San Juan La Laguna
Friends and Lovers,
Big news guys . . .
For the first time in 18 years, I pooped my pants.
I woke up at approximately 12:30 in the morning with incredible discomfort in the abdominal region. I shot up and made for the bathroom. Not before, of course, slipping on my sandals. I would rather risk sharting myself than entering the dingy bathroom with unprotected feet. And that´s extactly what I did, before I even got out of my room . . .
Later that night, sweating in bed, my mind began to race. Do I have girradia? What if I have girradia? Stuck in Guatemala with Girrardia - ughh, what a nightmare! Shitting myself every night, wreching in bed as butcher knife pains twist through my gut, losing weight and sanity in some strange room, in some strange house, in some strange country that hasn´t adopted western medicine . . .
I thought to myself - what did I eat? Did I forget to wash my hands? Did I drink unpurified water by accident? I couldn´t put my finger on a culprit for my slippery bowels. So, I eventually slipped back into sleep.
This morning I woke up feeling fine. I even climbed into the mountains to help my ´grandfather´ weed his plot of beans. Tough work - half hour climb up the side of a volcano, simply to get to his plot. In the three hours that we weeded his plot, we managed to clean about 2 percent of his field. The entire time we worked, hunched over and standing on steep and unsteady ground. By 11:30, Augustine called it, as the clouds were building up. Climbing down the side of this muddy volcano in a downpour was definitely beyond my capabilities. I was glad our workday was cut short. I was thinking to myself the entire morning - how could this much work be worth a hump of beans . . .
We made it home, safe, sound, and exhausted just in time to be served fish for lunch!
So, lets back up. I´m sure you´re confused . . . I have been living in San Juan Laguna on the shores of Lake Atitlan, in the Guatemalan state of Solola, for just over two weeks now. This is a view of the towns of San Juan La Laguna (foreground) and Sen Pedro La Laguna (background).
I am studying spanish (3-5 hours day) and living with a family. The family houses and feeds me for 50 dollars per week. I study with a personal instructor, one on one, for 4 dollars hour. Taryn is here as well. We have the same teacher and live just down the block from one another.
Half the money I pay for lessons is pure gravy - it goes directly to a food program for the community´s needy. And there are many. There is little work here. Most familes can afford to send their children to school for only 4 or five years. Many children are less than 10 years old when they have receieved all the education they are going to get.
The menu for the majority of the residents of San Juan is eggs, beans, and tortilla´s, every meal of every day. Sunday, however, is special: chicken soup is on the menu. Meals normally consist a very small serving of food that is spread out over several tortillas. These truly are the people of the maize: a tomale spead out over a tortilla, washed downed with a corn drink, is a common meal.
Things are a bit different for me: my family is more well-to-do. We have meat or fish once a day. The menu is mixed up with tomato´s, broccolli, potatos, avocado, and other local vegetables. Avocado´s cost 15 cents here.
Guatemala is called the land of the eternal spring. The soil is volcanic and rich, and the growing season is 365 days per year. 100 percent of the food I eat is Guatemalan, and over 75 percent is from the lands surrounding San Juan.
The fact that I am a gringo, the fact that I am rich, is constantly present. In one sense, I am simply one human being trying to connect with another. On the other hand, there is little we can talk about that does not at least indirectly point out the fact that I am rich beyond their wildest dreams. The things I have, my perfect teeth, my tall, strong frame, my education, my freedom - especially my freedom. These are things many of the people of San Juan have never directly encountered. I´m developing a whole new definition of privilege, of wealth. I can leave, I can always leave. They never can. Privilege is choice and the tools of choice. Privilege is freedom. America isn´t free, its privileged. And we so often confuse the two.
Anyways, things are well. This is an awesome place. San Juan is a very traditional communty. Not a single woman wears jeans. Everyone wears the traditional clothing, despite the fact that is is very expensive. The community of 700 is 90 percent Catholic. Marriage outside the religion is very difficult.
The kids are so goddamn beautiful.
Guatemalans love Americans. A travelling rarity for an American, to be respected for your country of birth.
My spanish is going very well. The intensive immersion program yields very palpable results. Everyday, I make progress. But I am just beginning, and fluency is a long, long road. Good thing I´m rich enough to stay here a long time!
Sorry, no pictures yet. Internet here is too patchy to upload photos, but I´ll keep trying . . .
I´ll be lucky to even upload this post . . .
Big news guys . . .
For the first time in 18 years, I pooped my pants.
I woke up at approximately 12:30 in the morning with incredible discomfort in the abdominal region. I shot up and made for the bathroom. Not before, of course, slipping on my sandals. I would rather risk sharting myself than entering the dingy bathroom with unprotected feet. And that´s extactly what I did, before I even got out of my room . . .
Later that night, sweating in bed, my mind began to race. Do I have girradia? What if I have girradia? Stuck in Guatemala with Girrardia - ughh, what a nightmare! Shitting myself every night, wreching in bed as butcher knife pains twist through my gut, losing weight and sanity in some strange room, in some strange house, in some strange country that hasn´t adopted western medicine . . .
I thought to myself - what did I eat? Did I forget to wash my hands? Did I drink unpurified water by accident? I couldn´t put my finger on a culprit for my slippery bowels. So, I eventually slipped back into sleep.
This morning I woke up feeling fine. I even climbed into the mountains to help my ´grandfather´ weed his plot of beans. Tough work - half hour climb up the side of a volcano, simply to get to his plot. In the three hours that we weeded his plot, we managed to clean about 2 percent of his field. The entire time we worked, hunched over and standing on steep and unsteady ground. By 11:30, Augustine called it, as the clouds were building up. Climbing down the side of this muddy volcano in a downpour was definitely beyond my capabilities. I was glad our workday was cut short. I was thinking to myself the entire morning - how could this much work be worth a hump of beans . . .
We made it home, safe, sound, and exhausted just in time to be served fish for lunch!
So, lets back up. I´m sure you´re confused . . . I have been living in San Juan Laguna on the shores of Lake Atitlan, in the Guatemalan state of Solola, for just over two weeks now. This is a view of the towns of San Juan La Laguna (foreground) and Sen Pedro La Laguna (background).
I am studying spanish (3-5 hours day) and living with a family. The family houses and feeds me for 50 dollars per week. I study with a personal instructor, one on one, for 4 dollars hour. Taryn is here as well. We have the same teacher and live just down the block from one another.
Half the money I pay for lessons is pure gravy - it goes directly to a food program for the community´s needy. And there are many. There is little work here. Most familes can afford to send their children to school for only 4 or five years. Many children are less than 10 years old when they have receieved all the education they are going to get.
The menu for the majority of the residents of San Juan is eggs, beans, and tortilla´s, every meal of every day. Sunday, however, is special: chicken soup is on the menu. Meals normally consist a very small serving of food that is spread out over several tortillas. These truly are the people of the maize: a tomale spead out over a tortilla, washed downed with a corn drink, is a common meal.
Things are a bit different for me: my family is more well-to-do. We have meat or fish once a day. The menu is mixed up with tomato´s, broccolli, potatos, avocado, and other local vegetables. Avocado´s cost 15 cents here.
Guatemala is called the land of the eternal spring. The soil is volcanic and rich, and the growing season is 365 days per year. 100 percent of the food I eat is Guatemalan, and over 75 percent is from the lands surrounding San Juan.
The fact that I am a gringo, the fact that I am rich, is constantly present. In one sense, I am simply one human being trying to connect with another. On the other hand, there is little we can talk about that does not at least indirectly point out the fact that I am rich beyond their wildest dreams. The things I have, my perfect teeth, my tall, strong frame, my education, my freedom - especially my freedom. These are things many of the people of San Juan have never directly encountered. I´m developing a whole new definition of privilege, of wealth. I can leave, I can always leave. They never can. Privilege is choice and the tools of choice. Privilege is freedom. America isn´t free, its privileged. And we so often confuse the two.
Anyways, things are well. This is an awesome place. San Juan is a very traditional communty. Not a single woman wears jeans. Everyone wears the traditional clothing, despite the fact that is is very expensive. The community of 700 is 90 percent Catholic. Marriage outside the religion is very difficult.
The kids are so goddamn beautiful.
Guatemalans love Americans. A travelling rarity for an American, to be respected for your country of birth.
My spanish is going very well. The intensive immersion program yields very palpable results. Everyday, I make progress. But I am just beginning, and fluency is a long, long road. Good thing I´m rich enough to stay here a long time!
Sorry, no pictures yet. Internet here is too patchy to upload photos, but I´ll keep trying . . .
I´ll be lucky to even upload this post . . .
posted by chubalicious at 4:26 PM
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