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.

Extreme Days

2007-01-31T12:53:00.000-05:00

Moods are like the weather here: when it's good, it's really good. The sun is shining, you can see forever, its warm. Fabulous

When it's bad... oh boy. Freezing, the electricity goes out, you pile on all your clothes and drink all the cocoa... and you still can't see across the street for all the fog.

Today has been good.

I was able to get some rechargeable batteries in Santa Eulalia the other night (see "in ganna ach") and the kids have been going wild with taking pictures this week :-)

The segundo kids remembered how to turn on the computers, remembered what their user names and passwords were, remembered what program to use to browse the internet, remembered to double click the Firefox icon to open the program, remembered where to type www.google.es, and remembered the name of the largest circulating daily paper in Guatemala (we don't actually receive newspapers out here... we're learning about them by reading internet news articles).

I discovered that there is an Adobe-like graphics editor on Linux... very, very much like Photoshop. YESSSSSS!!!!

I decided that, to facilitate things with the cameras, I will load the pictures on to my computer, upload them as "private" photos onto Flickr, and from there the students can copy and paste (both basic computer functions that they need to practice) the photo into the graphics editor ("Gimp") and crop/edit as they please (croping will help them practice moving the mouse around!). Then, they will copy/paste their edited photo into the blogger software (I'm setting up a blog for each class) and type their stories that they've written and edited in their notebooks.

The only class that doesn't have computer time during *my* class is tercero, and they have lots of compu classes that they can work in.

I learned that I've been telling the students to "light the cameras on fire" instead of "turn the cameras on." Heh. "incendiar" vs. "encender". Whoopsies!

I also discovered that there is a SPANISH version of Ubuntu, the Linux OS that we've been using in English so far (making things a tad complicated for our second-language Spanish learners in the Computación classes. Try saying "Haz un clik en Programs, y después un clik en Word Processor."). The jury is out on whether Chat or I discovered it first... ;-)

But that would be amazing if Henry had all of the resources he needed to administer the system *in Spanish*, and if our kids could learn to use computers *in Spanish*. Wow. That would be fabulous.

And I love the whole concept of Linux... free software! I mean, that's great! We don't have to spend $1000s to support Microsoft just to run our computers!

We'll see how the computer issues shape up... for now, I'm just happy we have graphics editors!!

In ganna ach

2007-01-29T21:40:00.000-05:00

("I love you" in Chu'j)

Classes were canceled this afternoon in honor of Eulalia's (a fellow teacher, and the only female Guatemalan teacher) graduation.

Licenciatura is about equal to a bachelor's degree-- Eulalia is now the one licenciada at the high school. Needless to say, it is a very big deal that she has received her licenciatura, both personally for her and for the school. And, as she told us, she is now eligable to begin Master's level training if she wants.

The ceremony was really interesting-- it was the first time I actually took "Field Notes" per-say!! I mean, I'm not going to be taking notes when I'm teaching... and while I try to write up a little refelction on class each day/week... it doesn't always happen and it's not always the same.

Perhaps since there are many fewer undergrads graduating (?) and they tend to be older than in the USA, the ceremony was long, formal, and recognized each individual. It seemed more similar to a doctoral ceremony in the states (and at first I thought it was) with each person getting "robed" and "hatted" by a professor, taking a vow, and lots of long speeches.

At first I thought it was a doctoral ceremony, because of the robing and the hatting...

The candidates were graduating from U San Carlos, the largest university in the country, which is based in Guatemala City. It was a local ceremony for students who lived in the area and usually traveled to get to classes at nights or on the weekends (in Santa Eulalia... the USC has a branch there). Maybe this is why there was a more personal/formal feel to it?

Marimba music played steadily in the background, louder before the ceremony and as the candidates entered, and softly continued during the speeches and robing/hatting. At the end, the music changed to electronic MIDI files of American pop music and KidSongs played off of the Casio keyboard... oh boy. I've never heard "All For You" or "The Ants Go Marching In" quite like that before!

After the ceremony, we congregated out in front of the high school where it had been held. Juan Jacinto suggested that I run and buy some rechargeable batteries while we were waiting.

Not only did the store have rechargeable batteries--- they process film too!! Mental note: if I decide to switch to film later on, the place to get it processed is just an hour and a half away. Sweet!

As we were walking back to the high school, we met up with the rest of the group, which included Eulalia's extended family, friends, and co-workers (us). We walked through the little town (which somehow felt much larger than San Mateo does) to a comedor.

We could only fit half of the group in the comedor at a time, so we ate in shifts. Chat, Jess, Angela and I ate at once and could hear them hacking the rotisserie chickens apart behind the divider at the end of our table. Yummy.

Dinner was rice flavored with chicken broth, black beans, fresh tortillas and part of a rotisserie chicken. The tortillas were whiter than they are in San Mateo... and stayed soft even when they were cold. Interesting... I wonder what was different about them?

We all piled into a busito that we had rented to drive back to Mateo... we had the requisite 2-extra people crammed into the 20-passenger bus. Sure! No problem! Winding through the mountains at night, camionetas trundling past us on blind curves. Who needs an amusement park when you can just hop in a moving vehicle and drive home?!

Please don't think that I mean that negatively... because I don't. I really do get a kick out of "how things work" down here. It's a huge lesson in patience and relaxation for folks from the Great White North (meaning the States). More on this topic later!

So in the bus, we were all speaking English and our Guatemalan counterparts were all speaking Chu'j, and we realized that the hour and a half was ripe for language exchange!

What's the first phrase we asked for? Well, Fer and Chat asked how to say "I love you" in Chu'j, and then "I could loose myself in your eyes." Hmmm, what's their motivation?! :-)

The Things You Learn The "Hard Way"...

2007-01-29T10:21:00.000-05:00

Add "difference between 'normal' batteries and 'alkaline' batteries" to the list.

Apparently, we live in a "technologically-enhanced" bubble in the United States. Which I already suspected, for better or for worse, but have just now confirmed. The only batteries you can purchase at home are alkaline, and therefore function in the majority of digital devices such as cameras.

Here, however, there are "normal" batteries, made only to function in pre-1999 devices such as film cameras and WalkMans. Also first-generation digital cameras (thankfully we have two of those... I never thought I'd be saying that!).

Being ignorant to the variety of batteries, I purchased bulk "normal" batteries yesterday. I was thrilled they were so affordable!

After turning on the cameras, we got a "Warning, Battery Exhausted!" sign.

This answers my film-vs-digital questions... next time it's film, grant money or no. Unless I can find rechargable batteries in Santa Eulalia this afternoon-- fingers crossed!

I feel the worst for the kids, who just looked at me like I was a complete idiot for buying them crappy batteries. They were like "what do you mean the cameras don't work"... they just looked crushed!

*sigh*

Looks like I have a case of the Mondays!

Not All Who Wander Are Lost...

2007-01-27T17:13:00.000-05:00

the best boots and pants i have ever purchased

The Saturday Hiking Club strikes again!

Yesterday afternoon, Jess, Angela and I set off for a little walk towards the ruins. Angela and I continued hiking, following the dubious directions of a band of kiddios shouting English phrases at us (F@#$ you! Hello! F$@% you! What you name?).

We ended up in the middle of someone's cornfield with the option of either continuing on the path down towards the river or heading back up to town. It was getting late, and we had no idea how far the river was, so we headed back.

But-- after a crazy game of truth or dare last night (i bowed out after just a few rounds... people always find that i'm incredibly boring to play the game with.) this morning dawned bright and clear and just begged us to head out again.

Around 10 am we took off towards the ruins again, and retraced Angela's and my steps through the cornfields. We stopped at the last little tienda before we were officially "out" of town and bought two sweet rolls each for lunch later on.

Angela and I promptly ate one each-- the coffee just wasn't going to get us as far as we wanted to go.

Chat was dead-set on finding "Pittsburgh"... or the confluence of the two rivers that flow down the valleys on either side of town.

We reached a little stone bridge after passing by a couple of farms, but decided that the two rivers that met just below the bridge couldn't be the ones we were looking for. The second river was just too small! It must just be a spring that fed into this river... "Pittsburgh" must still be farther down the valley.

The hiking was gorgeous. The trail was very well-traveled (people use it every day, after all, to get from home to San Mateo for business!) and the vegetation was really surprising!

At one point I was watching my footing, and noticed a fern growing across the trail-- lady fern! I had spent all summer identifying those things for school groups out in Seattle! And then-- horsetail! and sword fern! Woo hoo! I must be in a "wetlands"... that explained all the mud! :-)

It got significantly warmer as we moved down-valley. At one point I was actually warm enough to go in just a tank top... I think that might have frightened the only other two people we saw walking.

After about 2 hours moving down-valley, we decided that we'd better turn around and head back up, since we didn't really know how long it would take us to get back to town.

In all, we ended up walking about 4.5 hours total. Not too bad! By the time we climbed up the mountain back into town, we were starving. The sweet rolls (which are usually too dry for me to really stomach) were devoured around hour 2.5... unfortunately our favorite comedor did not have food ready-to-eat. Thankfully, María's family's place did! Delicious beef stew and lots (and lots) of tortillas.

Mmmm, I like this Saturday hiking thing. Hopefully it will be sunny tomorrow and I can go for a bike ride...

Rain and Basquet

2007-01-26T15:52:00.001-05:00

more pictures: http://flickr.com/photos/fultzie

We had Thursday afternoon off from classes (the entire school) so that primer, segundo, and tercero básico could play in an invitational basketball tournament.

By "invitational basketball tournament," I mean an invitation from the one other school in town. The ones that wear red uniforms ("red for the devil" we say... they're an Evangelical school, so there's an added irony). We received a very official letter from them a few days ago, and decided at our Wednesday teacher-lunch-meeting that we would cancel classes in honor of the occasion.

Somehow (and I didn't see the letter, so I don't know if it was in fact the cause) we thought that we needed to be at the cancha at 1:30.

When we got there, the other school's students were playing basketball during their lunch hour. And then they left.

Our kids played basketball until 4 pm, when the other school showed up with (our, borrowed) sound equipment and uniforms.

It was somewhat surreal, playing basketball by the church (and yes, I played).

There is a photo in the October 1989 National Geographic, part of the article that inspired my project, of kids playing basketball by a church on Palm Sunday:

This is that church:

Every time I look at the photos I've taken, I'm completely taken aback by that church!

Looking back at the National Geographic photo, I'm struck by how I read it now that I've learned more about this place.

In the photo, there is a woman sitting on the edge of the court, exactly where I stood on Thursday to take a picture of one of my students passing the basketball.

On my first "reading" of the photo, I had no idea that the colorful poncho she wore was in fact a huipile embroidered in the identifying design of San Mateo.

Nor did I know that the boy who had just shot the basketball in the photo was wearing San Mateo's traditional capichai. The younger boys rarely wear capichai now (some of the men do occasionally, including Julio) except for on special occasions.

The caption of the photo reads: "The soul of the Maya finds expression in all they touch, even things borrowed from other cultures. In San Mateo Ixtatán, a basketball backboard and Catholic icons are colored by a distinctively Maya hand. By promoting limited cultural interaction, La Ruta Maya [the tourist route proposed by National Geographic] aims to ease the burdens of poverty and isolation while keeping the true Maya colors from fading away."

Interestingly enough, the church as since been painted. White. With some pink highlights.

Have the "true Maya colors" already "faded away"?

What the heck do we mean by "true Maya colors" anyway??

According to Henry, the church is painted every year in September, for the feria. It's always a shade of yellow... this year it's "cream." Interesting.

First Day with Cameras

2007-01-26T12:51:00.000-05:00

I'll admit, I was a little nervous about handing 5- $300 cameras to students that aren't responsible enough to bring their notebooks every day to class. Or able remember what class I teach.

But... they were great!

For the most part.

I had Julio come and attempt to put the "fear of God" in each of my classes, before handing the cameras out.

Maybe something was lost in translation... Not much was said about the consequences of chucking a camera at another student's head, dropping a camera in a mud puddle and watching the bus run it over, or selling a camera on the blackmarket.

No worries, none of that stuff actually happened. At least, not yet... knock on wood.

Instead, Julio gave them a quick speech on "I'm sure you already know how to take pictures." Errr, not so much, no.

But they learned pretty quick. And succeeded in filling up every single memory card I had!

The cameras all range in quality... the oldest one happens to be my first digital camera, all of 1 megapixel. My current camera is 8 megapixels.

The kids in tercero kept asking me how much the cameras cost. I told them "more than I earn for teaching you all year!"

Ha ha, a lot more.

Then they asked how much my own camera cost. I told them it was a gift, and therefore even •more• expensive... I really hesitated telling them how much the cameras actually cost. Julio told them that they each cost $400, which is a bit high (the nicest point-and-shoot I brought is around $250, and some of my coworkers are lending theirs, which are all around $300).

I go back and forth over whether we should be using digital or film... film is much higher quaility, and we could just scan the pictures to "digitize" them, and I kinda •like• the feel of film better, but it's also much more expensive... but we have enough film cameras for each student to have their own (at least for a week or two... and then we just get a new roll of film!). But then there are processing costs, film costs, and the kids would be limited in the number of pictures they could actually take. And it would take a lot more time to purchase film, let each class spend a week taking pictures, get the film processed in the next town (5 hours away) and then scan all of the pictures.

In this case, the kids can take as many pictures as the camera will hold, see their pictures right away, and then we just download the ones they like and pass the camera on to the next person. No extra costs.

Except for the batteries. We are going to freaking EAT batteries.

And there's the small problem of how well the cameras actually •work•... I don't know if it was just the LCD screen (fingers crossed that it was!) or if this particular camera takes pictures that consistently have big white blobs in the middle of them. We'll soon find out.

I'm really looking forward to next week, when cuarto and tercero get free time (all week) to take pictures as they please. Their assignment is a "self portrait," but I told them they could really take pictures of anything else they like as well.

They're in five groups in each class (we have five cameras). Each group has a camera, and each day one person is "in charge" of the camera. I give the camera to that person, that person is responsible for returning it to me. That person also decides who and what pictures are taken of.

The idea is that they will enlist the help of the other group members to take a self-portrait, or if they're taking pictures of other things, the other group members will be using their "practice cameras" (remember the pieces of paper with windows cut out?) to practice composing fotos that they'd like to take.

The funny thing is, about half of them have cellphones with cameras in them (the other half just have regular cellphones... geez-o-man). I thought I'd be working with students that had never seen a photo before (okay, maybe not that removed from visual culture... but I certainly didn't expect kids to be taking pictures of •me• during class with Motorola Razors... I can't even afford a Razor!).

But-- the kids are awesome! I would walk around and ask each group how it was going. Sure, some of the kids ran off in the opposite direction while the rest of us went to the plaza, and I didn't see them until we got back to the school (very embarassing... another teacher was standing there talking to them... whoops!). But most of the groups I saw were very concerned about the composition of their photos, how their subject looked, and getting to see the picures after they took them.

I really can't wait to see their pictures... and neither can they! They keep asking me when I'll print out the practice ones they've taken so that they can take them home.

That's on the list for this weekend.

Halfway to the Chicken Coop....

2007-01-24T19:11:00.000-05:00

....down.... all the way to the chicken coop....down.... all the way and half as far again.... down..... all the way to the chicken coop....down....halfway to the chicken coop..... down.

And so went Jess and my "ladders" on the hill. And by "the hill," I mean, that one that you get to after you climb the first 1/4-mile 20-degree hill, reach the 1/8- mile level area, climb the second 1/4-mile 10-degree hill, and reach the second 1/4- mile level area.

In all we probably ran about 2 miles. Woo.

Earlier today I could have sworn I had mono. I'm serious. I was like, "Dammit, so-and-so, you gave me mono. Jerk." I had a sore throat, I ached all over, I was falling asleep, I had fallen asleep at 9:30 last night and had a hard time getting out of bed at 6 this morning. Mono. Goodbye spleen.

And then I had tercero básico. After nearly bursting into tears in segundo básico earlier ("I don't have enough energy left to fight with you guys, so either you have to be quiet or I'm going to leave and get Julio to come down here for the rest of the period") and being whistled at... yes, •whistled• at, every time I turned to write on the board in cuarto magisterio (for wearing a corte, I can only presume) I was in no mood for Otto's shenanigans in tercero.

So, I pulled a "bad teacher" move. I printed out an article on how digital cameras work (in Spanish) and came up with four questions for them to answer after reading it.

Yes, I know, I'm terrible. That is a horrible way to spend class time. Numerous studies have shown that students should spend class time engaging and interacting and all that good active stuff.

But seriously. It was the first time EVER they were quiet for more than 10 seconds at a time.

Except... they don't •read•. I'm serious. The article was all of a page and a half long. Four questions. I took the wording for the questions right from the article. It should have been easy-peasey.

How many times did they insist-- INSIST-- that the answers weren't there?? How many times did they come up to me with some random fraction of a sentence copied down for an answer, word-for-word from the article? And the sentence had nothing to do with anything in the question!

Q. "What unit do you use to measure the quality of a digital photo?"
A. "developed by Kodak but not taken far enough to compete with"

NO! Answer = either pixels or megapixels. I accepted both.

And when one student finally read the article, found the answer, wrote it down, and confirmed it with me-- the rest copied.

*sigh*

Somehow, they still made me laugh, though. Some of them work so hard! And the ones that don't... they're just funny in how they imitate my Spanish and are so darned insistant that I'm wrong-- wrong!-- about what I'm trying to teach. I love it.

And then I got home and Angela had made hot cocoa.

The hot cocoa embargo has ended! The tienda where we usually bought chocolate-en-bloque has been out for the past several days. But-- Angela found a new place! That has chocolate-en-bloque! Woo!!

It must be true that the Aztecs drank hot chocolate for fortification before a battle. 'Cause darnit, that was amazing.

This was the best I've felt yet, exercising here. Sure, my oxygen-starved limbs screamed after a mere 1/4-mile, but I still had enough breath to belt out the chorus to "Dear Sergio" to Jess as we ran ladders (she knows all the words also, so I didn't seem that crazy).

Fan-flippin'-tastic, yo.

Camera Vocabulary In Spanish

2007-01-24T08:08:00.000-05:00

viewfinder = visor, mirilla
flash = flash
lens = lente
light meter = medidor de luz
shutter button = botón de obturador
shutter = obturador
film = película
film speed = sensitividad de la película
shutter speed = rapidez del obturador
aperture = abertura
exposure = exposición
focus = enfocar
focal length = distancia de enfocar
optical zoom = zumbido optical
digital zoom = zumbido digital
macro = macro
megapixel = megapixel (mega-peeksil)
memory card = tarjeta de memoría
gigabite = gigabite (geega-bite)
megabite = megabite
LCD screen = pantalla LCD
USB port = portal USB

am i missing anything??

Chu'j Makeover

2007-01-23T14:57:00.001-05:00

Chu'j Makeover #6, originally uploaded by katherine.fultz.

True to their word, María de Jesús and Juana, from my tercero básico class, showed up at lunch today to "dress me up properly," including "doing something with my hair."

They brought a beautiful red corte (skirt) and huipile (blouse) woven in San Mateo's identifying design.

Unfortunately, my head was too fat to fit through the neck hole in the huipile! I borrowed one from the communal clothes closet that fit a bit easier.

The design, like all ceremonial huipiles in various regions in Guatemala, is unique to San Mateo, and in such a linguistically diverse area is used as an identifier for the town.

Only women wear huipiles; men have their own special capichais, also uniquely woven according to the town.

I honestly do not know much more about the weaving traditions (though I would like to read more-- when I have some more time!) but there is a lot of literature (anthropological and otherwise) on weaving and identity in Guatemala and Mexico.

María and Juana promised that they would be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and so on! to dress me! María even offered to wash the corte when I needed a clean one!

I feel so honored to have had them dress me up, and at their suggestion!

Communication = Poder

2007-01-23T12:06:00.000-05:00

Remember the "Knowledge is Power" public service campaigns in the 1990s?

Knowledge isn't worth squat if you can't communicate what you know.

I think I had a breakthrough moment with my quinto magisterio class today, as to why what we're doing might be important. I think their attitude was more one of "geez, let's just humor this gringa another day, eh?" before.

We're working on the "limited vision" thing with the cameras... it's going to take some practice.

I was finally like: "look, we're learning to communicate our stories. what we include in pictures isn't always the entire story! we know this, we can't change this. it's impossible to include the "entire story" in a single frame. but we can choose what is important to us in the story.

we can take a picture of the center square, and not include the garbage, and no one would know that there's a problem with pollution here.

or, we can take a picture of garbage all over the street, of people throwing their plastic bags on the ground, or dogs scavenging for food in the market scraps, and demonstrate why we might need new garbage cans in the center.

we can control what we tell in our stories. we have to learn how to control what we want to communicate, because communication is a very powerful tool. if we can communicate information we think is important, to other people, we'll have power."

It sounds a bit sinister, in writing! But... it's true. There is no such thing as the "full truth"... truth depends on the person telling it. Sure, there are such things as factual events, but even the "facts" change based on perspective.

A reading of Cold War history would be quite different from the Soviet/Russian perspective than from the US perspective, don't you think? We attribute relevance and truth to the US perspective (well, if you're from North America you generally do) because of our political bias. I'd venture to say that a significant percentage of the literate world wouldn't be in agreement over those "facts."

Photographs are so fascinating because of the veracity attributed to them, yet by nature they are so limited in vision! A photo is a representation of a single moment in time, from a single person's perspective, yet it's treated as an exact replication of "reality."

Plus, the medium itself is incredibly flexible! It's as easily manipulable as painting or drawing, yet those media are understood to be the work of an "artist." Photographers aren't always given credit for being "artists"... or the authors of a particular piece of work. Sometimes it's just taken as a given, that anyone with a camera could take a particular shot.

My point with the class today: we have to decide what is important to us in our stories, and make a point to communicate that. We have to learn to express ourselves. With practice, we can communicate what is true to us, what represents our reality, and others will listen.

Paseo Redux

2007-01-22T16:45:00.000-05:00

I sent a kid to the principal's office today. And damn, it felt pretty good.

"Otto" (his middle name) is one very molestoso student. He is constantly causing a ruckus in my tercero básico class, and is generally the instigator of whatever mischief the other students are participating in.

I had tercero básico twice today, so in the first period we talked about the observations we've been making using photographs. I told them that we were going to transfer those observation skills to the real world, and practice observing action as it's happening. This way, we can plan our photos before we take them next week, so they turn out "better."

I generally really like tercero básico. Their writing was by far the most advanced of my students so far, and with a few seat rearrangements they're really attentive and participate very well in class. So, I thought they could handle a paseo today.

In the first period, we came up with themes to guide our observations and questions to elaborate on the themes. They came up with some great themes! "Garbage", "Things being sold", "Animals"... the questions were along the lines of "where does the garbage in the street come from? when will it be cleaned up? how will it be cleaned up? what sorts of things are being bought and sold? who is buying and selling them?" I was duly impressed.

In the second period we reviewed the rules of conduct in the center, and then set off as a group.

The group I expected to have trouble with ended up being trouble right away. They took off at a run into the market building, throwing things and smacking each other. The group I expected to work thoughtfully did just that. Thankfully, I had made them all leave their backpacks in the classroom, so they had to return eventually!

The three girls in that class are awesome. María is so quick, and Juana and Ana are very hard workers. They stuck with me and did their observations while I read on a bench. They finished a bit early, and bought me french fries! They asked me if I'd ever worn a blusa or corte (the traditional blouse and skirt here) and I told them that no, I hadn't.

They insisted that tomorrow they are going to bring me a blusa and corte to wear all day!

They would inform me of something in Spanish and then chat between themselves in Chu'j. I could tell they were trying to decide what to do with me! Juana told me that they'd also arrange my hair for me... I replied that yes, I needed a lot of help with my hair! They took a look at my boots and asked if I had any more "feminine" shoes! I'll have to wear my Chacos, I guess!

Hee hee, a Chu'j makeover...

As we were returning to class, the boys took off running down the street again trying to hit each other and trow things. I told one of them to stop punching the other, and he did. I told Otto to stop throwing rocks. He didn't. I told him that if he threw one more rock, he'd spend the rest of the day in the director's office. He threw another rock.

Oh man, I was pissed. My Spanish ability diminishes significantly when I'm excited, laughing hysterically, or angry. I tried to use my 6-inch height advantage to intimidate the kid, but no go. He made a bee-line for his backpack; luckily I was able to herd him into the director's office before he got to the stairs.

I felt bad leaving him with Gloria, the very nice, somewhat timid secretary, but SuperJulio was nowhere to be found.

Thankfully, he returned a few minutes later and promised to talk to Otto about what was going on.

Booya.

The paseo we did in cuarto today went much more smoothly. I'm afraid that that class really is my favorite. When they're being little brats, I can't help but laugh!

And, most of them are very close to my own age, if not a bit older-- which they found out today during the round of grilling they gave me. The questions always ALWAYS go in this order:

"What's your boyfriend's name?
Why don't you have a boyfriend?
I think you do have a boyfriend and aren't telling us!
(followed by numerous attempts to guess my "boyfriend's" name)
How do you say your name in English?
What's your mom's name?
What's your dad's name?
Do you have any brothers or sisters?
What are their names?
Are they married?
How old are you?
Why are you leaving in April?
When are you going to come back? "

We went to the parque central again and practiced "taking photos." We don't have all of the cameras gathered together yet, and there certainly aren't enough for each student to have one anyway, so I passed around pieces of paper with a little viewfinder window cut out.

I explained that we've been making observations about other people's pictures and the world around us using our eyes. Our eyes are round. And-- we can use them to look all around us, in all different directions.

The viewfinder of a camera limits what we can see. So, we need to practice limiting our vision in order to decide what we will and won't include in our pictures.

The idea is that, even after we have the cameras, one student in each group will get to use the camera each day while the others practice composing shots with their viewfinder-papers.

The students got a kick out of it... they walked around with the paper up to their faces and announced "click!" every time they saw me.

The homework was to take three imaginary photos, and describe in words what they could see through the "viewfinder." Then, they had to draw the scene they had just taken a photo of.

I wonder how many drawings I'll get of myself tomorrow?!

My new favorite fruit

2007-01-22T10:54:00.000-05:00

Mamey sapote

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Mamey Sapote

Scientific classification

Kingdom:	Plantae
Division:	Magnoliophyta
Class:	Magnoliopsida
Order:	Ericales
Family:	Sapotaceae
Genus:	Pouteria
Species:	P. sapota

Binomial name

Pouteria sapota
(Jacq.) H. E. Moore & Stearn

The mamey sapote (Pouteria sapota) is a species of tree that is native to southern Mexico and northern South America. The tree is cultivated in Central America, the Caribbean, and South Florida for its fruit, which is commonly eaten in many Latin American countries and widely enjoyed by Cubans living in Cuba and South Florida. Mamey sapote is a large and highly ornamental evergreen tree that can reach a height of 15 to 45 meters (60 to 140 feet) at maturity. Like most fruit trees, it is mainly propagated by grafting, which ensures that the new plant has the same characteristics as the parent, especially its fruit. It is also considerably faster than growing trees by seed. The fruit is about 10 to 25 cm (4 to 10 inches) long and 8 to 12 cm (3 to 5 inches) wide and has orange flesh. [1] [2] [3]

The fruit is eaten raw out of hand or made into milkshakes, smoothies, and ice cream. The fruit's flavor is variously described as similar to pumpkin, a combination of pumpkin, chocolate and almond, or a mixture of sweet potato, avocado, and honey. Some consider the fruit an aphrodisiac.

The brown skin is somewhat between sandpaper and the fuzz in a peach. The fruit's texture is creamy and sweet. To tell when a mamey sapote is ripe, peel off a fleck of the skin to see if it is pink underneath. The flesh should give slightly, as with a ripe kiwifruit.

The mamey sapote is related to other sapotes such as the abiu and canistel but unrelated to the black sapote and white sapote. It should not be confused with the Mammee apple.

Quoting Chat

2007-01-20T11:51:00.000-05:00

I just had to share with you this quote from Chat's blog. It is a perfect representation of life here in San Mateo:

"I had lost control of the ball. There I was, running down the 47º hill with no choice but to plead for the help of the small muchachos at the bottom of the incline. So I did. And one obliged. And kicked the ball at 67 mph point blank into my stomach. Now that should definitely be the new San Mateo greeting. Awesome."

Thanks, Chat. :-)

Amazement

2007-01-20T09:40:00.000-05:00

It's amazing how one little thing can change your whole trajectory... for the day, week, life, whatever.

In my case, it was my day.

We had a "get-together" with the other teachers on Thursday, at the Foundation Offices which are also serving as our home. SuperJulio (the asst. director of the school) cooked some pretty awesome carne asada and grilled onions (with the help of Fer, who, being from Argentina, only eats grilled meat. ha ha). María and Gloria made salsa, frijoles, and guacamole; we served it all up with a giant basket of warm tortillas and several gallons of cusha, the locally brewed adult beverage of choice.

I kept calling it "chusha", much to everyone's amusement. See, the "sh" sound is an alternative pronunciation of the hard "ch" in some Spanish dialects, which made it sound like I was saying "chucha" which is another word for puta. The funny thing is, I do normally say chucha quite a bit; they use it all the time in Chile as a casual slang word, and I picked it up there. Coming here (and in class back in the States), I had to clean up my language a bit and change chucha to chuta (akin to saying "shoot" instead of "shit"). Apparently chucha is really offensive here. Oops!

The teachers all left around 7:30, which left us gringos alone with a couple of gallons of cusha. So what did we do? Invited the Cuban doctor over for a party, naturally!

Iván is the very attractive medical volunteer from Cuba... who is also supposedly a very good kisser (according to the last female volunteer here). We had dinner at his house on Monday, and the other teachers stuck around for a dance party as well. I left with Beth-Neville and her husband John to go plan the rest of my lessons.

So... most people who know me know I'm not a big party person. My idea of a "party" is a lot of good food and people I can talk to. Maybe some music that I inevitably end up singing along to. "Dancing" and "dance music" generally don't fall into the picture.

I had my camera out from the teacher-gathering earlier (groups of people don't seem to mind you taking pictures as much as individuals) and decided to play around a bit with the shutter speed and color settings. I broke out the tripod and used the camera as an alternative to getting hammered... it worked pretty well! I had fun, everyone else had fun, and I wasn't hiding in my room!

The party ended around 1 am.

And three of us (Fer, Chat, and I) had to teach at 7:30 am.

My schedule on Friday was 7:30- 4o Magisterio followed immediately by 3o Básico followed immediately by 2o Básico followed by a 45 minute break followed by another section of 4o Magisterio (same kids).

In other words... HELL.

The first section of 4o Magisterio went reasonably well. It turned out that no one understood the homework from the night before (or rather, the few that did changed their minds when they saw others claiming that they hadn't). So I reviewed the lesson on "story questions" (who, what, where, when, why, and how) and how we can use them to describe pictures. And then how we can use them to decide what we're going to take pictures of.

Then we worked on descriptions of each of the questions. ie: how can we create a really rich description of the "what" part of a story. What happened? How can we describe it so that we can picture it ahead of time, and then take a really good picture of exactly the action/event we want? That's where I lost them.

3o was okay... the kids had some really creative stories they had written for the pictures I brough in the other day. One of the pictures from BBC.com was of a dog licking its lips while staring at a glass case of cookies in this new restaurant in France that caters to dogs. Pretty cute.

It was amazing how many kids wrote about the dog! (as opposed to the picture of the San Mateo market day, a mother and daughter in a squatter settlement, and a family waiting with bags by the side of the road-- in other words, things you might see around here).

In each of the stories, the dog gets lost, for various reasons (one student said the dog had been sold and tried to find it's previous owner, one said that the dog was playing and got separated from its owner in the wilderness, another said that the dog's owner beat it so it ran away). The dog sometimes has a girlfriend, and wants to go on a trip with the girlfriend, but they get lost. But then the dog finds its way back to town, and finds this wonderful place with all of these cookies and cakes, and finds its (kind) owner, and lives happily ever after. Only one student said that the dog died of hunger in the wilderness.

I thought the stories were great!

I thought the unneccessary talking during class, complaints over homework, and random "journeys" around the classroom were not so great (kids getting up and wandering around the 8ft x 8ft box of a room).

Nor was the freezing cold great. Not at all. In 3o Básico the kids are in a room apart from the rest of the school. It's made of cinderblocks and has a tin roof with a gap between the top of the walls and the roof. There's a dirt floor, which is very uneven, so I get complaints every day that the desks rock back and forth too much for them to write.

I was cold, and I was wearing long underwear, jeans, boots, a tank top, a longsleeve t-shirt, a polypro top, a fleece top, a scarf, and my windproof jacket!

Most of the kids didn't even have jackets. They were wearing maybe a sweatshirt, sometimes just a couple long sleeve tshirts, layered. It was painful to see them all huddled down in their desks-- no wonder they didn't want to answer questions, or discuss some silly pictures I put up on the board! And no wonder they created fantasies about a dog that found the motherload of cookies and cakes...

2o Básico is in the hallway in between 4o Magisterio and 3o Básico. It's a big hallway, but it's still a hallway. It is impossible to keep the kids' attention for more than 5 minutes. I was so exhausted in that class, and no one had done their homework. I ended up reviewing the story questions and then putting one picture after another up on the board for them to describe in their notebooks using the story questions. Every 30 seconds or so, one of the kids would ask to get up and see the picture more closely, and an entire group would crowd around the board as I repeated (over and over) "one at a time, please! one at a time!"

What really got on my nerves, though, was how they made fun of my telling them to raise their hands and wait for me to call on them if they wanted to talk. I'd say in Spanish "Si quieres hablar, levanta la mano y yo te reconoceré" and if they didn't wait I would say "Yo no te reconocía" or "Espera hasta que yo te reconozca". I was so worried about the grammar that I wrote it out ahead of time and had Fer check it.

The kids have terrible written Spanish grammar. Reading their journals, this is immediately apparent. So when one of them starts repeating, over and over, in a high squeaky voice "Levata la mano para que yo te reconoceré" (which is grammatically incorrect... it's using the future tense when it should be the subjunctive for "reconocer") I'm wondering if he thinks that's what I said, and is making fun of me for having bad grammar (which in that case, I didn't!) or if he's just mimicking me for repeating that damned phrase over and over again.

I had very little voice left by the end of that class.

I was also on the warpath when I met my coworkers for recess-- Jess said she had never heard me swear before that!

One brief shining moment was when one of the girls from 2o brought me my travel alarm, which I've been using in place of a watch because there are no clocks in the classrooms. I had left it sitting on the chalkboard ledge.

I had no idea what we were going to do in 4o Magisterio.

On my way to that class, the sun suddenly started peeking out from behind the fog. Hooray!

I got to class, and the kids were squirming in their seats. They have so much class every day! They're the one grade that has a full-full day of classes: they start at 7:30 and finish at 5:20. They have an hour and a half for lunch, and a 20 minute recess. That's still a lot of time to be in class every day. Especially if the sun is shining outside.

So I opened the class with "well, I had a plan, but I think I'm going to change it." I put some questions up on the board that you could use to describe a place. And then I told them that we were going on a "mini-fieldtrip" to the park in the town center. They had to write two full pages (their notebook pages are half the size of the letter-sized notebooks that we use) describing what they saw there, answering the questions I had put up on the board and making their own observations.

I told them I wanted descriptions so rich I could smell the air when I read them!

I fully expected them to take off and not come back, be missing from their next class, and get me in trouble with the director. I was so fried out at that point that I didn't really care. What was the director going to do? Fire me? They're not even paying me! (They do pay the others, a nominal monthly salary). Whatever, dude.

I went back to the Foundation Offices and consulted my coworkers. Was I really crazy? What was I thinking?! But they were supportive-- maybe I should go to the center and check on my students?

Oh yeah, good idea.

And this is what I found when I got there.

I was greeted by students all over, all writing furiously in their notebooks! Several came up to me and asked questions about the assignment, I gave them some more examples of questions to think about, and they went back to work!

It was amazing!

A couple of girls came up to me and asked if they could play basketball, since they had finished. I took a look at their notebooks-- they had written two full pages of description! So sure, I let them go play some basketball.

Of course, when I got back to class I found that a couple of students had hung around the school, or gotten ice cream, and not written at all in their notebooks. But you can't win 'em all. And overall, the "fieldtrip" was a hit-- brought smiles to everyones' faces, especially mine. And two of the girls bought me oranges! And a mini rice/corn cookie thing!

I can't imagine what would have happened to a teacher in the States who tried something like that... left the kids more or less unsupervised in the middle of town?? I would have had to pass around permission slips a week in advance, recruit chaperones, come up with a description of why the fieldtrip was edcuactionally valuable... then again, in the States I might have had a schoolyard to use, rather than having to go to the park in the middle of town!

I don't think I could have done this activity with my other two classes, but it worked out very well with 4o Magisterio. I think I'll try to incorporate outside activities more often.

And this picture completely made my day :-)

Comments

2007-01-18T23:39:00.001-05:00

Heh. Erin McC brought it to my attention that I stupidly had the "comments" option set to "members only"... ie: only other people with blogger blogs.

but now i changed it...

So... please comment!!

Thanks!! :-)

Photo Update

2007-01-18T13:21:00.000-05:00

I updated the photos... www.flickr.com/photos/fultzie

Pictures around the house! :-)

Holy endorphins, Batman!

2007-01-17T18:25:00.000-05:00

oh HELLS yah!

despite now andando con tos (having a cough), that run was fan-frickin-tastic. holy crap it hurt! Jess and I started off up the mountain (okay, it was a hill... but a *steep* hill) outside the door of the Foundation. it leveled off temporarily, and then started climbing again. we hit the main road and decided to follow the path we took on our hike on Saturday. mud fest! whee! and then we doubled-back on the main road... running downhill in the rain is very interesting.

i'll admit, we walked a few times, rested a few times, and I almost died despite all that walking and resting. it's going to take me a bit to be able to keep up with Jess in the lung-capacity department.

keep in mind, we're at 8,000+ feet, and there is very little level ground. :-) and i love it.

our goal was 30 minutes of running, and we made it an even 20... not bad. gives us something to work towards!

we came back and did sit-ups (crunchies) and i did some girl-pushups (my arms were really rubbery... didn't know why i was so tired!) and planks. woot!

i'm trying to convince Jess to buy a local bike, and then she can come riding too :-)

oh, Fer and Chat went for a run just a bit ago. copycats!! (hee hee, just kidding!) maybe we should make it a girls-vs-boys thing... just for entertainment's sake. whoever logs the most time biking/hiking/running/sitting-up each month gets... i don't know. maybe a block of hot cocoa? ;-)

it certainly kicked my bad-exhausted mood... amazing what a little adreneline will do for ya!

Exhaustion

2007-01-17T13:22:00.000-05:00

I've woken up to rain and fog the past two days.

And a gentleman imitating the rooster. I thought he was drunk at first, but I've since learned that he has some sort of mental difficulty. I don't know what the politically correct way to phrase that is.

Ugh, I feel like such a slug! Normally, I wouldn't mind so much riding in the rain; but here I'm so scared that I'll get hit by one of those crazy trucks or buses! The visability is so bad in the fog... you can barely see across the street.

I don't think I'd be so exhausted if I could be exercising. Maybe I'll take up running... running up the mountain might be fun.

It's official... Jess and I are going to run this afternoon. We have an hour and a half break between classes... just enough time to run for 45 min, and come home and shower before class.

I talked to my advisor about my doubts regarding the moral questions in my research... he was very helpful, and I suppose it's good to contemplate these things on paper.

I had three classes this morning, and a fourth this afternoon.

Cuarto Magisterio was much better today, and I think having them write stories about the photos might be helpful. We'll spend another day or two on stories, and then move on to framing.

Segundo Basico was a challenge, however. My Spanish abilities were a little sketchy today (more so than normal) and I kept messing up the verb tenses. The kids pick up on that so quickly, and call me out! They also make comments in Chu'j, which generally ilicit giggles from the entire class. I'm trying to think of how to keep them on task a little more easily. It's very hard to judge how much they're understanding, and if they understand where I'm trying to "go" with the course.

In Tercero this afternoon, I think I'll print out one photo, larger, and use it with the entire class. Then they can make up a story with it based on suggestions. I'll bet we can work with the one foto for the entire class.

Whew... have I mentioned that I love BBC.com's "Day in Pictures"? They have some really weird ones, which is great for getting the kids giggling about something other than my Spanish (!), but they also have just a lot of high-quality news-pictures, which are perfect for using with the story-telling exercise. Plus, it's exposure to current events and other cultures for the students.

Opening Windows

2007-01-15T23:08:00.000-05:00

This is something I've been struggling with lately. As an anthropology student, I am here as a "participant-observer"... my role isn't to incite change or (ahem) "save the world." I'm supposed to try and understand what values inform peoples' interpretations of photographs, and their production of photographs. I'm not supposed to be "teaching" them how to "read" photos! I'm not supposed to be telling them what values they should have. I feel like I'm being manipulative in that respect....

But as a teacher with Fundación Ixtateca, I *am* supposed to be inciting change. I'm teaching at the first high school in this city, one that is only 2 years old and has a severe shortage of teachers. Like I said in an earlier post, San Mateo is looked down upon by both Ladinos and other indigenous groups; no one wants to teach here. All of the non-gringo teachers have lived in San Mateo all their lives. I'm supposed to be opening this "window" for these students; they're supposed to have this wonderful experience that will open un montón of opportunities.

But am I opening up opportunities, or am I manipulating their culture and society in the name of "development"?

As an individual... I would tend towards the less academic side of the coin. Remaining silent, or at least "neutral," would be going against my own values for what I believe constitutes a quality education. And what type of education I think everyone should have the opportunity to pursue. And it's impossible (and some would say, morally questionable) to try and hide your own cultural values when engaging in this sort of project (academic research + "development").

I hope that I'll have the chance to study more theory on "Applied Anthropology." Perhaps it would be helpful in resolving this identity crisis. Then again, experience is often the best teacher...

And the fog descends again...

2007-01-15T22:42:00.001-05:00

Natalia and I woke up at 6 am to a voice yelling, in Spanish, sounding entirely too close to our room. Alcoholism is a big problem here; Sunday is the day to drink, and you can see quite a few people pasandose borrachos come Monday (walking around drunk). In fact, there is one such gentleman pacing up and down the street in front of the Foundation office as I type.

I dragged myself out of my nice, warm sleeping bag, against my better judgement to get ready for a ride. Luckily, by the time I had myself and my bici ready the man had removed himself from our doorstep and found another place to share his tirade against....something. My Spanish wasn't functioning beyond "buenos días" at that hour and I didn't catch much of what he was shouting.

Natalia and I moved into the Foundation office last night. Fernando was able to move in to his own room at the office once Dave (one of the volunteers) left, and we didn't want to be left alone in our hotel. There were no inside locks on the doors, so you couldn't secure them while you were actually in the room. Plus, the outside door was supposedly left open all night (which we unfortunately discovered was not true on Friday, when we were locked out after coming back a few minutes too late-- the dueña thought it was hilARious the next day. grrrr.). So Natalia and I camped out on the floor of the computer room.

I was admittedly very nervous about my first bike ride here in San Mateo. First of all, to go anywhere you have to either first climb straight up the mountain or descend straight down the mountain, only to climb back up on the return.

I was also unsure as to how people would react to this blond chick on a bike wearing a helmet (of all things!). I opted to throw some capris on over the bike shorts, to avoid complete alienation.

Generally speaking, people were very friendly-- I got a lot of stares at first, but after offering up a big smile and a cheerful "buenos días!" people usually smiled back and replied with "buenos" or "adios". Initially I thought people were being dismissive when they said adios as a greeting, but it's just the same as "hola" or some other generic greeting.

I opted to decend the mountain first... since it wasn't quite as steep as the road up. I managed to not burn out all of my breaks, which will be useful to have on subsequent rides, and successfully avoided the bus and several trucks passing through town. As I got to the bottom of the "hill" the houses started to thin out and I was officially out of town.

Then the road began to climb towards Barillas... from San Mateo it looks intimidatingly steep, but in fact it was a nice steady spin towards the west. The sunrise was wonderful, and lit up the town as it peeked over the mountain ridges.

I saw three other bikers, on their way to either the bus stop (where a crowd of people was waiting) or San Mateo for work. One of them was a younger boy pedaling, and a man I took to be his dad riding on pegs on the rear wheel. The big brand-name bike is "Maya Tour"... it comes standard with front and back racks, and a stiff fork.

I was afraid of how long it might take me to climb the road back into town (much steeper than the road towards Barillas) so I turned around after about 25 minutes. In fact, it only took me about 30 minutes to get back. Not too shabby! And I only walked at the steepest part for a tiny bit, after I had to stop to avoid a bus barelling down the hill. I passed another guy walking his bike, and comiserated with "Bien duro, este camino" (pretty tough, this road), and he suggested that it would be better to rest a minute!

Tommorrow I have a 2-hour ride planned, since I don't have to teach until 9 am (today I had class at 8:15). I'm going to try and get a bit further towards Barillas... my goal is to ride the entire 80 km round-trip one of these weekends... that'd be nice. The thing is, just outside of town the road climbs gently towards Barillas... but Barillas is at a *significantly lower* altitude than San Mateo, so I know there's got to be a wicked descent... which means there's a brutal climb on the way *back*.

We have a topo map up on the kitchen wall... I'll have to study it in detail.

Class went well... today was one of my two brutal 5-class days. I had tercero básico twice. That's about equal to 9th grade. Hooo boy. They are actually very sweet kids... there are only three girls out of 20 students, though, and three of the boys have serious potential to cause Trouble. And yes, that's with a capital "T".

One of the students, Gaspar, asked me today if he could have permission to miss class to run an errand with "María" somewhere in town. He apologized profusely and insisted that the errand had "just come up". Uh huh. Right. I told him to ask the principal for permission, because he has to approve all absences. Gaspar decided that the errand wasn't so important after all.

Heck, I don't know if it's true about the principal, but it sounded more offical than me just saying "no, my class is super important and you have to be there." and plus, what if he were telling the truth?! Kids miss class here for just about any reason you can imagine. People come to school to give students messages, and they get to miss class. But when in Rome... right?

In between early- morning and mid- morning classes we have a break, and María and Henry sell snacks and bebida ("drink"... generally refering to a warm milk and rice drink... sooo good) for 1Q each. I had a mini-tamale type thing called a chuchito (it's just like a tamal, except smaller and wrapped in a leaf instead of a corn husk) and some bebida, which was perfect for the mid-morning chill (okay, I was freezing).

I also had quinto magisterio today, which is about 11th grade. There are only five students in the class (one girl), so I am trying to make it more of a seminar. I'm looking forward to working with them-- in each of the classes I'm planning to teach "interview skills," and the students will practice on family members and people around town. With Quinto I'm planning a field trip (paseo) to a town about 3 hours away that was resettled after the Civil War. There is also a laguna and reforestation project there (run by a Swede), which will be entertaining and fun for them. And I'll get to drive the Foundation's pick-up truck! (the second foreign country I've driven in... the first being a terrifying experience in Vancouver, Canada).

Around lunch time the sun was WONDERFUL and the sky was clear. I was actually borderline too-warm sitting outside and reading for a bit.

After classes I tried to get some more reading done... it's going slowly but surely. The more I read, the more interested I am in what I'm doing here!! ha ha, that sounds strange, but it's true. I get all sorts of ideas for things to do with the class, and really look forward to talking to people and doing interviews. Once I get research approval. Oh yeah... there was another hiccup in the IRB approval process. Joy.

As it got later, and cooler outside, the fog started rolling in from down the valley. It's really fascinating to watch! On a clear day, you can see forever; but once the fog rolls in its' hard to see down the street even a few yards!

I kind of like the fog, except that I'm afraid to ride in it because of the slightly homocidal buses and trucks that are on the road-- bikes are invisible to them.

Over the River and Through the Woods

2007-01-15T20:15:00.000-05:00

My fellow teachers and I went for an awesome hike on Saturday.

We started off to find the cancha de fútbol (soccer field) because Fer wanted to use it in his P.E. lessons (he's a soccer fanatic). We wandered up the main road, following directions from kids we met on the way, which were basically "follow this road, and turn left on a path, and there it is."

We ended up on top of a little mound on the side of the road, and lo and behold, there was the cancha across the way!

Fer was content to stay there for a bit, but Chat, Jess, Angela, Natalia and I decided to keep going. Jess and I waved and said buenas tardes to just about everyone we met, which occaisonally elicited odd looks, but more often earned us a buenas in response.

The kids we met were all super eager to say "hi", but as soon as they realized that we actually spoke Spanish they became shy and embarassed. Some kids followed us for a little ways after we walked past their house. I didn't get a crowd asking for fotos like I did the other day, though.

Basically the footpaths traverse the entire countryside, and are used by people every day to get from home to town. There aren't a whole lot of roads up to houses-- there is really just one main road and some smaller dirt roads in town-- and people will build wherever there is land (regardless of the presence of a road). So, they need footpaths!

Since the footpaths are used in place of roads, people don't seem to mind if you're trekking around on them, even if you happen to be traipsing through their private property.

We reached the top of the path we were on, and began following the road towards Huehuetenango again. We passed an older gentleman herding sheep, and he asked us where we were going. We told him honestly, we had no idea! He laughed a bit and kindly warned us that it was "already late."

And we kept going. :-)

We found a wooden ladder over the barbed-wire fence on the side of the road, and slipped and slid down the path into the gully. We ended up along a little creek, and zig-zagged back and forth accross it as we followed it down the valley a bit.

After a bit, the vegetation became too thick to keep crossing back and forth accross the creek. On one final crossing, I sacrificed my hand to a cactus on the bank in order to keep from falling face first-- with my camera-- into the knee-deep water!

We found another path, and followed it up, away from the creek and into a small wooded area. My (ahem) impeccable sense of direction guiding us, we followed the forks in the path along a ridge (and not down-valley) until we came out on a cleared area and a house.

From there, we could see San Mateo Ixtatán in the distance.

We kept along the ridge and ended up on a path into the cemetary, which is along the road where we started!

In all, the hike took about 2 hours.

And so, the Saturday Hiking Club has been born! :-) hee hee

Market Day

2007-01-11T11:32:00.001-05:00

Market Day, originally uploaded by katherine.fultz.

In other news...

2007-01-10T22:21:00.000-05:00

- I updated my photo album! check it out: http://flickr.com/photos/fultzie/

- I'm now teaching two periods of Environmental Education to 7th graders, Mondays and Tuesdays. Wooooo...!

- I applied for another grant (CICS). Wish me luck.

- The IRB has designated part of my research as an "internship" (well, duh!) so I don't need approval for that part! Which makes my research plan much simpler and easier to manage (in IRB terms)

Cuarto Magisterio

2007-01-10T18:43:00.000-05:00

HOORAY! I survived my first class!

I had the "older kids" today... the youngest was 16, and the oldest 21 (my age! woah...). Cuarto magisterio is about equal to 10th grade, except all of the students are studying to be teachers. Normally on Wednesdays I'll also have Primero, Segundo, and Tercero básico, which is roughly 7th, 8th, and 9th grades. Gulp.

One thing deserves a mentioning here: The "school" doesn't exactly have its own building. They've moved every year since establishment... this year they're (we're) in a newish concrete building; so new, in fact, they're still working on the electric. I was in the largest classroom today, and my 19 students barely fit. I'm wondering how we'll fit 47 students in during Primer Básico?

Anyway, we started out with a "rhythm and names" game where we slapped our legs in unison, clapped our hands in unison, and then snapped our fingers in unison. On the snaps, each person took turns saying his/ her name to the rhythm. It went well, and elicited giggles from everyone. Especially when I asked how to say "snap" in Spanish. (se dice click).

Miraculously, I didn't make too many mistakes speaking! At least, I only caught a few. I introduced myself, talked about the class and what we'd be doing, and went over rules. They copied down the rules for the class... fun stuff. And then I went around and took each of their photos!

They thought that was hilarious. A lot of the girls could not stop laughing, and covered their faces, etc. I let them take a picture of me, afterwards:

foto por Sunamita, cuarto magisterio

I think with my other classes I'll have them take a picture of me first, and then I'll take their pictures. I wanted to make picture name-tags for them, and just use it as an icebreaker. It worked pretty well! We all got to laughing hysterically... it was fun.

I ended with having them write about what they thought about photography for 10 minutes. I collected it afterwards to see what they had to say. I told them not to worry about grammar or anything, just to write as they wanted.

I got some very thoughtful responses, one weirdish one from one of the boys (he wants a picture of me to remember my name and he'd like a picture of my family... I guess that's what I told all of them, eh? More than fair enough on his part). Several people had obviously copied from each other, so I think that maybe I'll have to do something different next time. Thoughts, anyone?

Tomorrow I'm going to bring in a couple of fotos to share with the class and begin learning how to "read" photos. Should be interesting (ha ha, catchword of the semester!).

Alto. Topes.

2007-01-10T10:41:00.000-05:00

the skylight at Hotel California

I am standing on a wood-plank platform at the front of a narrow cement block building. The afternoon rain has slowed to a mist and slowly drifts through the chain-link windows under the corrugated tin roof. Onlookers crowd against the windows, vying to get a glimpse of the newcomers on stage. In back of me is a three-piece band, including drums, marimba, and tambourine. The drummer has a constant roll going, not loud, but as much a part of the background as the mist.

On either side of me are the people who will be my co-workers for the next three months: four gringos, one argentino, and seven guatemaltecos. In front of me, Julio is introducing us into a microphone in a mixture of Chuj ("choo") and Spanish that I can catch about fifty percent of. Suddenly, he switches to a Spanish I understand. "And now, we'll listen to the words of our respected teachers! We'll begin... here." And he gestures to the argentino standing next to me.

I have been in San Mateo Ixtatán for a total of 30 minutes, after a 10-hour drive from Antigua over the past two days. I have no idea where I'm sleeping tonight. I haven't eaten in almost seven hours. I haven't showered. I'm wearing chacos and it's 40 degrees out. I'm freezing.

And now I am expected to make a speech to my future students and their parents. Surprise!

I feel the farthest from home I have ever been.

***

Yesterday morning in Antigua I received a call from Henry's wife, María, to let me know he would be two hours late. Construction on the road from Huehuetenango was bad.

So... I checked my email in an internet cafe, drank some more coffee, and people-watched in the plaza. Bad news on my email. My research plan requires more revisions. *sigh*

Henry picked me up around 11 am, in a four-door Mazda pickup. He is originally from San Mateo, but grew up in Guatemala City. His wife works for the Foundation, and that is how he also came to work there.

We picked up my bags at Earth Lodge and beat a fast path to the airport, where we picked up Fernando (Argentine most recently from Charlotte, NC) and Natalia (from upstate NY and Atlanta, GA). From there we set out on the road to Huehuetenango, the municipal center of the department of Huehuetenango.

Normally the drive takes about 5 hours; it took Henry 7 hours to reach Antigua because of the construction, and it took us 6 hours to get from the airport to Huehue because of the curvas peligrosas and the neblina (ahem. dangerous curves and fog.). We stayed in Hotel California, a very nice (by Guatemalan standards) hotel that even had hot water!

Henry later told us that it was owned by a man from Soloma, a town that is well-known for its traficantes (drug dealers) and coyotes (people who smuggle illegal aliens into the USA). Both big businesses. Bigger than hotels.

We stopped for a desayuno típico of tortillas, scrambled eggs, black beans, and coffee. 12Q.

The drive from Huehue to San Mateo took another 5 hours. We climbed seemingly never-ending switchbacks until Henry joked that we had finally arrived at Heaven. When asked why people chose to live so far into the mountains, he explained that they wanted to be closer to God (claro)!

en route to San Mateo

We arrived in San Mateo just in time to drop our bags in the Foundation headquarters and walk to the town center for the initiation ceremony of the school year. Fer, Natalia and I had no idea what was going on.

The ceremony began with several songs from the three-piece band. At this point, I was so hungry that I begged for some small change (I had left my bag, along with camera and money, in the Foundation office) to go buy some galletas. I bought a bag of 48 chocolate creme cookies for 6Q from a streetside tienda, in sheer desperation.

The Chuj princess (winner of last year's talent contest) acted as the master of ceremonies. After the procession of flags and what I assumed to be the national anthem, Chico Hernández (principal of the school) gave a brief introduction and welcoming speech. His speech reiterrated how proud he was to be from San Mateo, and how the school and the steps it was taking in improving citizens' lives made him proud to be Chuj and from San Mateo.

I learned later that people from San Mateo are often seen as being at the "bottom of the heap," by both ladinos (the Guatemalan word for mestizo, or of mixed indigenous and European blood) and other indígenas. Many people from San Mateo, after having moved elsewhere, will lie about where they are actually from.

The reason San Mateo is so looked-down upon, according to Beth-Neville (the director of Fundación Ixtateca) could be that the weather here is so bad, and there is very little land for farming. The salt mines have been mostly used up, and most of the young men here have gone to the USA to find work. Nearly a million dollars is remitted to San Mateo every year, by immigrants to the US.

After Chico's speech, Julio called the teachers up one by one. Before my turn came, Jessica (one of the other gringas) let me know that I should mention that I'm teaching ciencias sociales.

What? Social Science? I thought that I was teaching a photo workshop...

And then came the speeches.

Following our speeches (I kept mine short and sweet... and still managed to mangle ciencias sociales, much to the amusement of several mothers sitting in the third row) Beth-Neville gave a short speech thanking everyone.

And then came the school board elections. First Chico took nominations from the audience, while Julio typed them into a computer, which projected the word document onto a portable screen.

Then, it seemed, (I say "it seemed" because business was conducted in a mixture of Chuj and Spanish, which I had a very hard time understanding) Chico went one by one down the rows and asked for peoples' votes on each member of the parent board. The entire process took about 45 minutes.

Following the elections, Julio again projected a word document on to the portable screen. This document was in fact a permission slip, which he translated verbally into Chuj so that non-Spanish speaking parents would understand it. Upon completion, he asked for questions and "debate" over the points of the permission slip/ school agreement. This process took another 45 minutes.

One father spoke very emphatically in Chuj for nearly 20 minutes; the other teachers and I thought that he might be angry about something, because he kept saying "maestros" and "inadequado" in Spanish. We asked later, and it turned out that he was actually supporting the school, and reitterating how he thought it was better than the other school in town.

After the debates had been concluded, one of the teachers read off the minutes in Spanish, to make sure there were no objections to what had transpired during the ceremony. Since there were no objections, one by one every person in attendance signed the minutes book, while the three piece band played background music.

After everyone had signed, a few pairs began to dance to the music. I managed to escape the first song (I was so cold and so hungry after the three-hour ceremony that I really wanted to curl up in a ball and cry), but got caught by Juan, one of the school administrators, in the second song. We were the only pair dancing. The second song was also twice as long as the first.

Whew! What an introduction to the town!

I was hoping to settle in a bit when we returned to the Foundation offices, but no such luck. As it turns out, classes do not start on Monday, as I had been told, but rather tomorrow.

And I am not teaching a small, 5-hour-per-week photo workshop as I expected, but rather 20 hours of Social Science a week.

Wow. I feel like I've just hit a speed bump. And not just any speed bump. One of those 3-foot high topes they put on the highway through small mountain towns to make the cars slow down.

Let the planning begin!

Earth Lodge

2007-01-09T19:18:00.000-05:00

the view while i ate breakfast

Earthlodge (www.welcometoearthlodge.com) is owned and run by a totally laid-back Cannuck/ Gringa couple (he’s from Toronto, she’s from San Francisco). They have 40 acres of mountainside land, on which they’ve built their own house, six cabins (each with double beds, all sharing a bathroom) a dorm (eight beds, one bathroom) a sauna (called a chuj), a treehouse with the best view around, and a dining room/ library/ bar/ kitchen. The dining room and their house are the only buildings with electricity, and I honestly have no idea where it comes from!

Drew and Briana’s car is a 1974 green VW beetle… slightly beat-up, with a rack welded to the top. In Antigua we threw all of my stuff up top, and tied it down with some rope.

The 11 km ride took about 45 min… we gained about 2,000 meters (I later found out!). Whooooeee! So, that’s a bit more elevation that I’m used to in Ann Arbor, but not so terrible. Definitely not enough to cause any altitude sickness, but I was a little winded today (that’s probably just me being out of shape! :-P).

I’m staying in the dorm room, down a hill from the dining room and next to the sauna. There are four bunk beds and a little desk... no electricity. My first night I was one of four (three guys were also staying here—Ethan from Boston, Rusty from Reno who was traveling with his parents and brother, who stayed in the treehouse, and an Australian guy who just parted ways with his travel buddy and was chilling out for a few days to work on his book).

It appears that tonight I’m the only one! Nice… I was going to move to a cabin (for 70Q, as opposed to 30Q) but I think this is just as nice ☺ Here's the view from my window:

Dinners are vegetarian (you can get homegrown pork added for 15Q) and served family-style at 7 pm. Last night was delicious—veggie pot pie, rice, salad, and bananna bread for dessert! Huge portions too. They have drinks available for a few Q, and some of the money goes to benefit the local school in El Hato. I declined drinks last night, and I think they think I’m some sort of very religious person now.

Things are pretty rustic... pit toilets, cold water showers, use a bucket to wash your hands and brush your teeth. It's very laid-back and tranquil, though :-)

Breakfast was muddy coffee (which still filled the caffeine bill) and a HUGE bowl of fresh fruit with homemade granola and yogurt. I mean, HUGE. Take the bowls at home. The ones in my apartment. The ones that I fill *maybe* about 1/3 of the way with granola. Double that size. Fill to the brim with pineapple, melon, and papaya. Top with really seedy (in a good way) granola and plain yogurt. Yummie.

Today I rode my bike down into town (11 km down the hill, through the little town, through a forest preserve with LNT signs in Spanish!... lots of dust that eventually turns into cobblestones and voila! you're there) to meet Lauren and Kimia for lunch. I was really worried that I wouldn't make it back up the hill again before dark (Drew recommended 5:30, but I figured 5 would be even better), so I had to cut their Spanish school search a bit short.

I made it back up the "hill" (11 km, 2000 meters of elevation) in about an hour, which I was happy enough with. I had budgeted two hours.

The cold shower felt excellent!

Dinner's at 7...

Orange Alert

2007-01-09T19:16:00.000-05:00

“Are they joking?!” I asked my mom as we approached the airport. Somehow, somewhere between 8 am Wednesday morning when we dropped my brother off for his flight to New York, and 10 pm Wednesday night when I checked in for my flight to Guatemala, the security alert was “elevated” to orange. Fantastic.

Check-in was amazingly simple. There was no line. Literally, no line. I walked up to the counter and gave the lady my passport. She asked what was in the box (“a bike”). She checked the bike through, and told me to take it over to the ex-ray station. Carried my bike 10 feet. I hauled the backpack up on to the scale. Underweight (yesssss!). Checked that through, got my boarding pass and the spiel on 3-1-1 for carry-ons (three-ounce containers of liquids, in a one-quart clear plastic bag, and only one one-quart bag per passenger), and wandered over to Security.

Even in our security-crazed country, elevated defense alerts don’t mean a whole lot. I think if they had bumped it up to “Red Alert,” maybe we all would have been strip-searched and fumigated—that’s what they would have to do in order to elevate security any further. I couldn’t bring liquids through security anyway (emptied my nalgene in the bathroom ahead of time), I removed my shoes to go through the metal detectors (heh, apologies there), and I presented my passport no fewer than 5 times (check-in, security personnel numbers one, two and three, and upon boarding the plane).

The flight was uneventful. I was in the middle seat of row 8, between a 10 year-old girl speaking Spanish to her mother across the aisle, and a gringa-looking woman maybe about my age that slept the entire time. I tried to sleep, but I seem to be getting more afraid of flying as I get older (at the ripe old age of 21, eh?). I fell asleep for about 30 min, and then was woken up by turbulence. I thought that maybe 2 or 3 hours had already gone by, because everyone around me was filling out “inmigración” and “aduana” forms, but then they started serving refreshments.

I dozed a few more times, but every time the plane banked or dropped a bit due to turbulence I woke up in a cold sweat. With each gasp from me, the girl on the aisle giggled—she and the other passengers didn’t seem to be phased at all. What’s wrong with me??

The descent into Guatemala City was beautiful! The city is lined by mountains and volcanoes to the West, and you could see them ringed with mist as we came in. Off to the East are the flatter lowland areas, which were covered with thick clouds that turned orange and pink in the sunrise.

Inmigración coming in was a no-brainer. The lady glanced at my passport, gave me the maximum 90- day entrada, and sent me on my way. Exactly as I remember it from two years ago… although I’m not sure I even received a stamp then, because I was continuing on to Flores at the time. And then inmigración in Flores was closed for the night when I arrived! Hm… interesting contrast with the sterilized and medicinal-feeling immigration at O’Hare.

Baggage claim was a breeze as well… my bike came out in its box, and fully intact, right on the belt with the rest of the bags. I assembled it right there, much to the amusement of lookers-on, and then stood in line for aduana.

I expected a grilling on whether or not I was planning to sell the bike in-country, and then for them to search my bags and find my coffee and handful of cheap-o digital cameras and expect that I was running drugs or something. But I told the lady that I had never received an aduana card, and she had me fill one out right there attesting to the fact that I possessed no live plants or animals, nor was I carrying more than US$10,000 (gee, I wish!). She glanced at that, nodded, and moved on to the next person.

My flight landed at 6 am, a full half-hour early. I was hoping that the shuttles to Antigua would be running, but no such luck. I wandered on out to the parking lot, where crowds of people were waiting to greet their friends and family as they came out of customs.

In the mess, I spotted two girls with Canadian flag patches sewn to their backpacks wandering towards the parking lot and also looking a little overwhelmed. I went up and asked if they were Canadian. Duh. But I thought maybe they were Americans who sewed Canadian flags on their bags to try and deny that they were from the US, which—when you tell people you’re estadounidense-- occasionally prompts insults and/or political debates over US policy. Oy.

And it also seemed like a good introduction—“Oh! You’re from Canada! Chances are pretty good that we speak the same language!” It turns out they were also headed to Antigua, and did not speak Spanish.

I hunted down a taxi for us that insisted that yes, my bike would fit in his trunk. Ooooh boy. Poor bike. I took the wheels off (“facilito”—really easy—I insisted to the crowd of doubtful taxistas that we attracted) and the taxista tossed the frame on top of the bags, the wheels on top of the frame, and then tied the trunk shut. Poor, poor bike.

The hour and a half taxi ride ended up costing US$10 per-person. And I made two new friends! Lauren and Kimia (hi girls!) are from outside of Edmonton, and are taking a break from school to learn some Spanish. They’re spending five months traveling through Central America, and are headed to a sea turtle reserve in a week to volunteer and attend Spanish classes. When they get their blog set up, I’ll include a link here! ☺

As we were leaving the airport, I made note of a Trek Store (yes, an official Trek Store—just like Two Wheel is opening in Ann Arbor) down the street where I can get a bike box for my return trip in April.

I had forgotten about the feeling of arriving in a new country… or a new city. I was really reminded of my first taxi ride in Santiago de Chile, the mixed sensation of being totally overwhelmed by the noise and the traffic and the speaking a foreign language- thing… and still completely curious and eager to get out there and start talking to people. Plus, there’s that somewhat surreal feeling when you see giant billboards advertising products or restaurants that are so common in your home country, in a completely different language and with completely different marketing techniques.

Oh! To all of the people that doubt the sanity of someone who wants to bike in a “third-world” (not my term) country… I counted six—SIX—lycra-clad roadies on the highway up to Antigua, dodging the crazy traffic. Whoo boy, that was some climbing they were doing!

The taxi dropped us off at L+K’s hotel, and even helped me haul my backpack and bag of bricks (er—books) inside. The hotel folks and L+K were really nice too, and let me leave my bike in the lobby and my bags in L+K’s room.

From there, we took off to see the sites in Antigua and find some food. L+K had been traveling for 24 hours (one heckuva long layover in L.A.—ick) and I was freakin hungry after turning down the unappetizing “snack mix” and cookie TACA offered for free.

We asked about getting local currency first. There have been some problems with the ATMs, in that they have no money (or run out very early in the day). We really lucked out, and ended up being the first in line for an ATM. They put a limit of 1000Q (quetzals) on withdrawls (7.53Q to US$1). I only took out enough for the week, but plan on stopping in Huehuetenango (fewer gringos trying to change money, smaller population in general, hopefully equaling more cash in the ATMs) before going to San Mateo.

Right next to the bank was a cute looking café (Café Contesa) offering lots and lots of coffee drink varieties. Very luckily, L+K are big coffee drinkers as well! ☺ Hooray! The café also offered delicious-sounding breakfast options and a lovely courtyard seating area, we naturally we went in.

It turned out that all of us ordered huevos guatemaltecos—scrambled eggs with tomato and onion, homefries, toast, and a fruit salad. Aside from being very, very salty, they tasted absolutely delicious after hauling my over-packed bags through two airports. The coffee (all three of us got café Americano—just “regular” coffee) was also quite good.

I was a little concerned about my lodging arrangements for the evening, so we headed back to the hotel and used the internet so I could check my email. The place I had emailed about rooms was a bit out of town, and sometimes provided rides to people coming from Antigua.

Nothing from the Earthlodge about rides up, so we decided to go to the market (Thursday and Sunday are market days in Antigua) and see where the buses left from.

We wandered around a bit and checked out the tourist-oriented artesanía. There were some really cute skirts for sale—if only I had an inch of spare space in my darned bags!

I asked around a bit for buses to “Aldea el Harto” (about 11 km outside of town, and where Earthlodge is located) and people seemed really confused. Well, first off, there’s no “r” in the name. Apparently I got that wrong! Secondly, they pronounce the “h” in the name. I don’t know if that’s typical or just a regional thing? I always thought that the “h” sound was generally silent (ie: hola, hijos, hablar).

I found a guy who claimed that the bus to “Aldea el Harto” would be leaving in about 1 hour. Geez, I bet he was thinking “stupid gringa!”—or maybe he was just trying to be friendly and didn’t want to give a negative answer (which is sometimes seen as rude). I’ll stick with the latter.

So—we headed back to the hotel so I could collect my things and head out. On the way, we stopped at a store selling “Claro” SIM cards (I learned that a SIM card is not, in fact, a tarjeta de SIM as I translated it, but rather a chip de SIM or sometimes chiplet, pronounced “cheep” and “cheeplet”). I unlocked my phone before leaving home, so I can put any SIM card in it, wherever I go, and have a local number. Pretty sweet, eh?

The woman in the store was very nice and put up with my trying to figure out what the most economical option for calling the US would be.

See, I’m bad at math. I can’t add in my head to save my life. And that’s in English! I never learned to add in Spanish. That stuff they say about math being a universal language? Only if it’s in writing! And here I was trying to translate what she said into English numbers so that I could even start to figure things out. Finally, I decided on the 20-minute (local) SIM chip and an add-on card good for about 30 international minutes.

So I have a cell phone here! If you want to make an international call… my number is 5445- 2683. I’m not absolutely sure what the country code is, but I think it’s 56…

Just as I was leaving L+K’s hotel, my cell phone rang. I had called and left a message with Earthlodge right after I got my phone, and they were calling me back! Drew, one of the owners (the other being his wife, Briana) was in Guatemala City all day renewing his passport. He’d be swinging through Antigua to get his car, and could pick me up then. Sweet! No hauling my bags of bricks across town to the buses!

So I left my bags in L+K’s room again, and decided to take a little break up on the rooftop patio while they showered and napped. I called home (hooray!) took some pictures (they’re okay—I’ll blog them when I have wireless access and am not paying by the quarter-hour!) and got some reading done.

We grabbed a quick lunch (it was about 3 pm)—L+K got really yummie looking chile relleno (Lauren) and chicken fajitas (Kimia). I wasn’t all that hungry, so I just had coffee (I think it was NesCafé—aka: ni es café).

L+K were really wonderful again and helped me haul my shtuff to the Parque Central, where Drew was going to pick me up. Apparently, he’s running on Latin American time (as is everyone here…) and was about 30 min late. Eh, not bad.

I said goodbye to L+K, and we arranged to meet up at the fountain tomorrow at 12 for coffee and lunch.

Welcome!

2006-12-30T23:36:00.003-05:00

I’m never sure how to start these things off… I suppose “welcome”? Or…

You’ve found my blog! Hooray!

This blog will be my (informal) record of three months, one week in San Mateo Ixtatán, Guatemala, from January 4- April 11, 2007.

This blog will be the non-academic, slang-filled personal account of my experiences. Please be forewarned that it will detail mainly the food I eat, local weather patterns, and my exercise habits. I'll probably talk about my project quite a bit, since it'll be on my mind a lot. The blog will most certainly contain phrases such as “insanely awesome,” “freaking amazing,” or “abso-bloody-lutely hellish” (when the going gets really rough). Also be aware that there will be numerous references to bikes, biking, and photos of bikes from Guatemala. I really can’t help it.

I welcome any and all of your comments... Just remember that this is a public (or semi-public) forum-- which means if you comment on my project, I can quote you without asking permission, mwahaha.

So thanks for reading, and please feel free to pass the address along to anyone who might be interested in my project or travels.

~K

Aboot the project

2006-12-30T23:36:00.001-05:00

What the heck am I going to be doing in San Mateo, you may wonder?

Well, primarily I'm conducting field research for my senior thesis in Anthropology and Latin American Studies.

To contribute to that, I will be teaching a "workshop" on self-representation in Yinhatil Nab’en High School ("Seeds of Hope" in the Mayan language Chuj). The high school was built in 2005, and funded by The Ixtatán Foundation, through which I am working. I’ll be staying mainly at Ixtatán Foundation headquarters in San Mateo, and working with other volunteers.

My students will range in age from 16-23. They are all teachers- in- training, and the idea is to expose them to some different teaching methods, teach some technological skills (both Ixtatán Foundation's objectives) and to generate a discussion on representation and identity (my objective) that they can then pass on to their students.

The workshop will consist of two parts: discussion (in-class) and “field photography.” The students will be working on several different, but ultimately related, projects over the course of three months. First, they will explore the town (and their relation to it) by taking photos of significant locations and events. Then they will interview friends and family in order to write biographical sketches and take their portraits.

Next, the students will construct autobiographies and create self-portraits using their medium of choice. Finally, continuing a project started last year by school administration, the students will be interviewing local survivors of the Guatemalan Civil War (1954-1996) and taking their portraits.

All of this will culminate in the creation of a website for the municipality of San Mateo, detailing the town’s history and history of its inhabitants.

I am conducting this workshop as Spanish 428 (Spanish Internship) at UofM. Part of the proposal for my internship included lesson plans and a journal, which will both take the form of another blog. For details and the progress of the workshop (en español), please see my internship blog.

All of this ties in quite nicely with my senior thesis project in Anthropology and Latin American and Caribbean Studies. That project looks at photographic representation of indigenous Guatemalans from the Civil War (1954-1996) onwards.

Basically, I want to see how people are represented in photos (intentionally or not), how the intended audience sees those photos, and how the photos might have been (or could be) used by Other groups (ie: international human rights groups, the Media, etc). That’s the short version of it.

"Why the *&#$@ would anyone want to read about THAT??'

2006-12-30T23:35:00.001-05:00

Reading this blog, most of my friends and family are going “…Oh. That’s interesting.” in a don't-make-her-feel-bad tone of voice. But ya'll are really thinking “Why the $#@*& would anyone want to read about THAT??” So I’ll tell you a little bit about how I came to this project, and why I think it might be interesting. And then I’ll go back to talking about food, bikes, and weather, I promise.

I like taking pictures. I wouldn’t call myself a “photographer” per say, but I’ve always really liked taking pictures. I got my first camera when I was in 2nd grade or so… I won it for selling a lot of wrapping paper in one of those school fundraisers. It was teal. 110 mm film. Wind-up. Nice.

It even had a flash!

My mom always told me that I should take pictures with people in them, because they’d be more interesting. But I don’t know… I never really liked taking pictures of people. I guess I was afraid, or shy, or something.

It bugged me that everyone always looked the same in all of the pictures… “smile and say cheese!” produces this deer-in-the-headlights look. And people don’t really look like that, in real life.

So my first 10 rolls of film were of my cats, dogs, and Barbie’s wedding (and a lovely wedding it was). And then the camera got taken away.

The next time I remember taking pictures was on a fieldtrip to Williamsburg in fifth grade. Following Mom’s advice this time, there were people in every shot. People in front of dried animal skins. People in front of cannons. People in front of a really old tree. I wouldn’t say that the pictures were more interesting, exactly… but they were something.

The frozen, “if- you- make- me- smile- one- more- time- I’ll- kill- you” looks on peoples’ faces are just timeless, let me tell you.

Needless to say, I didn’t want to take pictures of people any more after that trip than I did before. And shortly after, digital photography came into being and I was no longer admonished for “wasting film.” I could take as many pictures of rocks, trees, and water as my little heart desired! And wow… did I ever.

Except for the times I traveled with my mom, all of my photos from trips taken in high school are of inanimate objects.

I didn’t get much better in college. I studied abroad my sophomore year, and nearly all of my photos were taken while I was hiking in the mountains. And, shock and amazement, they’re all landscapes. I like those photos. They’re nice. They’re on my wall, you can go see them if you’d like.

But the images that are burned into my memory are the ones I didn’t capture on film (er… in pixels? On a memory chip?). And they’re the ones with people in them.

I will never ever forget sitting in a dirt-floored schoolhouse in a squatter village in El Petén, Guatemala, when one of the afternoon rainstorms started up. We all sat around, with the rain pelting the tin roof, exchanging jokes and comparing which groups were most frequently made fun of in each of our cultures (blonds are a common denominator in Guatemala, Honduras, and the USA). As the laughter petered out, our ten-year-old guide got up and stood in the doorway, just staring out at the rain, as we all waited for it to die down. I don’t know what it was about that image, but I’m still kicking myself for not bringing my camera that day.

Somehow, I felt that walking around taking snapshots would have been disrespectful. Would it have? I really don’t know. My Honduran colleague had her little digital point-and-shoot with her, but I felt funny taking pictures of strangers. Particularly when I was a foreigner in every sense of the word.

Taking a more formal photo class this year made me realize that—hey! I really like taking pictures of people! Especially candids… no frozen smiles, thank you. Nevertheless, all of my photos are of people I know, and usually when they didn’t know I was taking their picture (heh- sorry guys!).

So my larger “guiding questions” all relate to the above little anecdote. How do people take pictures of other people? Especially, how do people take pictures of “the Other”? But then, how do we take pictures of ourselves, and our families? Why do we find pictures of other people so fascinating (take, for example, the appeal of National Geographic)? And what messages do they convey in our individual interpretations? And even more broadly: how does the “nature of photography” lend itself to these interpretations?

As a side note—I’m not out to critique anyone, or anyone’s photos. Everyone uses the medium as they see fit, which is clearly an individual choice. And I’m certainly not one to judge someone’s artistic choices. I just think it’s interesting that there is such a huge variety within the medium, and such a wide variety of uses and interpretations of photos.

So there ya go. See, not so random a choice for a project, right?

And, because I promised her I’d say this:

You were right Mom. Pictures with people in them are more interesting.