our way back down to the hot springs was a bit easier with sunlight, and with the promise that we were on our way to luxurious hot springs made the time go quickly. We soaked a bit longer, accompanied by 10 Asian tourists that didn’t speak any Spanish and were downing beers at 8 in the morning. We grabbed another breakfast at the hotel, and went back to our room to regain some of the sleep we had lost getting up at 4am. After our morning nap, we bathed in our giant room bathtub, and gathered our stuff to head back down to Xela.

            As I said before, Thursday was Independence Day in Guatemala, and Brooks and I were both hoping to experience some great festivities on this day. After walking to a potential hostel and realizing it was not for us, we went back to Casa Argentina, our 35Q hostel, and set down our stuff. We got lunch at a great American style restaurant, Café Baviera, and went back to our hostel for another nap (can you tell that we both really like to take naps?). After resting up, we went back into the city center looking for the celebration, but were informed that all of the Independence Day festivities had actually taken place the day before. That night we went to a nice balcony café for a view of a few small festivities in the city center, mostly loud fireworks and something happening on a stage set up by the local phone company. We got dinner at a nice Middle Eastern restaurant, and went back to the city center for a last attempt at seeing some Independence Day celebrations. There we found groups of people trying to send small paper hot air balloons into the sky, most failing and setting their paper hot air balloon on fire. We chatted with a nice woman in the park, and then headed back to our hostel for the night.

            Friday we woke up around 7am, and went back to Café Baviera for a delicious breakfast. From there we caught a micro to a “bus terminal”, and found a bus to take us to Xocomil, a water park about an hour from Xela. The bus ride was, of course, terrible; Guatemalans like to pack their buses, and it was so crowded Brooks and I were essentially sitting in the middle isle, each with a part of our butt on a seat and using the other sides of our butts to balance each other in place. Luckily, the terrible bus ride was completely validated when we got off at Xocomil. The entrance was reminiscent of Disney World, and the air was warmer than in Xela because we were an hour south. Brooks and I became giddy children as we walked closer and closer to the entrance of the water park. We quickly changed into our swimming suits, and headed out to the epic water rides. There were about six bigger water slides, and probably within the first hour we had done them all. It was an incredible place; so clean, so well put together, and not very crowded at all. We never had to wait very long in lines, and although many things in Guatemala are a bit dirty and sketchy, this was neither. It was such a fun day. The only hitch came when Brooks and I decided to be impatient and do a closed tube ride instead of waiting in line for the open tube rides. Bad idea; there was a reason why this ride had no line. It was pitch black the entire way through, and we ended up hitting a curve wrong and getting popped out of our inner tube. I’m a bit claustrophobic as it is, and I was freaking out even before we got popped out of our inner tube. Once that happened though, I was inconsolably freaking out. Our tube got stuck and for some reason I kept trying to pull it down with me. I couldn’t see anything around me, I had hit my head pretty bad when we fell out of the tube, and I was screaming trying to propel myself and the tube downward in the dark. Luckily it wasn’t long before the end of the ride, and I swam out half laughing and crying, vowing never to do a closed tube ride again. We finished off our day sun tanning, getting lunch, lounging in pools, doing every ride (except for the closed tube one) again, and packed up our stuff right after the afternoon rains had begun. The return bus ride was just as terrible, with three to a seat and I was in the very back of the bus meaning every bounce was that much more exaggerated. But it was all worth it for such an incredibly fun and joyful experience. We went back to our hostel that evening and I took a small nap before getting ready for dinner. Brooks had discovered through talking to some other hostel guests that one shower had hot water, so we each took indulgent, long hot showers that were – behind the shower I took at the five star hotel in Guatemala City – the best showers we had had since arriving in Guatemala. Brooks and I both got dressed up, and headed out to find an Italian restaurant near the city center. From the street, it looked like a small and unassuming place, but as we walked further in both Brooks and I were flooded with memories from being in Italy. The décor was sweet, and we ordered a ½ liter of house wine, gnocchi, and pesto pasta that were to die for. It was an incredible dinner, just absolutely incredible. We wandered back to our hostel after dinner, fat and happy and so content with the wonderful birthday I had had.

            The next day we slept in a bit, and met Cony and her niece in the city center to grab breakfast. Cony was in town to visit her niece and a good friend, and we were so excited to get to spend time with her. We had a delicious Guatemalan breakfast at a café, and Cony gave me a beautiful huipil, a traditional Mayan blouse, for my birthday. From breakfast we caught a micro over to where her friend lives, and navigated our way through her neighborhood. Brooks and I had no idea what our day had in store, but we were excited to meet Cony’s best friend and spend time with her. What we didn’t realize was that Cony’s friend is a rich Guatemalan housewife, with a maid, a beautiful house with walls covered in artwork, and four cars in their driveway. This kind of riches is unheard of in Guatemala, and Brooks and I were blown away by how different this lifestyle was compared to the Guatemalan life we had seen before. We went with her friend and got ice cream at a giant mall by her house, and headed back to her neighborhood to watch her son play in a chess tournament. Of all of the things I thought I would be doing on a Saturday in Guatemala, watching a chess tournament with a rich suburban family was not something I thought of. We found out later that the father of the family even has three personal bodyguards, because his wealth is so well known in the city that attempts on his life have been made. After the tournament we headed back to their house, where we were served a delicious meal accompanied by shots of expensive tequila and rum the husband continued to pour for us. Brooks and I were exhausted at this point and ready for a nap, but unfortunately no such relief was going to be a part of our day. After lunch we returned to the chess tournament, and back to the house so the family could get ready for their evening out at the fair. We all piled into one of their family cars, and headed out to the Xela fair with our bodyguards following close behind. The fair was definitely an interesting experience…. It consisted of many outdoor booths, all selling essentially the same thing – sweets from Mexico, toys, pirated movies, belts, clothes, and churros. Brooks and I both felt we were at a downgraded version of the Washington County Fair. After weaving through the booths outside, we ended up paying 3Q each to enter a covered portion of the fair that was called “Exhibit of the Americas”. Again, it was similar to what one would find inside at a county fair – men trying to sell blenders, printers, different foods, and vacation spots. We wound through the aisles and aisles of random booths, enjoying being jokingly introduced to friends of the family as their gringo kids. After the exhibit, we all sat down at an outdoor restaurant, and enjoyed food and drinks. Everyone else ate a delicious looking mole (a Mexican sauce) and little tortilla and meat tapas, but as the sad vegetarian I was left to enjoy a cheese popusa and more churros. After chatting and eating for probably a couple of hours, it was 10:30pm and past mine and Brooks’ normal Guatemalan bedtime. The family drove us back to our hostel and we said our goodbyes, thanking them for their hospitality and cataloging this day as one of our more interesting and intriguing days in Guatemala. We had an idea to go get up early the next morning and go a lake an hour away, but both Brooks and I were overcome with exhaustion and decided it would be best for us to sleep in and enjoy our last day in Xela.

            On Sunday we both awoke around 8:30am, got ready, packed up our stuff, and jumped on a micro to head over to where Cony was staying with her niece. Cony came and found us near the giant mall, and after ditching our stuff at her niece’s house we walked over to a delicious breakfast joint called XelaPan. My breakfast was unbelievable – fresh rosemary focaccia bread with a fried egg inside, drizzled with a hollandaise sauce and accompanied by fried plantains and fresh papaya juice. Amazing. After breakfast we ended up watching a parade go down the street, still in celebration of the Independence Day. I think I have seen more parades in the past two months in Guatemala then I have seen in the past two years in the States. They love their parades here. After the parade we walked over to the giant mall, and ended up shopping with Cony for a couple of hours, because Cony loves to shop. After shopping we got lunch in the mall food court. Again, going to giant malls is not something I thought I would be doing during my time here in Guatemala, and it has been so interesting for us to see how the other half of Guatemalans live when we had grown so accustomed to the daily poverty we see in Huehue. After lunch we got some delicious frozen yogurt from a place called Yogen Fruz that blends fruit and yogurt together right in front of you. Eating our frozen yogurt, looking around ourselves and at Cony, we were very content with the quality time we were able to spend with her this weekend. She’s a joy, and any time spent with her is time well spent. After finishing our froyo we went back to her niece’s house, said our goodbyes, and walked over to the “bus terminal” to catch a bus back to Huehue. I finally, for the first time in my travels, took a motion sickness pill, and slept beautifully and without sickness the whole ride back. Brooks and I both loved our trip and would agree it was much needed break, but coming back to Huehue always feels so comfortable, and we were so excited to see the kids again on Monday. Basically, life is good. : )   

This Blessed Life

This week has been met by many moments reminding me of how unique this experience is, and how blessed I am to be here. It may sound like I write that a lot, that I am blessed to be here, but I really am. It’s important to recognize that this experience isn’t the norm, and that it demands a lot of thankfulness on my part. Brooks and I have now been here for more than two months, and the time is flying by. Although I’m struggling with not looking to the future too much and not planning post-Guatemala life too much, it’s weeks like this that make me want to live in the moment, and make me realize how much I am going to miss this place when I leave.

On Wednesday, I had an incredible day at the orphanage. I have learned from being an Oregonian, where sun can be rare, that I am most likely solar powered; I am always in much better spirits when the sun is shining. And on Wednesday, we had one of our first afternoons in a while at the orphanage where it was not pouring down rain and completely dreary outside. This sunshine brought me so much joy, and it animated the kids as well. I was reminded again that I love these kids SO much, so much more than I have ever loved children before. Something about this experience and the beauty and the pain that we see at the orphanage just makes my heart explode with love for these kids. Wednesday I did the same things I do most other days; play with the older kids and spend some time in the baby room, but somehow this day felt so much more joyful, and it was just the kind of encouragement I needed.

On Thursday, instead of going to Fundación, Brooks and I spent the afternoon with Brooks’ host mom, Cony, at a fair in Chiantla, the nearby town. Cony is an amazing woman, and she is so fun to talk to and spend time with. She is one of those people that make you love life. She was actually on her way to a funeral after the fair, and told us, “Enjoy life; it’s too short to spend worrying; you never know when it will end”. Normally, that would be kind of morbid advice, but from Cony it just made me want to live as vivaciously as possible. At the fair, we spent our time walking around, looking at booths, buying sweets, and meeting people. We weren’t even in Huehue and Cony still knew everyone; she is a well-loved person. Toward the end of our time at the fair, we sat down in a portable restaurant and enjoyed enchiladas and horchata, which Cony treated us to. It was a refreshing evening; it’s so important for us to get out of our routine every now and then and see things outside of our bubble. Brooks and I are both people who appreciate routine and being able to anticipate what our days will look like, but obviously it is necessary to mix it up sometimes.

Friday, I had my last Spanish class with Sheny, and I was quite excited to reach this landmark. We had been taking classes two hours a day, five days a week for the past four weeks, and I was ready for a break from this schedule. The classes were incredibly helpful though; although I was a Spanish major in college, I have noticed it is so hard to learn another language in a classroom in the States, and is so right to learn a language through a class-intensive and immersion experience. We covered all the Spanish grammar tenses as well as common errors, such as ser versus estar, and I know I am so much more equipped to have good conversations in Spanish now. After our normal routine of class, gym, lunch, and nap, Brooks and I headed to the orphanage with our bags packed for the night. We hung out with the kids for a couple of hours, and once our stomachs started to rumble, we decided to treat ourselves to Telepizza for dinner instead of mass-produced orphanage food. Our Telepizza experience is one for the books; Telepizza and a restaurant called Pollo Campero (the most popular fast food restaurant in Guatemala) share a store here in Huehue, and although Pollo Campero is fast food, they actually have waitresses and service at the tables! It’s kind of a mix of McDonalds and Red Robins, and was one of the strangest fast food experiences I have ever had. The pizza, though, was amazing. We walked back to the orphanage after having our fill of pizza, and spent the night reading books in the different rooms and getting ready for bed. I chose to stay this time in the Kinders room, and thought it would be sweet to snuggle with some of the kids for bed. This may or may not have been a good idea though… I started with two in the bed with me, one who fell asleep instantly and I moved to his own bed, and another that was being a little fussy and moved between her bed and mine a couple times. Once she finally rolled around enough to fall asleep in my bed, and all the other kids were asleep, I thought I would get some sleep. But, of course, I was wrong. First of all, I always underestimate how loud common sleeping rooms are, with 12 people including myself breathing, moving, and talking in their sleep. I was in and out of sleep, selfishly with earplugs in half the time, and out the other half so I could hear if anyone cried in the night. Another thing I underestimated is how often three year olds wet the bed. Yeah, Ingrid, my bed buddy, wet the bed. Luckily it all stayed on her side and the blanket was thick enough to act as a wall between us, but the overwhelming smell of pee (the room already smelled like pee, and the kid next to me was wetting his bed as well) was too much for me to comfortably sleep through the night. I more or less drifted in and out of sleep, waiting for 6am when I could go home and sleep on my own pee-free bed. Note to self: ALWAYS move the Kinder out of your bed once they have fallen asleep. Rookie mistake. 

Saturday came and went mostly uneventfully. We were both tired from our evening at the orphanage, so we just followed our typical Saturday routine of sleeping, reading, writing, going to the grocery store and working out. As usual, the thing that I was looking forward to all day was watching an American movie that night, with treats to accompany. We had bought a pirated copy of “Super 8” at the fair, and it did not disappoint. I highly recommend it.

Sunday again is moving by slowly, but with me in better spirits than yesterday because I slept much better last night. Sunday became laundry day, reading, sitting in the sun, and attempting to attend church in the afternoon. Today is elections day in Guatemala, and Brooks and I had both heard rumors it’s a dangerous day for foreigners to be wandering around; we decided to live cautiously and just stay home, aside from leaving the house once to head to church. Our attempt at church was a fail though, because our church is located so close to a voting center they decided not to have a service that evening due to the voting traffic. Voting here in Guatemala is like nothing I’ve seen before; people were all dressed up, and there were food booths set up outside of the voting center (an elementary school) for people to get snacks and talk around. Tons of groups of people were standing around outside of the school, most likely discussing their votes and the future direction of Guatemala. Hearing about the governmental system here has been disheartening, and most likely everyone was discussing, “Oh, wouldn’t it be nice if this election actually mattered, actually changed something? Did you vote for the more corrupt guy or the less corrupt guy?” It’s not uncommon for politicians to buy votes here, and the last elected mayor of Huehue actually went into hiding two years into his term, still receiving his fat paycheck for doing nothing. After checking out the elections scene, Brooks and I bought popsicles, defeated again by another failed attempt at attending church, and headed home (Side story: Ironically, every time something has happened that prevented us from attending church, I was always wearing the same blouse. I think it might be cursed). We decided to listen to a sermon on CD Brooks had from Bible Lectures, given by his college pastor about how young people are leaving the church. It was an excellent sermon, and made me feel an emotional excitement I haven’t been feeling at the churches down here. It’s so interesting to me that I feel like I am finally doing what Jesus wants of us – to go out and live, love and serve – and yet this has honestly been a kind of a low point for my faith. I feel like my faith is currently a quiet constant versus a passionate emotion. And sure, I read by Bible everyday, pray, listen to Christian music at the gym, and both Brooks and I feel like our one-on-one relationships with God are currently at their best. But both of us have realized it’s the lack of Christian community we have here that is affecting our ability to feel the emotional excitement we used to get from going to church and having coffee dates and Bible studies. And although neither of us could really figure out a solution to this dilemma – something about the language and culture barrier is making it difficult for us to feel integrated in a church – it was good for us to at least express this confusion to each other. All in all, though, I would say God is teaching me some pretty amazing things down here, and I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.

The Little Things

Something about being in a third world country makes one very thankful for the little things in life… And it seems like the little things are always that which makes me miss home the most; sure, I miss my friends and family, but it’s the things I didn’t expect to miss that really throw me off and make me wish I could teleport, just so I could hop to the States even for a day to eat cheddar cheese, take a warm shower, feel clean, and sit on a couch. Friday, I was having a day where all the little things that are different about Guatemala – how inefficient everything is, how unsafe I feel sometimes, how tired I am of seeing potato bugs crawling around my room, how annoying it is to have ‘no water days,’ the creepy looks from the men at the gym – all of these things were really getting to me and I was hoping that around the next corner I would find a teleporter just so I could end up in Forest Grove, Oregon, sitting on my parents’ couch, eating American foods. Luckily, God knows when we are having days like this, and He knows what we need. After saying goodbye to our host family for the weekend (they went to a nearby pueblo for the weekend to seek medical care for Sheny’s mom), and after being overwhelmed by the things I had to remember to do this weekend to keep the house safe, I went upstairs and laid down for a “I just need a moment so I won’t be grumpy anymore” nap. 10 minutes into my nap, though, I heard Brooks quietly walking into my room. At first annoyed, I realized the reason he had come into my room was for a worthy piece of news: Linda, a missionary from Texas currently living in Huehue, had invited us to her house that night for dinner. Brooks and I gladly accepted the invitation, and hurried out to the orphanage so we would have time to teach our English class and visit with the kids before going to Linda’s house.

At the orphanage, our English class was again a struggle, made up of both kids that already knew the words we were teaching, and kids that couldn’t even write and spell in Spanish. After class Brooks and I both found refuge in the baby room, where things are a bit calmer and less physically taxing. After changing some diapers and feeding some babies, I looked around and realized Brooks was gone. I went and found him sitting in the office, writing down ideas for his next blog, taking some time to slow down and reflect. I plopped down on the couch next to him, realizing it was just that kind of day. He told me that Linda was on her way to pick us up, and I was so excited for those 10 minutes of sitting down and doing nothing. Linda came and got us at the orphanage, and while we told the doorkeeper we would be back later that night the stay at the orphanage, we realized after our dinner and desert at Linda’s that that was not going to happen – it was too late and we were too tired.

Once we arrived at Linda’s house, Linda’s roommate and fellow missionary, LynnAnn, was busy making meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a salad. LynnAnn is from Tennessee, and as Brooks said, she’s knows how to use her butter. We got a quick tour of their simple home, which they had just moved into after choosing to move out of the large mission house, and Brooks and I couldn’t help but feel so comfortable there and so at home. It was a small slice of America right in the middle of Huehue. We enjoyed LynnAnn’s AMAZING dinner, which was accompanied by a glass of lemonade with ice. After dinner we walked to a nearby tienda to buy ice cream bars, and another small thing Brooks and I realized we missed was being able to walk outside at night. Linda and LynnAnn live in a safe, quiet neighborhood with a gate out front; without these securities, it’s not a good idea to walk at night in Guatemala – even Guatemalans don’t do it. We took our ice cream bars home, and sat around their living room, eating ice cream and chatting with Linda, LynnAnn, and LynnAnn’s daughter, Jessie. It was just such a blessing. It was great to talk to Linda and LynnAnn, who had recently made the decision to move out of the mission house and no longer work as hosts to short term mission teams, making this decision to give them more time to focus on their other ministries in town. And it was good to hear about their passion for living in Guatemala – they both said they want to live here for the rest of their lives – but to know that along with that passion, they still get homesick sometimes, and they still crave American things, and they still get fed up with the inefficiency of this country. All in all it was a very healing night; I needed this one night to be reminded why I am here, that my being here is good, and that it’s okay that it’s not always easy.

The next day Brooks and I made ourselves a delicious breakfast, and for Brooks it was one of the first times he finally had enough to eat here. Our host mom is a good cook, but she doesn’t understand the proportions of food Brooks likes to eat, and because of this he has spent many days here still hungry after meals. But our family was out of town this weekend, and Brooks and I were on our own to cook what we wanted and how much we wanted, taking the foods she had left us and spicing it up a bit. We had a wonderful day of relaxation and good food; I slept in until 8:30, had breakfast, went to the gym, devoted hours and hours to typing up my notes from my Spanish classes, made a delicious lunch, read a bit, made a delicious dinner, and watched a movie. It’s simple comforts like these, good food and an American movie, which Brooks and I have become so thankful for, and which have become such great treats down here.

Sunday I slept in until 8:30 again, made another great breakfast, mosh (oatmeal) and fried plátanos, read and finished typing my notes, made a great lunch, and relaxed some more. In the afternoon, Brooks and I attended a church closer to our house that was suggested to us by Linda, and it was another answer to prayer because I felt so much more comfortable at this church than I had at our previous church. The worship music had instruments behind it, the pastor spoke more slowly and stayed in one story of the Bible instead of jumping around, and at the end a man came up to us to greet us in English. To find someone who speaks English is Huehue is pretty rare, and it was so nice for him to go out of his way to speak to us in his second language to make us feel more comfortable and at home.

The weekends go by so quickly here, and it seems like Monday comes around instantly and it’s time again to be at the orphanage and back to our busy weeks. But it’s weekends like this that help me maintain my excitement and joy down here, and help me to realize we should always be thankful for the little things in life. 

God's Calling

My cousin recently asked Brooks and I to help him with a video to answer the question for young Christians, “What is God’s call?” and, “How do we know when God is calling us to do something?” While both of us have yet to make and send in our entry (sorry cuz, I promise it will happen), the deadline is coming up soon and is causing me to think on my time here in Guatemala and how I feel God’s calling and blessing here. And while I have felt God’s blessing many times here, this has been an especially perfect week for this reflection; this week alone, we have experienced both that which we see His hand in, and those things we wonder maybe He is telling us are not for our doing.

            To begin, one thing that has happened in the past week that can only be viewed as a gift from the God is the success of our Pen Pal Program. When I first came up with the idea I thought it was a very small idea, and I didn’t know how many people from the States would be interested in participating. I was dragging my feet quite a bit to start it – Brooks had to give me the push – because I was scared to put myself out there and get rejected. But the exact opposite happened. We received a flood of interested e-mails and messages, some people we didn’t even know or think would be interested. God pulled people from all corner’s of our lives; friends, family, friends of friends, friends of family. By the end of the weekend, we had close to 60 people signed up, and the list is around 90 now and still growing. We were worried about each kid in the specific rooms having someone to write to, but now there are multiple kids with two pen pals. Brooks and I were blown away by the response, and although we both admit we are terrible at giving the glory to God – we are proud people that feel we ‘earn’ our blessings – this program showed us that the success was all God’s doing, and we felt Him smiling on our time here in Guatemala.

            Something else we have been blessed by here in Guatemala – which I have written about multiple times – is our Guatemalan family. Linda, the Texan missionary that Brooks met on his first two trips, recommended them to us and we had no idea what the situation would be like. But we have experienced so much joy with them; I don’t think this experience would have been the same if we had stayed elsewhere. This weekend we enjoyed two parties with our families, both full of love and happiness. Saturday night our family had a party for Sheny’s mother, Maria. Maria was celebrating her 84^th birthday, and recently she has been slipping further and further into Alzheimer’s (or something similar. She is still mostly undiagnosed), having difficulties carrying on conversations, forgetting her children’s names, and needing to be watched every minute of the day. It has been an exhausting task for Sheny, and we could tell she was a bit hesitant about the party, not sure how Maria would act or respond to it. But it turned out to be amazing. Sheny spent the days before making mountains of intricate tamales, and Saturday night about 15 of their friends and family came over with gifts in hand. We enjoyed the delicious tamales, and took pictures as we watched Maria blow out the candles on her birthday cake. After cake we danced in the living room, and Brooks and Sheny’s brother took turns dancing with Maria. We had heard that Maria was a sprightly woman before the Azlheimer’s, and we could see the sparkle in her eyes that I’m sure everyone knew in her before. It was a blessing from God for both Maria and Sheny; when Sheny was giving her toast to Maria, we could see how deep her love for her mother was, and it was beautiful to witness such an important moment for the family.

            The next day we were invited to Cony’s father’s farm for a birthday picnic for Cony. Although her birthday had been last week, she planned her celebration for this weekend so her friends and co-workers from the Peace Corps could join. Brooks and I made another fruit pizza (we had made one for Maria’s party but it didn’t turn out as well as the one for Cony’s party), and met up with four Peace Corps volunteers to head out to her father’s farm. It must have been the most gringos in one spot Huehue had seen in a while; Brooks and I have gotten so used to being the only white people around it’s always something exciting and different to meet other American’s here. Two of the volunteers work with Cony at her foundation, Seeds of Help, and the other two work in nearby villages. It was great to chat with the volunteers, asking them about their experiences and asking them what places they recommended traveling to in Guatemala. And Cony’s father’s farm was so picturesque; we only walked 20 minutes outside of the city but it felt like we were a world away; fresh air, trees, and chickens and roosters roaming around. We were joined by some of Cony’s other friends, and again I felt so blessed to be enjoying good food with good company in such a beautiful setting. It’s moments like this when I smile, sit back, look around, and am completely content to be here.

            Along with the blessings we have received this week, we have also experienced a couple of setbacks, things we feel God is telling us, “No, that is not what you are supposed to be doing right now”. In both of these things, it is still so difficult to discern whether God was telling us to back off, or if it is simply a challenge that we need to work through. The first is our connection with our church down here. We had started attending the church that Brooks and his team helped construct during their time on their mission trip. Although it has a small but sweet congregation, and although the pastor’s sermons are filled with passion, something has always felt just a little off for me. At first I told myself it was because they do things differently than I am used to, and I was uncomfortable because they were so much more raw then the American churches I was accustomed to. But after the service this past Thursday, Brooks and I both shared with each other that we were not feeling quite right about the church, and didn’t know if it was for us to continue going. It’s far outside of the city, and every time we wanted to go we had to call Brooks’ friend, Herson (one of the only congregation members with a car) to pick us up. It became such a hassle, and we hadn’t been able to attend frequently. This actual barrier of getting to church was discouraging, and again, once we finally got there it always felt a bit off. So we both gave it some thought and prayer, and felt that maybe it would be best for us to search for a church closer that jived better with our needs. Again, this was a perfect example of the question of God’s will for our lives, and we were, and still are, having a hard time discerning God’s will from our own. It seemed so strange to me to be praying to God to ask if I should not go to a church anymore, and perhaps we are still supposed to go and are reading the signals wrong. But this is a facet of Christianity, following God’s call, that has always been fuzzy to me, and I know only religious maturity will help.

            Something else, quite small but still significant to our discernment of God’s wishes for our time here, has come in the form of the English class we are teaching at the orphanage. We had decided a few weeks ago to take over the English class the German volunteer had been teaching, to make us feel that we were adding something a bit more formal to the orphanage besides just loving on the kids. But we have only been able to hold class a couple of times, because different visitors and events had interrupted our class meeting. Last week, our first class session after more than a weeklong break, Brook and I decided to have a fun challenge with teams to see if the kids could remember the words we had taught them two weeks before. Although it was planned to be enjoyable, it ended up as a total disaster. Kids were running around, we were stuck in a loud, echoing room, the kids would get angry if they got a word wrong, and we were getting frustrated by how unfun the process was becoming. At one point Brooks and I were sitting down, looked at each other and said, “I don’t think God wants us to have this English class”. Again, it was difficult to discern what was God telling us to back away, and what was us just needing to be stronger. We have decided to change our class to help more with their English class homework from school and to work on translating the letters that come from the pen pals in the Sates, but it is still so overwhelming to question where and how we see God speaking to us.

            Maybe this is something that comes more easily to other Christians, but to be honest I’m sure there are thousands of Christians that don’t even take God’s call into consideration; they simply go to church on Sunday, and go about their regularly scheduled life without interruptions. I have to admit I used to be one of those Christians, a planner by genetics. But here in Guatemala, I am in a place to move freely with God’s call, and it is presenting itself to be much more difficult than I had thought. The system I seem to be going by now is this: When we feel that peace and tranquility and correctness in something, I feel God’s presence, and when things don’t seem to be fitting right, I feel God telling us to back off a bit. I am not positive if this is the right formula, and I’m sure a formula isn’t even the right way to look at this; none of our choices have felt very black and white. I know only time and prayer will enhance my Christian maturity, and my understanding of God’s will for my life. 

Abundance and Reconciliation

            There is something that has been bothering me lately, and I think it’s something we all feel when serving those less fortunate then ourselves: It’s that feeling that we don’t deserve the abundant life we have in the States, and it’s not fair for us to ‘want’. Obviously I’m not talking about wanting in excess, but wanting things like good food, a comfortable place to sleep, wanting to travel and go to concerts and get coffee with your friends. During our time here in Guatemala, I have been panged with guilt when I miss the comforts of the United States and the food that I am accustomed to; by feeling like I am ‘roughing it’, I feel like I am showing contempt for the Guatemalan lifestyle. This is their lives that I have been invited to be a part of, and for me to want more – more comfort and more familiarity – makes me feel like I am being selfish. And honestly, I really am not even roughing it here; we are fed three home-cooked meals a day, go to the gym, shower daily, have comfortable beds to sleep in and light to read by at night. We are absolutely fortunate to be living with Sheny and Otto, because there are thousands more families we could be living with here that do not have such beautiful homes and enough money to eat so well every day. And even that makes me feel selfish – counting my blessings that I am in a nice home here so I don’t have to experience too much discomfort. It’s such an interesting paradox in life; how do we immerse ourselves in service, trying to feel the pain of the other, and then not feel guilt when we are glad we are not that other? Here are a couple of stories to illustrate my point: Two years ago, I went on an alternative spring break trip with my school. The focus of the trip was looking at AIDS, homelessness, and poverty in the San Francisco area, and we spent most of our days serving in soup kitchens and learning about the desperate spread of AIDS in the city. After a morning of serving breakfast to hundreds of homeless men, women and children, our group decided we wanted to see the nicer parts of the city. We found an H & M Store, which at the time we didn’t have in Oregon, and everyone got so excited, rushing in and looking for the latest sundress. But a couple of us held back, realizing the juxtaposition of our day didn’t feel right. How could we go shopping and spend money on something as trivial as a sundress when we had just met hundreds of people literally living in the streets? I am not trying to say we were saints and they were bad people; any other day, we would have gladly joined the group shopping. But because of what we had just seen, the self-serving action of shopping just didn’t feel right.

Another story that adds to the complexity of this feeling: A few weeks ago, I read a note one of Brooks’ friends had posted about her experience in poverty-stricken Mexico, working with underprivileged children. She spoke out boldly against the American style of giving, which is throwing money at charities but not actually paying attention to the issues in our world. She thought about all of her “poor college student” friends, who by the standards of these children are filthy rich. And she wondered, if everyone had donated the money that they spent on a concert ticket for that day, if they had donated that money to Mexico, how much more could be done with that money? It felt as though she was reprimanding all of her friends that chose to enjoy life by buying an expensive concert ticket. Although I’m sure she had the best of intentions, and we can all understand that being placed in the middle of poverty changes the way someone looks at life, I didn’t feel that this was the right way to address the situation either. Is the best way to help others, and not feel guilty about your America life, to criticize those that are not doing anything and ‘selfishly’ spending money on themselves? I saw this many times on my university campus, people getting angry about social injustice and essentially alienating those that were doing nothing. And although a lot of good has come out of people angry enough about something to change it, I just can't help but think about the peaceful way Jesus spread change all over the world.

Brooks and I were talking about this very topic, and he brought up the point that those who are able to see God in every situation of life can thank God for the blessings He has given them, and can feel that their great house and great job are not something to be ashamed of, but something to praise God for giving. And both of us felt that we have a hard time seeing life this way, that we both felt weak in our faith that we could not see God in something like the blessing of a beautiful home. It’s easy to see God in the smile of an orphan, but how many of us see the abundant life we have been given and guiltlessly praise God for it?

            Another example of this guilt hit me two nights ago, when Brooks and I stayed overnight at the orphanage. I was talking to one of the older girls, and I told her we would not be making it to the orphanage on Friday because we had to get a party ready for Brooks’ host mom, Cony. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt the pang of guilt. Here I was, talking to a girl that has no parents, and has basically been told to give up her freedom to be in charge of 10 other girls ages 8-13. I not only have amazing biological parents in the States, but now I was talking about host parents that I have here in Guatemala, and the freedom I have to choose not to go to the orphanage so I have time to bake a cake. Wanting to have a party for someone, and wanting to enjoy that party, is not something that would normally make me feel guilty and probably should not make someone feel guilty. But given the circumstance, I could not help but feel the blessings that God has handed out have not been evenly distributed. My mind has gone back many times to the passage in Luke 12:48, which says, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked”. But what is that ‘much’? Do I have to give up all my happiness and comfort before I have finally given enough? I understand that following Jesus is not an easily life, but honestly at times I wonder if I really am following Jesus when I want to be in a soft bed, and to wake up to the breakfast of my choice. How do I balance living joyfully in the abundance I have been given, but still experience apathy and selfless generosity for those that are less fortunate than myself? Or are we even supposed to be asking the question about this balance; did Jesus really mean it when he told us to sell everything we have, love Him more than our biological families, leave them and follow Him? Maybe I am too weak and too American to truly do this.

This thought is something that will be ever present in my time here in Guatemala, and as much as I want an easy answer to this dilemma, I honestly will probably never find it. The only thing that I can take comfort in is that maybe God didn’t intend for us to have answers to everything, but that we shouldn’t stop asking the questions.

            On a happier and mostly unrelated note, the party we threw for Cony was amazing. Brooks took her out for coffee as a cover-up, and Yesi made a delicious Pepián (a traditional Guatemalan dish), Brooks made sweet potato fries, and I made a carrot cake and naranjada, an orange drink. We snuck all the food into Cony’s house while she was out with Brooks, and hide behind the counter to jump out and say “Surprise!” when she walked in the door. We were joined by Cony’s father and sister, as well as a friend that boards a room in her house, and her artist friend from Chiantla, who actually lived in Eugene for 20 years some time ago (he had long hair and hippie dance moves – it made so much sense that he had lived in Eugene). We ate our delicious dinner, accompanied by kind words said about Cony by Otto, Brooks, and her father, and after dinner we enjoyed the cake and danced in the living room to marimba music. It was incredible; again, I counted my blessings that we are living with this family. They are truly special.

Sleepless in Guatemala

One word that I would use to describe this weekend: Exhausting. Brooks and I had made the decision that every Friday night we would like to stay over at the orphanage, reading them books before they go to bed, helping them get ready, and just being there if the kids needed anything. We headed over around 4pm that afternoon, planning to not leave until early the next morning. I was worried the afternoon would drag on, but luckily it went by quickly and joyfully. I spent a couple of hours in retreat in the baby room, changing diapers, feeding kids, and feeling the calm that comes from holding a baby. Brooks and I had dinner with the kids, and after another hour of play, it was time to get ready for bed. I went over to the Kinders’ room and had them all crowd on a blanket on the floor with me, where I read them the “Hungry Caterpillar” in Spanish. They were so attentive and sweet, making “ooooh” noises every time I turned the page because of the bright colors. After saying good night to the Kinders, I went to the older girls room, where girls ages 8-12 slept. When I walked in, they were all clustered by their clothes, picking out dresses for church the next morning. After they all found the perfect dress and set them aside, I gathered them over to the bed I was staying in and read a couple of books. After reading time, the girls all started to putter around, getting ready for bed, and I was reminded so much of how it felt to be a summer camp councilor. As I’ve stated before, it’s incredible how much the orphanage feels like summer camp, but a summer camp that sadly never ends. After saying good night and turning off the lights, I was ready for a good night of sleep. Unfortunately, I was so wrong in hoping I would sleep well that night. At scattered hours of the night, different girls would quietly crawl into my bed to sleep, probably to feel for the first time what is was like to cuddle to sleep with another person. I thought it was endearing when the first girl crawled in, but by the time 3am rolled around, I had gotten no sleep, and there were three girls and myself in my bed, I was starting to miss the calm of sleeping comfortably in a bed alone. By 5am it was lights on, and the girls started to slowly get ready for their day. Brooks and I left around 6am, and I found out on our walk home the little boys were also excited by the idea of having a warm body to share their bed. The little boys were asking Brooks where he was going to sleep that night, and after jokingly saying, “in Elmer’s bed”, Elmer’s eyes light up with excitement. After that a couple of other boys asked if he would sleep in their bed another night. Brooks had to gently remind the kids that if they tried to share a bed with him they probably would end up squished, but he was touched by the fact that boys, who pride themselves on being tough, still craved that parental affection. Upon returning home, we discovered that the gate to my house was locked, and I ended up sleeping on a small couch in Brooks’ hosts mom’s house until breakfast. Was staying the night worth the lack of sleep? Absolutely. Will I be thinking on better ways to actually get some sleep for next Friday – eye masks and ear plugs in the running? Absolutely. The rest of Saturday was used up with time at the gym, and relaxation to recuperate from my exhaustion.

            Sunday morning, Brooks and I woke up at 5:30am and met up with Yessi’s cousin, Jorge, to experience a grand Huehue event – a half marathon race up to the view pointnear Huehue. Both Sheny’s brother and another of Yessi’s cousins, Jorge’s brother, were running in the race, and Brooks and I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to share in this event with them. Originally we were going to try to navigate getting there by ourselves, but luckily we found out at the last minute that Jorge was planning to go and was willing to take us with him. And man, was that a blessing. We ended up catching first a bus and then a micro up the viewpoint, and honestly if Brooks and I had tried to figure out the transportation by ourselves, we would have been back in bed by 7am, having completely failed at the adventure. The drive up to El Mirador was quick, and when we hopped out of the micro to walk a little further, we could not believe what sight we were greeted with. TIG. When there’s a race in town, the festivities are for everyone. They had a long gauntlet of food stalls set up, with indigenous pueblo families selling fried chicken, French fries, beans and tortillas. And up at the very top, the spot of the actual viewpoint, the local cell phone company had set up a giant stage where they were playing music and games with people on stage. We enjoyed the festivities by walking around, checking out the view, and getting some hot chocolate. By 9:45am, only an hour and fifteen minutes after the race had begun in the city center, the first finisher crossed the line, barely looking exhausted. Let me just lay out for you what this race consisted of, in case you were not impressed enough by me stating it was a half marathon to a viewpoint. About 1000 people participated in this race, and they ran around 6km through town, and then 14km straight up a mountain. These runners were beasts. And the thing that impresses me the most is that without specialized running diets or running gear, or even proper running shoes (Sheny’s brother, Rene, was running in Sketchers), these men and women were supreme athletes. I was amazed. Jorge’s brother ended up finishing 9^th overall, and after his race he drank a hot cup of coffee, put on his sweats, and walked around like nothing had happened. When we asked him if he was tired, he said “Naw”. And, “Are you going to rest this afternoon?” “Naw”. Rene, in his fifties, finished the race in about two hours. After Rene finished, we walked around a bit more to see the festivities, and then TIGed our way down to town. We ended up catching a ride with one of Jorge’s friends, meaning we were 10 people standing in the back of his pick-up truck, half of which were in their 40s or 50s and had just run a half marathon straight up a mountain. We swerved and switch-backed our way down the mountain, and I couldn’t help but smile, realizing nothing like this would ever happen in the States. When we were almost to the bottom, the truck ended up over heated, and we walked the rest of the way down into Chiantla, a town neighboring Huehue, where we caught a bus home. And after eating lunch with our host family, and asking the two runners again if they were tired and planning to rest that afternoon and again hearing “no”, I shamefully and happily took a 2 ½ hour nap, recuperating all the sleep I had lost this weekend.