Simply Simple

As I write, I’m relaxing amidst Semana Santa (Holy Week). Virtually everything in Guatemala has shut down for a few days and I have no choice but to enjoy the week for what it is. Guatemalan celebrations are usually rather prolonged events and if my inherent American fixation on time controls me, it’s grounds to drive me crazy.

I’ve been thinking back on the last year lately. I remember that Easter last year was my first big holiday away from home during my Peace Corps voyage. It was sad to be away from family, but I was also grappling for legitimacy in the community where I had lived for a mere two weeks. Fortunately, 12 months later, I have goals to drive me forward, friends with whom to enjoy passing moments, and a slightly more relaxed mindset to understand that if something doesn’t happen in a given day, there is always tomorrow.

I can’t say that every moment of Peace Corps can be civilly summarized in a short story or sound like an introspective look within, but such is the case in life. Still, the moments that are great, are the ones on which I’d rather center my focus and summarize my year in-site.

A kid asks to play a game or watches me cook. A friend asks me to play soccer or teaches me to break-dance. A woman tells me to take a seat on the bench outside the store while we chat. An acquaintance shouts my name in Mam, Kuẍ (koosh), and we have a mini-Mam-dialogue…Tinb’aj teya…Nchin b’eta. Another Peace Corps Volunteer calls me just to tell a funny story of what just happened to him or her. These are the snapshots that make life interesting, entertaining, pleasant, significant, and hilarious.

It’s the simplest moments that are most meaningful at the end of each day. Most of my pictures from Peace Corps illustrate such moments. The photos aren’t always great: I’m sweaty, my jeans have been patched five times over, or I feel ill. But those are the real moments.


Game night with friends. Age is irrelevant sometimes.


Another small friend who entertains me while I work in my room.


Kids flying as I spin them. One of their favorite routines, as well as one of mine...until I'm dizzy.


My break-dancing teacher and me practicing a basic move.


Why be clean when you can be stained with paint? On Día de Diablo (Day of the Devil), December 7, painted devils run in the streets and stain bystanders. Así es la vida.


Peace Corps friends always fuel me with positive energy before another week of work faces me.

Feria Fever

Feria (fair) happens once a year in San Se. The week-long festival honors Saint Sebastián who the pueblo is named after. Feria might be compared to town fairs or town “days” in the U.S. For my whole life at home, I experienced Maple Grove Days, where I worked at an over-populated pool, marched in a parade, or enjoyed fireworks. And in college, the city of Northfield became like kin to me, as I studied the story of the defeat of Jesse James and the Younger Gang, square danced with locals, watched the rodeo, or ran in the 15k.

In neither Maple Grove Days, nor Jesse James Days, did I ever feel pressured to witness and participate in everything…EVERYTHING. Since feria comes to San Se just once a year, Guatemalans do not take such attractions lightly. Peace Corps automatically forces an early bedtime, either due to waking up before dawn to travel up a mountain to school, or having friends who are 10-years-old or younger, who naturally go to bed earlier than a 20-something; however, my early bedtimes of the year past, made the feria all-nighters more challenging. If someone saw me making my way home at midnight, I was forced back to the park to watch people dressed in large cartoon-character costumes dance.

But perhaps it was the rueda (Ferris wheel) that proved most challenging in the wee-hours of the morning. The irregular eating schedule of constant street-food grazing might have been grounds for my Pepto Bismal dessert tablets, but for the first time in my amusement-ride-history, I felt nauseated. The rueda was operated with a small motor (maybe the size of one that belonged to a riding lawn mower), but the vueltas (turns) were fast enough to instill fear in even the most seasoned riders. Riding companions included an 11-year-old friend, a 21-year-old friend and her mother, and my site-mate. My total number of rides likely reached a dozen.

When the last day finally came and everyone seemed to be wandering in a sleep-deprived haze, we watched an impressive fireworks display and reveled in the community of San Sebastián, regardless of the long recovery time feria eventually forced.


A view of town from the medium-sized Ferris wheel, taken on one of many rides.


One of the more disturbing, yet awesome, costumes in the parade. The King of Pop is big in Guatemala.


A snippet from the grand finale fireworks at the end of the week.

12 months; 52 weeks; 365 days…

Written January 6, 2010

I’m at the year mark. I’ve officially been in the Peace Corps for one year. I have three months to go, before I’m at my year mark for having been sworn-in as a volunteer, but I think a year in-country was one of the first major hurdles.

And while a year has flown past me, relatively quickly, it’s a good time to think of all that passed in one year. In the last year, I have…

…said goodbye to friends and family at home, unsure when our next reunion would be.
…learned Spanish for the second time and used it to communicate, rather than complete a worksheet in high school.
…learned how to live on my own in a new world.
…intercepted four different families and lived with each for varied periods.
…eaten at least half my weight in tortillas and tamales.
…become an elementary school teacher of sorts.
…kept in contact with friends and family through emails, letters and phone calls, and come to know who is among my closest support network.
…seen two friends and a sister get married.
…said goodbye to my first Guatemalan host-mom who passed away in November.
…climbed to the highest point in Central America.
…ridden on public transportation day-in-and-day-out, ranging from large vans, pick-ups, trucks, and converted school buses (or otherwise known as the infamous camioneta or chicken bus).
…waited…and waited…and employed, as one fellow volunteer coined, “Zen levels of patience and cultural sensitivity.”

It’s been an enlivening, exhausting, thrilling, challenging, thought-provoking experience with about 100 different adjectives at the same time. I hope the next year continues to force acceptance, awareness, goals, justice, appreciation, humility, solidarity, values and progress.



Victory Climb - the summit of the Volcán Tajumulco. One year down.

Christmas in San Se

Once the fireworks began, Christmas had officially arrived; friends and family hugged and we got to eat our tamales. This was the very ambiguous sign for which I waited and anticipated the whole week before Christmas. As far as Christmas celebrations go, I can’t say that it was like anything I’ve experienced in the past, but the anticipation and the waiting and the quiet, followed by a fury of crackling in the streets and cheering from houses in the small pueblo of San Sebastián, led to a very rich experience to remember – one of the capstones to my first year in Peace Corps.

In years past, I’ve become accustomed to a church service in the early evening or late night, depending on the year. Relatives came to my family’s house, or we went to their houses. We would eat a big dinner. And often times, late at night, before we would go to bed, we would open gifts and prepare for more celebrating the next day.

Planted in my small town in Huehuetenango, I waited with the other Guatemalans who treated every hour until midnight much like any other day, completing various tasks or spending time with friends in nearby houses. But once 11:30 came around, we gathered and watched the clock, more than ready to eat and rejoice in the fact that Christmas had arrived.

I spent a couple hours with one family, waiting, watching the fireworks fill the sky, and devouring tamales in the half-coma that sets in when I wait to eat dinner after midnight. Later, I greeted my own Guatemalan family, the ones with whom I’ve lived during my months in-site, and gave the gifts my parents sent to share in the celebration from miles away. I ate four tamales and we went to bed around 2:30AM.

Christmas Day was rather tranquil, as we woke up late and lounged around, I played games with the kids, and we ate another meal. I’ve intercepted and adopted an entire family.

Oh, and the fireworks: if I ever had to describe my imagery of the Apocalypse, I’d likely describe Christmas Eve in Guatemala. Firecrackers burned in the streets and soaring explosives launched from house patios. Sometimes, in chaos, there is reason to celebrate.


Friends from town and me - just after midnight on Christmas.

¡Feliz Navidad y Prospero Año Nuevo!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my readers - reading to understand, stay connected, and support me from afar! Muchísimo gracias. It’s been quite the year and one that will likely not get lost in the mix of memories over my lifetime. Here’s to a great new decade; one of new challenges and abundant joys. My best to all of you!




Merry Christmas from my house to yours!

My Life as a Song Writer

Years after early inspiration from my first grade teacher who taught with his guitar and wrote songs for our class to get an early start on learning our multiples (7, 14, 21, 28, 35...), I've taken on the practice as my own form of teaching as well. Last fall, I finished writing a song parody to the popular Vicente Fernandez song, "El Chofer," and changed the words pertaining to healthy practices. I was also in charge of making up a cheer for the "Soy Pilas" theme at the sports camp with which I helped in November. These songs are now what I like to bring to birthday parties.



And the lyrics for my Vicente parody if you know Spanish...

Practicas Saludables
Parodia de El Chofer – Vicente Fernandez

Voy a tomar,
Agua hervida,
Porque no quiero infección en mi estomago.

Voy a vivir,
Sin microbios,
Porque no bebo agua fea del chorro.

Y sigan estos principios,
Por buen salud de sus cuerpos.

Voy a lavar,
Con agua y jabón,
Para quitar los chinches dentro del colchón,

Voy a vivir,
Con cuerpo limpio,
Porque no rasco la piel bien sano.

Aguas calientes y salvavidas de Huehue.
Adiós enfermedades.

Voy a tirar,
Desechos sucios,
En los lugares se llaman basureros,

Voy a vivir,
Con aire más fresco,
Porque no puedo respirar los químicos.

Y sigan estos principios,
Por buen salud de sus cuerpos.

No estamos enfermos (con gripe),
No estamos enfermos (con diarrea),
No estamos enfermos (con vómitos),
No estamos enfermos (con tos),
No estamos enfermos (con dolores),
No estamos enfermos (con amebas),
Porque seguimos las reglas.

Y sigan estos principios,
Por buen salud de sus cuerpos.

Soy saludable.

¡No tengo diarrea, no tengo lombrices, no tengo amebas, no tengo infecciones de los intestinos, solamente saludable y muy fuerte para vivir contento y alegre por el resto de mi vida!

¡Ay, estoy saludable!

¡Yo soy pilias! – Camp Season

I attended my first summer camp in 1998. I was gone for a week and it felt like two years (wait, that’s Peace Corps). I remember counting the hours until the end of the week, when I would be back in the comforts of home, where I did not have to "care" for myself (which I think just included deciding how much food I would eat at meal times). And now I’ve been living this camp-like lifestyle for nearly 12 months.

I’ve gotten over my fear of being away from home, so now is my chance to relive my childhood. I’ve now completed three camps since school has been out, and I’m convinced that this is my calling (second to being an eternal college student).

Camp #1 took place in Las Marias, Quetzaltenango – site of an environmental education volunteer. A handful of PCVs took direction from one organized leader who planned to teach soccer, basketball, and baseball, to a group of fourth through sixth graders. Mixed in with the sports practice, we gave mini-lectures on health, teamwork, and self-esteem – all important reasons for practicing a sport. I wrote a cheer based on the week’s theme, “soy pilias” (I am motivated, hard working, strong, etc. – not a direct translation). Simultaneously, all the PCVs had fun living together in one house for a week.



Camp #2 passed in San Sebastián, where my site-mate and I took on the energy of 60-80 kids, ranging in age from 6-12, along with other recruited PCVs. For 3-4 hours everyday, we taught environmental themed lessons, expressed ourselves in arts and crafts, and ran wild with reckless game time. And though we had many successes throughout the week, I felt like I got good practice for school (which always needs to be tailored) and recognized new ways to develop better classroom management.



Camp #3 brought me to San Cristobal, Totonicapan, where we performed epic duties as “camp councilors.” The camp in San Cris focused on English classes, outdoor recreation, and arts and crafts. I mostly manned the outdoor recreation part for three groups of younger elementary-aged kids in the morning and old-elementary – junior high-aged kids in the afternoon. My main objective for the relatively random games was for the kids to work together as a team. We sang embarrassing songs and I lost my voice by the end of the week – totally worth it for me.





And now, after successive camps, meetings and Spanish classes at the Peace Corps center, and a Guatemalan Thanksgiving, I have returned to my site, not wanting to travel again for a very long time. Living out of a backpack gets to be a challenge. My own bed has never felt so comfortable!