Kati En Bici

I've Migrated!

2008-01-01T14:59:00.000-05:00

New posts will appear at http://katienbici.wordpress.com

No good reason, really. I guess I liked the layout options better? They also have fancy reader-counting tools. and "tag clouds" on the sidebar.

The one frustrating thing there is not being able to change the size of your font. apologies to those that need reading glasses to see my blog now....

blast from the past

2007-09-28T15:19:00.000-05:00

I should point out that if you're just tuning in (lame phrase, i know) you should read my older blogs. They're much less whiney and much more entertaining. My daily life as a grad student is a tad mundane :-P (Guatemala is much more interesting, and I seemed to have more intelligent musings while i was there).

Average

2007-09-28T14:39:00.000-05:00

People told me that the hardest part about grad school would be getting used to being 'average.'

They were wrong.

The hardest part about grad school is getting used to being BELOW average. Or at least, feeling below average.

Think about it. People in grad school, at least in non-professional programs, are generally used to getting good grades and being dorky overachievers that are genuinely interested in what they're studying. Throw them all together, and they're suddenly 'normal.' These are the kids that got made fun of for studying in high school (or hell, undergrad). Now we're suddenly 'normal.' Isn't that what we wanted? Errr.... sure.

Now, I haven't discussed this much with my fellow grad students, in SNRE or in Anthro. Maybe this is just one of those beat-you-down-so-we-can-build-you-back-up sort of things. I'm getting grades I don't like* right now to teach me to work my butt off, and then perhaps I'll succeed later.

Or perhaps my grades in undergrad were so severely inflated that I can't even cut it at the SAME DARNED INSTITUTION as a grad student! Eeeek!

I feel like maybe I never really learned how to read or write. Or how to think. Everyone seems so very much more intelligent than I am, able to formulate thoughtful questions and arguments, and very much able to shoot mine down (this is in reference mostly to Anthro. We don't argue much in SNRE). I had a note on my essay the other day asking me to please visit the Writing Help Center. Oh, awesome.

I'm a remedial grad student.

After one conversation with a fellow anthrogeek, and struggling through the MathCAD labs with a couple of fellow SNREds, I felt a tad better. I guess I can stop lamenting that I don't have as much time as I want to focus on school (like I lamented in undergrad-- what with work and work and bikes and work -- and bikes).

I'm here to learn. I'm here because I want to learn.** Punto, fin.

I just hope I learn quickly, because my ego can't take much more of this B(elow)-average nonsense!

*People tease me that I'm just not used to getting (ahem) 'grades I don't like.' But I should point out that I have to keep a B+ average to stay in my Ph.D. program, and a B average to stay in the MS program. As an undergrad, I would have laughed my ass off. Considering the highest grade I've gotten so far is a B+, I'm not laughing so much right now.

**For some people this is a change from their attitudes as undergrads. I majored in three freaking unemployable fields as an undergrad. You think I was doing that for a job? No. I've always been here to learn. I'm just doing it the hard way now....

Dinner Out

2007-07-05T21:53:00.000-05:00

My mom's pretty awesome. Aside from making amazing cup cakes, decorating my house for me (pictures to come), and visiting me in Guatemala, she has a wicked sense of humor. And I mean 'wicked' in both the 'wicked-good' and 'human buzz-saw' senses of the word.

So we're sitting at dinner tonight with my grandma (mom's mom), Gram's 'Special Friend' (ahem, boyfriend, ahem), SF's son, and my stepdad. We're at a restaurant that tries to be really 'upscale' where we used to go all the time when I was a kid. It's the type of place that you can bring kids because they have lots of saltine crackers with the soup and things like 'chicken fingers' (do chickens even *have* fingers?) and 'buttered noodles' on the menu.

Gram's SF is a little hard of hearing. So is SF's son. So is Gram. The conversation is rather disjointed, not a whole lot being said. SF launches in to a story about bald eagles in the area. Meanwhile, my mother is sitting next to me, muttering along with the story so that only I could hear what she's saying. It goes something like this:

SF: I saw a bald eagle the other day.
Mom (under breath): crow.
SF: There were two of them!
Mom (under breath): one.
SF: It was huge! Wingspan of about 8 feet!
Mom (under breath): 2 feet.
SF: And it had that white head!
Mom (under breath): black.
SF: It was so near the dock!
Mom (under breath): it was across the lake. he saw it through binoculars.

I seriously thought I was going to choke on my whitefish and scallops (for the record, the Lake Michigan whitefish was dry, but the sea scallops in the Riesling reduction were great... mom and I split two dishes). My gram looks over and goes 'What are you laughing at?' And I just point at mom. Gram gets it.

My stepdad told a story about an old boss's wife who used to bring giant plastic bags to restaurants. She'd fill the bags with *not only* leftover food from the table, but also 'freebees' like sugar packets, pats of butter, and salt and pepper.

The conversation basically degenerated from there, to the point where my mom, gram and I are laughing hysterically between bites of fish.

After dinner my mom and stepdad and I wandered around the shopping area known as 'Fishtown' in Leland. We went in to an Americana-themed gift shop. Here's where the human buzz-saw comes in. It started with my finding a perfectly innocent bike charm. Yes, I already have a bike charm. But it's a road bike. I used to have a mountain bike (that I bought at this same store, actually) but I lost it in Guatemala. So I asked my mom if I could borrow ten dollars to buy this new mountain bike. No, I already have a charm and I'd forget to pay her back anyway.

Mock pouting, I follow her around the store. We're both a little slap-happy at this point. We found Christmastree ornaments shaped like bikes, that really pedaled! I asked to borrow ten dollars. She pointed out that my bike wasn't yellow like the ornament so no, I couldn't get one. I said that I could paint my bike yellow. Still no ten dollars.

At the back of the shop, we found a shelf of sale items. 'Oh look!' Mom says, 'Discounted crap! We can fill your house with it!' Wooden angel figurine, anyone?

We spent a good half hour discussing the relative uselessness of each piece, laughing hysterically throughout. The poor shopgirl, her self-esteem must have sucked by the time we left.

Then we found this musical instrument that claimed 'anyone can play!' Oh really? That sounds like a challenge. So my mom, stepdad and I took turns butchering such classics as "Clementine" and "Brahms Lullaby".

The one piece of any worth was a sign that read:

I kiss better than I cook.

Hee hee. I want an apron that says that. It's widely accepted that I can cook pretty darned well. Hee hee.

But still I couldn't borrow ten dollars.

Now that's what I call 'patriotism'

2007-07-05T21:38:00.000-05:00

Those would be the über-patriotic red velvet and vanilla cupcakes my mom made for the Fourth of July. Like the firework and flag action? They're even tastier in my stomach (and I've eaten no fewer than five so far). C'mon, what's more 'American' than red, white, and blue sugar-laced butter-filled cakes coated with more sugar and butter?!

Yesterday being the fourth of July, we engaged in all sorts of patriotic acts... like walking in to town for coffee, and leaving ten minutes before the start of the parade. And laughing at the people dressed in gaudy red, white, and blue on the way home. And laughing at my uncle for spending $1400 on fireworks to set off on the dock. And making red and white cupcakes (oh, Canada-- we added the red and blue sparklers and American flags just to clear up any confusion). And gorging ourselves on ribs, chicken, cheesey potatoes, brownies, fudge sauce, cup cakes, and ice cream. Oh, and sangria. Don't forget the booze.

Woo!

Theory Proved

2007-06-30T20:49:00.000-05:00

Tonight I decided to test my theory that Brighton's Murray Lake trail would be a sweet single speed track due to it's zen-like flowiness. So I chose it for my inaugural ride on my new bike.

{sidenote\}
Definitions for non-biking readers:
single speed (n/ adj): a bike with only one "speed" i.e.: one ring in the front, one cog in the back. no derailleur. no shifting.
flow (n)/ flowiness (adj): the way in which a trail "moves" as you ride it... hard to describe without actually riding. let's try this-- if someone dumped a whole bunch of water on the trail, flowiness would describe how the water moved over the trail. assuming that it didn't get absorbed by the ridiculous amount of sand we have in Michigan. so a non-flowy trail would make the water stop. a flowy trail would allow the water to move freely (albeit over rocks and roots and hills and fun stuff like that). please don't get too technical on me with the laws of physics and such, i know that enough force could make water move freely regardless of how flowy the trail originally was. just... visualize.
{/end sidenote}

We had hosted the State Championship Criterium race today at work. It was awesome driving in to Dexter (tiny little village just west of Ann Arbor) and seeing the streets downtown lined with a couple hundred bikers, some very nice bikes, and spectators. There was a wedding, a funeral, and a bike race in Dexter today, and I don't think the town has seen that much excitement in decades.

So, long story short, we were supposed to close at 3. And then we were supposed to close at 5. But we started closing at 5:15, and finished closing at 6. So I didn't get out of work until 6:15, ran home and grabbed a wheel to lend to a friend that trashed his last weekend-- he had called earlier in the day looking to get the wheel fixed at the shop, but due to the race there was no mechanical/ warranty service today, and the shop is closed until Thursday because of the holiday, and I felt really bad having to tell my friend that on the phone, so I offered him my spare wheel to use in the meanwhile-- and I got on the trail around 7:45.

Before I hit the trail, I was really scared that my legs would just cease to function mid-ride because my gear was just too hard and I would learn that I am, indeed, a total weakling. And then I'd cry. And my knees would disintegrate. And I'd cry some more.

But I was WRONG!

Once you get moving, that bike is incredibly fun to ride. It's a bit tough to get on top of the gear again if you have to stop for any reason, but it's certainly not "painful." On hills, I could feel my right thumb automatically feeling for the shifter. Nope! Not there! There's nothing to shift!

But all you have to do is get out of the saddle and keep pedaling! I took roomie's advice and continued to pedal even tough I thought I would fall over... and it worked! I didn't fall over! I made it up every little rise! (except towards the end, where there's the "easy" or "hard" option-- I took the "hard" option, which I've never even ridden on my geared bike. it wasn't all that "hard," but i clipped a tree with my incredibly wide handlebars on a really tight uphill turn and fell over. I had to run the rest of the way.)

I was also worried that with the big wheels (29 inches vs 26 inches standard) it would be really hard to maneuver through the trees and such. Nope! I don't know, I think the bike handles even better than 26ers. Roomie said that was because of the stiff fork, it lets you know sooner when you've chosen a bad line, or are taking a corner too hard. You feel yourself wobble and then correct it and you're good to go. Whereas with suspension, the line isn't so clear, and suddenly you're on the ground before you've had time to even react-- unless you're incredibly in-tuned with what your bike is telling you, which good riders are! ;-)

And an unexpected added benefit (at least for me)? Well, I tend to brake on the downhills. And I brake too much, and at the wrong time, and this causes me to do stupid things like go flying over my handlebars. Brilliant, I know. With the stiff fork, you can't grip the bar too hard on the downhills, because you'll rattle your wrists and elbows off. Braking makes you grip the bar too hard. Hence, less braking, more momentum, fewer dislocated shoulders.

Oh, and her name is Ramona.

Hooray!

Sunrise at Sleeping Bear Dunes

2007-06-28T19:09:00.001-05:00

sunrise over north manitou island, sleeping bear dunes, MI

I drove Up North last weekend, leaving Saturday after work and taking advantage of my nice new Monday-Tuesday-off work schedule.

It was so nice, I could feel the tension leaving my shoulders the further north I drove. My roommate just laughed at me when I said that, but I swear-- the minute I drove over the Washtenaw County line on my way home, my shoulders went all tense again.

On Monday, I got up shortly before sunrise and went for a hike in Sleeping Bear Dunes... the path I always take with my mom and the dogs.

And so I brought my camera, which has not been out of its case since Guatemala (or... well... since i took pictures of the new bike the night before!). I wasn't sure how these would turn out, because I haven't been feeling particularly creative lately. But these shots make me happy:

looking over the dunes, towards glen lake

dunegrass

ripples near the petrified forest

I had spent the night before out on the dock (until I woke up shivering violently at 1 am! Fleece blankets aren't nearly as warm as my -5 degree down sleeping bag. duly noted.). I sadly learned that the max time for shutter speed on my DSLR is 60". one minute. not long enough to capture the night sky so effectively... wah. I would love to find a darkroom to use so I can switch back to my grandpa's full-manual Canon. Or perhaps I shall set up my own darkroom...

here is the result, moon over glen lake

and so i bought another bike

2007-06-28T19:05:00.001-05:00

ooooOOOOOOooooo

i bought a singlespeed! hoo-ray!

am i crazy?! perhaps...

i've wanted a singlespeed since my sophomore year, which is the year after i bought my first real geared mountain bike. i started looking up parts to build my own, and searching ebay periodically for something 'affordable' (cue hysterical laughter), but i could never get the price to where i felt comfortable buying. and then i started working at a bike shop.

specs ('cause i don't feel like re-typing them): Redline Monocog Flight 29er

she's completely stock right now (except i peeled the headbadge off. it was ugly. and my roommate put on some jumbo kendas. and bolt-on grips.) we'll see what little upgrades i make... i'm thinking some pink accessories (headset, saddle, grips, hubs?). she looks like a boy's bike with the avocado green and the black trimmings. that just won't do.

i was a bit tempted to build up a frame myself, but decided that if i really wanted to do that, i should buy the stock bike and sell off the parts i didn't want to be more economical.

i think her name is either Limona (ie: Lime in Spanish, but with a girly twist) or Paltita (ie: little avocado in "Chilean").

she will get ridden tomorrow. island lake. not too technical, not too hilly, not too scary. perhaps i'll ride poto next week... heh.

wah wah wah (rant ahead)

2007-06-25T16:01:00.000-05:00

i have been slightly lacking in motivation lately.

so i've done two races this season, which is two more than i did at this time last season, which itself should be considered a victory. And i've ridden almost 1,000 miles (still working on the base, yes) which is more than i rode ALL of last season (January to December 2006, trainer and rollers included).

But still i find myself in the middle of a race, hating life, crying (yes, crying-- i know, i know, there's no crying in mountain biking) and wanting to sell all of my bikes and bike stuff as soon as i get home. i think 'why the %@#*& am i doing this??' i get mad at myself, my friends that i bike with (why do they encourage me?!) my mother (why does she support this, however unwillingly?!) and the race organizers (why didn't they cancel the damn thing given the lightning and torrential rain?!). i dread the phone conversations after the race. { interested friend/ family member: 'how'd you do?' me: 'uh, dead effing last.' interested friend/ family member: 'oh. well... at least you tried.' } i start hoping for irreparable mechanicals ('maybe my frame will crack...') and even bodily harm ('hey, if i break my collarbone then i won't have to finish OR race again!')

and then i finish and it's done and i have a huge grin on my face and i can't wait to do it again! and i've even finished third!

... out of three. and i've been beaten by a 14-year-old who was competing in her first race, or a 16-year-old semi-pro. or my friend/riding buddy/classmate/co-worker who i could drop last season. or a different 16-year-old semi-pro.

yes, all of these are people who have beaten me. and this isn't to mention the scores of young college women who have, and continue to cream my butt during the collegiate season.

and then i'm afraid of what other people think:
1. she just rides to meet guys. (uh, no. i've never dated a cyclist, FYI.)
2. she must just ride because her boyfriend rides. (see above.)
3. she's a whiney loser. (perhaps...)
4. who does she even think she is, racing here? (::sad face::)

so i make excuses:
1. i'm not really training for this race. i'm training for the fall collegiate season.
2. i don't race to win, i just like a hard training ride and this is an easy way to get one.
3. i haven't really trained at all.
4. i have other priorities, like my academic career.

but really... all that's a bunch of BS. i'm a competitive person. i don't like to lose. i do like to bike. so i guess it's time to cut the crap and stop whining and try to change what i'm whining about... heh.

wish me luck! :-P

i'm aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiive (still)

2007-06-01T19:48:00.001-05:00

Hello all...

Well, here I sit in lovely Ann Arbor, the humidity increasing by the minute, with not very much to say at all. Be prepared, as this blog is about to take a very bike-oriented turn.

I've already decided on my summer plans for... next year (yes, summer 2008) and they include much bicycle racing. This summer I'm getting my @$$ royally kicked by high schoolers in my age category (24 & under, seems i'm the only over-20 that has the ganas to race) and it's rather depressing.

So... i'm writing the season off to training and learning how to race-- heck, i've never really *raced* before... collegiate races were just an excuse to ride my bike on some new trails with other people who liked to ride their bikes!!

so this year i plan to qualify for and attend Collegiate Nationals in North Carolina come fall-- i pretty much qualify by default.. the whole lack-of-20-somethings racing thing.

then i'll ride my bike all winter to de-stress from the whole school-is-my-career thing (this will be a big change for me-- school... is really my JOB now.... SWEET... and YIKES).

i'm gunning for a nice bike store employee-discounted 29er rigid singlespeed and some very nice super-employee-discounted Pearl Izumi arctic cold weather gear to help keep me motivated when it's still dark at 8am and already dark at 5pm this December (ie: the only time i'll actually have to ride).

never fear-- i still plan on dabbling in some picture-taking and will blather to some extent about how awesome my classes are and how i really love living 5 miles off of campus and riding my bike to class every day.

oh, right, next summer. well, plan #1 is culinary arts classes at washtenaw community college. just to get some actual kitchen experience under my belt (for that someday when i open a sweet bike shop -slash- gourmet cafe specializing in food from locally-grown organic and fairly-traded sources in middle-of-nowhere Maine -or- Northern California). i also plan to do some endurance races in june and july (i realize quite some time ago that i can ride at a reasonable pace for a really long time given the amount that i don't train, and still have juice at the end... but i can't sprint to save my life.) and then take off for guatemala again in august. back in time for school in september! yay.

that said... i am heading up north to a race tomorrow after work, and will post a full report-plus-pictures on sunday. *yay*

PS. oh right... my thesis... i'm working on it. really, i am.

Home again, home again

2007-04-15T12:08:00.000-05:00

I've been back in Ann Arbor for 5 whole days already, and I don't think it's quite sunken in yet.

Given, it took me a full hour and a half to get through Trader Joe's last week (holy SHNIKES do they have a wide variety of cheese!! finely shredded or thickly shredded? cheddar, mozzarella, colby, colby-jack, or mixed? four- cheese mixed or three-cheese mixed??).

Other than that, things are good-ish... perhaps I will write more when I'm in a more reflective mood...

The Unmistakable Odor of Burning Tomato-tops

2007-04-12T10:21:00.000-05:00

After a Moka Cappuccino, very dry chocolate panqueque (muffin), (transfer to a different restaurant) another café Americano, tamales chiapaneros, and some pozo (corn and chocolate drink), I’m feeling stuffed and slightly more human. I also got some quality reading in, which I was not able to do on the buses.

I decided to venture in to the 24-hour hot shower offered by my hostel. It’s clean (good news) but the hot water runs out about 3 minutes after I get my hair wet (my hair is getting long, it’s tough to get it all soaked!!). Nevertheless, being clean feels good! And the hostel thankfully had towels (the last place did not).

As I was toweling my hair off (again… it takes a bit now), I caught a whiff of the unmistakable sweet scent of burning tomato-tops. My mother will know what I’m referring to, because that’s what she compares this smell to.

Pot.

I went from “This is a business of God” at the hotel last night in Todos Santos to marijuana. Great.

I am not a smoker of any product, legal or otherwise. I never have been, and unless something drastic about my personality changes I never will be. That said, I have absolutely no problem with people who do choose to smoke (I’ve dated a couple)—your brain cells are none of my concern-- but frankly I try to avoid those people.

First of all, I’m asthmatic. Me + smoke of any sort = bad. And the smell of weed makes me feel queasy.

In places like this, where I think I’ll find some camaraderie with fellow travelers, I end up feeling alienated. It’s at (lonely, homesick) points like this that I really, really wish I could find someone like-minded to travel with.

It’s really tough to find someone who doesn’t mind taking the chicken buses, eating in $1.50 comedores, avoiding pre-arranged tours, and staying at $10/night hostels, but will still want to go to bed early in favor of getting up to see the sunrise, forego the extra drugs-and-alcohol, and avoid the gringo-party places.

I feel like there are two main types of travelers that you always run in to (at least in Latin America): 1) Tour-groupies, seemingly always American, Canadian, Australian, or German, who travel everywhere in private shuttles to see the “historical” and “scenic” places in a country, stay in hotels that cost at least U$40 a night, and eat at gringo restaurants that serve sanitized, international food; and 2) Backpackers, of international breed (Americans tend to be around my age, or mid-twenties; Israelis just released from the army; Australians, Brits, and Germans on a gap-year) that take semi-local transportation (a mix of chicken and first-class buses, the occasional shuttle), hang out in budget hotels, go on hiking or other adventure tours, drink and smoke a lot, and party in the gringo bars. They also carry all their possessions in a backpack (and you can usually tell their nationalities by the brand of backpack they carry!)
→ I carry a backpack also, and you can tell I’m from the States because my pack has “REI” written all over it!

Traveling (in my opinion) shouldn’t be a constant party and bar-hop. I mean, c’mon. The gringo bars in these places are all the same. Same “tropical” décor, same drinks, same music, same people!!

Plus, if you stay up late to drink yourself silly, you won’t be able to get up for the 6 am market.

I’m fine with hanging out with the occasional group-o-gringos (and in this case, gringo refers to any foreigner). It’s fun to hear peoples’ stories, what brings them to a place, where they’ve been, etc etc etc.

But, take for example this German guy I met last night. I have no (well, little) problem with his style of travel. He seems like a “go your own way” sort of guy. He whipped out his stack of snapshots that he’s taken from a number of “exotic” places around the world (Ethiopia, Morocco, Ladakh) and told us how he would go in to hospitals and jails in Guatemala and Mexico to take pictures. He didn’t speak any Spanish. (there's where I have a little bit of a problem)

But he started grilling me, like he refused to believe that I didn’t exactly match the stereotype of a traveling American college student.

I told him that I had been working in San Mateo (he assumed I was teaching English), and was going to Chiapas to see the Indigenous Photo Archive/Project. “No.” he said, “this is bad.”

Thinking he had maybe visited the archive before, I asked him why he said that.

“Well, how would you feel if busloads of people were driving by to take pictures of you all day long?”

Ummm, wow. Not quite what I was talking about buddy. I tried to explain to him that this was an organization that supported indigenous artists—with training, supplies, publishing, etc.

“It is always a project with you. Projects, projects.” He said. Oh really?! Since when does he know me that well?! He admonished, “Don’t you ever just want to visit a place and get to know it?”

Yes, in fact, that is my entire goal here! But I don’t think that I’d get to know this place by not speaking Spanish, going to see the tourist sites (ie: Palenque, Tikal, Lago Atitlan), and hanging out exclusively with other travelers in budget hostels or expat-owned gringo bars.

I really feel that you have to work to get to know a community, and not just over a week or two of vacation—and the best way for me, personally, to do that is to work with a local non-profit organization. Given my personality (kind of shy and timid at first) I’m not able to just walk in to a place and start “knowing” people. It helps if I have a purpose, and if that purpose comes with some built-in insta-friends.

I really prefer working with locally-based organizations, and I explained that to him. I don’t want some group in the USA or Europe (no offense) getting a cut of whatever “fee” I’m paying for them to arrange everything for me, when my time and money could be better spent helping people in a locally initiated and run project. That way, you get to know people in the place that you’re visiting beyond just the “where are you from” formalities. You can learn what their community means to them (through whatever work they’re doing) and you can contribute to a good cause. Better than supporting expat-owned gringo bars, in my opinion.

Wow. That whole tirade there stemmed from my smelling pot while I was in the shower. Scary what that stuff does to you!

And look at me, I’m in one of the most touristy places in Mexico (after Cancun and Puerto Vallarta) and I’m going to go sip coffee and read all day tomorrow. How…gringo.

I’ll read a local paper, I promise. Maybe I’ll even buy an EZLN t-shirt (oh the irony).

The Best Thing Since…

2007-04-12T10:19:00.001-05:00

I took my time getting to the bus for Todos Santos. I ended up being the first person on the bus anyway, and sat there for a good 20 minutes waiting for other passengers.

While I was sitting there, the only person on the bus, a vendor poked his head through the door. “Chocos? Chocos con manilla?*” He asked, holding up a chocolate-covered banana adorned with a sprinkling of peanuts.

“Oooh!” I exclaimed, “Chocobananos!”

My students in San Mateo are pretty much addicted to chocobananos. Basically, the treat consists of a banana on a stick, dipped in chocolate and frozen. The ‘bananos in San Mateo are probably dipped in some sort of sugary goo colored brown to look like chocolate (because there is no real chocolate in San Mateo) and are a little freezer-burned, but are delicious nonetheless.

I asked the vendor how much his Chocos were going for. 2 Quetzales. Frantically digging in my pocket for what little sencillo (small coin) I had after visiting the ATM, I came up with 1 Quetzal and 10 centavos.

Holding up my pathetic offering, I gave the poor vendor my most sorry-gringa expression. “Solo tengo uno-diez,” I moaned, pouting slightly.

He stared at me for about 30 seconds, finally saying “Bueno, voy a dejar uno de estos aquí en la silla,” and took one of the Chocos out of his cooler and stuck it in a plastic baggie, leaving it on the seat in front of me.

“De veras?!” Really?! I asked, and held out my coins once more. With one last backwards look, the vendor took my coin and exited the bus, moving on to a more popular route on which he could offer his sweets.

This Chocobanano was amazing. I swear. It had a real chocolate coating that tasted like Dove compared to the Chocos in San Mateo. The peanuts were a nice touch that I had never seen before. And, the banana was slightly over-ripe, making it not quite tooth-breakingly hard when frozen. Dee-lish.

Eventually, only two or three passengers actually boarded the bus! I was slightly worried, having read blogs about people crammed three and four to a bluebird school bus seat on this route. Was this company ill-reputed? Would my bus go careening off a cliff, prompting the family members of my fellow passengers to post colorful crosses and flowers at the site, while the US Embassy blew the incident out of proportion and issued warnings in the American press about the dangers of public transport in foreign countries?

No.

The driver was a friendly Todosantero that honked and waved to everyone he saw wearing the traje from Todos Santos (for men: red-striped pants, black chaps, and a blue pinstripe denim jacket with elaborately woven collar and cuffs).

One of my fellow passengers loaded crate after crate of yogurt into the overhead racks. He lived near La Mesilla, the border crossing to Chiapas, Mexico, and was selling yogurt in Todos Santos.

We stopped and picked up other random passengers along the way, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. We also dropped people off by the side of the road; as we pulled away they took off walking through a field or on a dirt path to their destinations. The bus was never completely full, though.

Strangely enough, the ayudante (assistant) on this bus was a guy that looked about 50 years old. Usually the ayudantes on chicken buses are around 15 or 16 and climb all over the bus to get luggage, check for oncoming traffic at intersections, and help little old ladies descend the stairs. All this—while the bus is in motion, careening around off-camber blind curves and passing trucks.

However, a note about the road to Todos Santos: before coming to Guate, I spent a solid chunk of time on Lonely Planet and Boots n’ All travel forums. I was originally considering doing some bike touring around Todos Santos and posted a few items asking for advice. Every reply I got was a horrified “you want to ride your bike WHERE?!” and “That’s the worst road in the WORLD!” and “You must have a death wish!”

Umm, right. If anyone from the Lonely Planet forums is reading: you clearly have never been off-pavement in the United States. I have driven (and ridden my bike) on worse roads than that in Michigan! Sure, it’s flatter (no mountains in Michigan), but even roads in rural Washington, Oregon, Montana, and North Dakota are worse than the road from Huehuetenango to Todos Santos! I will give everyone the benefit of the doubt and assume that the road was recently improved, because it was perfectly smooth (for a dirt road in a remote, rural area) and I feared the bus falling off a cliff only once.

Todos Santos Chuchumatán is renowned on the gringo-circuit for being an accessible, “authentic” indigenous town. It is situated in a valley in the Chuchumatán mountain range, just south-west of San Mateo Ixtatán. I wanted to check it out because many, many pictures have been taken here (mostly, I concluded, because both men and women wear the traditional traje). I also wanted to see what all of the fuss was about!

Tourists whisper about Todos Santos in ominous voices: “That’s where that Japanese guy was killed for taking a picture of a little kid.”

Oh really? That’s some intense reaction to a photograph.

*manilla = peanut (in Guatemala). Maní = peanut (in the Andes). Cacahuate = peanut (in Mexico, Spain, and Argentina). Confused? I keep saying “maní” instead of “manilla” here, because the words are so similar (and maní is what I learned in Chile) and I’m pretty sure people think I’m an idiot.

Weak, Sweet Coffee

2007-04-12T10:18:00.001-05:00

In the 1870s, Guatemala experienced an economic boom owing largely (okay, entirely) to the production of coffee. Between 1870 and 1900, a series of (mainly) German immigrants set up fincas (plantations) in the highlands and tropical regions, stealing indigenous peoples’ land and employing forced labor (also indigenous). The government established banks, a railroad, and developed port towns for foreign trade. Exports, according to my guidebook, increased by 20 times with coffee accounting for more than half of all foreign trade.

Despite all of this (or perhaps, because of all of this) coffee as we in the US and Europe know it is few and far between in Guatemala. It’s the same reason why the “Guatemalan Cardamom” in the cupboard at the Foundation offices is from Whole Foods.

People always exclaim to me “oh! They have great coffee in Guatemala, don’t they?” and, knowing I’m an addict, “You’ll love it there!”

You see, Guatemalan coffee that we buy in the US… is just that. Bought in the US. Therefore, exported from Guatemala, and no longer available in Guatemala. Why? Because the finca-owners will make more money if they sell it in the United States.

Coffee in Guate is generally found in the form of water-soluable granules, which you boil with sugar or panela (a solid sweetener that comes from some sort of plant). The result is a translucent, vaguely coffee-esq liquid that is very, very sweet. I have to say, I like the taste better than Nescafé (ni-es-café, it’s not even coffee!), which is the higher-priced alternative.

Café is served with almost every meal, if you eat in a comedor (street-side restaurant) and is cheaper than soda-pop by about 2Q.

On the other hand, in places like Antigua and even Huehue, European-style coffee shops are springing up everywhere, in response mostly to increased tourism. Feeling slightly homesick from traveling alone (I really don’t like traveling alone and wish I could find someone like-minded to travel with!!) I stopped in “La Cabaña del Café” in Huehue and had a delicious Americano flavored with chocolate. They had quite the variety of coffee drinks! Whew.

I always feel a kind of moral dilemma in places like that. I mean, no one I know has worked on a coffee plantation… but does that really make it okay? (No.) In some places here (mostly in Antigua where there are lots of yuppie- gringos that ask for this sort of thing) coffee shops are catching on and offering fair-trade coffee (or at least locally and cooperatively grown coffee, which is usually fair-trade).

I made this comparison with smoking the other day, having encountered a group of gringos in Todos Santos who were all trying to quit smoking. Big tobacco vs. killing small children and other innocent people in Africa and Latin America. Which drug is worse?

A Question of Religion

2007-04-12T10:16:00.000-05:00

Upon arriving in Huehuetenango (pronounced “way-way-ten-an-go”), I expected to take a microbus to the center of town and find a hotel from there.

Unfortunately, it was dark and the last micros stopped running at 5 pm. Poor planning on my part. So I let myself get herded into a taxi for a very reluctant 25 quetzales (about $3, the bus ride itself was 30Q) that ended up being 30Q because the taxista didn’t have any change. At least the price was pre-set, however, so there was no arguing over the meter.

As the taxista careened through town, he asked me in short Spanish phrases (as if you were speaking to a young child) all the vitals: where I’m from, what I’m doing in Guate, how long I’m staying, where I’m going next, my profession, and my religion.

Whew! Well, what do you say to that??

There are three main religions in Guatemala: some derivation of Mayan, Catholic, and Evangelical. I will never forget eating lunch with a girl at Michigan who is the daughter of Evangelical missionaries in Panama. Someone asked her if there were many people that went to her parents’ church, because isn’t Catholicism big in Latin America? Yes, she answered, but the Evangelicals were starting to win.

In-deed.

Quite a few of my students (especially in cuarto magisterio) went to the Evangelical school before coming to Yinhatil Nab’en. Don Mateo and Doña Ana upstairs are Evangelical, and Don Mateo hosts an Evangelical radio show on Radio Ixtateca. Every Sunday in San Mateo you can hear the highly repetitive, energetic strains of music blaring non-stop from the Evangelical church. So yes, Evangelicalism is starting to “win” in at least one part of Latin America.

In response to my taxi driver’s questions I said: 1) Estados Unidos, especificamente Michigan (he asked if that was near New York); 2)teaching (English? No, Social Science); 3)two more weeks, but I’ve been here for three months; 4)Todos Santos Chuchumatán; 5)student, and 6) what??

He repeated the question, and I tried to dodge it by saying, Well, my mom is Lutheran and my dad is Catholic. Hoping that that would be enough. Nope. He persisted. Well what about you? Are you Christian?

Umm, sure. I’m more or less Lutheran, I told him.

He seemed slightly relieved. It’s good to believe in God, he said. Yes it is, I agreed.

And it’s not that I don’t. I just feel uncomfortable having to explain to people that I think that pretty much all of the religions are heading in the right direction. I think their individual traditions are really interesting to learn about, and to talk to people about. But I just don’t practice any of them for a myriad of reasons.

One of my Guatemalan coworkers had to do a report on Judaism for one of his university classes, so he interviewed Brian.

How many gods do Jews believe in? He asked. Brian seemed a little surprised. Well, the same one that Catholics and Evangelicals believe in, was his reply. Our coworker was shocked.

Telling people that you’re something other than Catholic or Evangelical is tough enough without them jumping to the conclusion that you worship the devil. So explaining a slightly agnostic, inclusive-religious position? Errr, no thanks.

Maybe I should try—some people would argue that I should be trying to “open people’s minds” here. Maybe… I’m just not sure that religion is the appropriate venue to try and “open” right now (I’m thinking, open hostility if they think I’m a devil-worshiper).

I’ll start by being the gringa- in- a- corte, and see where that leads me.
•••
PS. In Todos Santos I was asked, yet again, what religion I am (by one of the dueños of my hotel). I once again tried to evade the question, and he actually asked me if I practiced the religion or if I was just “culturally” that. He happened to be Evangelical.

The variable meanings of Chu’j

2007-04-12T10:15:00.000-05:00

Actually, there’s only two meanings for “chu’j”—it refers to both a culture and a language (which, interestingly enough, my students and many people around here define as one and the same thing… culture and language, that is). It’s pronounced with a glottal stop after the “oo” sound, and the “j” is soft, almost silent. So it sounds like “choo-oo” or sometimes “chook” if you’re saying it wrong.

Which brings me to the next point. “Chuc” (chook) is a type of steam-sauna bath house that people around Guate (at least, around the highlands)use twice a week to bathe, the night before market day. It is actually a Mam word (a different Mayan language), that is now used in Spanish to refer to this sauna. There is a different word for it in Chu’j -- the language.

I bring this up because chuc, the sauna, is an awesome tradition, and one that I did not take enough advantage of until the end of my stay in San Mateo. Personally, I could not feel clean enough after using the chuc, and therefore did not use it for bathing (though I kind of regret this—if I came back, I think I’d limit myself to only using the chuc to bathe, and not the shower… though showering is such a comfort thing!).

Angela and I took to using it for sauna-purposes only. Since we weren’t bathing, we felt comfortable enough going in there at the same time, and therefore were able to stay in for twice as long!

This is how the chuc works:

Don Mateo and Doña Ana (our landlords, they live upstairs) have a chuc on their level, right before the stairs to the roof and right next to their kitchen. On Wednesday and Saturday nights (market days are Thursday and Sunday) Doña Ana prepares the chuc.

The chuc is a 3.5 foot-high adobe structure with a 3 foot-high and 2 foot-wide door to get in and out. Inside, there is a bench on the left that stretches the length of the chuc (about 4.5 feet). On the right are three buckets: one for cold water, one for hot (HOT!) water, and one to mix the two to your preferred temperature. Next to the buckets, against the back-right corner, Doña Ana prepares a fire using charcoal and “leña”— basically, wood.

The family all uses the chuc first (the two parents, the three kids), and then one of the kids comes down to let us know that we can “subir al chuc”—climb to the chuc.

Then, one at a time (based on who is fastest at saying “I’ll go up!”, or who simply appears dressed in nothing but a towel) we take turns chuc-ing. You have to run through the court yard (avoiding the chickens and dog underfoot), climb the concrete steps, and wiggle your way through the door to the chuc without flashing the family at their dinner table.

The others generally bathe, which is quite a ritual. There are branches for smacking yourself clean first, then you mix the water (that hot water is really hot—it’s in a metal bucket right next to the fire), then you soap up, then you can dump a little water on the fire to make it steamy, and then you rinse off. If you’re one of the first to chuc, you have to be really careful about making steam. It makes a LOT of steam (the first time I chuc-ed I about scalded my windpipe!).

If you’re later on in the line, the fire has died down a bit and sometimes it’s not too warm anymore. The family is really nice about refilling the hot water bucket after each person though, so it’s always piping hot.

On Sunday night, with the others gone camping (I was not invited ☹)Angie and I sat up there for about 45 minutes—whew! We must have looked like lobsters afterwards. I wonder what the family thinks when two of us go in there at a time? Especially two girls… there have been couples in the Foundation (and currently there is one) and I don’t think that seems so weird to them because Don Mateo and Doña Ana sometimes chuc together. Hmmm….

After our marathon chuc- sauna session, we made up some hot cocoa and fished the rest of the “Ricanelas” (a play on the words “rica”—rich or tastey, and “canela”—cinnamon; it’s the name of a cookie that is “perfect to accompany your coffee!”) out of the cupboard, and popped “Monty Python: The Life of Brian” into Angie’s computer. A nice way to end my official stay in San Mateo…

Dead in a Gutter

2007-03-21T19:04:00.000-05:00

I’m pretty sure I saw a dead body today. At first, I thought the guy was drunk and passed out. I saw him as the bus pulled around a corner through an aldea outside of Paquix, the junction before Huehuetenango. The guy was just lying there, sprawled across the white-painted concrete gully that doubles as both curb and drainage system. As we passed him, I saw that his eyes were open.
•••
I slept in as late as humanly possible on Sunday, which for me was about eight o’clock. I got up and reheated some of the eggs and beans Angela had made the night before for dinner, poured myself some of the weak coffee Angie had made fresh, and settled down for some quality reading and writing time. Which of course degenerated into quality email and IM time.

The happy campers returned, dry and warm despite the rain last night, around 10 am. By that point I was nearly organized and nearly ready to go…

Angie and I decided to take a stroll down to the ruins, since it was a bluebird-perfect day. We bumped in to some of our coworkers and students returning from their Sunday-morning soccer game, then stopped by the basketball court and waved at more of our students playing basquet.

Heading up through the market, we decided to check out the prices of blusas and boleros (blouses and the little woven bags that everyone and their mother carries—I have a serious bag fetish). We were unable to find boleros, and I didn’t have enough money to buy a blusa, so we headed back to the Foundation. I was feeling pretty antsy by this point, so I finished gathering my stuff together and decided to wait for the 1:30 bus to drive by the office.

Angie and Fer sat with me, and I was getting nervous, so we all walked down to the “photocopy place” (really just a tienda owned by one of our coworkers that happens also to do photocopies). Good thing, too, because just as we arrived the bus to Huehue pulled up, bypassing its normal route past the school and Foundation offices.

I guess I lucked out—my first long-distance bus ride in Guate was on a “Pullman” (kind of like an old Greyhound). This meant not only did I have my very own seat, but my backpack did too! I asked if I should put it down under the bus with the rest of the luggage, but the ayudante said that as long as there was space I could keep it with me.

I chose a seat in the very back of the bus, which meant that over the many “tumulos” (speed bumps) through small mountain towns I was airborne. It also meant that I could see the entire bus, and that I had a big window, which is why I chose it.

Aside from the dead man at the end of the ride, the trip was uneventful. The bus broke down twice (about par for the course), people got on and off seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and the driver passed slow-moving trucks on blind curves through the “zona de neblina” (fog zone) no fewer than three times. Good thing that new metal rail was put up! That’ll keep a loaded bus on the road!

As we drove in to Huehue, with the sun setting behind the mountains and turning the sky brilliant shades of red and orange, I noticed a flash of yellow on a moto whiz by. He had to stop, because the bus was blocking the intersection, and upon a closer look I realized that the yellow was actually a maize (yes, that’s an official shade of yellow) sweatshirt emblazoned with “Michigan” in block blue letters. Heck yeah.

I'm Alive!

2007-03-20T12:00:00.000-05:00

Oh goodness, it's been a while since I last posted! Almost a month!!

This is not entirely my fault. We lost internet service for about three weeks... which, in fact, was the last time I posted.

Things continue in San Mateo:

The weather is gorgeous and sunny during the morning, and the mist rolls in from downvalley around three in the afternoon.

The kids have interminable energy, which they use to generally follow their own plan (and not mine!). You can't help but love them for it!

I am in round three- in- two- months of a recurring stomach bug... I'm starting to fear it's not just first-year-teacher syndrome. I guess I deserve it, I've spent long enough bragging about how I've always been able to eat street food and drink the water without problems wherever I've been!

My thesis research is going well-- sometimes frustrating, sometimes overwhelming, sometimes utterly confusing, but mostly interesting and fun :-)

Stress is mounting over some big decisions to be made-- I will officially have two days to decide on a grad school when I get home! I am currently leaning very heavily towards Michigan (over Arizona), but there are a lot of logistical things to work out with coordinating a program between SNRE and Anthropology.

This Friday is my last day of teaching! On Saturday and Sunday I will be taking family portraits for a few of my students and conducting interviews in town, and Monday morning at six I am heading off to Huehuetenango. From there I will spend a day or two in Todos Santos Chuchumatán, and then another couple of days across the border in Mexico (partly to renew my visa, partly to see an "indigenous photo project" in San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas).

I am greatly looking forward to that week as a time to decompress a bit, see some new places, and think about something other than what I have planned for class the next day!!

Then there's Semana Santa-- Mom will be here to go hiking with me :-) yay! And we will be painting some murals in the school, then heading to Antigua for a couple of days.

And then-- HOME! I must admit, I am looking forward to being home again. It's not that I don't like it here, because I do (and this is probably the first time I've been in a new place for an extended period that I can see myself returning for another extended period).

I think with all of the things I need to organize at home (living situation beyond August, plans for summer after June 20th, feeding and medically insuring myself beyond August, officially clicking that "accept offer of admission" button) plus an extremely stressful and mostly unplesant living arrangement here, I will be glad to settle back in to my own (or at least "known") space for a little while.

Whew, I have a lot of other things to write about too! I will try to catch up on some events/topics over the next couple of days.

For now, I am going to go read in the sun :-)

What a day...

2007-02-23T14:36:00.000-05:00

Thursday, that is. Whew!

First of all... I received a very auspicious email, although I haven't received any "offical" emails/letters yet, so I will wait to do an official "happy dance," only because I might be a little superstitious and don't want to jinx anything! Ha ha.

Except... I've told just about everyone and their mothers. It was a little hard to hide it from my housemates, because I shrieked like a little girl and have had a huge grin on my face since then. Other than that, I'm completely professional. Really.

Also-- Hi Mrs. H!! Of course I remember you! Mrs. H was my Sophomore Honors English teacher in high school, and I just received a comment on this blog from her :-)

begin:flashback/

I have to say-- the reason that I enjoy writing (papers or otherwise) is mostly because of Mrs. H. Not to sound corny or anything. After a fairly horrendous freshman honors English/History combined- class guinea pig experience (the teacher of which will remain unnamed) I thought that I wanted to become a computer engineer. Seriously. I even went to computer camp one summer and learned HTML and QBasic.

I had decided that I hated reading novels (even though I was, and continue to be, addicted to a good story) and that "interpreting" them was stupid. Writing about them was even worse, because it seemed like you could just make anything up-- as long as the teacher thought that it sounded good.

Then came Sophomore Honors. I had heard horror stories about how difficult the writing would be, and was pretty scared of how much I'd have to read.

But the class was different from Freshman Honors! Instead of reading long, dry "classics" and memorizing mundane facts about the authors' lives (ahem. DICKENS. ahem, ahem.), we read a variety of novels, plays, and poetry. First up was "The Great Gatsby," and we learned about colors and symbolism and the historical facts that made the story relevant.

We read "Grapes of Wrath," which is probably the book that sticks most in my memory from high school. Part of why I found it so interesting was because my dad was living at the time outside of San Francisco (near where Steinbeck based "Tortilla Flat" and "Cannery Row"-- which led me to read those books also) and I could actually go see some of the places he described in the books, as well as the Steinbeck Museum.

But I especially remember the project we did along with the book. My first photo project!

We had to photograph representations of poverty. I remember joking with my classmates about how, in our homogenous upper-middle class town, everyone would turn in a picture of the one homeless person that always sat outside of Starbucks. That picture was quickly listed as one that would get you zero points on the assignment, and we had to think of more creative representations of poverty.

I used a disposable camera to do the project while I was visiting my dad in San Francisco. I remember having a lot of fun, getting to take pictures of whatever I wanted (as long as it represented poverty in some way). I still have that project, along with all of my other photo albums at home. :-)

Writing about the themes we read in "The Grapes of Wrath" was much easier and much more interesting when we had a concrete way to relate it to our own surroundings.

Mrs. H is also the one that recommended one of my favorite authors to me: Isabel Allende (the book was "Daughter of Fortune"), which I credit in part for my fascination with Latin America (the other credit goes to my Spanish teacher Junior and Senior year-- hi Sra! and the fact that I have yet to have a "Spanish Literature" class in the classic sense of the term. Maybe I should change that and take one this summer?)

We also read "The Crucible," "Catcher in the Rye" and "Lord of the Flies" that year-- all very memorable books. They've since changed the curriculum, and I don't know what books are included now. I seem to remember there being some controversey over almost all of the books we read in Sophomore Honors... I hope they're still a part of the curriculum!

Our class was very sad when Mrs. H changed schools mid-year. I honestly can't remember who we had second semester... which is strange, because Sophomore year was a fairly memorable year (qualifying for the state competition on speech team, getting the lead in a play, dating a total jerk of a first boyfriend, the International Relations class that I loved-- another reason I like to write, winning an award in Model UN at Harvard, almost failing Chemistry, almost crashing in driver's ed... geez. high school.).

/end:flashback

Post Script: We lost power last night (Friday) for about five hours, which is why this is posted on Saturday.

Post-Post Script: Berkeley said "no." But I'm definitley more than okay with that. I guess I won't be living on the West Coast for another 6-8 years or so :-) ah, life.

Post-Post-Post Script: Alright. I think I can go ahead and say, since Simon is hiking in Arizona for a week and won't be home to pick up any official letters that are on their way (!)-- Michigan said "yes"!!! •••happy dance•••

Oreos for Breakfast

2007-02-20T07:04:00.000-05:00

Ohhh, yeah. Hey, it's Mardi Gras. And since I'm giving up processed sugar for Lent in solidarity with my Catholic and Evangelical students... I get Oreos for breakfast today.

And I'm working on a paper.

Hence the short blog to say: I'm alive. I'm still working. I'm currently watching the sun rise outside of my window (oh, I have a new room-- pictures later) as I write about the representation of the subaltern in Latin American literature, namely in Hombres de maíz and I, Rigoberta Menchú, an Indian Woman in Guatemala.

More interesting than it probably sounds, I swear.

And thus, I continue. Oreo package number 2, on its way.

Día de Cariño

2007-02-14T19:07:00.000-05:00

I've decided that I would have liked Valentine's Day a lot more at home if they had canceled classes like they do in Guatemala. Or at least, in San Mateo Ixtatán.

Yesterday (yes, I am aware that •today• is actually Valentine's Day, but I'll get to that point) classes were canceled in honor of Valentine's Day, so that we could go on a paseo together as a school. Classes weren't canceled today, because the students in sexto magisterio had to go student teach in the elementary school and had their own paseo.

We left the school at about 7:30 in the morning, and walked for 2 hours to "Hit Hop" (I don't know how it's actually spelled, but that's what it sounds like). Hit Hop is a very large (about 3/4 mile in diameter) field surrounded by pine trees. The grass is short and perfect for playing soccer, and the field was divided in parts by large rocks/boulders that stuck up from the ground.

Basically, kids goofed around and played games until lunch. And threw pica pica, or confetti, in each others' hair.

And in my hair.

But they didn't just •throw• it, mind you, they took big handfuls of it and •ground• it into your •scalp•. Awesome.

They'd also get their hands wet, cover them in glitter, and smear glitter on your face and in your hair.

I seemed to be a favorite target-- I wasn't sure at first whether to be flattered or pissed.

I was flattered. I shreeked and chased them and took my own handfuls of pica pica and ground it in to their little scalps. It was fun. At one point, a group of girls from cuarto magisterio tackled me, camera and all, to the ground and all threw big handfuls of glitter and confetti on me, until everyone gave up in giggles.

Notice the guilty hands in the background of this picture :-)

I was •starving• by the time lunch rolled around-- we hadn't brought any snacks, and between the glitter/confetti-ing and the sun... whew. My bloodsugar was non-existant.

Thankfully, lunch was delicious fried chicken, black beans, chicken-flavored rice, and ample tortillas. And soda in glass bottles, (aka: "agua" har har) of course.

After devouring the food, we began the "secret gift exchange." This had been planned a week in advance, so we all knew who to buy gifts for. The rule was, you couldn't spend more than 10Q. (about $1.50). To pick secret friends, we drew names out of a hat. All students and teachers included.

I bought 5 mini snickers, a bag of peanuts, a bag of corn balls, and a bag of pica pica for Enrique in quinto magisterio. And wrapped it up in a piece of red tissue paper with a BIG PINK HEART. hee hee.

The gift exchange was a long, drawn-out, and chaotic production. About par for the course.

A volunteer began by standing up and describing their "amigo secreto." Then, the amigo secreto would have to come up and take the gift, and repeat the description of their own "amigo secreto." Yes, it makes sense, but the system would break down when someone received a gift but forgot to bring one to give, gave a gift to someone who had already given theirs away, or left early and was not there to claim their gift. A lot of people, after having received and then given away their gift, would just walk away or start goofing off and distracting other students.

As I waited for my secret amigo to announce my name... I watched my legs slowly get sunburned. Yeowch.

My secret amiga was María from segundo básico... one of the toughest basquet players around :-) She bought me a "say it with roses/ i love you bear-with-flowers" (yes, it was labeled in English :-)) and a rosary. A very sweet gift!

A lot of the kids really went all-out for the gift exchange. I mean, nice wrapping paper and everything! The stores around town have been stocking heart-themed tschochky for a couple of weeks. Everything from plastic flowers to plastic hearts to plastic bears and random molded plastic shapes that say "I Love You" or "Día de Cariño." Everything sells for between 10 and 30 quetzales. Candy unfortunately didn't seem to be such a popular gift... sad day.

After the gift exchange, we rounded up and headed home.

Except..... the once-pristine field that we had walked to in the morning was now covered with garbage. And I do mean •covered•.

Plastic bottles, bottle caps, wrapping paper, plastic pica pica bags, pica pica itself, food scraps, chip bags, candy wrappers, boxes. Lots of plastic bottles.

The solution? Throw everything into one of the natural sink-holes in the field and burn it. Well... almost everything. Somehow the organic materials, the one •safe• thing to burn, were left out. And only a small portion of the total garbage amount ever made it in to the fire in the first place.

And the gringos were able to rescue some of the plastic materials for the trash heap. Awesome (not).

We ended up leaving a large portion of garbage in the field, while Jess and Brian hauled a torn garbage bag full of plastic bottles back to San Mateo, only to be scolded for not leaving it at the field where "the municipal government would pick it up." Yeah, right.

I wonder where we went wrong? Well. For one thing, we did not warn the students ahead of time that they needed to pick up their garbage. Nor did we provide ample garbage bags.

But the interesting thing is, everyone can talk the talk about garbage and waste management. They all know throwing garbage on the ground or on the floor of the classroom leads to too much garbage in the street and a dirty-looking place. But they keep doing it.

Why? Is this the difference between "communication" and "education" that we talked about in Environmental Ed last semester? I think it is. We're "communicating" the correct things to do, we're just not "teaching" the correct things to do.

It was especially interesting that María brought the issue up at the faculty meeting today, pointing out that the "voluntarios" (gringos) were the only ones that stayed behind picking up the garbage. This brought up the issue of trash management in the school in general, which somehow led to a discussion of spitting on the floor, which prompted Julio to say that it is "just part of our culture."

The "just part of our culture" bit was not kindly-received by the well-intentioned gringos present, but I could see his point to a certain extent. Maybe not in regards to leaving a once-pristine field full of garbage (which goes against my personal values to such an extreme that I can't write it off as "cultural relativity"), but definitely in regards to some of the gringo teachers' complaints on how the school and classes are run. I was almost glad Julio finally pointed out that perhaps some of the "improvements" the gringos (myself included) are trying to make (aka: force) are not, in fact, "improvements" at all, but just "how things are here" (this mostly in regards to how classes and disciplinary actions are run).

I also wonder if Julio's "outburst" (with such a laid-back guy, that's as close as we'll get to an "outburst") was perhaps a bit of underlying animosity towards the foreign-managed Foundation? We have to keep in mind that the Foundation is based in the US, is run by US Citizens, and has come here and opened up the first high school in town and changed quite a few things around. Plus, this is the largest number of US volunteers that they've had yet. There is a lot of resentment from other people in town, which resulted in a confrontation once. Even if the compañeros at the school generally like the support of the Foundation (be it monetary or otherwise), there is still the possiblity for underlying resentment of the foreigners trying to change things (and worse, we're gringos, who always seem to want to run the world-- well intentioned or not).

In my personal opinion, I think it would be more of a challenge for all of us volunteering here to change •our• "save-the-world" "our-way-or-the-high-way" "scare tactic and memorization" attitudes to conform more to the laid-back, cancel class for Valentine's Day attitudes of the guatemaltecos.

After all, when a year (or three months, in my case) is up, we're all going to go back to our homes, and the guatemaltecos will stay here in their home, and we'll all get back in to our respective routines. Maybe our students will have learned something useful, maybe they won't have.

The only thing we can really control is what we will take home with us--- how our attitudes and beliefs about how the world "should" work* have changed over the course of our being here this short time.

*(isn't that a joke? "should work"? like there's an absolute right way to do •anything•)
•••

On a very happy side note--- I was accepted by UM's Environmental Justice Master of Science program!!! WOO! Still waiting for responses from the four anthro programs I applied to...

My students are amazing :-)

2007-02-07T12:56:00.000-05:00

You have to check out their first 1500 photos: http://flickr.com/photos/fultzie all of them are in the "Fotos Estudiantiles" set.

Yes, some of them are blurry, were unfortunately taken with the camera whose lens is scratched, or have the heads/feet cut off. Some of them also need some cropping (we're learning how to do that this week). But so many of them are amazing!!

I am just blown away by the creativity of these kids... I love seeing how they experiment with composition/location/subject/action/lighting/etc as the week with the cameras goes on!

•yay•

One month down...

2007-02-04T09:31:00.000-05:00

Two to go.

I'm not counting down, honestly. I'm just amazed that a month has gone by so quickly! When I got here, and found out I'd be teaching almost 20 hours a week... I thought "how the heck am I going to fill 20 hours a WEEK with my project!" I thought the project itself would only take about 50 hours...

Now I'm thinking, "How am I going to finish in just two more months?!"

Let's re-cap.

Three of the classes have learned how to use digital cameras... just the picture-taking part. They had the cameras for one week, and took some awesome pictures! I'm really excited for this coming week...

The "theme" they're working with is self-portrait/autobiography. So this week we're going to be in the computer lab deciding which of the 2,000 (that's not an exaggeration) pictures they want to use as their self-portrait. Then they'll copy and paste the picture (count on a day to learn that), crop the picture (another day), and type their autobiographies into the blogger software (two days). That's a week in the computer lab right there.

As homework over the weekend, they have to find photos of family members to bring in to class.

The next week, we'll make our family trees and talk about where we are in them (one day), attach photos to the family trees (one day), talk about family history and stories passed on through the generations and discuss how we can learn more about family history (one day), spend a day thinking of questions to ask about family history (one day), and a day practicing the interviews in class (one day).

Over the weekend, they'll conduct interviews with their family members on family history and stories.

Then, a week in the computer lab. I will scan the photos into the computer, so they can copy/paste into a word processing software and make digital versions of their family trees (two days right there). Then they'll type up the interviews (one day), decide what part of the interview they want to use to tell a story (homework and one day), and type their stories (homework and one day).

Then, on to community. They're going to start by drawing a map of their community, just what they think it is (one day). Then we'll talk about different types of community... discussion and reading, maybe (one day). We'll talk about important places in their community, symbolism for the community, etc (one day). We'll talk about people in the community, all of the different sub-communities (one day). We'll plan what pictures we're going to take to represent the community (one day). There's another week.

That's four weeks. We're at March already!

And then a week with the cameras again.

And then another week in the computer lab. We'll edit photos of the community (copy/paste, crop: one day), print photos of the community (one day), physically paste phots onto a photo map of the community (one day), write descriptions of the symbolism of the building/location in the blogger software (two days).

And then a day deciding who we'd like to interview to learn more about history in the community and talking about portraits. A day deciding what questions to ask and talking more about portraits. A day practicing the interviews in class. Two days interviewing and taking portraits of the person we interviewed.

And ANOTHER week in the compu lab... finishing things up! Typing their interviews, going over what's important in the interview to the story they want to tell, editing photos... printing photos and text and arranging them on nice paper for a "gallery" display... oh boy.

I don't even know if we'll get to the "country history" or map unit that I had planned... I guess that's something for the next teacher?!

And all of this is contingent on a few things: 1) the students being able to open email addresses, and then remembering those addresses and their passwords; 2) the internet working; 3) the batteries in the cameras not dying; 4) Henry being able to get print cartridges in Huehue; 5) my hard drive not exploding (I keep getting the message: "Your startup disk is nearing capacity. Please delete some files to continue working.").

Ohh, boy.

Have I mentioned that I like challenges? :-)

Groundhog Day

2007-02-02T17:40:00.000-05:00

The cuarto magisterio students have gotten in the habit of insisting each day, to all of the gringo teachers, that today is a "sacred day" and therefore we shouldn't have class. I asked them today why it was a sacred day, and they replied "because we're Mayan!"

I told them that in the United States, today really is a sacred day. Every year on this day, a rodent (I didn't know the word for "groundhog" so I said a "big rat") comes out of his little house. And if the rodent sees his shadow, winter will last for six more weeks. If the rodent doesn't see his shadow, spring will come early.

There were ten seconds of dead silence and they looked at me like I was insane.

And then they asked if they could have class off.

•••

I found a new bike route!

This week I've been focusing on trying to get my own schoolwork done, and therefore have not gotten a single gota (drop) of exercise. Can you say "Lazy Slob"?!

So it was after lunch today and I was staring at my computer screen helplessly trying to figure out what I could say about Rigoberta Menchú that would be new and interesting... And I realized that my introduction was nearly two pages long. The paper is only supposed to be three pages (one page per book that I read for it). Errrr.... break time.

I've been concentrating on trying to "remove myself" for set periods of time, per one of my professors' suggestion, so I can get work done for home without feeling a) guilty b) crazy or c) overwhelmed. I told myself that this week I was allowed to be culture-shocked and eat lots of chocolate and drink lots of coffee to make myself feel better. Next week, all that stops.

I've found that a couple of things help me to remove myself: first of all, switching languages. Spanish is for work, and when I'm writing things for work and planning lessons and talking about work, and English is for home and the work I need to do for home. Although I'm writing my literature papers in Spanish, and the next few books I have to read are in Spanish... perhaps I'll have to find another way to separate things.

Music also helps. I've had Catch-22 on perma-repeat on my ipod since I got here, mostly because that was one of the last CDs I listened to at home, so it puts me in that mindset. Also because I now know all of the words, and can just mindlessly hum along. And the beat is good for typing quickly. Heh.

Biking is very important. Exercise has always helped me to clear my head and think more... "efficiently." I just need to get into a habit again. I made excuses all this week, and the route I had been taking bugged me because it was an out-and-back. I HATE out-and-backs. I can never stay motivated the whole time, be it a ride or a hike or whatever. I need to have a destination if it's an out-and-back, so I can stop and get some coffee or whatever and then recharge my motivation for the ride back! Plus, I had no idea where I was going or for how long. I'd ride for about 45 minutes and decide it had been long enough and geez, I still had to go all the way •back•... yeah, that breeds laziness.

So this new route is a loop. I start out right by the school, which road turns out to hook up with the road I had been taking before, but lets me bypass the town center. I go downhill for about five minutes, turn twice (switchbacks) and then end up going back •up•hill towards Barillas (same route as before, so far).

At the first tienda there's a turn-off. You can either continue steadily and gently uphill towards Barillas, or turn sharply left and head up a steeper hill.

I took the steeper hill today.

OH my goodness.

Yes, I walked. After I bottomed out on my granny gear. My legs are getting soft. Ick.

Halfway up the hill (and past that last tienda) I realized I had left my water bottle sitting on the kitchen counter. It has been hot and sunny all week, and the roads were full of dust flying everywhere. Isn't that always how it works? ;-P

So of course I kept going. Up, up, up. The road was of varying steepness, but I'm sad to say I walked a good portion of it. There's a goal, right?

At the second turn-off I turned left again, because it looked like it went downhill and back towards town. Mental note: it's just as hard to get back on your bike on a steep •down•hill as it is on a steep •up•hill. Duh.

I swung down a little-used dirt road that looked like it might have just been cut not too long ago... and ended up in a little aldea who's name I could not pronounce. It started with a "c"... There was a congregation of women in front of an open-air building, singing and drinking. One of them shouted "venga! venga!" at me ("c'mon! c'mon!").

Up and down some more... more walking because my lungs just couldn't handle it... and suddenly I was at the San Mateo cemetary! And someone was shouting my name!

I ran into some of the cuarto magisterio students. One of them said "hi," but the ones I met later on pretended not to know me (yes, I look like a dork wearing my helmet around here... and who has seen a gringa on a bike? at least I wear capris over the lycra-- that might be bad!).

And all that was left was a nice (read: STEEP) downhill back to the Foundation. In all, it was an hour-long ride... perfect for before classes most days! I could make it a bit longer for my "late" day... so it's two whole hours. Whee!

Suspension

2007-02-01T14:54:00.000-05:00

I have mixed feelings about this.

Most days are mixed. The class goes exceedingly well, the kids are happy, I'm happy, the fotos are awesome....

Then the batteries die and segundo is restless and won't stop talking and I want to cry because they don't know what information you can learn from a news article even though we just went over the "who what where when why how" questions and established that we can learn *that* information to answer *those* questions from reading the article!

And then we have a "lunch meeting" and there is Eleazar and Otto from tercero and the other teachers want to suspend them because they're the "instigators of generally obnoxious behavior."

What?! And what, pray tell, will that do to solve the problem? They'll just be instigating obnoxious behavior in the streets then! This is their last year of school! They're smart kids, really smart, and this is the last opportunity they have... they're lucky to even be in eighth grade.

It makes me really depressed.

But which is worse: kicking those two out, even if they're smart, because they're little punks... or letting them stay in class and pick on the three girls in tercero; call them names, poke them, grab them...

The three girls that dressed me up the other day came and talked to me, in whispers, yesterday. Apparently the boys in that class make fun of them in Chu'j, grab them, and poke them when the Gringo teachers aren't looking (and can't understand).

But we didn't suspend them. Fer spoke up, and said that we should do something positive instead... and I don't think Chico really wanted to kick them out, anyway. I tried to speak up, but... I don't know if it's because I'm a girl and I just look "soft" when I don't think that kicking them out does any good... it must be. Because they take Chat seriously, and he and I are at about the same level of Spanish.

And that was it. We didn't talk any more about it. Poor Eleazar looked like he was going to cry... his mom was sitting right behind him, and she doesn't speak Spanish, so Chico would translate into Chu'j what the teachers were saying about her son.

Mostly positive things-- how smart he is, how really he's a leader, and this is an important quality... how he just lacks seriousness.

I wonder what will actually happen-- whether anything actually "positive" will be done.

Otto's parents didn't come.