Home again. Augh!

I had to erase my last post because it was too depressing. I didn’t go out Saturday night, it’s ok, we made up for it on Monday night.

I guess I should start out by saying that I’m back in the states now, and we have been since tuesday night at 11:00. The shock isn’t nearly as bad as I was thinking. Life in Guatemala quit being extraordinary after a while, it was just life, the same kind you have here. So life here and life there isn’t disconnected too much, and the transition is only in the images, not the thinking. Well, a little bit of the thinking. I can’t seem to force myself to flush toilet paper. Gross for you guys, normal for me and millions of other people below the line. And the desire to bleach everything I eat. We ate some blueberries today at Hugh’s house, and I felt a little panic after I only rinsed them in the tap. Air that smells like nature is really nice. And sitting comfortably in cars, that’s probably the coolest thing so far. Last night we got in an SUV cab to go to the hotel from the airport and it was like a small house on the inside. I could have slept in there.

Well here’s how it went, in case anyone is interested, but more so that I have something to do before I go to sleep.

Sunday me, Ashley, and Sara, the two other volunteers in the house, went over to Hilda’s for lunch and a jaspe demonstration. Jaspe is the ikat or tiedye technique that makes up the major part of indigenous women’s skirts. She showed us some knots at light speed for a while and then Hilda, her three boys, and us three gringas piled in the back of a truck and went to the market in Estancia- the place where I teach Juana and Dilma and Olga. We actually met Juana out there in the market, and I met her husband, who I was a little surprised with. He was wearing a leather jacket and all greased up, and then there with Juana, who looks like she’s raised 4 kids by herself-which I expect she has. I had no idea her husband was still around, and Hilda kind of rolled her eyes when he walked away. I don’t know what that means, and I didn’t ask. We got our ingredients and went back to Hilda’s house, and cooked the most amazing meal. I’m so glad we ended it on that, it was so worth it. We had marinated steak (churrasco) and mashed potatoes and grilled onions, guacamole, and steamed brocolli, and of course tortillas and tomalitos. Hilda made us feel so comfortable, almost at home, and we helped chop and entertain the boys.

Monday was our last day in Xela. It feels really weird telling it now that I’m in USA mode. I don’t know that I can tell it objectively. Anyway, we ran a million errands in the morning, trying to get everything out of the way for a big lunch we were planning in the afternoon. I bought the pieces for a backstrap loom that I’m terribly excited to try out, and Hugh and I went to Democracia to buy some house plants. One to give Claudia for the AMA house, a little greenery is always cheerful around there, and one for Hilda for the garden of her newish house, though we saw while we were there that her garden gets chicken burrows in it. She had two digging out little holes to curl up in while we were there. We came back and waited for everyone to come home to cook lunch- when Vlad left, he made us all this amazing marinated chicken that Claudia managed to get the recipe for.

I’m having a really hard time writing this. Currently I’m sitting in the Mill Mountain Coffee and Tea in Botetourt, VA. My old home town, even my old job. Right now I’m gazing out over this blacktop parking lot filled with cars, observing the action of two fast food restaurants and a gas station across from all the parked SUV’s. One of the restaurants and the gas station popped up in the time since I was here last over Christmas. Everyone in the shop is wearing a business suit and working on their laptops, and occasionally a middle aged woman in Capri pants and tight shirt come in with their manicures and their screaming kids. I just met a kid I went to high school with and his 6 inch Mohawk, who actually makes a living doing magic. He wasn’t so bad. I guess it all just makes me feel kind of claustrophobic. The coffee is the best I’ve had in a looooong time, but I’m still pretty weirded out. Probably the caffeine doesn’t help. It was really nice to drive here. No busses or pedestrians or 800 people honking and trying to jam me off the road, however that in itself was weird. I’m not scared when I drive anymore. I’ve observed enough of that aggressive/observant driving technique that I think I could see a solution to almost any weird or stupid thing that someone in the car in front of me could do, except that if they’re going way under the speed limit, I don’t think it would be appropriate here to just lay on my horn behind them for 20 seconds. The guy with the computer behind me is playing a game with machine guns and screaming and splattering sounds that I suppose are blood or heads exploding. That kind of stuff gets to me. Violence and disasters I’ve lost my insensitivity to. Dad was watching a disaster show last night where a helicopter crashes onto a sidewalk and I couldn’t handle it. It’s not a toy in a movie to me, I just see the people inside it. I don’t know why that changed, I didn’t see any violence in Guatemala. Maybe that’s why, the time lapse.

The cats! I’m reunited with my cats! I want to say that before I continue more. The did amazingly well while I was gone, even living with their first dog at the Browder’s house. They sat in the car and were so good on the 4 hours back home, and when I let them out, Zy, the sensitive shy one, popped right out and pranced around like “Hey! I’m home! Thanks mom!” He’s spend the first day and a half rubbing on all our legs and purring and he slept with me last night. Lula, the one who’s usually in charge, has spend the whole time growling and hissing and being easily scared. She’s finally at the point where she’ll let me touch her, and even cuddle with me when she knows the door’s shut and there aren’t any other threats around. She tries to nip at my parents though, and will act like she’s going to attack Zy when he come near. Zy just looks at her like she’s immature. They’ve discovered the screened in back porch and spend a lot of time there chasing the birds with their eyes. We also have humming birds here. I love the back porch. I was sad to lose my connection with the sky after losing the patio, but I think I’ll spend as much time back there as possible. It’s humid here, which I don’t like at all, but it’s nice in that the air smells and tastes like water, or like the re-breathed air of trees. I can fill my whole lungs up with it and not get light headed. Also the altitude is so low! I feel heavy, like my head is closer to the ground. It takes more effort to fill my lungs all the way up. And mountains. I grew up in the Blue Ridge, I’ve spent a significant amount of time in the Rockies especially near Colorado, and though I’ve always known they were small mountains, I still considered them a major mountain chain, and thought that their presence affected the road systems, farmland, and grown habits of the community, which it has.. But still. I look at them and think, I could walk to the top of you in probably 30 minutes, you’re no bigger than Baul- the “hill” behind our old house that looks over Xela, which has a trail to the top of it that takes 30 minutes. Then I think, if you were in Guatemala, you’d be covered in corn and houses. A mountain here transplanted there would absolutely be prime real estate for a farm. Then there’s the fact that they’re covered in trees at all. I didn’t see all that many trees there, though there should have been a major forest cover in other circumstances. Hence the reforestation projects I suppose.

I miss families here. Kids here are insane. I just watched a 9 year old girl pick up her 2 year old sister by the hands and spin her around and around and around, in the major walkway of the coffee shop. Also, that same little girl screaming at the top of her lungs and her mom talking to her in her best poodle-voice something about being quiet which was obviously not observed. On the plane here from San Salvador there was a little boy Luie’s age who spent the entire 4 hours jumping on top of the cushion of his seat. That’s no exaggeration. And he only had one volume, which was scream, and I never heard his dad say a single thing, not one word. It’s like they’re the adults, they run the house, they run their parents. And I can’t say enough about the idea of carrying a baby on your body when it’s an infant. I never saw a baby cry when it was on a back, not even after 3 hours on a bus when it’s wedged between its mom and the seat. They don’t fuss, it’s like that’s where they belong. Almost every baby I ever saw in a stroller when I worked in the mall was writhing and wimpering. And babies stay with their moms until they’re school age- which means they come to work with them if they have to. There were 2 year olds running around in Trama and in the libreria I got paper supplies at, and they weren’t little terrors. Everyone looked out for it, and it didn’t get in too much trouble because nobody let it, and it didn’t make a big screaming fit when no one paid attention to it. I don’t know what it is that does that, I think that parents there just really spend a lot of time with their kids doing things that aren’t passive tv watching so the kids just know they’ve got attention so they don’t have to fight much for it. And also I have observed parents not letting them get away with crap when they’re being little monsters. I don’t know what it is. I see an observable difference between families here and there though. Like siblings don’t compete as much, and everyone’s more affectionate, and parents are parents and kids are kids, and I don’t have to deal with bitchy kids there, the parents do. On the plane here I was having to deal with that bitchy kid screaming and jumping all over the place and hitting Hugh accidentally and staring at us. Because his dad sure wasn’t.

I want to go on a hike. I don’t suppose it’s safe for me to do that by myself, especially when I don’t know the trails. Maybe I can get Hugh over here to go with me.

I also was able to leave my computer and bag by itself on the other side of the shop while I talked to my magician friend and not worry about it disappearing. That was nice.

I miss the colors there. Here it’s more natural. Brick and leaves and dark asphalt. I miss teal and hot pink. I miss teal a lot. I miss the chrome flashes off chicken busses. Every time I left the patio I got a new visual show. Constant entertainment and inspiration. And the people. Women in traditional dress. Western fashion is boring.

I like being able to wear a skirt again and not getting harassed. I like not having to worry about getting harassed, though I am more sensitive now to the possibility of it. I’m distrustful of young men of all types. That’s probably a bit unfortunate, and I may get over it.

I still can’t make myself tell the story from Guatemala. It’s too far away. I’ll paraphrase.

Monday night, we had another campfire in the patio and invited our friends from the school. We had Guacamole and nachos and fried plantains, all my favorite foods. When we started the fire we made smores too. Carlos, Luis, and Jairo came soon after, and brought hot dogs that were pretty funny to watch roast. We put on salsa music, and Carlos gave an impromptu lesson in the patio for Sara and Ashley’s benefit. I danced some with Luie, who will be a crazy lady killer one day! Ashley used to swing dance, so she and Carlos hit it off as dance partners really well and managed to turn out some nice moves in just a few hours. I got in my last dance with Carlos, which I enjoyed so much, and took lots of pictures that I’ll post later. It was wonderful, I smiled through the whole damn thing and couldn’t have been happier. All my favorite people in one place, doing their favorite things. It was perfect.

Tuesday morning we left at 6:30, and got to the airport at 10:30, something like 4 hours before our flight left. It was relieving to know we weren’t going to have to rush, so I was ok with it. After four months of riding on chicken busses and microbuses and all the times I’ve gotten carsick in that truck, I finally, in my last hour of ever riding a road in Guatemala, had to get the driver to pull over so I could throw up. That just put the cherry on top. My experience on the roads there was oooooveeeerr. We had a short layover in San Salvador, and then got on for Washington. We didn’t have any problems in customs, though I think I was smuggling products that I decided wouldn’t be a good idea to claim since I’d probably have to pay taxes on it. Well, I’m not selling them, am I?

We got out of everything at 12:00, which was not very late. We were expecting 2 at the earliest. And then kind of figured we’d spend the night at the airport. I know I know, how gross and uncomfortable. But hotels in DC are crazy expensive, and we just don’t have spending money right now. Actually, while we were trying to figure out where to go during this time and calculating costs, we figured out with would cost significantly less to stay in Guatemala for another MONTH than this one night after the airport. Doesn’t matter what we did, bus, train, hotel, cab, it would all be over $150. We sucked it up and got a hotel though. 7-9 hours waiting for Hugh’s parents in the morning was just way more than we could handle in the luggage claims while they were waxing the floor. Just too much, plus we had so much luggage, it’s hard to keep track of making sure nothing goes walking off if we doze off. It was worth it, for sure. Hugh and I spent the morning watching TeleMundo Spanish morning shows, and I had to fight, literally fight, my mouth from talking to the maid in Spanish, though I don’t suppose she’d be incredibly offended. Who knows.

Hugh’s parents picked us up at around 8:30 and we went back to Williamsburg, to the cats, to a nice little house in a nice little suburb, with a nice family who was so happy to have us home and take care of us. I ate blueberries and pork chops and petted a tame, clean, sweet dog that was really happy to see us and slept in a flea-free bed and breathed fresh air. It was nice, but I got stir crazy really quickly. My parents picked me up on Thursday with the cats, and we stopped off in Richmond for lunch and to drop off my smuggled items at AlterNatives, then drove the 3 hours home from there.

It’s nice to be home. For all the reasons I’ve already said and a couple more. It’s surreal and I don’t like so much being in this strip mall at the coffee shop. Everyone’s nice. But it’s weird being around so many white people! I’m so used to being the minority. I didn’t like it then, and I still wouldn’t like it, mostly because people there were not very accommodating to my skin color, but the ones that were were really patient and kind. I think I probably encountered more patience and grace from people working with me there than someone from there would get here. I hope I can give that gift back one day.

I also excruciatingly, heart-breakingly, miss Claudia. I would adopt her into my family if I had the chance. I’m sure mom and dad wouldn’t mind having another daughter, and meg and whit would like her as a new sister. I also hope that I can repay her kindness in taking us into her household whenever she wants or can afford to come to Virginia. I hate that she’s in that house all by herself now. I want her to come here. I miss Luie.

Ok. That’s enough for now. At some point I’ll get the nerve to sum up my feelings about the project. I talk about it a lot with Hugh and the people close enough to me to care and ask questions, and I feel like something’s a little unresolved. I’d like to get it all out in an organized manner, and this feels like a good way to do it. So stay tuned. At some point there’s more to come.

Some things I’ve learned:

The best way to come to Guatemala and expect to accomplish anything is to be completely unprepared for what you’re doing and what’s going to happen.

If you want to run things your way you need to be supplying the money.

Business should be different from charity. If you’re helping people by giving them jobs, treat them like employees.

When someone singles you out from a crowd to molest, don’t take it personally, it’s only because you were closest.

Beauty and ugliness are equally mixed in everything, and if you ignore one I’ll only hurt worse when it inevitably appears again.

Strength of character and responsibility are learned, not instinctive, traits.

It’s ok to be disappointed and want to do more, it’ll keep you working and it’ll keep you honest.

Abandoning anything is not an option, even with the promise of coming back. Be prepared to let it run without you and take the turns that it may or have the strength to kill it yourself.

Be open, alert, flexible, aware of both sides of every issue, non-judgmental, and adaptive.. just in case your plans change.

Protect the people that mean the most to you, even if it means not punching someone that insulted them in the face. Figuratively and literally.

People with good hearts still do shitty things.

People who seem shitty can have good hearts.

Human nature will surprise you. For the better and especially for the worst.

It’s better to walk into a room and assume that everyone likes you, then make relationships from there. At least then you’ll be able to give yourself the chance to change their minds.

Look up, not down. The sky’s much more interesting than your feet.

Sometimes pigeons are cute. Especially when a really old lady wearing a mardi gras necklace like legitimate jewelry keeps two as pets on the counter of her tienda. Especially when they have their own little cardboard box house and beside it a hoard of shiny objects and bottle caps.

Things work out. Usually I have no idea how. A little responsibility and flexibility seems to help.

Nobody knows what you just went through unless they did it with you.

Get over yourself. Get over myself.

The world is not small. It’s interconnected, but it’s not small.

Good hot chocolate can solve alllll your problems.






Some things I’ll be happy to return to:

Potable tap water

Septic tanks

Vehicle exhaust laws

A general respect for women and people of different races.

A personal vehicle

Thai food

MY CATS

Domesticated dogs

Strong coffee

More than 3 pairs of pants, without 2 always being dirty

Dancing that doesn’t need 6 months of practice before it’s presentable

Weaving

Making art for my own sake

A different watch that doesn’t smell bad

Being able to pick out my groceries, rather than asking someone to bring it to me from behind a counter

Starting to say goodbye

This last week here, I have realized some things that I believe are wrong with the world. It's taken me a full 3 days and a day long bike ride to actually quit bitching about it. One day I'd like to write about it, but right now it's still too raw, and can also lead to negative reactions from people who I don't want to hurt. So one day.

As for today, Hugh and I went for a bike ride at 8:00 am and didn't get back till 3! I am super curious how many miles that was, but am a little afraid to ask. up in the dozens of dozens. We met at Vrisa, the english language bookstore that also gives bike tours ever Saturday, and were the only ones that showed up to go besides the two guides. Didn't bother them any, so we headed out. I'm not exactly much of a bike rider, the only ones I've ever had until recently have been cruisers with pedal brakes and no gears, and then after those one with only 6 gears. So first thing was that I had to get Sandra, one of the guides to teach me how to use the gears, as we're riding. We're going down this wide well paved road and I'm already thinking that if we don't get there soon, I'm going to start having some problems. I knew in the first 20 minutes that I was way over my head. Hugh, meanwhile, is up with the first guide, all being athletes and whatnot.

We crossed a river and stopped on the other side, where Rodrigo explained that during Hurricane Stan the water rose and you could see where all the buildings around it were sunken into the ground at bizarre angles. Then he said it was just 15 minutes farther to our first sight, and we set off again. One crazy vertical hill, intense nausea, and many rest breaks later (for me.) we come through the village of Salcaja to see the oldest church in Central America- built in 1524, only a few years after the conquest from Spain and the fall of the Aztecs. From there to this little tienda where they sell traditional alcohol- a sugary thick yellow rum made out of egg yolks tasting like custard, and a Caldo de Frutas, which is really just plain old moonshine. I had to get some moonshine, we've got to celebrate our departure here somehow, and the more Guatemalan, the better.

Then we headed off for Cantel, to see the glass cooperative Copavic. I'm a little confused at this point because Cantel seems to me to be in the opposite direction from the city as where we are. We come out of Salcaja and go onto some dirt roads, which go on FOREVER and take us through corn fields among corn fields. Every time I had to get out and walk, everyone said good morning to me, and when we were riding quickly through, they all said adios. It was nice to be in a good, safe, small place again. The road took us into the cornfields and under the mountains. Cantel is seriously the cloud kingdom. I don't know what it is, you'd think being so close to massive mountains you'd feel low, but you don't. You feel on top of the earth, surrounded by even higher land that goes up and touches the sky. I love it there. Then something like 2 hours riding up and down hills on the dirt road that has disintegrated into gulleys and rocks. Every time I made it up a big hill, panting and sweating and yet smiling somehow, they cheered for me at the top. They were good people. Then we'd take an air gathering break and head out again. Every time we made it up a hill, Rodrigo would say "last one! I promise! From here it's all straight or down!" What a good liar. Hugh, I repeat, is hanging out with Rodrigo up front. Just relaxing, not breaking a sweat. Whoa.

We continued under the mountains for a while, and the road turned into pavement again finally and we got to cruise down for a long time, at some point passing my bus stop where I always get out to go to Juana's house to teach my class in Cantel! I was really excited about this, also realizing that I just rode a bike WAY out of the way to get to a place that usually takes me 30 minutes on a bus. That's an odd and unfamiliar sensation for me. All the way down this spectacular hill, which felt so good and made me so happy, seeing all the things I usually see from behind a bus window. When we got to the bottom, we rode on the curb beside a main road to the Copavic glass co-op. We got there right before they closed and got to see some glass blowers. We were there a year and a half ago, and not much has changed. It would have been nice to get a gift there for some leftovers on my list, but after buying a bottle of liquor, I wasn't about to add even more weight on.

From there we went down an EVEN MORE RIDICULOUS slope off the main road, near a river that I see every time I leave Xela. This one was really two dirt or mud paths cut into the grass by truck wheels, and when it got too steep and crazy, just one path cut by the feet of the people that live there. We passed a field of cilantro where women were picking the crop, and it was so strong it burned your nostrils. We threw ourselves over rocks, with the river on one side and the cliffs from the bottom of the mountains on the other. It was so.. so... beautiful. When I was able to breath and feel things other than my muscles dying loud and terrible deaths, I was also able to think about how spectacular was the place I was in, and how interesting and out of the ordinary was the way I was doing it. It was more fun than walking, admittedly, and closer to nature than I've been in so very long. Plus I was riding through a ravine that I see all the time from the foggy windows of busses, wishing I could explore it. After a long time we got to a natural hot spring, one not very well known, called Chicobix, where I realized I had forgotten my bathing suit. I ended up wearing Hugh's undershirt and an extra pair of shorts Rodrigo brought. It was worth the awkwardness of wearing a strange man's shorts. We soaked in the pool, with the sound of the river nearby and little kids learning to swim in front of us, for about an hour. Talking with Rodrigo about books and movies and life. Then we got out and onto those damn bikes again, and I tried to drag my demolished butt up to the place where we could catch a bus. In the process we walked our bikes over a hanging foot-bridge above the river, which made me REALLY happy. Then we got to Zunil, the location of my FAVORITE indigenous dress. We sat there for a while waiting for the bus and I got to admire the super detailed, embroidered skirts, and one woman who had really elaborate and unusual animals embroidered on her top, many of which I couldn't recognize.

Then a 30 or more minute chicken bus ride back to Xela, locking up the bikes again, rigorously thanking our guides, and trying to convince them that I had an amazing time, was sooo happy that I came, and was so content to have them be so patient and encouraging. It really was yet another defining moment in my time here, and made me realize a few things about how I'd like to live after this. One being that hikes, rides, and general rigorous outdoor exploration is a major passion and source of joy for Hugh, and I'd like to be able to take part in that with him. The other being that this kind of stuff feels really, really good. The whole idea of focusing on your body rather than your head is beautiful. When I got back I felt fresh and alive (miraculously) and happy and content. Not bitchy and weepy like I've been the entire week before. Plus the food I ate and the shower I took were TAN RICO. (so rich.) I'd like to exercise more often after this, if for no other reason than that it makes my brain feel good, not to mention the health benefits and all that whatnot. The last thing I got out of this was a chance to part with Xela. I was in it. I got it up close and personal, and it was beautiful and it was really freaking physically destructive. So I got enough of it to feel full, and also I got the memories of pain that will come back every time I think about Xela, to help me miss it maybe not so much.