Ending, Interlude, and briefly Home Again

We departed Guatemala on December 7, on Spirit Air, winging our way northeast to Ft. Lauderdale on "the umbilical cord of privilege" that allowed us to leave those difficult conditions whenever we wanted, simply because of the fortunate circumstance of our American birth. We left behind a little part of ourselves - and los ninos, to soldier on without us, scraping their way through a tough life in a very tough neighborhood in a nation filled with danger. And they are much luckier than the kids who live all around them - because someone in their family, probably their mom, cared enough about them to get them into Safe Passage. In Safe Passage, they have access to lots of good stuff, like 4 meals a day, health care, tooth-brushing, a safe place to play and learn, a steady flow of first world volunteer helpers, as well as local teachers, who try to teach them right from wrong, English, academic skills, and that there's a world out there that they can join - with their heads held high. How many will escape the centrifugal force of the dump and the drugs and the violence and hopelessness and mistrust that conspire to hold them in its grip? Will Hanley's love be strong enough to find its way through all of us to all of them - to support them in staying focused on their dreams? Please keep them in your prayers.

                                   Our last evening in Antigua, Guatemala - with Andrea

We arrived back in Ft. Lauderdale to the comparative luxury of the Fairfield Inn. Our lovely room was outfitted with a flat screen tv, a toilet where we could deposit toilet tissue, HOT water in the faucets, water that we could drink straight from the tap, a WARM bed with no lumps or wayward springs poking up, a computer in the lobby without sticky keys and in English, sun streaming through the window next morning. Ahh!

Our first meal was my long-awaited salad (with blackened chicken) and a glass of Pinot and for Bruce, a fajita and a Guinness beer. The setting was a large, bright, noisy sports bar, ringed with many tv's on the walls. Very American and a bit of a culture shock. (You don't have much choice of venue when you are at the mercy of the hotel van for transportation.) It was a stark contrast to our dinner the previous evening in Antiqua, spent with our friend Andrea in the quiet, beautiful courtyard of a 17th century home-turned restaurant.

In the Miami area, we got a taste of the free-wheeling lifestyle and colorful art deco area of South Beach. As we ate lunch at a sidewalk cafe, we saw a parade of ladies in skin-tight jeans and high-rise heels, a German-speaking Santa in sandals, young couples in shorts and flip-flops, wobbly old folks, skateboarders, motor-scooters, a convertible overflowing with sexy young women, tour busses with open sides, bicyclists - they were all there, except for people in suits! South Beach is definitely a place for consumption and fun!

                                            Art deco in South Beach, Miami

                                        Seeing and being seen in South Beach

Since we were in the neighborhood, we made a slight detour to Grand Cayman and spent 8 days on that beautiful island with friends Sharon, Richard, and Ryan, and then Lem and Marcia, friends met during our last big adventure 6 years ago. They shared their homes and time with us, treating us to such elegant generosity and rekindling our friendship. I am happy to report that the water is still as turquoise and the sand as warm and smooth as it was before! The island is looking better than ever, with nary a sign of terrible Hurricane Ivan now. Thanks to these friends, we enjoyed a decadent time of total relaxation and indulgence. One of my favorite experiences (aside from the beach at Rum Point) was attending Ryan's Christmas concert, where we heard bits of the Christmas story read in all manner of English accents from around the world and listened to songs that I'd heard on the BBC Christmas Eve service from London, which is a mainstay at home on the morning of the 24th.

                                   Rum Point in Grand Cayman, the place to chill

Eventually we made our way north to Maine, where the weather is considerably colder but the welcome was as warm as could be. We are spending the holidays at the home of Jane Andrews and Don Bouchard, for which we are very grateful. We've seen Matt and Izik, who were home from Chicago for 3 days, and Sam, at whose home we spent a delightful Christmas morning. It's been fun reconnecting with the rest of our family and a few friends. Unfortunately, Bruce brought home a mild case of pneumonia from Guatemala, which is definitely slowing us down. We're trying to get him rested and cured before we head out again on January 6 for Thailand.

                                             Sam on Christmas morning, 2011

The first leg of our year-long adventure has opened our eyes to another culture, introduced us to some wonderful people, allowed us to give a little of ourselves to a few kids in need, humbled us as we tried to learn another language, and left us with amazing memories. In another week, we will be heading out on another adventure that will, undoubtedly prove as interesting and exciting as the last.

Saying Good-bye to Safe Passage

Last Friday, December 2, was our last day at Safe Passage. It´s been a remarkable experience. However, Bruce´s sister pointed out recently that we haven´t written much about the program. I´ll try to rectify that right now.

I´ve been working in the Guarderia (the Spanish word for ¨day care¨, I believe). It´s a beautiful facility that was opened in 2007, a year or so after Hanley died. Hanley Denning is the young woman from Yarmouth, Maine, who founded Safe Passage as a safe place for children to come to before and after school while their parents picked the dump. She also raised enough money for the children to attend school. Officially, school is free in Guatemala.  However, since uniforms and school supplies are required, it would be out of reach of these ¨poorest of the poor¨ families, without the assistance of Safe Passage.

The Guarderia consists of a classroom building and another building with a small gym and a storage area, an outdoor playground area, and a small asphalt playing field for older kids. The whole compound is located on reclaimed dump land and is encircled by a tall protective cement wall topped with coils of razor wire. An armed guard oversees the big metal door leading into the compound (I appreciate him!). Overhead the sky is unfailingly blue at this time of year, and dotted, high up, with an ever present bunch of hungry black vultures.

                    Inner courtyard of the school, looking toward the screened cafeteria 

The Guarderia program serves about 87 young children, ages 2-7. Organized by a Canadian woman, Susan Schmaltz (whose husband was hired a year ago to head up Safe Passage), its educational philosophy is very progressive. Susan and her husband, Richard, are amazing people who have been working in Guatemala for 12 years, off and on.

Shortly after starting at SP, I was re-assigned, out of the kitchen and into the kindergarten, to assist the teacher. I was happy to see that the classroom was set up with learning centers, similar to those at Breakwater. The children spend time each morning and afternoon at the centers, which includes a wonderful ¨casita¨ (little pretend house), an art area, a puzzle table, a big blocks area, a Lego table, a large collection of picture books, and a loft. There is also a bathroom in every classroom. Ten children were enrolled all day. At noon, another 6 children arrived. Nice numbers!

                                           Friends looking at books together
                                            
Since getting adequate nutrition is an issue for these children, especially at this age when the brain is developing so rapidly, the children are fed 4 times a day with fortified foods. And it seems to be working: the kids are bright, fairly healthy, and of normal weight. All the children gather for breakfast first thing in the morning in the large screened dining area, pictured above.

                                         Kindergarten boys on the playground

In the classroom, the day begins with lots of active singing, which the kids love. It was a challenge for me, with my limited Spanish skills, but the teacher and the former assistant (18 year old Isabel from Germany) both helped by writing out the Spanish lyrics to many of the songs. The substitute teacher syndrome coupled with my lack of Spanish fluency, as well as the feisty nature of some of the children also made my half hour playground duty a challenge. But mostly, the kids were very engaging, sweet, and energetic. There was always someone who wanted a lap to sit in or a push on the swing or a story read to them. I loved observing their daily half hour English class, taught by a vivacious red-headed young Canadian woman who had an amazing ability to keep the kids focused and enthused and having fun. We also had a weekly art activity prepared for the children by 18 year old Grace, a volunteer from Portland.

                                                      Dynamic daily English class 

My biggest contributions, aside from my main task helping out in class, were introducing pattern block activities to the class; using my copy of Lois Ehlert´s English/Spanish picture book, Moon Rope, to help with the end-of-year puppet show; and writing up a document describing the literacy environment that we had created at Breakwater. Safe Passage is in the process of becoming a private school for the early grades when the new school year begins in January, rather than just a before and after-school enrichment program. I´ve been assured that some of the literacy suggestions will be put into place

                                         End-of-year performance for parents

An example of a memorable time for me happened just this week. One of the little boys, Pedro, is quite moody and sometimes won´t participate in classroom activities. This particular day, during choice/play time, he sat alone looking withdrawn and downcast. I approached him with a book that I was pretty sure he´d like, Where the Wild Things Are /Donde los Monstuos Viven). I offered to read it to him. He quietly assented without saying a word but began turning the pages for me - and got another book when we had finished the first (Robert Munsch´s I´ll Love You Forever/ Te Querrere Siempre). After some reading, I proposed another favorite activity for him: the big blocks. We began building a car to take us on an imaginary trip to the beach at Monterrico. I made some paper gauges for him, such as speedometer, gas gauge, temp. gauge,etc. We drove raucously, laughed, stopped for gas, were joined by Josue and the three of us got lunch at a resto. Suddenly I was the waitress taking orders for ¨hamburguesas y agua¨ for my two young customers. In short, by the magical power of the imagination, for a few minutes we exchanged the real life of the sordid dump for a bright sunny road trip. Life changing? Of course not, but a little escapism was good for all of us.

                                         Pattern block designs on the bulletin board

Our last day at the project ended with an elegant evening art/photography exhibit and guitar performance by some of the teenagers who had taken special arts classes. It was held off-campus in a lovely gallery. The art had been tastefully hung on the walls. The guitar students played songs like, "Let It Be", and the 2010 World Cup song from South Africa. Mothers, dressed in fancy clothes, beamed proudly. Teens, dressed in fancy clothes, smiled shyly but with an evident confidence. Voluntarios, such as myself, bought student art work. A shared sense of hope for the future hung in the air. I couldn´t help but feel that this was a fitting culmination of our time at Safe Passage, where I got to see the results of Hanley´s vision - coupled with the generosity of many donors and voluntarios and local staff - coming together in the work of these talented teens who now had a better chance to lead a life of their choosing.

The People of Guatemala

The People of Guatemala

I know it`s tricky to make blanket statements about a group of people but I am inspired to write about the people of Guatemala. As in many things here, there are great contrasts between people. In general, the folks that we have encountered here are gentle, kind, and friendly - among the nicest people that we have met in our travels – a strong statement given our love of the New Zealanders.

One example of this warmth is the custom of friendly greetings that occur frequently between total strangers. On our first weekend in Xela we ate in an Italian restaurant and were greeted by people as they came in an out of the place. Greetings of Buenes Tardes and Buen Provecho (bon appetite) occurred frequently as people passed by our table. It is common, when walking down the street, to hear greetings and good wishes from total strangers – something that is rare in our experience at home. It is common here that people will greet one another with a hug and a peck on the cheek – even with a new acquaintance. Everyone seems to have a smile and a greeting for us which makes it very easy to feel comfortable here.

The other side of this story is the ever present anxiety about being robbed or assaulted. Personal security is something that we have to think about constantly which seems at odds with the warmth of the people. The high rate of extreme poverty here, currently at 55%, creates a situation where relatively wealthy tourists are “targets of opportunity” for any knucklehead with a gun or knife . While there is the ever present fear of robbery, merchants, waiters, and other people that we meet in commercial relationships are friendly and helpful – even with the language differences. We have never once been short changed or felt cheated in any transaction. I accidentally dropped a hundred Q bill (about $12.50) on the sidewalk one afternoon and a young Mayan woman came running after me with the bill. I am sure she could have used it so I was especially impressed with her honesty.

Robberies are common – in fact, four of our fellow volunteers have been robbed in the past few weeks and two members of the Safe Passage staff were stuck up at gun point by two guys in front of the school at 2 in the afternoon. The school is in the roughest neighborhood in the city.  Luckily, no one was hurt but property was stolen. We feel that we need to be constantly on guard – especially after dark – but at all times. The country has one of the highest murder rates in the world, and violence is not uncommon. We have not yet been victims but it seems more of a real possibility than at home so we practice defensive measures.

Domestic violence is a real problem in many families,  and the rate of child abuse is quite high. This dark underside of the culture seems so dramatic in light of the outward warmth and gentle nature of the people that we meet in our daily routines. I suspect that a large factor in this is the profound poverty that impacts so many of the people as they desperately try to care for their families under difficult conditions.
Families seem to be very important and to support each other. Children seem to be cherished even when there isn’t a lot of money to spend on material things. We are told that this is partly because there are no government programs – social security, medical care, or other support services to help out in a time of need. Everyone is essentially on their own to provide for their needs and that families are the really the only support system available in the country.

The racial mix is interesting in that there is little diversity. About 65 percent of the people are indigenous Mayan – with handsome features, dark black hair, brown skin, high cheekbones and short stature. Another 10 percent is Ladino or of Spanish origin with lighter features and greater height and the remaining 25 percent is a mixture of the two groups.

Appearance seems especially important here in Guatemala. In Xela, we were struck by the large number of small clothing stores, the many barber shops and beauty salons, and shoe stores. On our way to classes, we were impressed by the “spit shined” kids on their way to school who all looked, clean, neat, alert and well cared for. We noticed these children emerging from some fairly run down houses and wondered how they could look so good – coming from such poor surroundings. We were told that every child has two uniforms, one for wearing while the second one is cleaned.

The men, and boys as young as 4, seem to get weekly haircuts and sport some very creative hair structures – slicked straight forward or back, piled high in the middle, or swooped into soaring pompadours – all held rigidly in place with copious amounts of industrial strength hair gel sold in huge tubs at every little tienda. We encounter few scruffy looking people – except for the Americans and Germans.

The women tend to be very stylish in their tight jeans, plunging necklines, brown eyes and a fondness for high heels and painted nails. The younger women wear their hair in long pony tails or in a bun. The older women are well coiffed by frequent visits to the numerous beauty salons. We spot a lot of shops with fancy dresses that must be used on formal occasions but seldom seen in public events. The Mayan women are especially attractive in their colorful dresses, belts and blouses which are worn as everyday dress.

This is a conservative Catholic country and the people are especially devout practitioners. In Antigua, there are dozens of churches - many in ruins, having been destroyed by earthquakes, but many are in full operation with lots of people active in the congregation. We have spotted several large processions in honor of various saints or virgins - we’re never sure. These processions seem very ancient - with band music, drums, incense, swaying groups of men carrying large edifices with coffins of saints, spouting fountains, and lighted displays. There is even an electrical generator pulled behind the procession to power the float, and men with large sticks to lift power lines before the edifice passes.

In addition, there are festivals to honor the dead, numerous saints days, and even a burn-the-devil day. Now, as Christmas approaches, the town is getting more intense in its rituals, with more processions, fireworks, concerts, street entertainment, and lights. We are told that Semana Santa - or Easter Week, is even wilder, with the entire town given over to various processions and ceremonies. Some folks say that it is wise to avoid this because of the crowds, but it might be fun to see - at least once.

As our trip to Guate ends, we are looking forward to getting back to Maine but will miss the people of Guatemala. We trust that our experience here has made a bit of difference, albeit small, in the lives of the Guatemalan people, as it has enriched ours.

Two Old Gnus

Before I write about our final week in Safe Passage, due to end on Friday, I want to tell you about what happened LAST Friday (and so does Bruce). We were just finishing dinner when Mia burst into the house, crying loudly. It was very unlike this cool, mature 19-year old from Freeport, Maine. We all jumped out of our seats to find out what was wrong, while she blurted out, between sobs, that she had just been robbed on the doorstep of the house - with a gun pointed at her!! She had lost her favorite backpack with her journal and a cheap camera, as well as her cell phone, given over when the guy reached into her pocket. At that point she had put up her hands and said, "No mas!" and he had zoomed off on a motorbike. However, amid the tears in the re-telling, her face lit up and she pulled several hundred quetzales from her bra, money which she had just gotten from an ATM machine to pay rent. We are now stashing money all over our bod's, mostly in our shoes, in a swarmy attempt to outwit the bad guys. And we aren't walking alone after dark!

Two Old Gnus
One of the experiences of growing up in the 1950’s was to witness the advent of television. A favorite program was the Wonderful World of Disney and especially the wildlife films from Africa. I was entranced by the shots of the migration of the gnu’s and assorted beasts as they roamed across the plains in search of food and water. The most exciting part of this drama was when the animals were stalked and eventually mauled or killed by the lions, waiting in ambush . The most vulnerable gnus were the old, the young and the disabled who could not keep up with the herd and thus made easy targets for the lions.

Living in Guatemala, those pictures replay in my mind as we are constantly aware of our personal safety and the dilemma of the old gnus becomes very real for us. Walking home in Antigua at night, these two old gnus feel especially vulnerable, not from personal experience but from seeing how the lions have picked off 4 younger female gnus from our herd who left the group and decided to walk by themselves. The lions are especially fond of younger female animals and prefer to steal their backpacks and money rather than kill them for food. Occasionally, younger male gnus get attacked for their computers, MP3 players, IPhones, or other electronic gear. This always happens at night when the gnus have spent too much time at the watering hole and are not thinking clearly or are so egocentric to think that nothing will happen to them.

Maybe there is an advantage to being an older gnu because we don’t walk alone, can’t stay awake much after 9:30, spend limited time at the watering hole, and can pay to take a taxi back to the safety of the jungle. At times, we run into especially clever lions who are more interested in mauling us for money in more sociably acceptable ways.

When these two old gnus visited the beach in Montericco, we realized, from the moment we crossed the river that we were in new territory. As we stepped ashore, the lions gathered around us and asked if we would like their help in learning about the town. The lions were smiling and friendly but lions are lions and, being wary gnus, we decided to decline their offer. When we arrived at the hotel, an especially friendly lion, who was fluent in English followed us onto the grounds and told us his life story. He then offered to take us on a hike along the beach under a full moon that evening to find hatching sea turtles and/or to take us for a boat ride in the bayou early the next morning.

The younger gnu, not wanting to piss off the lion, wanted to do it all and readily agreed to the offer. The older and wiser gnu, not wishing to be on a deserted beach late at night with a lion, nor wanting to get up early in the morning to go into the swamp with a lion, suggested that we go on a later boat ride in the daylight when there were more gnus around.

Being new to this game and a bit slow on the uptake, the older one paid a third more than the going price for the trip in cash to the lion and wondered if the lion would show up in the morning at the appointed time. Sure enough, the lion was waiting for us but announced that he wouldn’t be taking us but we would be escorted by another lion – very suspicious. The attack was brief and consisted only of losing a small portion of money but no lasting damage was done.

We are learning that when you migrate across unfamiliar territory, it pays to be wary of lions, even if they are smiling, to be alert to your surroundings, and to stick with the herd. Also, older gnus are slower but wiser, and sometimes the lions win.

Next week, these gnus will be heading back to more familiar terrain and are looking forward to a familiar language, lettuce, safe food, and good beer. Hopefully, the lions will be fewer and less hungry.

safe passage blog

While I'm getting the next blog post ready, I'm going to suggest that you check out the Safe Passage blog. I have written a piece about being a "senior" volunteer. You can access it by going to the safe passage website: safepassage.org and then clicking on the word "blog" at the top of the screen.

Also, while you're there, take a look at Lise Belisle's blog(www.bountiful-blog.com) She is the mother of Campbell, whose room is next to ours and who also is volunteering at Safe Passage. Lisa came to Guatemala last week to visit the program and to see her son. She is a doctor and she has a blog, too, in which she has described her experience in Guatemala (among other things). It is extremely well-written and will give you a wonderful look at her impressions of the program. Very thoughtful and spiritual! I know you'll like it.

Coming soon: Saying good-bye to Safe Passage!

Thanksgiving Day in Guatemala

Thanksgiving is not a Guatemalan holiday, so it was work as usual for all of us Americans last Thursday. However, like many things that you may take for granted at home, the non-holiday seemed to assume quite a lot of nostalgia for Americans here in Guatemala, especially for the young volunteers, who were away from home at Thanksgiving, perhaps for the first time.

Our host family, Jose and Lucky Morales, had been planning for some time to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner for us, to be ready when we returned from Guatemala City at the end of the day. There are 4 Americans living at the house right now, all of us from Maine. We were curious about what the dinner would be like, since Lucky and Jose have never been to America and since we had been told that turkeys are very expensive here.

All day there were buzzings at Safe Passage about various dinners that would take place that evening. Our young housemate, Campbell, was planning to help his friend to cook a dinner, and he had extended a general invitation to everyone on the bus earlier in the week. So Campbell and his friend, Nico, had taken the day off to prepare.

Our Swedish friend had plans to attend yet another Thanksgiving dinner that evening, and she was curious about what to expect. At lunch that day, we all reviewed our own Thanksgiving food traditions. There was definitely a feeling of anticipation in the air.

When we arrived home that evening, there was a nice aroma coming from the kitchen. Both Lucky and Jose were there, all ready for us. On the table, the first thing that caught our attention was the biggest pie that I've ever seen. It was a very dark color, and I assumed that it was chocolate. But no, it was pumpkin, we were told. On closer inspection, it was actually a very dark green. Hmm. We were all a bit dubious at that point. But, first things first. There was also a roasted bird on the table. Turns out it was a cross between a turkey and a chicken. It looked delicious, and it was very good. Along with the "tur-ken" were a dish of light yellow Guatemalan squash, some salsa (a dark brown sauce that took the place of gravy), and garlic bread. Not our usual holiday abundance, but a valiant attempt at authenticity.

In respect for Lucky and Jose's efforts, Campbell arrived for dinner here, before his dinner with his friend. He brought his mom, who was visiting from Maine for the week. Along with Andrea, who hails from Venezuela & Madrid, and Yenna, who is from Korea, there were 9 of us at the table. Bruce was put in charge of carving the bird. Part-way through the meal, Campbell offered his thoughts on what he was thankful for, setting off a round-the-table sharing of gratitude. And the pumpkin pie? Even though it was green, it had been made from a green Guatemalan squash and tasted just like a typical pumpkin pie! Delicious.

A Weekend at the Beach

   Since arriving in Antigua 6 weeks ago, we have stuck pretty close to "home" and have used our weekends to rest and learn about the town.  But we were ready, last weekend, to explore a new area, the Pacific coast town of Montericco.  It's only a 2 hour drive from Antigua, but a whole other world, in terms of climate and lifestyle!

                                                     Waterfront in Montericco

We began our trip with a 40 minute van ride around the bumpy, cobblestone streets of Antigua, picking up 8 other passengers, all in their 20s' and early 30's, from all parts of the world.  They included 3 Sarah's (from Canada and Britain), plus a guy from Norway, and our first Bulgarian, a delightful young woman who has traveled extensively in her job for a Munich travel agency.

sunset over the Pacific

As we emerged from our small city, we were treated to the sight of the 3 volcanoes that surround us here.  It quickly became clear that we had left behind the relative sophistication of Antigua when we encountered men trudging along the highway, each bent under a load of sticks for firewood, or mules laden with great bundles of grasses of some sort.  As we descended from the mountains, where Antigua is located at 5000 ft. to the coastal plain at sea level, the temperature rose and the crops changed to sugar cane with occasional fields full of white Brahma bulls.  We began seeing houses with thatched roofs and the whole atmosphere seemed slower and more sultry.

 
 Suddenly  the road ended, literally, at the dock of a tiny river town.  Our little band of travelers waited while the van driver conversed with the horde of hustlers that were vying to take us down the river to Montericco.  We, of course, had not known that the trip would entail a boat ride and another fee, but such is travel in this part of the world.  It was a very small fee (60 cents/5 Quetzales) to take the public boat, so we all opted for that and hopped on with a bunch of locals.  The boat wound its way down the flat river, bordered by mangroves or vast grassy areas.  Majestic white egrets were occasionally startled from a high perch or could be seen hiding among the shelter of the mangroves.  It felt like what we imagine southeast Asia to be like.

                                            The green pool just outside our cabana  

We were greeted in the small village of Montericco by another group of hustlers but we had been warned by our Antigua host, Jose, not to talk to them, as they might very well try to charge a fee.  We did our best to ignore them as we got our bearings and made our way to our little beach resort, about a 1/2 mile away.  The main street of Montericco was paved but side streets were dusty and hot.  Chickens roamed around, laundry hung from fences, a big old pig ambled down the street, people were cooking outside.  It was pretty relaxed!  We were ready for a cold Moza when we arrived.

 
The Pez de Oro had been recommended by Jose, and it turned out to be just as delightful as he had said. It consisted of 18 small, colorful cabanas with thatched roofs, 2 small swimming pools, palm trees,  brick walkways, with a restaurant looking out over the black volcanic sand to the blue, blue ocean.   It was very charming! (You can google it to see for yourself.)  We spent the next three days there, indulging ourselves in warmth and good food.  One morning we went for a private boat paddle along the mangrove trees, looking at the wildlife, mostly birds. No alligators.   It was very peaceful and lovely.  Late one afternoon we watched as a crowd gathered for a baby turtle race to the ocean, organized by the turtle sanctuary next door.  Both evenings, we walked to Jonny's Place, a much more lively, party spot down the beach, for drinks with our van mates. Mostly we rocked in the hammock on our little porch or lounged around the pool.  The ocean was ferocious with huge waves pounding against the shore so we didn't swim there.  The pools, I must say, were a bit dubious looking in color but we did cool off in them a few times.

                                                             Back in Antigua  

The van ride back to Antigua on Monday afternoon was quiet.  Most everyone had already left on Sunday. Apparently, Montericco is becoming a popular weekend spot for middle class Guatemala City families.  But this is the slow season.  We were the only guests at the Pez de Oro on Monday, and just one other couple shared the van.  It was a fast ride that had us holding our breath as we passed slower moving vehicles on winding roads.  I'm guessing that the driver got his training as a chicken bus driver.  But we made it safely.

Day of the Dead/All Saints Day/Dia de Todos los Santos

     

Last Tuesday, November 1st, was All Saints Day in Latin America - and other places, I´m sure.   Contrary to what would think, it is a day filled with good food and a festival atmosphere - but at cemeteries!  One of the traditions associated with the day is kite-flying.  Two nearby towns have taken that tradition and mega-sized it with GIGANTIC kites, drawing crowds of people.   The kites serve several purposes:  to raise the souls of the dead to heaven, to express memories of past suffering and hopes for the future, to take messages to those in heaven, and to turn away evil spirits.  Pretty heavy responsibilities.  They are created using bright colors in intricate artwork.
      We traveled on a bus filled with other curious gringoes to the nearby Mayan town of Sumpango.  The event was taking place on a soccer field, not in a cemetery.   It´s apparently easier for the kites to be set up and judged there. Oh, yes, in Sumpango, there is competition involved.  There was definitely a festival atmosphere with small kites for sale, other trinkets, hand-made Mayan crafts, and lots of ¨fair¨ food, including grilled corn on the cob - served on a piece of husk with salt and a wedge of lime - grilled meat, tortillas, bright yellow ice cream, other sweets, popcorn.  The only thing missing was bloomin´ onions!  It could have been the Common Ground Fair except for the huge kites looming over everything.

                                                       Preparing a kite for flight


       I took lots of photos, and then, because the sun was fierce, Bruce and I took refuge on a high bluff covered by an open-sided tent.  It turns out that this was a VIP area and who should Bruce meet there but the new American ambassador to Guatemala, Arnold Cochon.  Arnold was wearing a Boston Red Sox cap and Bruce commented on it, thus beginning a chat.  Only part way through was it revealed that he was the ambassador and head of the US Embassy.  He is of Cuban descent, we learned later, and his son attends Phillips Andover, thus the Sox cap. We talked about some of the challenges that he is facing, as well as our work at Safe Passage.  He seemed like a nice guy with a big job to do.

   
 After a refreshing local Moza beer under the big tent, we ventured down to some covered bleachers and spent time just people-watching.   By mid-afternoon, the kites began to be prepared for flight.  They look quite heavy with their bamboo frames and huge size, despite the tissue paper interiors.  (But then, I never could imagine how humungous jets can take flight.) They were sent up one at a time.  Most were unable to soar very high and came plummeting into the crowded field in a wild, drunken trajectory, veering from side to side and sending the crowd running.  One or two kites managed to escape the confines of the sheltered field and catch enough wind to climb into the sky.  They were a beautiful sight, then, and joined many other smaller kites being flown by individual families on a hillside, dotting the sky with happy splotches of color and hope and tradition.  We arrived back at the Morales home in Antigua, early that evening, dusty and tired and a bit sunburned,  ready for a shower but glad to have experienced this piece of Guatemalan culture.

detail from a kite design

Day of the Dead preview

This past week was a busy one, what with our Safe Passage assignments in full swing.  Actually, I have been reassigned - out of the kitchen, out of the class for 6-7 year olds - and into kindergarten, all day!!  I already miss my kitchen buddies and the wonderful teacher whom I was working with, but I´m enjoying the kinders.  It´s really interesting to watch them, with virtually no idea what they are saying, and recognize the exact same body language as my kinders in Maine.  It´s a small class with a very young teacher.  The principal has asked me about literacy in my class at home, which gave me an opening to run off at the mouth in fractured Spanish.  I was able to stop myself when I noticed eyes glazing over.  Their theme of the new month is shapes.  A small collection of pattern blocks was dredged up from the innards of a cupboard.  So I´m off and running, cutting out shapes and planning activities.

In the meantime, our Xela buddies - minus Jeff and Jing, who are settled in Worcester, Mass. for some medical training there - stopped in Antigua briefly for dinner one night, on their way to the Mayan ruins up north and the Atlantic coast.  It was great to see them.  Our Safe Passage colleagues have been slow to warm up to a couple of ¨seniors¨, and we´re missing our social outlets.  We chatted up a storm over Tuscan food and felt very fulfilled.

This past weekend was a holiday weekend as families geared up for the Day of the Dead/All Saints Day on Tuesday, November 1. All of the other 7 guests left the Morales home to go on short adventures or to leave Antigua for good.

On Saturday,  Bruce and I were going out for coffee in the afternoon, when we had another amazing serrendipitous occurence.  We stumbled upon a ¨procesion¨, which was an event related to All Saints Day.  It consisted of another huge casket (see the last posting and photos above) but this one was the most GIGANTIC casket ever seen.  In addition to the symbolic body in a glass case on top of it, there were little angels spouting water!  It took no less than 90 rugged men to shoulder it  - and the whole crew was rotated out every half hour or so. This was necessary as the procesion paraded around town for 8 hours!!  The casket gang, all dressed in formal black dress suits, were preceded by boys swinging incense pots, young men dressed in long black robes tinged with gold, and women in black dresses with lacy gold head-coverings.  Big banners were carried, announcing the name of the church that was sponsoring the procesion.  A band with tubas, marimbas, and huge drums played an array of somber marching tunes from the rear.  It was crucial that the ¨pall bearors¨ sway in sync as they made their way down the street, and the band´s rhythm helped.  Crowds lined the streets and traffic was tied up, as people poured into Antigua from Guatemala City and surrounding areas to view the event.  Again, it was an ancient, mid-ieval rite, and we felt so lucky to have encountered it.  While others were lounging on a Pacific coast beach, we were catching a glimpse of a time long ago - right here and now in Antigua.  That night, as we were drifting to sleep around 11pm, we heard the faint sounds of drums which got louder and louder.  Sure enough, the procesion was passing our house.  I got out of bed and climbed the circular staircase to the rooftop terrace to watch the big casket, now lit up with electric candles, as it swayed and backed and filled its way around the corner on this narrow street.  The crowds were much diminished on this final swing through town.

We understand from our hosts that this was just a minor happening, compared to the processions and public events which take place in Antigua during the Easter season, when people come from all over the world to participate in Holy Week. We won't be here then, alas!

BTW, it just took me 2 hours (!) to figure out how to get these photos from my camera onto this blog. But I did it!  Now I can go to bed.  

weekend tidbits and life´s big moments

This weekend Bruce and I had very little planned.  We kind of let the time happen, and thus we happened upon a couple of interesting events.

On Saturday evening, we were returning home from the free movie at a local cafe.  It was dark, nearly 9pm, the witching hour by when you should be safe inside your home - or a taxi.  But we were walking, having chosen the busiest - and what we hoped were the safest - streets.  As we rushed along, we looked up and saw candles flickering from a sidewalk leading into an ancient church.  From the church doors, people were spilling out onto the surrounding lawn and patio where a tent was set up with tables.  The only lighting was candlelight.  Muy romantico!  And then we noticed the bride and groom and realized that we had happened upon a wedding.

We slowed down and nearly stumbled over a case of fireworks sitting on the pavement, about to be set off.  We scurried out of the way and watched while beautiful colored lights went screaming high into the night sky with a resounding boom.  What a way to celebrate a marriage!  Quite enchanting.

Yesterday Bruce went off to a sports bar to watch the World Cup Rugby finals between New Zealand and France.  I was home alone, quietly reading, when I heard band music outside.  The music got closer and closer until it sounded like it was just outside the front door.  I excitedly grabbed my camera and ran to fling open the door.  There, two feet in front of me (there are no front lawns here) was a funeral procession.  I ditched the camera and assumed a sober countenance, too intrigued to close the door.  Everyone was dressed in black, everyone was walking, and the coffin was the largest that I´ve ever seen.  It must have been four feet across and 5 feet tall.  At least 16 -20 people struggled to carry it, including many young women.  Trailing the group were musicians, some playing brass instruments and drums.  They all processed slowly down the street and out of sight.  It seemed very old world and ancient, with none of the modern trappings of hearses and motor cars and funeral directors.

The Guatemalan culture is full of contrasts and ironies.  For example, the used clothing that finds its way down here from the USA.  Today, back at our Safe Passage routine, I couldn´t help but smile at the man we passed on our bus ride, trudging along in this busy, smoggy foreign city, wearing a University of Pennsylvania t-shirt.  And later, at school, the 6 year old boy wearing the Mount Rushmore t-shirt.  Places and names so familiar to us - but just clothing to them.   When we were in Xela,  we spotted a familiar item of clothing  hanging in front of a store - it was a Portland Seadogs sweatshirt!

All is well here in Antigua but it is getting colder and the homes have no insulation or any heating systems.  We are told that these luxuries are not needed because it never gets that cold - let`s hope so!

Back to work

This was our week to begin working at Safe Passage.  Feeling like elementary school kids ourselves, we leave Lucky and Jose´s house each morning with our backpacks to walk the 6 blocks to the bus stop, where we catch a yellow American school bus for the ride to Guatemala City.  Safe Passage provides the bus and driver for the approximately 20 volunteers.  We are the only ¨seniors¨.  Most are young Americans, many from Maine, with a sprinkling of Canadians and Europeans.  Like us, most are here temporarily, but some have found themselves very commited to these children and have extended their stays or have even decided to live here.

Our week began in the pouring rain, with daily mudslides threatening to cut off the road between Antiqua and Guatemala City.  Huge traffic jams slowed things down, stretching out the trip to 2 hours - from the usual 45-60 minutes.  Bruce and I spent the first part of the week working in the kitchen or the storehouse (the bodega), where we bagged 350 bags of navy split peas, donated from Canada.  They will be given out to the Safe Passage families, along with other commodities, to offset the loss of income that results from their children attending school instead of working.  It was a bit mindless, but we got a good system going and were weighing and filling like crazy.  I topped the day off with some time with the two year olds, realizing how much more satisfying kids are than beans!

When the volunteer coordinator returned from the USA on Wednesday, we newcomers, 6 of us, had an intense and thorough day of orientation.  Since my Spanish language skills remain rudimentary, it was decided that I would spend each morning working in the kitchen at the Guarderia, the beautiful day care center, and the afternoons working with the teacher for the 6-7 year olds.  Luckily, I like to muck around with food, so it seems like a good balance and will hopefully allow me to gain more language skill.  Entonces,  following our Thursday holiday to honor the Day of Revolution, I began my new assignment on Friday.

Friday morning involved peeling pineapples, chopping tomatoes, pouring juice for 50 kids, chopping meat, and trying my hand at making tortillas.  Not as easy as it looks!  The two women in the kitchen pat-patted their way through a large mound of corn dough while I struggled to get a few small tortillas to hang together long enough to get onto the griddle.  My goal is to be able to make a decent tortilla by December.  There should be lots of opportunity to practice, since tortillas are served to the kids every day.

The afternoon was spent with the 11 students in the grade between kindergarten and first grade.  The teacher was amazingly adept at fun movement activities for this boy-heavy group, and the afternoon flew by.

In the meantime, Bruce spent part of the day with 12 year olds and part of the day working on an administrative project that promises to be engaging and meaningful.  We´ve both spent time this weekend thinking of our coming responsibilities.  So, we´re off to a good start at Safe Passage.

Photos - finally! - and Antigua Ramblings

These are our fellow students from our Spanish language school in Xela when they visited us last weekend in Antigua.  We have been so lucky to be befriended by amazing ¨kids¨ - most in their 20´s, as these friends are, and a few in their late teens, as are two of our current housemates, both from Maine.  One of the teens, Mia, has just helped me to upload photos from my camera onto this blog. Hopefully, I´ll be able to do it again by myself.  I´m not counting on it, though.  Mia arrived in Antigua this week and will begin with Safe Passage tomorrow - with us.  She´s from Freeport.  At the moment, Bruce is out watching a ball game at a sports bar with the other Maine teenager living at our house, Campbell, from Yarmouth.  Campbell, too, is working at Safe Passage.  These are bright students, taking a year before or during their college careers to do some service work and some exploration of the world.

This is the Cathedral of Santiago, which dominates the Central Plaza in the middle of Antigua.  It is magical when lit at night.  Construcion on the cathedral was begun in 1542, but it was wrecked by the earthquake of 1773.  Only this front facade and a small space behind was saved.  The rest was left as ruins which can be toured.  The city has many, many colonial churches and ruins of churches, as this was the city where everyone wanted to be at the time of the Spanish dominion.  After a number of destructive earthquakes, the Spanish decided to move the capital to its present location in Guatemala City, leaving Antigua in its original state until the last 50 years or so.  Much of it has been restored, though it still oozes old-world charm.

The architecture in colonial Antigua is so European in its provision for privacy and safety.  You walk along the streets and have no idea of what is behind the pretty pastel-colored walls and doors, large and small.  Houses have very few windows, street-side, and those that do exist are usually frosted and barred and often hidden by plants.  They´re like coy Spanish ladies, hiding behind mantillas.  If you should be walking by a door just at the moment that it´s being briefly opened - and you get a glimpse inside, you are apt to see a beautiful interior courtyard with a tiled sitting space around the perimeter and a lush plant-filled interior space, maybe a fountain.  All very enticing at the same time that it is closed off from you.

                         This is another colonial church with big rosary beads hanging in front.

This is the famous arch in Antigua which is an icon, apparently, for Guatemala.  Done up in my favorite color for buildings!  The arch is the remnant of a convent that was here in the 1500s.  Such amazing antiquity, right in our own continent.  Note the cobblestoned streets, lower in the middle to offer a place for rain water to settle.  We´ve been sloshing through them for the past week.  My shoes are still drippy.

This is the closest volcano to the town - Vulcan Agua.  Luckily, it´s inactive. There are two other volcanoes hovering over the town, also, just not as prominently at this one.  The photo is taken from the town plaza, with Catredral Santiago just out of sight to the left. The large colonial building in the foreground is being restored.

Look carefully to see the lady and her leaky breasts, one of four mermaids making up the large fountain in the center of the plaza.  The plaza is where the action takes place.  Mayan women and men wander around looking for likely candidates for their beautiful handwoven textiles (my weakness) and jewelry and wooden whistles. Around the perimeter, people sell street food + newspapers, shine shoes, offer horse and buggy rides or taxi rides or tuk-tuk rides (small 3-wheeled vehicles with canvas-plastic sides).  A few old folks beg for money.  Sometimes there are outdoor performances.  In the past week, at different times, we have heard a Peruvian pan-pipe band, seen a political demonstration with lots of soldiers carrying guns encircling the square, a handful of young models being tutored by their agent as they paraded elegantly around, and great clumps of school kids all dressed up in crisp-looking uniforms.

Another remnant of centuries past, though I read that it is still used sometimes.  This is the outdoor community laundry area with cement wash basins all in a row.  Very picturesque and timeless and located on the same street as our house.

And finally, this is the view from the terrace on the roof of our house, where the laundry is hung.  Most of the household laundry is done in a modern washing machine by Vickie, the Mayan household helper, but I often hear the sounds of her scrubbing clothes by hand, in the open patio area just outside our room, as I heard in our home in Xela.  Can´t quite give up the old ways, I guess.  I can identify.

Well, this project has been a fun activity for a damp Sunday afternoon.  I expect that we will be very busy and tired this week with our new responsibilities at Safe Passage.  We¨ll catch up later.

Rainy Day in Antigua

Well, it´s a rainy Sunday afternoon in our new city of Antigua, where we´ve been for about 5 days.  After a few days in a very basic hotel, we have moved into the home of a Guatemalan couple - just yesterday.  They seem very nice, much more sophisticated and lively than our family in Xela.  The one dinner that we have shared together was accompanied by lots of animated conversation.  At least for them and the other students - I´m still not too communicative in Spanish but they seem very patient and speak clearly and seem to feel that helping us to learn Spanish is part of their responsibility.  The home is quite large, with about 8 renters.  The young man in the room next to us is from the town of Yarmouth, Maine, and is volunteering at the program that we will be working at - Safe Passage.  There are also a couple of students and a coordinator from Seattle who are studying Spanish and volunteering nearby, as part of a college program.  There are 2 Taiwanese students studying Spanish in preparation for teaching in Central America.  So, it should be an interesting experience.

Our buddies from Xela - Julie, Jeff, Jing, Jacob, and Letizia (in that order around the table, below) - came to Antigua for this weekend.  It was great to see them, and we had fun doing a bit of exploring and some delicious eating!

On our first full day in Antigua last Thursday, we had a tour of the Safe Passage facilities in Guatemala City.  It involved another pick-up truck ride, something we had sworn off from.  Sometimes you have to go with the flow, however.  Once in the city, we visited several sites, including the Guarderia, the beautiful day care center for the youngest students; the facility that houses the classroom for parents working on their own education; the heart of the program which is located in a lovely building and educates the kids of school age; and lastly, a cemetery from which we could look down on the dump where the families - mostly women - sort through the trash of one-third of Guatemalan society, looking for stuff that they can sell.  It was an impressive experience, for the tragedy of families being forced to make a living like this, as well as for the palpable love for these kids expressed by the staff and volunteers.  And they apparently can be tough kids, as one would expect of anyone living in conditions of urban poverty.  So, I hope that we´re up to the challenge!

Looking down on the massive Guatemala City dump, located in a ravine.  The big trash trucks in the forefront give you an idea of scale. 

We have a week before we begin volunteering on October 17, 2011.  In the meantime, we´ll do some touristy stuff in Antigua, which is a very touristy city but a very beautiful UNESCO World Heritage Site.  And we´ll continue to plug away at improving our Spanish.

                             Colonial building in Antiqua city center, with a backdrop of volcano

Antigua is quite a change from Xela - warmer and more upscale, while at the same time exuding a very charming, old-world atmosphere.   It feels like we have returned to the "land of the large" meaning that we spot lots of  big and tall people from away.  It's a bit of a shock to be reminded of how large Americans tend to be and, in our experience,  how clueless we can be about what is appropriate behavior in other cultures.

This is a conservative Catholic country yet, for some reason,  Americans on vacation want to violate the norms of appropriate attire and behavior.   The hot pink tight shorts that you bought on sale at Macy's do not look great on you - especially with the baby doll blouse with the large pink flowers that barely fits you.  I know that your girl friends said it looked adorable on you - they lied.    For the men who insist on wearing that basketball under their shirts - the bright purple polo shirt and tight yellow gym shorts along with the cowboy hat - do not enhance your image - trust me on this.  I don't know why this is so difficult because all the tour books suggest that you dress conservatively, but maybe we have different interpretations of that word.

We are trying to be good representatives of our country and, while we will never blend in, at least we don't want to stand out in the extreme.

Hasta la vista!

transitions

This is a quick update to let you know that we have ¨graduated¨ from our Spanish school and have moved out of our host family.  There was a little ceremony on Friday at which we each gave a quick speech in Spanish to the other students and teachers gathered for a typical Guatemalan soup luncheon.  It´s a little sad to be leaving our small community of students and teachers but, as always at the end of a ¨term¨, it´s a relief to be out from under daily hours of homework.  In my case, it could easily take me 3 hours to do my daily assignment.  That may be why my certificate says that I´m on the Intermediate level.  My writing is not too bad after 80 hours of instruction, but my speaking skills are still rudimentary and painful for all!

We also were ready to be in a new living situation.  All of that time in a bedroom with no outside window left us hungry for sunlight and fresh air, especially since we were not invited to share the rest of the house, except for meals.  The family took very good care of us, but there was an understandable barrier.  Having said that, we exchanged small gifts as our departure time neared and are grateful for the warm welcome that we received from the family.

For the next couple of days we are living in a small hotel downtown with a big window and HOT water (yeah) and water pressure (another yeah) in the shower.  All of this for only about $30 per night for the two of us.

On Wednesday, we´ll take a shuttle van to the beautiful (we hear) colonial city of Antigua where we´ll live for the rest of our time in Guate.  The next day we´ll have a tour of Safe Passage in Guatemala City but won't  begin our work there until the 3rd Monday in October.   In the meantime we´ll try to summon up the self'discipline to commit to memory the mountains of grammatical information from our Spanish classes. 

Adios!

What´s up with that?

"What´s up with that?" is a question that we often ask here in Xela when we don´t understand some aspect of Guatemalan culture.  Some examples:

Honking Horns
It seems that  every driver here honks the horn at every possible opportunity, and the streets ring with the honking of all types, ranges, and volumes of horns.   Any delay in passage along the street calls for constant blaring of the horn for no apparent reason and with no apparent result.   A long line of stalled traffic - caused by a stop light or a sign  - will produce a constant honking, even when the line starts to move.  For some reason that we don´t understand,  there seems to be an assumption that honking will result in a faster flow of traffic.

This happens at other times, as well - when we are crossing the street,  when the driver spots a young woman,  when another car is slowing down, or just randomly for no apparent reason that we can detect.   The only time when horns are not honking is when the traffic is moving rapidly with no obstructions, a rarity here in crowded Xela.

Music and Loud Noise
On the streets, in shops, and in our house,  it seems that the volume of every possible electronic device must be at its highest level.   The shops often have huge speakers blaring loud, ear-splitting music in an attempt, I guess, to attract customers, but it seems to have the opposite effect - at least on us.  In our host family, the radio is on at all times, often with the news or other programs, but it makes it almost impossible to have a conversation at the table.   On the streets,  we spot a number of trucks with large loud speakers on their roofs blaring advertisements, announcements, news and music as they move through the city.

Combined with the constant rumble of trucks without mufflers,  motorcycles, bus conductors yelling destinations, this makes for a constant noise level that is something we find unfamiliar.   This is common in other parts of Latin America, too, but it takes some getting used to.  However, it does lend a certain dynamism to life here.

Boys and their mothers
We were puzzled after observing one of the women in our host family cutting food on the plate of her 17 year old son.   She waited on him hand and foot - running to the tienda next door to buy him a coke,  fetching him food,  serving him from the bowl,  cutting his meat, and removing his dishes - everything but feeding him the food.   We found this uncomfortable and wondered what was going on and why he was being treated with such deference.  The kid did absolutely nothing in the family and had his mother and two aunts to wait on him.  A week later,  a ten-year old grandson arrived, and he was treated exactly the same way.

I asked my teacher about this, and she assured me that it was normal practice in Guatemala where the gender roles are very strict and rigid.   Males, of all ages, are treated with great deference by the females, who are expected to wait on them hand and foot.   The women do all the work around the house, and men do virtually nothing - their role is limited to earning money outside the home but even that seems to break down at times.   My teacher is a young woman with a 6-year old son, and she is trying to raise him differently but, since they live with her traditional family, the boy has the expectation that the women in the home are going to do all the work.  Very strange.

Security
It is very common to see security guards everywhere, most armed with huge 10-gauge shot guns and outfitted with bandoliers of ammunition strapped across their chests.   We might expect them at banks, but they are also at coffee shops, farmacias,  restaurants and even small shops.   It is similar to seeing security guards at the Maine Mall but multiplied a thousand times, with heavy armor.  We have never seen a robbery attempt but we are told that these are not uncommon - thus the need for security.

We are very aware of security issues, given all the warnings about such things here.   We are advised to get home before 9 PM or take a cab, so we try to be inside before 7 - with occasional later weekend times.  All the homes seem to be built with high walls, secure locks, and metal bars on all the lower windows.    Some homes even have razor wire, barbed wire, and broken bottles embedded in cement on the tops of surrounding walls.  Some of these houses have loud aggressive dogs posted on the roof terraces to deter criminals.  This is common in many parts of the world but a far cry from our life in Gorham.

Dynamic Markets
In contrast to the ordered stores and marketplaces of home,  the markets here are huge, colorful, loud, and dynamic.  The market closest to us is a warren of small shops selling everything imaginable.  Mayan women, squatting on blankets, are surrounded by colorful vegetables for sale.   Men wander the area selling belts and crying out to get customers.  Buses and trucks weave through the chaos, honking horns and blaring music.  Vendors sell food from smoking grills or large pots of boiling oil.   Loud music is playing from shops selling cell phones, computers, ice cream, shoes, or anything possible.  Shoeshine boys are snagging customers, Mayan women are selling fabric goods,  food vendors are selling cotton candy, peanuts, fruit, or pastries.

This is unlike any experience that we´ve had at home or on our travels to Europe, where things are much more controlled and ordered.  Here, it seems, anything goes.  There is a certain dynamism and excitement that accompany the chaos.

There are other examples but this covers some of the main things that we have observed thus far - more to come.  Hasta mañana! 

an ancient tradition

On Monday I finished weaving a bufanda, a scarf, which I wove on a back strap loom.  I had seen an ad at school for a lesson in weaving, a skill practiced by the indigenous women here.  It seemed like a great way to immerse myself in this aspect of Mayan/Guatemalan culture.  So Bruce and I went looking for the school, wandering around behind the parque central and found the address for Trama Textiles.  The name comes from the tool, the trama, that is used to hold the thread as it is passed back and forth to create the weaving.  I signed up for the approximately 10 hours that it takes to create a scarf.  Materials and tutelage would cost 325 quetzales ($40).

When I arrived for the first session, I was introduced to Oralia and Amparu, the two Mayan women who run the shop and the organization.  It is a cooperative of 100 women from 12 different indigenous communities.  The designs are unique for each pueblo so that a particular pueblo can be identified by looking at the weaving.  Many of the women are widows from the civil war, which was directed at the Mayans primarily, and which lasted for about 36 years, ending in 1996.

My first task was to choose 3 colors for the scarf, a main color and two others.  I forced myself to make a decision fairly quickly.  For those of you who know me, this is not easy.  And, of course, I second guessed myself.  However, the decision was made, and we got on with the next step, which was to make balls from the skeins of cotton thread that I had chosen.

That done, we moved on to putting the thread onto a wooden frame of sorts, in exactly the correct sequence of colors.  All of that took my first 2.5 hour session.

When I arrived the second afternoon, the thread had been strung and stretched out from one set of wooden bars to another set.  The first set was attached to a door frame.   I held the other set in my lap about 3 feet away.  Attached to that end was a belt around my fanny, which was tightened to give tension to the weaving, ie. the ¨¨back strap¨¨ loom.

                                                    My scarf in the making

Amparu, the older woman, took charge of showing me how to do the actual weaving.  There are 2 steps.  You would think that would be pretty easy for a reasonably intelligent person.  Not so, in this case.  Amparu would demonstrate - and I would try to replicate.  I can hear her now, saying ¨processo dos, Leenda!  processo dos!¨ her voice barely concealing her increasing frustration with this dull gringo.  I was trying to stay calm, while feeling very klutzy and sweaty!  Finally Oralia took over, chewing gum and gently explaining and coaching.  Amparu went away to count to 10.  I began to catch on.   The scarf began to take shape.

The third day was easier, though still requiring exteme concentrtion on my part.  A small group of students from one of the many other Spanish language schools in Xela came to the weaving school on a field trip.  They gathered around to watch me for a few minutes.  But I kept plugging away at processo uno and processo dos. When I completed my 2+ hours that day, Amparu estimated that one more day would do it!

By the time of my fourth session, there had been an interlude of several days.  I hoped that I would remember the process.  No problema.  Once the set of bars, etc. had been suspended, and I had  been strapped into the backstrap, I began weaving and finding a sort of zen-like peacefulness.  It´s very repetitive, a bit like knitting in that respect.  There were mistakes, and many of them didn´t get fixed.  But I finally finished, and my two mentors tied off the ends.  And I love the scarf!

We took photos, including Oralia´s five year old daughter, and I hung out for awhile, exchanging English and Spanish words with the five year old and with a 25 year old woman.  It was raining, of course, since it was afternoon, but we sat under the protective overhang surrounding the open patio.  It felt like a moment to savor, bringing two worlds together through an ancient tradition.