Maya Pedal, Chimaltenango Guatemala

Wow! What a busy past couple of days I've had. I'm now sitting at the kitchen table of Maya Pedal, the bike project I was originally going to volunteer at in Chimaltenango, Guatemala. I didn't think I was going to make it here, because the coordinator (who is actually based in Canada) had told me there was no space for new volunteers until February. But then in San Cristobal the other day I got another email from her saying that sometimes there are cancellations and that I should call, so I did, and lo and behold there was, in fact, now space for me, so I decided right then to book a ticket back here asap and get going. I was feeling so bored and restless in San Cristobal... I think that if I had been there as part of an actual project or something it would have been different, but since I was just kind of hanging out in a hostel it all began to feel a bit empty. I did, however, get really inspired by all the amazing stencil art that was painted on many of the buildings (I took lots of pictures) and added a few of my own, which at the very least gave me a bit of a project to put my energy into.

But anyway, so I got back on a shuttle at 7am Wednesday morning, reached the border around 11, had to wait nearly two hours for our connecting shuttle on the Guatemala side, and then finally arrived back in Xela at La Casa de l@s Amig@s around 4:30 pm. The first thing I did was stop in at PLQE to collect all the mail that I didn't receive in time for Christmas, and I had a fabulous little Christmas moment all over again with the adorable cleaning lady looking on and commenting on all fabulous vegan booty that I got. It made me so happy that people had actually put a lot of time and energy into sending me packages, and I was definitely glad I had decided to go back when I did. I was also really pleasantly surprised that I actually still knew almost everyone who was staying at the hostel, since I had assumed they would have mostly finished out their time and moved on by the time I got back. So it was nice to be welcomed by familiar faces, too.

The rest of my time in Xela basically consisted of having my laundry done (cause it's super cheap there, especially compared to Mexico), doing email, and eating the quinoa and chocolate that I got in the mail. I got on the bus with so much baggage it was embarrassing at 2:30pm yesterday afternoon and arrived here in Chimaltenango at about 7:30 at night. Luckily the cab driver let me use his cell phone cause I realized that I didn't actually have an exact address, though I think the driver pretty much knew where it was anyway. I was warmly greeted by a whole crew of other Americans, which was a bit of a surprise but also something of a relief, since I was worried that maybe I had misunderstood the woman I had talked to on Wednesday- I was envisioning showing up at this random place in this totally non-touristy town and be turned away, forced to try to find shelter elsewhere or maybe even flee to Guatemala City! But no- everything was fine. Three of the folks who were here when I showed up were film students from Chicago, making a documentary about the project in the hopes of helping get more funding/ other support. They were super nice but unfortunately they were leaving today, so I only got to hang out with them for a little bit. But my last 24 hours have definitely been full of activity. Upon my arrival I was shown up to the living quarters where all the volunteers stay, which is basically 3 rooms above the bike shop with some "beds" (I use the term loosely) and a toilet, and a shower which at the moment doesn't actually have any water. A very friendly girl named Laura announced that I would be sharing her bed, since it was the only double bed of the eight they had, but in the end she decided to sleep on the roof since it was a beautiful night and I had the bed all to myself. I guess I get it tonight, too, since she went to Guatemala City for the night to go visit her boyfriend there. After that I'll take one of the less cushy ones recently vacated by the Chicago-ites, which is fine, too.

Anyway, today everyone else got up at 6:45 to go on some nature trek that the main director guy, Carlos, had planned, but I was super exhausted from my last few days on the road and stayed in bed until 9am. It felt really luxurious, but eventually I reminded myself that I am here to work, not hang out, so I got up, tried and failed (due to the lack of water) to take a shower, and eventually got downstairs and made some breakfast just as a group of about 8 visitors showed up for a tour. The main lady who runs the shop, Johanna, gave little demonstrations of all the different bicycle-powered machines they make here, including corn grinders, coffee grinders, clothes washers, water pumps, and, (my personal favorite, albeit the least actually needed), the bici-licuadora, or bicycle powered blender. Then she led everyone upstairs to the bicycle showroom, out of which are sold the bikes that the shop puts together out of other old bikes. I was a little surprised at the relatively high prices of the bikes, but one of the other volunteers explained that they have to pay super crazy taxes to import all the old bikes here from the United States, where the bikes are collected and packed into shipping containers to be used for parts and new bikes here. Apparently too they had a major problem with their shipment last year, wherein it was actually held up in customs for almost the entire year, leaving the project with virtually no income and no materials for a very long time. Anyways, I also learned that the machines made here are also sold, at cost, to various indigenous groups locally and even to cooperatives as far away as Africa, since many of these communities don't have electricity and this allows them to process their own corn, coffee, or whatever (one women's collective near here uses the licuadora to produce natural shampoos) they need to generate some income and become more self-sufficient. It's a pretty amazing concept, so I'm hoping that during my brief stay here I can actually make some kind of a contribution.

Even though I was all set to jump right into working today, Johanna told me that since the Chigago folks were leaving they had all agreed that today would be a mellow day w/ a little celebration to see them off. While we waited for the others to get back from their hike, I attempted to install some brakes on a bike that is about halfway done, but after hours of digging through old brakes and brake pads, only to discover that the ones I had finally matched up are actually not long enough to reach the rims, I gave it up. It really made me realize how very little I really know about bicycles, because even though I have done a few basic repairs on my own bikes over the years, I have never built a bicycle from scratch, and much less with only used, often ill-fitting parts to choose from. It's going to be slow going, I think.

But the other thing I did today was play with the adorable puppy the two girls who are here from MIT found abandoned in the market yesterday. She totally has worms and probably lots of other problems, so the two guys were both like, "ew, don't bring that thing in here", but I was like "whatever, the least we can do is get her de-wormed and vaccinated" so today we got the ball rolling on that project. When they brought her in last night she was looking super ill and sluggish, and basically just wanted to burrow into our arms and sleep, but then today after some food and water she was already looking way healthier and was jumping around and playing a lot more. She is sooo cute! We named her worms, for obvious reasons, but hopefully after we give her her pill and the garlic we've been feeding her it won't be such a relevant name anymore. One really cool thing about being in a tiny town is that every tienda has like 4 purposes, so in order to get her sorted out we just walked down to the cell phone/ canned goods/ veterinary supply store and bought a de-worming pill for 10 quetzales, and also learned that they do parvovirus vaccinations for 37.50 Q (about $5 US) so we're gonna bring her in tomorrow for that, too. It's amazing how everything is just so much cheaper here- in the US it would cost like $50 just to take her to the vet and then another $20 or so to have her vaccinated, whereas here it's as simple as taking her to the corner store. Lucky for her, and for us! I don't really know who's gonna look after her when these MIT girls go back home though, although one girl has already offered to adopt her and bring her back to the US. I don't know how viable that is with immigration and stuff but I guess we'll just have to look into it and hopefully everything will turn out okay for her! It's so sad though how many stray dogs there are here- people simply can't afford to spay and neuter them, so instead they just breed like crazy and then run around in packs till they starve to death or get some disease or run over by a car or something. And then of course, just like in the US, there are STILL pet stores selling intentionally bred puppies- it is soooo crazy! Very little makes me more frustrated than people buying animals that were bred on purpose when there already so many going hungry and dying for lack of a good home. I guess I could say the same about children, though, too (and I do).

Anyway, so once everyone got back from their hike we all piled back into Carlos' truck and headed to this hot springs nearby, only to discover that we had come at the exact time that the water there gets cleaned every week (it's like a man-made pool that is fed by natural hot springs). So that was a bit of a disappointment, but then we went to this other weird sort of amusement park thing that had a pool (not hot) so a few people went swimming, and we had a fabulous picnic and everyone gave little goodbye speeches (they were really rolling out the red carpet for the film folks) and it was all just lovely.

So that's kind of been my last couple of days. I'm kind of amazed at how relatively smoothly everything has gone, since it is me, after all, and it is Guatemala to boot. But I'm not complaining! My only complaint right now is how much crap I'm hauling around at the moment, but a bunch of that is getting mailed back home as soon as I'm in Miami so once I embark on the South American leg of my journey I hope to have substantially lightened my load! At the moment I'm hauling my backpack, a huge blanket that requires it's own bag, a hammock thing I bought, my regular purse bag thing with my laptop in it, and a huge, heavy box that is mostly fiilled with food but also contains a few things I bought in Mexico to send home. I'm super sad though that I somehow managed to leave behind a whole bag of really nice goodies that I had bought in Chiapas, both for gifts and for myself! Wah! I'm hoping that maybe if my friend Spike comes down to Guatemala he will have grabbed the stuff and can bring it down for me, but it seems like a long shot so I'm not holding my breath. It wasn't anything expensive, but there were some really sweet Zapatista-related things that I really can't find anywhere else. And also my ipod has just mysteriously stopped working.... hmmm...

But yeah, I guess since these are my biggest problems at the moment then I'm in pretty good shape, so wish me luck and let's hope things stay this way! Thanks for reading and as always, keep me posted on what ya'll are doing! Huge hugs to all, xoxo Pike.

Zapatista Encuentro, Ahoy!

Hi Everyone! Well, sorry this has been a while coming. I haven´t really had much access to the internet as of late, so there you go.

I´m currently in the town of San Cristobal de las Casas, in the state of Chiapas, Mexico. I took a couple of buses up here from Guatemala the day after Christmas so I could attend the Zapatista Women´s Encuentro con las Mujeres del Mundo, being that I am, in fact, a mujer del mundo (woman of the world).

So I got into San Cristobal around 4pm on Wed, the 26^th, after an arduous 9-plus hour journey from Xela, and flapped around in frustration for a bit while I tried to get SOMEONE to give me change so I could use the phone to call the girl I was potentially supposed to stay with. Nobody but nobody was trying to help me break the 100-peso note that the ATM had given me, not even the people inside the bank when I eventually gave up on the shops and stood waiting in the line to talk to a real human teller. Now I´m no expert, but when someone at a BANK tells you that there is no way they can possibly make change for what is the equivalent of a $10 note, you know that something is seriously amiss. As it turns out, this was an important introductory lesson to Mexico, as I have now come to expect the look of shock and sweeping panic that appears on the face of any vendor I approach with any money worth over $1. It´s as if there´s a national conspiracy to Not have change, and just about everyone is in on it.

Anyway, so eventually the parents of a friend I had ridden the shuttle there with suggested that I try to just use the phone in their hotel, or at the very least try to get change for the phone there. So I did, and after much misunderstanding the guy finally gave me the denominations I needed to make my phone call- hooray! But success was not yet to be mine: I very rapidly then discovered that actually, none of the phones here take change- they only work with a card you have to buy, for a minimum of 30 pesos. Well. We all know that I have sort of a pattern of ¨harsh landings¨ when I get to a place, so I tried to bear this in mind as I then eventually went back to the evil tourism office that had originally been the first to deny me the change, and after much ado managed to use one of the phone booths there to make the call. And… nobody answered. At this point I decided that it was time to give up and move on, so I consulted my little list of potential places to stay, got a free map from the evil tourism place and headed toward the cheapest hostel on the list that looked close.

I never actually found it, but I wound up at a different one for the same price (60 pesos, about $6US) and just stayed there for the night. I managed to email my friend Rahel (who I had met at Spanish school and who I was supposed to meet up with to go to the encuentro) and so I spent the rest of the evening kind of wandering around San Cristobal and then taking out my extensions and redying my hair (it was looking bad). The showers were hot and again, I just have to express my extreme joy at the very concept of hot showers. I slept well.

In the morning I got up and was making breakfast when Rahel turned up, right on time at 10am, so we sat and ate and then headed straight back out to the buses from there. She was a real trooper considering that she had just spent the entire night before on a bus from Punto Escondido, a 13-hour bus ride away from San Cristobal. We caught a collectivo to Ocasingo and from there, by sheer chance, ran into a couple of punks from Spain that were able to direct us to the pickup that then shuttled us another 2 hours or so to the caracol of La Garrucha, where the encuentro was being held.

The pickup ride was kind of an adventure in itself, since there were 13 of us herded into the back of the truck with a big wire frame all around it. 3 of us sat way on top the whole time (I wasn´t one of them- not so much for lack of interest as lack of spots on top) and the rest of us either stood or sat on top of a backpack or pile of blankets for the bumpy, dusty ride. Those of us who were sitting couldn´t really see anything, so when the truck stopped for the last time and I stood up to look around, it was kind of a really funny surprise when the first thing I saw were the ski-mask-covered faces of about 15 traditionally dressed indigenous women looking up at us as we stood and began to jump down from the truck. They were the ¨registration committee¨, and once we had finally all provided our names and personal details, we were escorted past various mural-covered buildings to the large concrete room beneath a giant stage that would serve as the main bunking quarters for all those of us who did not have tents for the remainder of the encuentro. The middle of the space was slung with at least 20 hammocks, all diagonally tied side by side like a line of cars in a parking lot. The rest of us had to stake out spaces on the floor all around the perimeter, and those unfortunate souls who came too late had to stash their stuff in a corner and then try to sleep on the floor under the hammocks once it was time to go to bed. I wasn´t really sure what the policy was on taking pictures, so I erred on the side of caution and resisting the urge to shoot all of the amazing murals and signs that were covering nearly every outdoor surface. My favorite was the handwritten sign that was posted in various places, stating (in Spanish, of course): In this Encuentro, men are NOT allowed to participate in: relating, speaking, answering questions, translation, or talking of any kind during the meetings. Men are ONLY allowed to assist with the following tasks: Sweeping and cleaning the areas, especially the latrines; cooking and preparing meals; caring for the children; and washing and cleaning whatever needs to be cleaned. I thought it was super interesting, then, that so many men were there anyway, ostensibly to support their ladies (or, perhaps, to meet one?) At times, in fact, it looked like there were more men than women, though in actuality the numbers were probably about even since a lot of times the women were off in meetings somewhere, leaving the guys to kind of mill around in the center and hang out with each other.

Soooo, the meeting(s): Wow. I came having no real idea of what to expect, since I have never before been to a Zapatista caracol (the word means ¨snail shell¨in Spanish, and is used to indicate an opening or portal to outsiders by the Zapatistas- there are five different caracols, each one the ‘center of government’ so to speak for a respective community) or meeting. The day I arrived was actually the day before the encuentro officially began, so we kind of wandered around and tried to find some food or a kitchen to cook in, eventually locating the one tienda that had black beans and tortillas ready to eat and turning in for an early night. We made friends with the folks sleeping in the spot next to ours, two students from D.F. (Mexico City) named Carmen and Jorge. They were super nice, and patient with my bad Spanish. They, too, had not been to a caracol before and we all speculated a bit on what the next couple of days would be like.

The next day was pretty mellow for the most part. I had been expecting that there would be more opportunities to kind of jump in and help stuff like setting up, childcare, or whatever, but there really wasn´t much they seemed to need done, so eventually I jumped in and painted a couple of signs for the latrines encouraging the ladies to not throw hygiene products into them, but rather into bags that were provided. This was about the extent of my active participation, I´m sorry to say, but it soon became apparent that that´s just kind of how this gathering was going to be. The food situation was interesting, too, cause rather than one or two kitchens serving everyone like I´m used to at big outside events, there were a number of tiny eateries that had been set up by various families, each with a set menu of basically either rice and beans (15pesos) or chicken in soup w/ veggies (25pesos). Later a few started offering empenadas, some of which were even vegan (just beans or potatoes inside a fried tortilla), much to my delight. There were also little stores selling everything from bottled water and toilet paper to cookies and other junk food, so rather than pay a donation or fee to attend the whole gathering, we kind of just paid for what we needed as we went along.

Okay, yeah, but so I still haven´t even started talking about the meetings… geez I talk (write) a lot… I just hate leaving out details, and actually I usually already am anyway so just remember, this is all in the interest of giving you a clear idea of what I´m up to!

The opening meeting kicked off in the early evening, and began, as all the other meetings would begin, with a blast of insanely loud Mexican polka as the Compañeras, in balaclavas and grouped by caracol (indicated by different colored ribbons on top of their ski masks), walked single file across the main field and into the auditorio, a rough wooden building that had had the front (back?) removed to allow more benches to be placed there for people to sit and listen. After the Compañeras were arranged either on stage or in their seats in the audience, the rest of us women would file in and locate a seat on one of the benches. The first two days of talks were mainly about the differences many of the women had observed between their lives as women now as opposed to before their uprising in 1994. In Zapatismo, women are unequivocally granted the same rights as men, which is actually something extremely significant in many of the cultures these women come from. Many shared stories of how women were treated `worse than animals’, being deprived of the right to an education, to choose whom or whether they married, how many children they had, or the right to expect any sort of assistance from their husbands in household tasks, including raising the children. They spoke too of how alcoholism had decimated many of their communities and oftentimes there was no money left for food because their husbands had spent it all on booze (which made me think of several of my grandmothers´ experiences). There is no drinking permitted on Zapatista land, and people who are considered Zapatistas are generally expected to be clean and sober, so this, too, has been a significant improvement. Various women described the efforts they´ve made to build their own schools, clinics, and other forms of infrastructure free of the government, and of the profound difference it has made to simply have something as basic as a clinic to treat infirmities that for most of us wouldn´t be a big deal but that for poor campesinos with no access to treatment, were often deadly. It is difficult to comprehend the extreme level of neglect that the indigenous people of Mexico had been facing prior to their uprising, but hearing about it firsthand made it all the more incredible to me that in the face of so much need these folks were able to pull together and form a movement powerful and cohesive enough to not only force the government to pay attention, but to grow and thrive in the face of brutal governmental backlash, stronger now fourteen years later than they could have imagined when they started.

So although it seemed to me at first that a lot of the speeches were more overviews and a bit heavy on the dogma, I still think that for what it was, it was incredible. I do wish that the format had been more open, because basically the structure was very “us” & “them”, not really allowing for much actual interchange or discussion. On the last day there was time for various visiting groups to get up and talk for 5 minutes each, and at the end of each session of speeches there was a 5 minute period allotted for the reading and answering of questions that the audience had written down, but a lot of these went totally unanswered if the women didn´t really know what to say or didn´t like the question. So it definitely wasn´t perfect, but again, for what it was, it was certainly worthwhile.

Anyway, aside from getting totally bedridden-ly ill on the third day of the conference (I was totally incapacitated with a winning combination of nausea, diarrhea and menstrual cramps- what fun!), I don´t really have much more to report. It was nice to spend the New Year there, in a totally sober environment for once instead of being surrounded by people who are totally wasted, like most New Years. I danced a lot to the Mexican polka with my friends, and they even played a couple of songs that were NOT Mexican polka, so that was cool too.

The trip back to San Cristobal on New Years Day was sort of miserable, since it was raining and by the time we got from La Garrucha to Ocasingo, all the collectivos back to San Cris had left for the day, leaving us to try to find our own way out. It was only a few hours til dark but we (me, Rahel, and our new friend Spike) decided that we had to at least try to hitch a ride, and after about 25 minutes of unsuccessfully attempting to get to the nearest gas station, an already full pickup stopped and offered us a lift all the way to San Cris for 50 pesos each, only a dollar more than the collective would have been, so we apologized to everyone already in there and hopped in, shoving our bags as best we could into the already huge pile of luggage. Poor Rahel spent the next 3 hours perched on the tailgate, trying to stay warm and dry as best she could as the rest of us just dealt with being super crammed together.

Eventually, though, we made it back, and after several attempts managed to find a hostel with some space where we spent the next few days. Now I´m at a place called La Finka (the farm), though why it´s called that I don´t really know since it´s totally urban. I guess they have some houseplants that look pretty good… Anyway, there are tons of hippies but it´s okay. Okay, I´m gonna post this now cause I´ve got one minute left on the computer! Bye! Love me

Two weeks gone and lots to say!

So the past two weeks have been hectic, but good. I finally feel like I've at least made some kind of quantifiable improvement in my Spanish ability, even if I still have a LOT of practicing to do. For the most part, the time since my last entry has been spent running from errand to school to yoga to homework, with a few opportunities to hang out w/ my friends Laura & Alex. I've also taken two very specific trips out of town, one to Panajachel & one to Guatemala City, both of which were challenging and rewarding in their own special ways...
Let's see, what have been the highlights? Okay, well, in no particular order, here it goes:
- Finally getting my Christmas stuff finished and in the mail! Not easy, but fun in a demented, totally irrational sort of way. Irrational most especially because I kind of don't even believe in the whole "Christmas as an excuse for consumer insanity" phenomenon. But every year it's the same: I tell myself that I'm just going to make a few phone calls on Christmas Day and leave it at that, really simple... but of course, at the last minute, I am always hit by a massive wave of guilt and worry, because I know I've been too absent as a family member as it is, the least I can do is try to show my relatives that I really DO care (cause I DO, it's just hard when I'm away all the time to show it)... so then, a few weeks before Christmas and months after I originally decided not to do anything, I freak out and start trying to brainstorm what to get people, cause if there's one thing I'm really bad at it's giving people presents that they haven't actually asked for. So then I fret and worry and panic and run around like crazy trying to make or do something appropriate that people will actually enjoy, even though in reality nobody really expects anything from me anyway, since I'm usually so bad at this kind of thing... anyway, it's a mess. But then, finally, at the last minute I always manage to basically pull something together and so there we have it, next thing you know I'm taking a bus 5 hours each way to Guatmala City to Fed Ex a bunch of packages out since I didn't do it in time to just mail it normally like everyone else. But such is the impetuous excitement that is my life.
-The trip to Panajachel: while some would not have bothered with the 8-bus, 6 hour round trip journey that is Xela to Pana via chicken bus just to be in Pana for a couple of hours, I was actually quite looking forward to the experience. I had been in Pana in 2001 for a few days and I remembered that even though it is really touristy, they DO have an amazing artisan's market, along w/ vegetarian places to eat and even a tiny health food store. So I had a list of requests from friends in addition to the stuff I was going to get anyway, and I guess since I wasn't in a huge rush or anything it was a lot easier to take all the little inconveniences of the journey in stride. It took me ages to actually figure out what bus to take, because unlike what I was told, I could not find a direct bus anywhere. Instead I got on a bus for Guatemala City, and then, after several hours of not really knowing where we were or whether I was on the right bus, it was time for me to get off and transfer at someplace called "Los Encuentros", which I guess basically translates to "The Crossroads". Then I caught another bus to the town of Solola, which my friend Stella informed me is home to a huge Soy dairy that even has soy ice cream available, but unfortunately I was on a Mission and didn't have time to really stop. The bus from Solola to Pana was only another 30 minutes or so, and by the time we pulled in it was around 1 o'clock in the afternoon. The weather was great, not too hot but with the sun shining brightly, and I took a walk down the main strip to first get oriented, then walked back along the shore of Lake Atitlan, which is totally gorgeous. Then I located the health food store, which really only had a few vitamins, not really any food at all, bought the probiotics my friend had requested and then headed across the street to eat at the Bombay Cafe, a cute little vegetarian restaurant that is owned by some old traveller gringo dude. I had previously read a review of the place online that claimed they had tempeh burgers, so that was what originally had lured me in, but as it turns out there is basically NO tempeh anywhere in Guatemala right now, cause believe me ya'll, I've checked. I guess the supplier dried up or something, I don't really know...
Anyway, instead I ate a delicious tofu burger that was served with a whole little Thali-like plate of garnishings and condiments, so I was really happy to be eating something that was both healthy AND delicious, a combination that is somehow exceedingly rare here. After lunch, I cruised through the dizzying array of artisans' markets, on a mission for just a couple of things that I was able to find fairly easily, much to my relief. I negotiated a few decent (but still fair) deals and was on my way back to Xela by 5 o'clock that night. It was great. Upon my arrival back in Xela, I managed to squeeze into my first Collectivo here, a shared taxi service ("microbus" as they say here) that basically packs the absolute maximum amount of people who will fit in it, since the drivers are private and are paid by the person. The two boys hanging off the side of the bus hollering "Parque parque parque!!!" and hustling everyone in and out could not have been more than ten years old, but my maternal instinct has learned to chill out here because not only is it common here to see children working or riding in extremely dangerous situations (like climbing onto the roof of the chicken bus while it's racing along the highway to retrieve a basket of turkeys that someone needs on the next stop), it's expected. These kids are amazingly adept at not getting killed, as is, I suppose, pretty much everyone else who lives here in Guatemala.
Another note about the chicken busses (so called because of the frequent bringing of live animals of all kinds on the bus for the ride to the market): while many tourists complain about the completely irrational driving habits of the chicken bus drivers (they, too, are paid only by how many people they transport), I have to say that in some respects I really appreciate the fact that they are not really willing to wait around for no reason, losing precious time and money. For instance, on the road to Pana, we hit the never-ending traffic jam that is the main highway. As far ahead as the eye could see, traffic in our direction was at a complete standstill, with construction workers half-heartedly picking away the road on either side of us, whilst oncoming traffic was zooming freely by us. Our valient driver did what any logical person who is not afraid of death would do: he swerved violently into the lane for oncoming traffic and gunned it down the highway at top speed, laughing as the trucks and cars coming towards us were forced to squeeze between our bus and the lane of traffic we had just departed. Eventually, we came head to head with a semi truck and as it was impossible for us both to pass, our bus swerved smoothly back into to line of traffic on the correct side of the road, utilizing a space that had somehow magically opened up for us there. It was cool.
Another highlight of that bus trip came a short time later, when, being really and truly unable to move, the women on the bus (who had been holding their bladders for a good 3 hours at this point) rushed to the front and out to a little hill, where all of us, young and old, Maya and gringa (me), peed together and laughed at ourselves while we did so . It was kind of a nice moment, since the last time I just had to get off the bus to pee (on my first trip to Xela) I was the only female-bodied person to do so, and felt a little self-conscious about it. Anyway, it was a fun trip and I feel like I caught a bit of a glimpse of normal life for the indigeneous folks here that I don't usually have as much access to.
- Guatemala City! Okay, so yeah, even though the nightly news would have us all afraid to so much as set foot in this huge, filthy, sprawling city of multiple nightly murders and apparently constant crime and corruption, I have to admit that I actually really enjoyed my one sleepless, crazed night there. Basically, I convinced my Spanish teacher to move our class to the morning on Tuesday, so then I stayed up super late Monday night (after class) arranging and organizing packages, got up at 7am to be in class by 8, raced back home at 1pm to pack up all my stuff and took a cab to the bus station to catch the 2:30pm bus to Guatemala City. Theoretically, it takes about 4 hours to get there, but we hit a massive traffic jam on the way there, which effectively dashed any hopes I had of ever getting there in time to mail stuff that evening. We finally pulled into the city bus terminal at about 8:30pm, and by the time I had sorted out a place to stay (a cheap hotel not far from there) and gotten in the cab there, it was a little after nine pm. I was exhausted, but seeing as the hotel was really close to all the major tourist attractions (the National Palace, etc) I figured it was a perfectly good idea to go for a walk around and try to see if I could spot any photo developing places to try to hit first thing in the morning, since the photos I was printing for my parents were still missing a few crucial moments I had thought I had printed already. Anyway, so I jettisoned everything but a well-hidden 100-quetzal note (about $13 US), my hotel room key and my water bottle, which I figured could maybe double as a weapon if needs be, and headed out, exhausted but curious, into the mellow night air.
As it turns out, there was virtually no one out in the part of town I was staying in, a stark contrast to the Tenderloin-esque street scenes of arguements, open drug use and public urination I had left behind near the bus station, only 5 minutes away via cab. On the contrary, virtually the only people I saw were already asleep, curled up in the middles of sidewalks without so much as a blanket to take the edge off. So it was quiet, and I headed down the street in the direction (according to the map in the guidebook I had consulted before leaving the hotel) of the main tourist stuff. I immediately discovered that the guidebook, in addition to providing what must be the absolutely most useless map of the city that has ever existed, was actually wrong even about the location of my hotel in relation to everything else, but fortunately only by a few blocks. It was weird, though, that the map was wrong even though I actually had first discovered the hotel in the listings there. But whatever, nothing surprises me anymore. I've come to believe that if something so much as even mentions the word "Guatemala," it is basically inaccurate and convoluted, though usually with the best of intentions. I love it here, but omg is nothing easy.
Anyway, I was walking down the street, mentally composing my sarcastic letter of correction to the guidebook author, when I had to stop short and gape in total, blissful amazement at the massive spraypainted graffiti on the wall across the street: it read, in huge red capital letters, "LESBIANAS FEMINISTAS REBELDE!" and then, tacked onto the upper right hand corner, was a spraypainted stencil reading "estamos en todas partes!". I was just like, "no effing WAY. NO WAY is this really here- how amazing!!!" and immediately determined that I really need to spend some time in the Capital and maybe not write it off so quickly. I was on the lookout after that, and soon noticed several spraypainted anarchy symbols and then some more feminist graffiti, this time with the words, "Mujeres con dignidad rebelde!". Then there was the gorgeous wheatpaste art that was basically massive (like 4x6 feet) images of glam 1940's-style femme women (one was Liz Taylor) pasted up in increments of standard 8 1/2" x 11" pages; I saw at least three of those, also in the same neighborhood as my hotel. The next morning, after being basically completely unable to sleep at all despite my insane tiredness, I got back out of bed at 6:20 am and took another walk, this time encountering more street art, including some that simply said ORPA (Organizacion del Pueblo en Armas- one of the main resistance groups in the 80's and 90's), and more stencil art, this time of some really beautifully done faces, I assume of someone famous here but I don't know who. Oh yeah, and there was some nice stencil art under a bridge on the way into the city, too, along with some slogans about the rich and poor that I couldn't quite make out before we had pulled past it. So all that alone makes it worth it for me. Even though the trip was exhausting and expensive, I am totally excited that I got to see all that amazing art and feel like maybe this place isn't as alien to me as it sometimes seems. Plus, and above all, I got my packages mailed and was able to breathe easy once I got back on the bus to Xela. So: Mission Accomplished.
-Although I got to go to yoga every day last week, I haven't gone once this week, mostly due to being so busy or not here, but then today, when I finally had time to go, I woke up feeling super disgusting and ill after overdoing it a bit at the Indian restaurant last night. I have been hearing about this place since I got to Xela, but this was the first time I had gone since I've been really trying not to spend money by just eating at home, which I am, after all, still paying for. But it was my friend Colleen's last night in town, and she gathered up a big posse of us and away we went. Who would've thought that one of the best Indian places I've ever eaten at would be right here in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala?! Totally random, but true. Anyway, we got a little crazy with the ordering and I ended up eating WAY too much, which I spent the rest of the night and all of this morning paying for. It was horrible, but still, I think, worth it. The thing with Indian food is that you really don't realize until you watch someone make it just how much oil is really in there. It's frightening. I remember years ago this crazy Australian girl named Leila was staying at our house in San Francisco, and every night she would make us these awesome, restaurant-quality curries, and I was dying to learn exactly how she did it. But when I saw her dump literally half a bottle of the lowest, nastiest-quality oil ever into the pan, I totally freaked out and realized that the only reason it tastes so much better at restaurants is that they totally do not hold back on the oil, meaning that your food has about 20 times more fat in it than if you had tried to cook it yourself. And this lesson, learned so many years ago, was replaying itself in my mind today as I cursed my bowels and wished for the pain to stop. But whine whine, poor me, such dramas of excess I really don't expect much sympathy for. Anyway, in retrospect, the food was so good that I kind of still think it was worth it;)
Let's see, anything else big this week? Not really I don't think, at least not for me. Lots of news with other people though, including two surgeries, one of which was a totally unexpected quadruple bypass on Marco, my cousin Jen's husband and father of my beloved sobrin@s, on Thursday I think it was... totally scary! He hadn't even realized he had had a heart attack until he went to the doctor for a checkup and the doctor noticed that his heartbeat sounded wrong, so they did some tests and next thing you know he's in surgery. Luckily he's recovering well and he's got lots of amazing family there to support him, but geez. He's only like 36 or something- not old at all so it was a pretty big surprise. Anyway, yeah, so that was a bit intense, though obviously less so for me via email than it must have been for my cousin, who is so rad and strong I can't even tell you. Marco, if you read this, I hope you are doing way better and recover soon!
I also have a wonderful friend who had a surgery this week too, and I don't really think she wants it to be public knowledge but I was super happy that I got to talk to her a few days beforehand cause she, too, is a huge inspiration in her total realness and courage and willingness to just do whatever needs to be done (in all aspects of her life) and keep on moving.
Finally, tonight was my final night/ graduation ceremony at PLQE- it's hard to believe I've been here four weeks already!!! I'm headed to Chiapas on Tuesday to go to the Encuentro of the Mujeres Zapatistas & the Women of the World on the 28th of December, and I'm really excited to learn more about their movement and ongoing defense of their autonomy, and am especially curious to observe how they juggle their attempt to retain their traditional ways while simultaneously serving as international symbols of self-determination/ successful resistance around the world. As I understand it, they are constantly inundated with international visitors, and have developed a very sophisticated system for dealing with us all in a way that is both informative and accessible for all of us while still getting on with their daily lives. So I'm extremely interested in seeing that in action.
Anyway, I think I've rambled on just about long enough. If you're still reading, I'm amazed, but thank you! As always, keep me posted on your happenings and I'll try to write back asap. Huge hugs to all! xoxo, Pike.

Week 3 in Guatemala: Basically me whining

Hi everybody! Well, this week has totally flown by; I've been sooo busy and even a bit stressed out that I can't believe how fast the time is going. I feel frustrated too because even though the time is going so quickly, I don't feel like my spanish is coming along nearly fast enough, and still have trouble with anything more than the most basic conversations. This week I learned about the Irregular past tense (i.e., I was doing the laundry when you called) and the future tense, but I am obviously still having lots of trouble trying to incorporate them into normal conversation. And my progress on my little "holiday packages" I'm trying to get ready is at a crawl; it feels like nothing here works with even the remotest semblance of efficiency. For example: I finally have an idea/ plan of what I want to send someone; it should be fairly simple to then go out and locate that item or, at least the materials required to make that item. But no. The first step is a general interrogation of every shop owner about whether they carry/ can do what I want. Since the answer is invariably No, I then take out my pen and notebook and start making notes of the varying places that each person assures me will, in fact, have what I'm looking for. Step two means going to each of those places, followed by a repeat of step one in which everyone tells me No, they can't actually help me, but they know a place that can. I am then invariably referred first back to the initial place that sent me to them; when I explain that no, actually, that is who sent me here to them, they think a little more and eventually come up with a new list of ideas. Step 3 involves finally finding a place that DEFINITELY has/ can do what I want, but... not right now. Or, in fact, anytime in the next week or so. It is either really far away, doesn't have the proper equipment at this exact moment (but will have it soon, promise!), or both. So I've basically been running around in circles trying to find or make things, wasting more time than I even want to say, and generally accomplishing absolutely nothing. So if you get something from me this Christmas, even if it's something you've never wanted, you better damn well appreciate it! (p.s. due to the circumstances above, I predict that hardly anybody will be getting something from me this year, so please, don't take it personally. It really is just a massive pain and I don't even believe in all this materialism at Christmas anyway! sigh. But I still love you).

Anyway, moving on to other topics... In better news, I have managed to find yoga classes for the unbelievably cheap price of 25Q/ week, which works out to approximately US$3.50 for unlimited access to really good, really intense, challenging yoga. The teacher is the quintessential white guy yoga teacher prototype, with stringy brown hair and a scraggly beard, white shorts and a funny/ creepy t-back tank top, and a voice that is simultaneously menacing and reassuring, as if just under the calm, controlled exterior is a crazy man ready to snap. I wouldn't want to be his roommate, but in terms of yoga he's a good teacher cause he is really intense about making sure you are really, really trying your hardest. Of course, this means I spent the better part of this week unable to walk, sit or lie down normally, but I guess it comes with the territory of "getting in shape". I haven't actually "exercised"- at all- for over 6 months now, so it's pretty intense how much my body is hating what I'm doing to it now. I did my third class this morning and it does feel really good, even though my lack of ability to actually do a lot of the things I used to find easy is nothing short of embarrassing.

Anyway, that's basically the biggest news of late for me. Aside from totally craving things like chocolate, nutritional yeast, and quinoa (who knew that NOBODY here knows about quinoa- it's an epic adventure just trying to find brown rice), I have been pretty much just studying, embarking on the misadventures of the holidays detailed above, and doing yoga or feeling sore from it. Oh, and I bought some knitting needles and yarn and have begun to knit a little too, though the needles I bought are sooo skinny that it has taken me a week to complete the first 6 inches of a scarf. But it will be a very warm scarf when it is done, densely knitted as it is.
Yesterday and today I hung out a bit w/ a couple of friends from school, and that has been really nice- just having some people w/ similar backgrounds and experiences to just talk to and mess around on the computer with is really refreshing sometimes!

And right now I am at a local video cafe (where you can watch a movie anytime you want, or join the nightly viewings at 8pm) awaiting a batch of vegan oatmeal chocolate chip cookies to come out of the oven. I couldn't believe it when I found out that this place, with its cookies, has been here all along and I never even knew- but yesterday I came here, determined to get one, only to be informed that they wouldn't have any more until tomorrow (which is now today). "First thing in the morning", the woman promised my friend Laura and I; so today, bright and early at 2pm, we showed up, ready for cookies- and the place was locked. Like whimpering puppies, we frantically looked around, trying to figure out what was going on, until finally I deciphered the the ancient, faded sign announcing that they actually open at 3 today. Okay, no problem; we can just go use the internet down the street... at 3:30pm, we showed up again, ready for cookies, but.... no dice. So the woman assured us that in one hour, at the most, she would have them, so rather than take my chances I just asked if I could hang out here and wait until they're done. There's free wi-fi and I needed to use it anyway, so I figured Why Not. At least this way they won't be tempted to put it off again, since I'm sure they don't actually want me hanging around here all day, peskering them for cookies. Yeah, so that's my exciting life in Xela right now... how far I've fallen, and how fast.

Again, I would like to take this opportunity to solicit mail, be it letters and postcards to photos or cd's or even some cookies or something (okay, maybe that's not realistic).... but yeah, it's nice to have some remembrances of all you folks I miss at home. And cookies. I tried to bake my own but my host mother wouldn't let me, explaining that the oven uses way too much gas, which is extremely expensive right now. Fair enough, but anyone who knows me will understand that me without an oven is kind of like a fish without water... well, or maybe an amphibious frog, since I'm not actually DYING, just not as great as when I have my special life's necessities (like baked goods). Everyone here seems incredulous that I'm still trying to eat vegan, like it's the craziest thing they've ever heard of. I admit that the food choices aren't exactly exciting, but in a way it's liberating not to be thinking about food all the time (not counting when I'm actually just lamenting the lack of certain things). I did also manage to find one type of chocolate bar (of questionable quality, but still) that doesn't have milk, and dipped in the local, organic peanut butter I tracked down last week it is actually really good. Still. Okay, I feel like I've done nothing but whine throughout this entire entry, so let me try to think of some good stuff:

*the weather has been really beautiful the last two days (I've been wearing a skirt and flipflops instead of the 6 layers of shirts, two pairs of pants and legwarmers I was rocking the rest of the week).

*I listened to Zorro by Isabel Allende, while knitting every night this week to chill out a bit. It's kind of corny but worth it, considering the circumstances. I am really glad I went to the library before I left and put as many audiobooks on my computer as I could find- it pays to be a nerd sometimes! This way I feel a little less guilty about knitting when I should be studying...
*I got to see the fairly interesting process of how they process and dye the thread used to make some of the many intensely- colored local fabrics and textiles in a nearby town called Salcaja, which is also the home of what is supposed to be the oldest Catholic church in Central America (a little creepy, but the church was beautiful).

* I've gotten to hear from a good number of you, dear readers, which has really been great. Please keep me updated on your lives and happenings! I really like to know.
Other than that, I am getting ready for another week of school, and trying to figure out how to attend the 3rd Encuentro of Zapatista Women and the Women of the World, which is happening from the 28th of December to the 1st of January in Chiapas. It's so close to here that I can't imagine a better way to spend my New Years eve, so hopefully I can sort out how to make that work. It's a little unclear from the website what information, exactly, they need, and if I actually have to apply at all or just show up. So that's another one of my missions for this week. Along with figuring out how and when I'm leaving Guatemala to actually head south... it would be really, really easy to just stay here and in Mexico for the next 5 months, but I'm determined to at least set foot in South America, one way or another!!!

Anyway, I hope this finds you all well, as always, and I hope you have a great week! Love to all! xoxo p.

First week of school & loving it.

um, okay, sorry this is all underlined. I don't know why it's like this and I can't make it go away! Anyway, here it is....

Hi everybody! Well, here I am, one week after my last blog entry, and I'm not only alive and well but actually really enjoying my time here, minus a few minor inconvieniences (like the fact that my computer seems to be suddenly unable to connect to any sort of wi-fi network, even though it tells me I'm connected...) Anyway, though, like I said, for the most part my time here has been great. I am really enjoying the challenge of being back in school, and even though I still can't hold anything close to a normal conversation in Spanish, I definitely feel like I'm starting to get more confident in trying to speak it, and am starting to remember some of the stuff I had forgotten. Because I'm totally trying to make the most of my time here by doing as many of the school's activities as possible, my schedule has actually been pretty hectic so I have barely had time to check email or do too much that isn't school- related. But I feel like the time's been well-spent: so far, in my first week, I participated in a conference on domestic violence in Guatemala, went on a walk up the mountain overlooking Xela and learned a little about native plants that people here have used as medicine and food for centuries, watched a movie about cocaine trafficking and how U.S. drug laws impact the lives of people in Mexico and the U.S., heard from a woman who lives in an autonomous community of ex-guerillas that is now a fair-trade, organic coffee farm, and yesterday we actually went to the farm and helped pick the coffee for several hours before learning about the processes the coffee goes through to become what we think of as "coffee". It was really great- HARD, hard work though, because basically you have a basket strapped to your front via a belt slung around your back, and by the time the basket is nearly full (which was a lot longer for us newbies than for the families who own the farm) it is so heavy it's difficult to move around! One of the girls in our group joked, "is this what it feels like to be 8 months pregnant?" and another woman said, "pretty much, except I don't feel like puking right now." So there you go- two new experiences for the price of one. The girl who came to our school was also our tour guide, and she talked a lot about the benefits and challenges of running an organic, fair-trade coffee farm as opposed to a conventional one, and basically reinforced my beliefs that organic/ fair trade is really, really important, because not only does it allow the workers to earn enough to live on and work in healthier conditions, but it also provides a greater deal of security because the price for fair trade coffee doesn't fluctuate the way it does with conventional coffee. So for instance, on a normal, massive coffee farm, there are rows and rows of monoculture coffee plants with no natural shade to shelter the workers from the blazing sun; the workers are also completely at the mercy of the market economy, because you can bet that if the company is getting a lot less money for their coffee than they had hoped (like if it's been a really abundant year for coffee harvest and the market is flooded), they don't eat the loss, the workers do- they simply either get paid less or get less work. And the really sad thing is that actually almost, if not all organic/ f.t. farms who go to the trouble and expense of getting certified still only are able to sell a percentage of their coffee at those higher rates, cause there simply isn't enough of a market in the U.S. and other places where people are willing to pay a little extra for the og/ f.t. coffee. So after the farms have sold off as much of their coffee at fair trade prices as possible, they usually have to sell the rest at the same regular market rates as the crappy conventional coffee that is way less expensive to produce. So it's a disincentive to other farms to want to try to start going in the direction of organic & fair trade, all because those of us in rich countries are too cheap to spring for an extra buck or two to make sure our lattes are not screwing over the earth and people who grow it.
At lunch, a few of us ended up talking with one of the teachers who came along on the trip to visit an old friend who lives on the farm, and we discovered that she herself was a pirate radio operator for 9 years of the war, and she told us about how she was 23 when she left university to join the resistance, thinking that the war would be over within 2 or 3 years. But in actuality it lasted nearly 20 during which she was a nurse in addition to running the radio stations, and by the time she went back to school she was 41 and feeling very strange to be the only person over 21 in her university classes. But she stuck it out and wound up getting degrees in psychology, nursing, and teaching, and now works both at our school and at a mental health clinic about an hour and a half outside of Xela. The thing is, she is so beautiful and has such an optimistic way of talking about these really intense things that when she told us she is 51, none of us could believe it. I feel so lucky right now to be surrounded by so many amazing people! The history of Guatemala is so complex and so sad, but it's amazing to me that so many folks are still around and really willing to talk about what it was like and still be actively engaged in trying to make things better here, despite all the trauma they have experienced. So yeah, our day at the coffee farm was definitely great and I'm glad we got to go. I may even go back up there sometime in a few weeks and stay a little longer, but I'd like to go when my Spanish is better.
On a totally different note, last night I went out with a little posse I've found of other rad queer ladies, and we went to check out the gay bar, which just by it's very existence here is something of a miracle. What I discovered is that a) Drag queens are the same everywhere; b) Mainstream gay male culture in Guatemala is just as much of a beauty contest as everywhere else (there was little a "Mister Gay Xela" contest happening), and c) lots of the gay boys here are actually more than happy to try to pick up on the dykes as any straight guy, which was a bit obnoxious. But overall, it was a really fun experience full of glitter and temporary moments of sudden "shushing" as the word "policía!" (police) rippled through the crowd, only to have the music start up again as soon as the danger, real or imagined, had passed.
Other than that, I have been staying with a host family since Monday, and that is going pretty well although the mom is totally not comprehending that I really do need protein in my diet, despite my requests for beans with my meals. She's a good cook though, and it's nice not to have to worry about cooking for myself, even though sometimes I would actually love nothing more. The first day after I arrived, she went out and basically bought every kind of fruit at the market, sort of thinking that was probably the only thing I could eat. So it's been nice to have lots of fresh tropical fruit around, though it leaves me hungry in the morning so I've taken to making some oatmeal as well and eating that. I just now went and bought some beans though, so for lunch I will definitely have some now. But yeah, the family is really nice; there are two boys living at home, one 17 and one 7. The 7-year-old is home a lot more, so we watch cartoons together and attempt conversation pretty often, which is fun. Then there's the 19-year-old daughter, who doesn't live at home anymore but hangs out there a lot; she's really friendly too. And finally there's Walter, their oldest boy, who is 28 and, as they say here (as in the U.S.), is "especial"- meaning he has Down's Syndrome. He lives with his grandmother, and the two of them come over every morning for breakfast and then to go to the market with the mom. The dad doesn't talk a lot but is pretty nice; he kind of just hangs in the background and lets the mom do her thing, because she is a force to be reckoned with. She's super outgoing and vivacious, and overall they seem like a pretty modern, definitely more middle-class family than lots of others here in Guatemala. I even caught the dad doing the dishes, which apparently is still something of a faux-pas here. The local women I've spoken with talk a lot about the construct of "machismo," and basically from what I've gathered it seems like there is definitely still a prevailing culture of extreme machismo and oppression of women, but slowly, especially among the younger generation (and, incidentally, the ex-combatants who fought side by side with many strong women) that is starting to go out of style. So while there are still very few resources available to help women change their stations here (especially the indigenous women), there is a lot of hope and a lot of energy behind trying to push things forward.
Anyway, so that's basically been my first week here. I'm going to stick around a while, and may try to make it to Chiapas for an international women's conference that starts on Dec 13th, since it's only about 8 hours or so away and it seems like a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity to go while I have it. I still plan to go to South America of course- I just don't know when exactly! But that's kind of the magic of travelling, isn't it- not having a plan so carved in stone that you miss the important stuff that crops up along the way. I hope this finds you all well and happy- please keep on writing, and I would LOVE to receive letters or any little packages you may feel like sending me (hint hint!) now that I have an address! Take care and huge hugs!
xoxo, pike.

Bienvenidos a Guatemala: a Land of Contradictions

So I guess in the 6 years since I was here last, I forgot just how chaotic and utterly different everything here can be. Upon my arrival at the airport, the first thing that greeted me were boarded up corridors everywhere, all plastered with the phrase "Guatemala: lo mas moderna aeropuerto en Centroamerica!" Which of course translates to "Guatemala: the most modern airport in Central America!"... All I can say is, if that's true then God help the traveller who starts off in Honduras, Nicaragua or anywhere else in Central America, because just about the only amenities I could find at this airport were the moving luggage belt and an outlet in the ladies' room (I had to move though cause I was blocking the entrance to the cleaning closet). Other than that, there was literally nothing: no signs above aforementioned luggage belts, no bus service to anywhere, no money exchange once I left the main part & the atm was broken, no maps, no help desk, and above all: No Phones. At all. Basically I had to end up paying a guy to let me use his cell phone (price $1 usd for 2 minutes) to call the girl who said she'd be picking me up, but was nowhere to be found upon my arrival. She said, "oh, I'm sorry- I emailed you but I guess you didn't get it (perhaps she doesn't realize that there is nothing even remotely resembling an internet connection at this airport)- I have to work until almost 11pm, so you can either hang out there and I'll come get you when I get off work or else maybe you can go to one of the hostels and I'll get you there?" I was panicking a bit because in addition to the fact that I didn't have a ride or any idea of where I was, I also did not have any money in Quetzales and only $10 in US money. In one bill. So finally I haggled with a driver, who agreed to take me to a hostel where they have internet service & money exchange facilities, but when we showed up they said they were all full, which was a total bummer for me. We went to another place up the street who was full up as well, and on the third try we were finally told that there was room but it would cost me $25- at which point I was like, No Way. That is ridiculous, but when I said no thank you the guy conveniently remembered that there were dorms for $15, so I decided to just go ahead and stay there since I really didn't know what else to do. The cab driver didn't have change for my $10 bill so the guy at the desk loaned me the money to pay him, and finally I bid my taxi driver farewell and tried to settle in for the night. I was exhausted, so after a couple hours of reading I decided to call it a night and went to sleep, unsure of what I should do in the morning.

The next day I woke up early, around 7 am, and forced myself back to sleep for another hour, knowing I would probably really need it. I got up a little after 8, took a cold shower (like Puerto Rico, that is all I've encountered here), and got dressed and groomed. By 9am I was ready to go, and figured I'd better call Michele (the girl whose house I was supposed to stay at the night before) and Armando, who had offered his place in Xela as somewhere to stay as well. Inexplicably, though, even though I was paying to use the phone, the guy at the desk told me I was only allowed to make ONE call (worse than jail! At least there you get two) so I had to pick which was more important. I decided that I should just get out of the City and up to Quetzaltenango, since I still hadn't heard anything from my Spanish school and I was trying to start on Monday morning. So I chose Armando, and luckily for me he said it was still cool for me to come up and told me how to take the bus there. At this point the front desk guy was arguing with another customer who was accusing him of overcharging him. The front desk guy was adamant, though- it was what he had said. The man tore up his bill and stormed out to confer with a friend, and the desk guy turned to me and made the "crazy" sign with his finger circling around his ear, saying "he es loco". The thing is, though, that taxi drivers and hostel owners are not using the current exchange rate, which is 7.6 Q to $1USD; they are instead rounding it down to 7Q/ $1, which is definitely more favorable for them. Either way, though, the hostel guy was not budging and the angry lodger eventually calmed down and paid the bill, somehow seeming newly convinced that it wasn't too much after all. When he told me my total, I thought it seemed a bit high, but didn't want to go through the whole thing over again so I just signed the thing and had him call me a cab. Later I did the math, though, and even using his "crappy for me" exchange rate, I still got way overcharged. Welcome to life as a tourist in Guatemala.

When the cab came, he, too, surprised me by quoting me more than I had been told it should be, but when I worked it out in my head I decided not to press the issue as it was only about $1.50 difference in price. We headed to the bus station, but he forgot that I had asked to go to an atm on the way, so when we were almost there and I sensed that he had spaced it I reminded him and we had to turn around and go all the way to another neighborhood to find one. We went into a little plaza with a couple of businesses in it, and upon entry we had to get a ticket from a guard lady with a big machine gun. I can't really figure out why, but we did. So anyway, he parked and I jumped out of the car, dashed over to the atm through a long line of people waiting for the bank to open up- and there, just like at the airport was the sign: "afuera de servicio". Out of Service. Sigh. No problem, I could see another, larger bank right across the road. So I got back in the cab and we were gonna go there when we spotted a different tiny bank in the same plaza, so I went in there. This one was actually open, and the atm was inside, so I swiped my card, entered my pin, put in the amount I wanted- 1500 Quetzales- listened to the whirring and clicking, and out came- 100Q. No problem, the machine was still whirring away, furiously making sounds like it wanted to give me more money, but... nothing. I glanced at the security guard, who was also holding a massive gun, and he looked blankly back at me. I waited a little longer, and when it was clear that nothing else was going to happen, I asked him about it and he gestured to me to get in line like everyone else. When it was finally my turn, I tried to explain to the ladies behind the glass what had happened, but they were not getting what I was trying to say. Luckily, the customer next to me spoke good English and was able to translate to them what had happened, and they all had no idea what to do. At first they tried to tell me the atm didn't accept my kind of card, but when I showed them that it had given me a litlle bit of money, they explained to me that the atm was probably just out of money. But that still didn't assuage my fear that the stupid atm had probably just charged my checking account over $200, for which I had nothing to show but cab fare. Maybe it's because I was hungry, or overwhelmed, or just pms-ing, but somewhere in there I started to cry, and the ladies felt a little bit bad for me. They handed me some napkins and made a few phone calls, but to no avail. The one girl came out and had me swipe my atm card again, and check the balance- and it read $0.00. It was at this point that I really sort of lost it, cause there is no way I had no money in there, and she was clearly at a loss for what else to do. By this time I had been in the bank for well over 25 minutes, and I still had no money and was totally freaked out. Eventually I decided to just go and try to sort it out with my bank because even though the cab guy acted like he was doing me a big favor, I noticed when I had run to grab my sweater that the meter was still running. So we went to another bank that the woman suggested, checked out of that God-forsaken plaza with a different gun-toting security guard, and headed for the big bank that I had wanted to go to in the first place. This, too, was in a guarded plaza but it was bigger and more like the entry to a national park or something, with a person in a little booth and a stick that raises up to let you in once you have your ticket.

At this bank, I finally was able to get my money, with the cab driver standing directly beside me so I felt awkward that the screen was flashing the entire balance of my bank account in huge numbers that filled up nearly half the screen, but I just got my cash and tried to get out of there as quickly as I could. I decided to just deal with the bank thing once I got to Xela and not worry about it anymore

A few minutes later and I was at the bus terminal, where I paid the driver 3 times what I originally had agreed to (the meter said it, after all, and he had been very nice about it so really there was no choice) and discovered that I had just missed the bus by 15 minutes. Damn. No problem, though, it's cool- The next one was in an hour and a half, so I plunked my bag down, plunked myself on top of it and proceeded to finish Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye while I waited in the exhaust-choked lot in front of the bus station.

Eventually, the bus came ambling up, and I managed to stow my bag and find my seat without incident. A kind-looking girl sat next to me, and she talked on the phone while I tried to read and intermittently dozed off for the next several hours of the bus ride. I had known that the ride was 4 hours long, and leaving at 12:30 I figured it would still leave me enough daylight to be able to wander around after putting my stuff down at Armando's. What I hadn' t counted on, though, was the bus getting a flat, which it did, and it taking the crew about an hour to fix it. Why I hadn't expected this to happen at this stage in the game, I don't actually know, because looking at the way things had gone so far it only made perfect sense. But I made the best of it and got out to relieve my bursting bladder with all the other dudes on the side of the road. I almost used my little "pee standing up" device but I chickened out at the last minute, not wanting to call even more attention to myself than I already was by being the only female looking person to get out to pee at all. So I just tried the best I could to arrange my sweatshirt strategically and peed for what felt like a million years.. At that moment I just felt sorry for all the other women on the bus who were too scared or polite to pee at all, because as we all know, not being able to go when you have to is one of the most uncomfortable feelings there is. Not to mention bad for your kidneys (gotta love those kidneys).

Anyway, eventually I made it to Quetzaltenango and managed to successfully use the payphone to call Armando, who came 15 minutes later to pick me up. While I waited, though, I noticed two little girls walking by with an older boy, who stopped just in front of me to show off his new cell phone to a friend. The bigger girl peeked out at me shyly from behind the boy, and her face threw me off- she had the face of a young woman, but the body of a child. She was beautiful, and was wearing a tiny black hoodie and quite hip shoes, sort of fancy converse-looking things; anyway, at first she just smiled and peered out from behind the boy, and when I smiled back she came right up to me and said "Tus ojos son muy bonitas!" It took me a second to register what she had said- "your eyes are very pretty" but when I did I immediately returned the complement, and we started chatting away. She was so sweet! She showed me her little sister, Roberta, who was three years old and throwing herself on the ground smiling and laughing and rolling around. My friend's name was Cindi, and she told me she was 14 though, like I said before, it would have been impossible to guess because she looked and seemed so much younger. She couldn't have been over 4 feet tall, but a lot of the women are tiny here. Anyway, she and her sister bade me a big goodbye when their brother was done talking to his friend, and it put me in a better mood instantly. Then, the indigenous woman standing next to me with a baby in her arms- she had been across the aisle from us on the bus- made a bit of friendly small talk with me about how cold it was, which is true- it is surprisingly cold up here in the mountains, and dry- not at all like Puerto Rico. When her ride came, she too, bid me Adios! like an old friend and by the time Armando rolled up I was feeling pretty optimistic. Armando was great, too- he drove us all around the town, pointing out the main attractions as we passed them and then going up to the top of a hill near his house to show me the city below, and where we had just been. It looks like a big place, and it is the second largest city in Guatemala, but when he showed me where we had stopped to buy water in relation to the Parque Central below us, I realized that although it looked very far it hadn't taken us more 10 minutes to drive it. By this time it was dark, so the whole city was lit up beneath us and the multicolored lights danced and glimmered to the faint sounds of music drifting up from below. We stayed for a few minutes, got back in the car and headed to Armando's house, where he showed me around and then we called it a night as I was exhausted and he had work to do on his computer.

I really lucked out here, though- I totally have a room all to myself, since one of the four housemates recently moved out unexpectedly- Armando didn't seem to concerned about it, so I think maybe it's the landlord's problem rather than his. But yeah- it's a beautiful room, with lovely hardwood floors, a big closet and a view overlooking the main square of the city, which is only a five minute walk from the house. Today I went to the school, which is also only several minutes away, and found out that they can take me this week, but after that it is officially all booked up but that doesn't mean for sure that someone won't cancel or a teacher won't want an extra shift. I have a choice of staying with a host family and eating with them or working out my own accomodation, but the price difference is only $35 a week so it seems like the host family might be the most economical option, since they feed you three times per day and the girl at the school assured me they can handle vegans. She said they have even had people there who are on a raw foods diet, which I personally cannot imagine expecting some unsuspecting host mother to prepare for me- I feel bad enough about putting people out with the whole vegan thing. But apparently they can do it all, she says, and that it really isn't a huge deal. So it looks like tomorrow I'll probably do that, since I just went and bought myself some basic groceries this afternoon & can use those for the next day or two till I get settled with a family. If I don't like it, I can always go back to staying and cooking on my own. I have basically spent most of the day wandering around exploring Xela, which is a really nice city with an inordinately large gringo population. It's weird that I feel a little embarassed when I see the other travellers walking around, looking just as out of place as I probably do here; it's like I don't really want to seem like one even though obviously I am. I guess one thing I like about Europe is that I'm pretty much usually assumed to be a local and everyone generally leaves me alone, except to ask for directions or something, when my cover gets blown. Here, though, there's no way to not stand out, and I feel weird knowing that to a lot of people, I am walking around looking like a big dollar sign. Which, again, is one very real byproduct of our modern world that has placed us into this global hierarchy- it's hard to have a genuine interaction sometimes. But for all my self-consciousness, I have also been really pleasantly surprised- amazed, even- at how many locals here have NOT been like that, and instead seem genuinely interested in some kind of real exchange. Mainly women, now that I think of it. I have received more genuine, beautiful smiles today from random women walking around than I have in the whole past year I've been in Australia and the US. So actually, that's really cool. Anyway, this has gone on forever. Those are a few of my first impressions of my time here in Guatemala- I will continue to stay on top of this now that this is kind of my only journal, at least for the moment- I filled up my last one in Puerto Rico and sent it back with Eli, and have yet to find a suitable replacement. I'm going to go check out the used bookstore now and maybe a cafe. More later, Pike

Leaving San Juan

Wow, so here it is, my final night in San Juan before I fly out to Guatemala. I've been staying for the past few days in the beautiful apartment of our friend Abigail, who has been something of a savior to us here in San Juan. Luke and Holly found her on Couchsurfing.com, and she has subsequently had every single one of us stay for at least a day or two ever since, with me being the last to leave out of our whole rag-tag little crew. Amazingly, she is not even here right now- she went to New York to see her family two days ago, so I even have the whole place to myself which I have to say I'm enjoying a lot!
Eli and I also spent a few days with another Couchsurfing contact- Sarah & Jose, a couple who live in Rio Piedras, which is about 45 minutes south of Old San Juan by bus. They, too were lovely, and Jose even let me have my computer sent to his house, which I went and picked up today. At first I wasn't going to bring it, but I have been going crazy having to write such short, succinct messages to everyone and not be able to use all the myriad wi-fi places they have here, not to mention that internet here costs a fortune: the average is about $6/ hr, so I figure it will be well worth it to be able to pre-compose messages and posts and spend minimal time actually having to pay for internet, if at all.
Since leaving Vieques, we had two days in which we rented cars, and just for the record, getting around San Juan with a car is NO easier or faster than the ancient buses if you don't really know the city. It is a myriad of one-way streets and extremely poor signages, so even if you can find a street sign you still can't legally get anywhere without going in the most roundabout way possible, or so it seems. No wonder everyone we've met just rides the bus! It really is saying a lot, cause while the bus is cheap, it isn't fast and the times & places it runs are pretty limited. They don't even HAVE a bus from where I'm staying now to the airport, which is extremely frustrating since a cab is $20 normally; because my flight leaves at 7:20am tomorrow, I will also have to pay a $5-$10 surcharge for "early service", making it basically cheaper if I had just rented a car yesterday morning and driven myself to the airport. But whatever, life isn't perfect, is it?! Overall I've had a pretty good time just hanging out with friends old and new, reading some good books, and exploring new places.
Oh yeah, back to what I was saying: So Car Rental #1 occurred so that Eli, Colette & myself could go and visit the El Yunque National Rainforest, where we camped overnight and hiked both at nighttime and again in the daylight . it was gorgeous, of course, with countless tropical plants, glimmering streams and waterfalls, and hundreds of fascinating insects, birds and reptiles to see and hear. The Coqui frogs, which are everywhere in Puerto Rico, were louder than ever here in their natural environment, and accompanied my reading by flashlight long into the night. Once, as I was stepping out to pee, I even managed to notice one just sitting there on a huge umbrella leaf I was about to push aside- I called quickly to Colette, hissing, "come here! right now right now come here!" and together we watched as the frog tried to stay perfectly still, minute after minute, apparently hoping we'd eventually lose interest and move along. But we didn't for a while- Colette ran and grabbed their ancient camera, and we managed to get a few decent shots of our little friend before finally we felt bad and decided to let it off the hook. I thanked him/her for hanging out with us and stepped away, and watched as it immediately propelled itself away from the leaf and back into the safe cover of the thickly tangled underbrush of the jungle. It was great.
Car Rental #2 was a result of Jose and Sarah's invitation to check out an indigenous festival that was happening way west of San Juan, in the beautiful mountain town of Jayuya (pronounced "yigh (like high)- you- ya". We set out a little late, around 1:45 in the afternoon, cause we had had a little difficulty securing an affordable rental car on such late notice, but eventually we were on our way and managed to figure out how to get to the right highways without too many mishaps. By the time we reached the smaller mountain roads though, I was becoming more and more nervous as the roads became progressively narrower and more and more winding. Eventually, our two hapless friends in the backseat trying to surpress the nausea that comes with unrelenting hairpin turns, I turned the driving over to Eli who was able to deal a little better with the insanity of the route. Still though, we were all relieved when it was finally time to park the car and get out, regardless of what it was we were actually there for.
The festival itself was alright; there was a cute, very modest set of displays set up in the local municipal building, and a young boy tried to explain to me in halting English that last year, as developers were digging to ready the site of a new fast food restaurant, they unearther a large collection of old broken pottery, bird, animal and fish bones, along with a few other artifacts that apparently were quite significant as they indicated that a heretofore unknown market or trading site probably existed there, which has had local archaeology buffs furiously developing all kinds of new theories about local indigenous life over the last few hundred years. The most interesting thing was a small human skeleton, the skull in particular being well-preserved, that was still in the ground as they'd found it but now had an entire building centered around it, laying there in the center encased in glass.
The rest of the festival that we saw was a lot of traditional music, tons of food kiosks (basically nothing vegetarian though, let alone vegan- luckily I had trail mix), and all kinds of handicrafts. It was nice, but after a few hours I think we had seen enough so we went in search of Jose and Sarah, but they had not arrived yet. Eventually at nearly nine o'clock we left, and the drive back to San Juan was a bit faster since we knew what to expect. Our plan was to get back to town just in time to get changed and go hit the clubs for an exciting night of dancing and making new friends- doesn't that sound great?
Well, it wasn't. We basically got lost/ on the wrong freeway/ stuck on a one-way street so many times that by the time we had dropped off Colette in one part of town and worked our way back to where we were going, we were so cranky and tired we just ended up trying to find something to eat at Denny's (a traumatic experience, to say the least) and then made our way back home- though this, too, took another half hour even though we were only 4 blocks away. Not to mention it had started to rain.
The next day was better- we all decided that what we needed was to chill out so after we finally managed to drop off the rental car (basically a repeat of the fiasco of the previous evening's navigation attempts), we just hung out and read and ate and wandered around the marketplace. At night we again attempted to go out, this time meeting with a slightly more reasonably modicum of success in the form of Junior's, the one gay bar we managed to find the last time. It was alright, except for the fact that like every other "queer" thing or place I've seen in Puerto Rico (and basically everywhere else, too, for that matter) it consisted entirely of young gay men and a few supermodel- looking trans girls. No female-born or radical queer types to be found beyond our little corner near the pool table, and any requests for where to find any such people were met with either blank stares or snotty attitudes. Nevertheless, Hazel and I made the best of it by suctioning ourselves to the jukebox and dancing as much as we could, even though we were the only ones.
But overall, I can't complain at all. San Juan (and Puerto Rico in general) has been really great to us. I have rarely visited a place where the people seem so genuinely warm and open to visitors, particularly ones like us. Of course not everyone is all excited when we walk down the street, but the actual interactions I had reflected a lack of the coldness that I often feel in the big cities I usually spend time in. Anyway, that, at long last, is it. I'm off for Guatemala, and hopefully everything will work out with my language school and volunteer projects! Stay tuned for more... xoxo, Pike