Travels and more misadventures

Volcanic Venture
Three weeks ago, we had an all-volunteer conference and 4th of July BBQ in Antigua, so I made the trip back there for the first time since coming to my site in April. If you’re lucky, the trip takes 9-10 hours, so I decided to split it up into a few days, visiting with fellow volunteers along the way.

I made it without much incident and enjoyed both the conference and BBQ. It was exciting to catch up with everyone from my training class and comforting to find that they were experiencing much the same frustrations as I am when it comes to adjusting to life in a new country.

On Saturday, a bunch of us climbed Volcán Pacaya and camped out there overnight. It’s one of the easier climbs you can do in Guatemala (only about an hour long if you’re going slowly), but I was definitely huffin’ and puffin’ the whole way. Guess I’ll have to get in better shape before attempting any of the more difficult ones.

About 45 minutes into our climb, we started hearing what I assumed to be thunder off in the distance. It wasn’t until a little later that our guide, Kyle, (an Eco-Tourism Peace Corps Volunteer) informed us that it was, in fact, the volcano. That got the heart pumpin’ a little harder, because, like many volcanoes in Guatemala, Pacaya is active.

Makin' it to camp

We reached our campsite – which was situated about half a mile from the crater as a crow flies – around dusk and got set up before dark, just in time to get comfy and catch the feature presentation. As the sun was setting, we watched small explosions (sorry I wasn’t paying enough attention to our guide to learn any of the technical terms) of lava and molten rock coming out of the crater. I really can’t put into words how incredible it was. It was an unbelievable sight, that unfortunately I wasn't really able to capture no camera, but here's what I've got:

It was A LOT more impressive than this, but...

Once it got dark, people loaded up with food and cooking equipment and we headed out into the lava field. We made our way across the lava rocks until we got to a place where there was an actual river of lava flowing just below a smaller, secondary crater (which was also spewing lava). We roasted marshmallows and some people went all out, cooking full-on meals over vents where heat escaped from the lava that was flowing underneath us.

Walkin through the lava field

At one point, I slipped on the unstable and extremely sharp lava rock and got some pretty gnarly scrapes on my arm, but that was after getting to touch a river of lava with a walking stick, so I decided it was worth it.

My volcano wounds

We spent the night in a tent, where I didn’t get much sleep while listening to all the volcanic activity and trying to keep warm against the rainstorm that was raging outside, nevertheless, I’d put it up there with one of the more amazing experiences of my life.

The Stupid Gringa Goes on VacationOn Sunday morning I was operating on about three hours of sleep in the previous two days, but fellow Huehue volunteer Katie and I had to get up early and leave before the rest of the group in order to get back to our sites. We had paid for a round-trip ride to Antigua with them, but they weren’t going to be leaving until 11 a.m. and that was just too late for us.

So we got up at about 6 a.m., took in the views one last time, and began our hike down the mountain. About a quarter of the way down I realized I didn’t have my yoga mat/sleeping pad with me. I could have sworn I’d attached it to my pack, so I figured it must have fallen off somewhere along the trail. Since we were trying to catch a bus I just left a message with Kyle to grab it if he happened to see it, but I haven’t yet heard anything. Little did I know a lost yoga mat would become the very least of my problems.

After approximately three twisted ankles (and one slip in which the weight of my backpack flipped me over and left me stranded like a turtle on its back), we got down to the base where we ate some breakfast, got changed and waited for the bus, which showed up about 20 minutes late (not good, since I only had about a 40-minute cushion in order to catch the last bus up to my site from Huehue).

Well, the bus finally showed and slowly began making its way down the mountain toward the highway. We were told, however, that it wouldn’t be going all the way to the highway like it was supposed to. Something was wrong with the engine and we were going to have to grab another ride in San Vicente where the driver would be taking the bus to a mechanic.

We made it to San Vicente grabbed our stuff and went to sit on the corner where the next bus would come by. We sat there talking to a sweet old man who had been sitting next to me on the bus and decided to wait with us to make sure we got on the next one okay. About 10 minutes into waiting, my stomach did a flip-flop. I had forgotten my backpack on the last bus.

Because it was so big, the ayudante (bus driver’s assistant) had put it in the back where it would be out of the way, and I completely forgot to go back and get it when we got off. We’re talking about a huge backpacking-through-Europe kind of pack that was stuffed with a week’s worth of clothes, blankets and my sleeping bag. I don’t even know how a person manages to forget something like that, but I’m choosing to blame it on sleep depravation.

Trying with all my might not to freak out, I ask my new friend, Don Santiago, if he knows where the bus would have gone to get fixed. He doesn’t live in San Vicente but has family there and said he knew where the owner of the bus lived, and he would take me there. So I left poor Katie sitting alone on the corner with our stuff while I went off with Santiago to find the bus owner.

After several wrong turns, we made it to the guy’s house, but no one was home. We checked a couple mechanics with no luck. Someone finally suggested we check the church to see if he was at mass. We get there and find out it’s a funeral, and I’m standing off to the side with Santiago, watching a stream of mourners coming out of the church, looking for a guy I’ve never seen before. Turns out he wasn’t there either. Just as I’m ready to give up, Santiago says there’s one more mechanic we can check. As we turn the corner, I see the bus with its hood propped up and start sprinting toward it, leaving Don Santiago in the dust.

Incredibly my bag was still there and everything was in it. It wasn’t until we got back to the corner that Katie reminded me that I had been carrying her camera. It was still there, but I’ve never felt like a bigger dunce. On top of all that, we had missed the next bus down to the highway and were stuck waiting once again. Being the saint that he is, Don Santiago bought us ice cream to help pass the time.

The next bus finally came by and I said a flustered goodbye as we were trying to get all our stuff loaded up once again. At this point we were about two hours behind schedule. On the trip down to the highway, we decided that we were going to try a different route than what we had planned, because it was supposedly faster and easier with less bus changes. I had already given up on making it to my site that night, but we were hoping we’d get into Huehue in time to get out to Katie’s town, since transports run a little later out there.

We got a bus to Esquintla, from where we needed to get to Chimaltenango. We waited for about 20 minutes before one of the ayudantes told us buses don’t run from Esquintla to Chimal on Sundays. We were going to have to go back to Antigua and catch a bus to there. We rolled into Antigua around 1:30, or roughly an hour after we would have arrived had we stayed with the group.

But at least now we were in familiar territory. Our next three bus rides went off without a hitch and we made it to Huehue from Antigua in less than five hours – quite respectable. We were just in time for the last transport to Katie’s site, which leaves at 6:30, or so we thought.

When we got to the terminal, it was empty. We grabbed a city bus to the other side of town and waited in a gas station (trying to stay out of the pouring rain) for almost an hour until by some fluke we caught a microbus making a rare late trip out to Katie’s town.
We got to her house around 8:30. The entire trip took 14 hours, nine vehicles and cost Q86 plus the Q25 we lost by not taking the round trip from the volcano to Antigua. And I still wasn’t home. On Monday I needed two more vehicles and spent four hours and Q42 to get up to Jacal.

Needless to say, I was not in a great mood when I finally got home, but I suppose it makes for an entertaining story. You know, maybe I’m just not meant to travel.

Mmmmm…ants??I forgot to mention in my last post that the month of May is official ant-eating month in Jacal. Well, not really, but it is the month when this certain kind of ant is forced out from underground when the rains start. They’re a traditional yearly treat for the people here. They roast the ants in a pan, add a little salt and lime juice and voila!

I had been sufficiently warned by several of my teachers that I was going to have to try this local delicacy, so I was pretty well prepared. But when one the mother of one of my students offered me a bowl-full at seven o’clock in the morning, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to go through it. I had to go to my happy place, but I got down almost the entire bowl, and have actually developed a liking for the little buggers.

Here’s a picture of what I’m talking about:

It's sitting on a quetzal which is slightly bigger than a quarter

Smack down
The director of our program, Dr. Sergio Mack (or Smack as we like to call him because that’s what his Peace Corps email is), came to visit my schools two weeks ago. All went fairly well. We were able to clarify our goals for the next two years. He was very optimistic about the progress being made at my smaller school in Taj Buxup (150 students). My bigger school in Buxup (500 students) is a little further behind, but I suppose that’s to be expected when trying to get 17 teachers with strong personalities to work together.

He approved my living situation, about which I didn’t have much apprehension in the first place because the previous volunteer lived here as well. All in all, I’d say it was a successful visit.
Fighting frustration
That’s not to say that everything is hunky dory with my work. Even at my smaller school, I have constant frustrations with scheduling class observations and meetings, so that I’m constantly showing up to school and finding out that what I had planned that day won’t be possible because there’s something like a school-wide coloring contest.
On Monday I found out that my the teacher training I’d had planned for Friday in Taj Buxup was going to have to be re-scheduled – for the third time – because of yet another last minute meeting that was called by the school district, which three of my six teachers have to attend.

I’m also having trouble convincing the mothers of the school that they need to be using the improved stoves which were built during the service of the last volunteer. As it is, right now they cook on an open fire on the ground next to the stoves. Improved stoves are built to burn more efficiently than an open fire, thus conserving wood. They also have chimneys, which eliminates smoke inhalation and lessens contamination of the environment.

But the mothers say it takes too long to cook on the stoves and they honestly don’t see any problem with the smoke since that’s how they’ve cooked their whole lives. Never mind that the infant strapped onto mom’s back is breathing as much smoke as it would from a pack of cigarettes. I’ve also explained to them that if they cook the atól (a rice- corn- or oat-based drink) in two smaller pots instead of one big huge one like they do now, it will help with the time factor. In our last parents’ meeting they reluctantly agreed to start using the stoves again, but we’ll see if that actually comes to fruition.

At my big school in Buxup the teachers have trouble coming to a consensus on whether they should fill out their Ministry of Education paperwork by hand or computer, which makes it difficult to even introduce a topic like how we’re going to get the school kitchen built when we don’t even have enough money to provide a snack for the students.

Sometimes it feels like I’m fighting a losing battle, but I take comfort in the fact that many of my fellow volunteers feel the same. Even more encouraging is that the ones who came before me felt that way as well, and still many of them had success, so I guess it’s all just part of the process.

My first beauty pageant
So even though I grew up in a country famous for being obsessed with youth and beauty, it wasn’t until I came to live in rural Guatemala that I attended my first beauty pageant. It was the kick-off event for the yearly festival in Buxup and my teachers were in charge of organizing the event, so I went down on Sunday to see the show.

The pageant was run basically like they are in the states. There were four contestants who modeled clothes in three different categories: Traditional indigenous dress, sports wear (i.e. wear as little as you can and still get away with calling it a tennis outfit) and formal evening wear. The girls also had to give a prepared message in their native language of Popti’ dealing with timely social issues as well as answer questions.

The contestants waiting to model their traje

That part of it was basically what I had expected, although I’ll never get used to seeing 13- and 14-year-old girls that scantily dressed. But in between wardrobe changes, there was this group of three teachers doing comedy skits dressed in drag (not bad for a culture so infused with machismo and sexism). It was absolutely hilarious, even though I couldn’t understand most of what they were saying because they were speaking Popti’. They did a spoof on the pageant and another skit, which as far as I could tell, was about two women getting drunk in the middle of the day and complaining about their unfaithful husbands.

The whole thing was quite the spectacle and went so late that I ended up spending the night, which I had not planned on and consequently ended up going to school on Monday in slept-in clothes. But it was all worth it to witness this most central of rural Guatemalan cultural events … and to see this guy:

Peace out.

P.S. I know a lot of people are having problems leaving comments on the blog and I can’t seem to figure out on my end why that is. I think it may be because you have to set up a Google account to have commenting privileges, but if you don’t want to do that you can always email at royalzag01@yahoo.com or send me a message on MySpace or Facebook. I love hearing from everyone.