50 Hours and Counting

Surf week in El Salvador, celebrating the end of Seth’s Standardized American Tests in Guatemala, is in full swing. We already feel like we’ve been in the pueblo of El Tunco (pop. 600) for several weeks. Our new friends are all around—it’s hard to walk to either the burrito place or the surf shop without seeing our surfing friends, soccer buddies, or the town drunk.

Today was our first real surf lesson, where we paddled for 20 minutes to get out to the point break. Our instructors don’t speak much English and I don’t have a clue what they’re saying when I ask them to describe what they’re looking for in a wave. “Suave” is the only idea I’ve been able to reconstruct in English. In the morning, before 10 am, the waves are “softer” which makes them easier to ride.

When a suficiently “suave” wave would appear, my instructor would say “Este, Este, Este” very excitedly, and I would start paddling madly. He’d give me a push at the opportune moment, so usually the wave would catch me. The hardest part is getting from the prone position to the standing position—falling into a giant onrushing wave that rips the board away from you isn't quite as dangerous as it sounds ...

I’ll conveniently abridge history and highlight the 3 waves I caught today by myself. Seth is not far behind, which is impressive considering today was his 2nd hour of surfing ever. My friend Strock, on vacation from Richmond, is getting up consistently and leading the charge against both sunburn and dehydration. We buy gallons of water for $1 and drink it straight.

Something that’s not quite as suave is my swimsuit marathon—50 hours and counting in the zebra swim trunks. Don’t worry Mom, I’ll wear them out so you’ll never see or smell them!

White Skinned Money Tree. Or Not.

Today I made my last mandatory trip into Guatemala City. It all started at 4:20am when Jim came into the room. He had slept in another room because he had to leave around 4am (or 4:20am) to get to San Salvador to meet a friend. He came into the room and took some of my money because he couldn't find his. The night before I had carefully figured out how much money I would need to get to and return from the city. Now I was Q. 20 (or just over $2) short of what I had planned. We didn't have many more Quetzales because we were leaving Guatemala, so I began my adventure with what I had and figured I would worry about getting home when the time came.

The chicken bus picked me up right outside my door, but five minutes out of town the bus broke down. Everyone boarded the next bus, which made it to the City, although the driver also stalled out at one point. Because I have white skin the taxi drivers think I am made of money, so they refused to take me all the way to the school. I refused to pay them all the money I had because I wanted to get back to Antigua when I was done. So one driver took me to a city bus station and told me what bus to take. I rode the bus for a bit and got off where the driver told me to. My orientation was messed up (well, I didn't really have any in the first place), so I asked for directions. I ended up taking another taxi to the school, a drive that took less than five minutes. Of course, I was charged an exuberant amount. Again, my white skin. All my adventures took about an hour-and-a-half, and I was and hour-and-fifteen minutes early. After sitting around for a while another kid showed up and we began talking, and behold! he lived in Antigua too!

After the test he gave me a ride back to Antigua. More correctly speaking, his driver gave me a ride back. This was a real blessing because the money I had remaining would have only gotten me partway to the bus station. I guess I need to work on my tan.

The kid who gave me a ride has lived in Guatemala his entire life, so he told me about the culture and dangers of Guatemala. To pass your driver's exam, you don't really have to practice. First, you bribe the instruction to let you pass. If you don't do that you will fail, no matter how wonderful of a driver you are. Second, you drive around a bit with a guy to show you know how to steer. You probably shouldn't get into an accident, but other than that it is insured you will pass. It is also very easy to buy a gun, and most people--at least people who have money/possessions they want to protect, carry a gun in their car.

I also saw the staircase where a head of a government official had been placed in some sort of protest about six months ago. Three government officials had been beheaded and their heads put in three different public locations with warnings written on their foreheads.

While riding I also discovered that McDonalds is to Guatemala City what Starbucks is to New York City. I counted three in the course of about five blocks, but we passed many more!

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

This is our first joint post. Get excited. As we get ready leave Guatemala this weekend, we've quickly reviewed some of the highlights and low-lights of life here in the Guate.

The Good
-Living in a rugged, green country with many mountains and hills
-Ridiculously large amounts of nachos for only $10
-Cheap laundry service
-We are usually the tallest people wherever we go
-Everything is cheaper here than in the US, except for Taco Bell
-When someone gets mad at you, you can pretend you don't understand
-People are always ready to help you find something in the store
-You can carry your bag into the supermarket because you are a gringo while the natives have to leave theirs at the door

The Bad
-The fitted sheets are about a 45 thread count and WILL NOT STAY ON THE MATTRESS AT NIGHT. We promise we're not that bitter ...
-No hot water that comes out of the faucet
-You can't drink the water from the faucets
-When you do have hot water in your shower, you cannot adjust the temperature
-Toilet paper cannot be thrown in the toilet
-Skittles are overpriced (Jim taught a native how to say "ripoff")
-The internet is pretty slow
-The milk is fake and thin
-The historic cobblestones in Antigua are terrible for running
-Nobody can give directions to save their lives


The Ugly 
-Dudes peeing in the street
-Black clouds of exhaust from the buses
-Some of the old Mayan women don't shave their armpits
-The police and national guard need the semi-automatic weapons they carry ... so does the guard at the North Face store?
-The occasional tourist, always American, who sticks a giant telephoto lens in a poor child's face to get a better picture
-Vendors perpetually trying to get you to pay a "gringo premium" for everything at the market.
-Outside of Antigua, the number of houses that are pieces of tin tied together. Thank goodness there's no frost here.

It's All Over Now

Today we finished the last of the cream. What a relief. I prefer plain vanilla yogurt so much on my cereal. I'd never really appreciated it until we had cream every morning for breakfast--a whole yogurt container full.

Okay, I need to take the fall for this one. 

It all started on my first, and because of this incident only, run to the bodegona--the Guatemalan version of a supermarket. We needed yogurt to eat with our cereal and as I was going to get some more strawberry, I noticed another, more pure-looking yogurt container on the top shelf of the refrigerated aisle.  

It was a much whiter container, more simple, with only a few words at the bottom, one of which was "pura." It didn't have any of those fake-looking fruit pictures, just a simple logo. I was so excited. "Momma's going to be so proud of me," I thought, "I just found the healthy yogurt!"

We'd had a discussion in our home a few weeks before about all the chemicals that are legal in Guatemala for use in artificially-flavored foods, so healthy, natural yogurt seemed liked a godsend. I was convinced this find alone, and the accompanying story, would raise my Christmas gift quota from Mom by at least 20% ... can you imagine how excited she'd be to know her son was trying to eat healthy in spite of the evil polluters of Guatemalan food?!?!?

I was so excited when I started to dig in that first morning, because the yogurt was creamy on top. "Oh boy," I thought, "this is just like that super-exclusive, all-natural-no-preservative-unsweetened-from-cows-with-birth-certificates-and-an-organic-diet yogurt like we have at home!"

I kept scooping and it was still creamy. Halfway down the container, cream. At the bottom, cream.

I read the label again. The "Pura" was still there alright--right next to the "Crema." I just had purchased 32 ounces of pure cream. 

Everybody made fun of me; the kids, the parents, the grandparents, our teacher--pretty much anyone who heard the story. Honestly, the universal mockery was nothing compared to that cream every morning with our cereal. It was like eating an unsweetened melted granola bar every morning.

I'm just glad its over.  

I make a phone call for you friend

While on vacation this weekend, I found great reason to appreciate living in the city. Two statements provide proof for my reasoning. First, there are many options for eating in the city. Second, there are no roosters in the city.

When we had about two hours remaining in our eight hour journey, we stopped at a travel agency to get a fresh driver. The owners of the travel agency showed a great concern over where we would stay that night. They offered to call ahead and reserve a place for us. We told them no, but they were so pushy and "helpful" they did anyway. After several calls they informed us only one place had openings for us that night. Several of us (okay, just me) stood in the doorway and made faces at the men behind their backs, all the while whispering that I didn't believe a word they were saying. My intention is not to spoil the story, but I really should trust my gut more often. We finally escaped from these men and continued our journey. Our driver was much more helpful and assured us that trucks from each hotel would meet us upon our arrival in the town.

When we did arrive (the last part was over a 20 mile dirt road), the driver stopped outside the town. There was only one truck waiting for us. Because it was 10 pm we decided not to pick a fight, but Jim did point out that we stopped outside of town. So we drove through town, and away from the town. We drove far enough away from the town to make it too far to walk back. That was probably part of the plan of the hotel owners.

We arrived at our hotel and tried to order some food. They didn't have some food on hand (turns out they didn't have a lot), so our options were very limited. The waiter told us sandwiches were easiest to make late at night, so we ordered those. We waited 30 minutes for our sandwiches. Good thing we didn't order anything more complicated. When they did arrive we discovered the waiter had messed up our orders. It was late, so again, we didn't pick a fight.

In the morning we were waken at 5 am by a rooster. I don't mind waking up at 5 am. I DO mind waking up by the noise of a rooster. The rooster sounded like he was just below my window. Jim thought the rooster was next to his bed. Regardless, the rooster made himself known in a very unpleasant way. After a while the rooster decided it was morning and kept quiet. We finally got some more sleep.

We marched down to the kitchen once again, this time for breakfast. Again, out options were limited. This time we waited 40 minutes for our food, and yet again the waiter messed up the order. We finally left for our day outing. When we returned we grabbed our bags and went in search of the hotel we had wanted to stay at the night before. It was not too hard to find, and while checking in, we asked the receptionist if the hotel had been full the night before. "Oh no," the guy responded, "We only had four guests last night."

So much for the "phone calls" the guys at the travel agency made...

Jim and I used another travel agency to return to Antigua. It is a good thing we did too, because we traveled back during the day, and we were NOT too tired to pick a fight this time around!

Dont' Be a Ladron

Whenever I used to think of someone being burned alive, I would think of the Tibetan monk who poured gasoline over himself in the street and lit himself on fire in protest of the Chinese government. I don't know that much about him, but the picture's famous and I've seen it a couple of times in textbooks or photo collections.

Apparently these sort of things are not quite as rare in Guatemala.

Last week somewhere in the Wild Wild West of Guatemala (in this case the far north) four criminals who were about to walk out of jail scot-free were snatched by the local villagers. According to our host dad, up in that part of Guate the handful of policemen are easy to corrupt. It's quite common to be caught red-handed committing a violent crime and through bribery, walk away without any punishment. 

These villagers decided the best way to set an example of these 4 criminals would be to burn them. So they did.

The human-torch theme gets crazier. A few days later two Mayan women were caught pickpocketing tourists in the local market. Because all the locals recognize how much of the Antigua economy is from tourism dollars, they were pretty ticked off and decided to punish the women--by burning them. 

Fortunately the every-present Antigua police intervened, but it was a close call according to our host family. Keep in mind that Antigua is regarded as the safest and most law-abiding place in Guatemala. Undoubtedly these women paid the right folks and are now back on the streets, so we're watching our pockets and not carrying any matches.

The Movie Rights Are for Sale

Riding on a shuttle bus to and from touristy place has been our number one location for meeting people and hearing stories. This one is close to the top of the list.

On the way back from Lake Atitlan two weekends ago, we rode along a very, very sketchy road (that was closed the next day for a week ...) with 5 Americans and a 30-something Canadian aircraft mechanic from Calgary.

He came to Lake Atitlan about a month ago, intending to compete in a bike race and then peace out, staying for a total of 10 days. The race was an International Courier Race for professional couriers that required riding around on racing bikes for a day and then doing some charity work. Not a big deal. This  fellow used to be a courier and he thought it'd be a good way to spend a vacation.

His second night at the lake, his friends took him out to dinner with a bunch of other white folks who lived in the area. What they didn't tell him was that a certain school teacher was coming--his college girlfriend who he hadn't seen in 13 years since they broke up.

The other van occupants were mostly female and they were eating this story up with a predictable amount of ooing and ahhing. One of them asked if she looked the same as she did in college, and our Canadian friend said, "Absolutely not--she looks better." At this point the emotional level on the bus reached unprecedented heights and we were all in critical danger of clasping our hands, closing our eyes, and sighing deeply.

When asked for further details, our friend, undoubtedly made extremely uncomfortable by the lavish display of emotion, shrugged his shoulders and said he didn't know what their relationship status was.

For the rest of the van, the story ended there, but yours truly managed to weasel out a few more juicy details at the rest stop. Our friend was trying to get home on time so he wouldn't lose his job (he'd already extended his vacation by two weeks), but he is coming back. "As soon as I sell my $12,000 worth of bikes," he said, "I'm quitting my job to come down here and be with her."

If anyone wants to film his story or otherwise get in contact with him, I might recognize a picture.

A Tribute to Forrest

Seth had the SAT in Guatemala City this morning, so I went running without the Peanut Gallery ... he always says "I'm not the one who wants to be in the Marine Corps--I can take a  break whenever I want" and other snide remarks in an attempt to detract from the intensity of our runs ...

I hopped on a chicken bus to the next town and then started running down a road. In typical fashion, it turned out to be a dead end. I turned around and eventually found a different road that wound north through the mountains. I never know where I'm headed on these runs, I usually just run in one direction for half an hour or so and then run back. All of a sudden came around a curve and saw the road drop off dramatically under the Bienviendos a San Antonio Aguas Caliente sign. The valley where San Antonio was situated was probably the most beautiful town I've visited in Guatemala.

I can't find a picture to do it justice and I don't feel like writing 1000 words to compensate ... what I liked so much was the valley formed by an unusually large number of mountains, so the topography was very different all the way around. It also was quite small, probably less than a mile long, giving the valley a hideaway feel. Needless to say I didn't see any other foreigners.

A Barking, Self-made Boss

Jim and I are back building houses this week. The last two mission teams we have worked with had their quirks, but this most recent team tops the list. One older man, who was a private contractor back in the day, likes to do things his way. Most people do, so no big deal. And because this guy has years of experience, most of his ideas are good too. He likes, however, not only likes to do things his way, but also ask people why they are doing things the hard way when they aren't doing a job his way. And if something goes wrong he likes to play detective so he has someone to blame. Everyone on the team gives him a hard time. My favorite memory so far occurred the first day after he blamed my team for taking his supplies (later it turned out we actually didn't). After his little speech, which was full of annoyed energy, he walked away and I turned to my fellow workers with an alarmed look on my face. They shrugged the chastising off and assured me that "his bark was worse than his bite."

So far I have only been barked at, not bitten.

Another private contractor has the craziest sense of humor. One time he asked me for help carrying a role of insulation (which is very light). He was hunched over limping as he called my name, but when I jumped up to help he straightened up and literally threw the insulation where it needed to be--with a huge grin on his face too! Another time he asked someone which way was north. Apparently north is straight up, right towards the sky!