(again internet too slow for pictures... I'll get them up eventually)

As promised here is a brief recap of the trip to Todos Santos. We left Huehue in a private micro that Cara was sweet enough to rent for us. We were packed in so tight almost everyone was pegged to their seat and I for one couldn’t move my legs more than a few inches to the left or the right. That didn’t make the micro any less worth it though; we all had a lot of baggage with our sleeping bags, Halloween costumes, and personal supply of alcohol for the party. (Todos Santos is technically a “dry” town)

The house was an organizational feat! A couple volunteers live in Todos Santos and arranged the whole thing, with a few extra requirements placed on the gathering by Peace Corps security. There must have been over 40 of us staying in the house. The outside had a banner which declared it the “Peace Corps Party House”, this not only helped the volunteers find the house, but it also helped a large group of European and American vacationers and trekkers.

The town itself impressed me. I live in a Ladino town close to a huge Ladino city. I see indigenous men and women all the time. A few girls at my schools wear traje and I see indigenous vendors and shoppers each time I go to the market in Huehue. But a few in a crowd don’t make nearly the impression that an entire town does. Not only that, but Todos Santos is one of the few places in Guatemala where the men where traje as well. Even the tourists were buying traje second hand from the shops along the main road. That was probably the most amazing aspect of the trip for me. I love indigenous clothing and especially from Todos Santos. The men’s pants however always remind me of what a rodeo clown might wear. They are traditional colors but they are made in the style of American jeans from the early nineties. A few young men were wearing more fashionable tighter styles, but generally the pants were bright red striped with cream with dramatic shapes embroidered into the pockets and knees.

More dramatic than the traje EVERYWHERE, was the get-up of the men participating in the horse races. I was a little nervous about being so close to the race (the horses’ hooves were flinging mud at the bystanders) and a little nervous about having my camera out in the crowd, especially if I needed to duck to avoid being smashed by a heavily inebriated rider thrown from the horse, so I didn’t get a good shot of the actual racers. They were not only in traje like everyone else, but they also wore elaborate hats, extra tassels hanging from any conceivable place on their body and all sorts of colorful decorations. It made for quite an amusing site with their jazzy costumes juxtaposed with vacant eyes and the posture of a man about to pass out drunk or hurl over the side of his horse. There are no winners in these races. Their origin, according to a random Australian, is to show the Spaniards that Guatemalans could ride horses as well. Everyone who participates is a winner. Apparently apart from this event there isn’t a really strong history of horsemanship in these parts because it is so mountainous. Again this may all be hearsay… But it may be true since another famous aspect of this tradition is that generally at least one person is expected to be killed while participating. Apparently, it hasn’t happened in a few years, which is shocking considering the drunkenness of the riders and the narrowness of the course. It is considered an honor to die this way and is seen as a promise of a good harvest. I don’t find this logic particularly compelling… I’d rather not break my neck falling off a horse drunk out of my mind dressed like a rodeo clown in front of a large crowd of tourists ready to snap the picture up and put it in the Nuestro Diario. But maybe that is just me, showing off my Gringa colors.

If you weren’t a drunk man riding in the races, chances are you were a drunk man dancing on the balcony of the muni, in the park, or in the street. That is of course if you were still conscious. Which seemed purely a matter of luck. Bolo spotting was a large part of the festivities. The women stood on the sidelines observing as their husbands, fathers, and brothers broke out some of the most creative bolo dance moves. When we were in the park I caught the eye of some girls about my age. We were all watching in anticipation as a particularly drunk man hopped around to the marimba music playing from the balcony. Every whirl and turn brought him dangerously close to the fountain in the center of the plaza. We stared on in disbelief; shocked he hadn’t yet face planted into he water. Even though we don’t share a common first language, they were speaking in Mam, it was clear we were thinking exactly the same thing.

It was a great experience. We heard about a road that goes through the mountains from Todos Santos to a site only about 45 minutes from my town. It is only passable by foot and apparently only takes about 3 hours. If I can get a few friends together I really want to go back by foot, when it is not feria time. The rest of the year, the men of Todos Santos are regular upstanding citizens I’m sure.

I bleached out my pila this morning and the water flowed strong through the faucet, which makes me believe that my host family did not purchase water but that it has actually returned ahead of schedule. It makes a difference because if they bought water it won't last long and I shouldn't waste it on a shower. I thought that I had a pretty plush housing situation... but now that I'm looking at a twice weekly shower as a luxury and after a couple months living without a usable latrine... I feel a lot less smug about my lot.

Its a beautiful day. With my back door open the wind is blowing fresh cool air through my house. Sunshine dances through my windows and apart from the breeze there are no other sounds. The damp mold smell has finally left with the rains. There are vegetables in my kitchen, my laptop is chocked full of new world music thanks Becca and I am happy.

This week was a whirlwind of events activities and visitors. It was the first week of my camps, graduations at both básicos, an inauguration of a roof/stage project at one school, the visits of two friends and two puppies, and the start of an expected two week long running water hiatus.

Monday was the first day I held an English Camp at the SL school. As expected, no amount of reminders or permission slips succeeded in getting all of the interested students into the classroom. I started 30 minutes late, which may be considered on time within the Guatemalan context, and the four students who showed up did not have parental permission to attend and so class only lasted another 45 minutes. All in all though, I would have to consider it a relative success. On the way back to my house I was mobbed by groups of enthusiastic students wondering when class was going to start… not to mention parents approached me with the same question throughout the week. I am hoping for a better turn out next time. That said because of reconnect coming up, a short trip to Todos Santos for Halloween and the famous town’s feria, class schedule will be a little rocky. The students still seem enthusiastic though, so I’m hoping we’ll pick up momentum when I am able to hold classes more consecutively.

Tuesday I held the second English class at second Ch school. This class was incredibly encouraging. Thanks to Becca’s suggestion, I didn’t over prepare the lesson as usual, and instead focused on the alphabet and one dynamica, which in this case was “Simon Says”. It was great. Only 8 students came but that turned out to be a perfect number, the class was fun and the students seemed motivated and excited. I only made it through the letter G. I had the students suggest words starting with each letter and then we worked through the pronunciation. The English teacher at this school is very good and the students have a lot of vocabulary to work with already. As is common, they often don’t know how to pronounce the words. More than once I had to ask a student to spell out a word before I could decipher what they were saying. It felt great to be able to help with something so tangible. I am not an English teacher, and although its my first language, I doubt I could clearly explain many of our grammar rules in Spanish. Pronunciation however I can do, and I can do it well.

Wenesday through Friday every morning was some sort of ceremony. Graduations at both basicos and the inauguration of the roof project at SL. These ceremonies had a lot in common. I had to dress “elegante” which is stressful considering the lack of running water at my house and the lack of clothing choices I have here. There is a lot of standing up and sitting, clapping, and speech making. The national anthem was sung each day, complete with Saludo Uno and Saludo Dos, which I don’t quite understand except that the first saludo is when the flag is walked to the front of the room, is only music with no singing, and is much shorter than Saludo Dos. Every Guatemalan knows all the words to the national anthem, which is impressive since I only know enough of the US anthem to know I will never be able to sing it well and it is best for everyone around me that I only lip sync. Each event is also followed by a lunch. Thank god for free food. They usually serve so much that I have to llevar the rest for round two.

The graduation ceremony in SL today was my favorite. I really feel welcomed and accepted as part of the group of teachers. This is true at both schools, but the attitude in SL is so much more relaxed that it feels easier. I helped give out the diplomas, I took pictures and I even gave out a medal to the secretary. I looked closer later and realized the medal said “Educacion Fisica” but I guess that it was the thought that counted. She works so hard I guess the director wanted to recognize that publically. I also know the students at this school a little more and even though I have only been working with them for three months I was sad to see them leave. When their mother’s came forward to hug them and pose for a picture after each student received their diploma the moment was quite touching. The students were dressed in black pants or black pencil skirts depending, with white shirts and red ties. They could have been graduating in any country in the world. The mothers however, while dressed formally, still looked very much like Guatemalan mothers. They hugged their sons and daughters who at only 14 years old were often already significantly taller, and their eyes scrunched up with mixed emotions of pride and sadness. It was surprisingly hard to watch. Which brings me to the title of this post… When mothers cry… I cry. It must be some sort of emotional trigger for me. Every time I saw a dad embrace his child proudly I smiled at the way they stood straight tand tall, but every time a mother teared up while hugging her son or daughter, held on to the embrace longer than was quite necessary, or had to wipe tears out of her eyes to pose for the picture, I had to look away before I became the only one up on stage to cry. It was a nice day and I felt very lucky to be a part of it, but being around so many emotional mothers made it difficult to keep it together.

In the midst of all of this, Kelly and Becca stayed with me Monday-Friday. They were kind enough to help me haul back chairs and a cochon for guests to sleep on. We had a little adjusting to do but managed to fit it all on a small micro, I sat in a chair in the aisle the whole way home. Kelly brought her puppy Lubu, and I was already babysitting Cathaleen’s lovely Puchica. The puppies were so nuts together that they ended up outside for the most part. Which was great because it let me test out my new fence and sandy “go potty” area that coincidently works exactly like a litter box. Thursday however the water failed to come on schedule and my pila was almost empty. By this morning it was completely empty and none of us were able to shower. I washed my face in drinking water and the dirty dishes piled up. To make matters infinitely more exciting one of the teachers today mentioned that the water was not expected to return for a lovely span of two weeks. We made jokes and I threatened to move to a hostel until it returns. Luckily that won’t be necessary. I will be traveling around a lot the next two weeks what with reconnect and the trip to Todos Santos. This is more worrisome because it is not the first time this has happened. This month the water was already out for a week, and the rainy season has just about ended and so I expect water to become scarcer than it was before. I’m adjusting to a whole new low standard of personal hygine. I will have to invest in more hand sanitizer, baby wipes, maybe some baby powder to use as dry shampoo. Ah the joys of living water free.

I am taking care of Cathaleen's puppy Puchica for the week while she's on vacation. I just got a call from Antigua where she went to meet her boyfriend... and she gave me the best news! THERE IS AN ACTUAL NO KILL ANIMAL SHELTER NEAR SUPONGO!!!

As you might imagine I'm bouncing around the room beyond excited! I have said MANY times that I just wish there was a shelter here so I could go and pick out a dog, that NEEDS a home, no strings attached, and maybe even a dog that is past the vulnerable puppy stage. I have longingly looked through all the pictures from shelters in New Orleans, thinking how easy it would be... and then out of no where... it is just that easy.

This is the website:

http://www.animalaware.org/index.htm

AWARE is a no kill shelter outside of Supongo run by foreigners who also work with education programs. Best of all, I am going to be in Antigua for reconnect VERY SOON!!! Although taking a dog who barely knows me back to site on a bus is a little daunting... I'll just have to figure it out! YIPPY!!!

(Also they're are pics of some of their dogs, although I don't know how recent... you better believe I will looking through it many times before reconnect!!)

I am shocked I didn't know about this already. Looking at the map it is RIGHT by the entrance to my training community Xenacoj! I remember seeing some gringas walking down the street and was wondering where they were going, I bet this was it.

At around 4ft 5in and forever donning her lacy pastel apron she’s what you might expect to find in my small Ladino town outside of Huehue. She also happens to be the resident tortilla lady... which explains our frequent run-ins. She makes excellent tortillas. They are just slightly thicker than your average run of the mill tortilla; plus she sells them for 5 for a Q, but because she loves me so much I always open my tipica wrap thing and find at least 7-8 tortillas. This is not, by the way, why I love her so much, although it certainly doesn’t hurt to feel like a VIP whenever I want something to accompany my beans and overly sugared fried plantains.

The reason I love her so much is that she is just sooooo nice. Not just your ordinary “aqui estoy para sirvirle” and “cualquier cosa me avise,” although she has given me her fair share of those. But, on the second day I met her she stopped me from paying and leaving by saying (in Spanish obviously) “Wait, I want to say something to you. I know you are here all by yourself and I want to offer you my friendship. I understand how hard it is to be away from your country and your family and I want you to know that you always have a friend here.” She continued on along that line for a few minutes, while I nodded and thanked her and used a few lines of my own. “Estoy muy feliz estar aqui.” “Muchas gracias por todo su apoyo… estoy muy agradecida por su Amistad…” etc. I was touched but a little awkward about the whole interaction, I thanked her and went home a little surprised with how over the top it had seemed.

Think about it, at the time it was maybe my third day in site. I was still sleeping on the floor of an almost completely empty house. Eating the same thing everyday and still had no idea how to do the most basic things like work my “shower” or wash my clothes. I know that’s when I should have been freaking out but apart from being more than a little scared of killer spiders and using the latrine at night… I was feeling very much alive and hardly felt like I was missing out. I was finally ACTUALLY in the Peace Corps, no longer a trainee and there was proof… I was surrounded by milpas, I had a “chamber pot” (read: bucket), and I was awoken to the sound of dogfights every night… at least twice. Not that I wasn’t thrilled that she wanted to be “my friend” and that she was obviously so nice, it was the undercurrent of worry that had me shrugging my shoulders and walking away with a confused/uncomfortable smirk on my face.

Since then I have settled into the routine and increasingly looked forward to seeing my new bestfriend. Marta has made a point of chatting with me every time I buy tortillas or even just when I’m passing by, which is almost daily since her tortilla shack is on the way to the micros. She introduces me to other customers and neighbors as her “friend Clara”. Her youngest 4 year old daughter greets me with an enthusiastic “Ee Ei Ee Ei Ohhhh!!” (or however you would spell the chorus of the Ol’ McDonald song. I say hi to her two middle kids, which are a both students of mine, and extremely friendly if a little shy. And I know that no matter how I’m feeling or what I’m doing I will always get an enthusiastic wave and a “que lo vaya bien” or if its getting later “Adonde va?... Cuidase Seño!” She’s just so dang nice.

After Chulo died she was convinced it was “Ojo” that killed him. She told me that I should have brought him so she could smear chili all over him and put a read necklace on him to protect against jealous glances. She even offered me a puppy, but he looked skinnier and weaker than even Chulo had and I couldn’t bear to take him so soon.

I ran into Marta just the other day. Her little daughter was dressed in a polka dress and they had just come back from the centro. She gave me another speech about how if I ever needed anything…and that she had been worried when she hadn’t seen me in a while, and she ended by insisting that I take her number and that I please call her if I am ever miss the last bus back and am stuck downtown. She assured me, as wonderful as she is, that her son, (who happens to be 25 and she is not so subtly nudging in my direction) would be happy to pick me up on his moto. Which technically I’m not even allowed to accept a ride on according to Peace Corps rules. Although I think it would be far less dangerous to ride a moto than be stuck in Huehue alone after dark. Still with the uncomfortable strings attached that particular favor I would have to opt for a night of box wine and nachos alone in a room in the Gobernador hostel and the first bus back to site.

Our goodbye however was my favorite part of that day’s interaction. In true awkward Guatemalan fashion, I was overly eager to participate in all the appropriate “saludar-ing.” My over eagerness to be polite and show confianza meant that I was clearly unsure when we were finished talking and when she was just pausing before another onslaught of well-wishes. I ended up doing the hug/kiss on the cheek gesture about four times. Which wouldn’t be altogether out of the ordinary if she hadn’t been going for the full hug about half of the time. Because of our height differences and my own “butt out-bent over hug” position, I ended up getting kissed on the neck more than once. I walked away chuckling to myself. It seems that is how most of our encounters end, which is fine by me.

On a side note, and I feel a little guilty for even sharing this but its too funny to leave out, she once asked me if I’d ever been to Italy. When I told her yes but only to Venice she was slightly disappointed. To her it was a shame to have been so close and to have missed Rome. I agreed conversationally, but had missed the point. The reason that I should have gone to Rome was because, according to her cousin’s wife, this was the city that was home to Noah’s Arc. Heavily protected by military to avoid being chipped away at by tourists and defaced by graffiti and versions of “Jose was here” tags, the biblical Arc remains in Rome. I assured her if I was ever back in Italy I would make a special point to see it for myself.

So once again I took a month long hiatus from blogging. This time though, I don’t have the excuse of moving in to a new place, or any other time intensive distractions that might keep me too busy to write. In fact I’ve had more than a little free time on my hands, which is partly the problem I guess. No, I haven’t written because I want this blog to be about my Peace Corps experience… more specifically about my work and community integration and generally what I’m up to. I’m still very excited about being here, I love my town and am happy with the friends I am making and the way things are progressing, albeit I’m frustrated with the slow pace. But lately, to be honest, I’ve just been very very sad, so sad in fact that I didn’t want too much of that feeling spilling over into my blog and distracting from all the very positive things that I’m experiencing.

The cause of most of the sadness is that Chulo passed away from distemper. I took him to the vet almost daily for a few weeks. He needed antibiotics, glucose shots, more de-wormer, and even an IV for a few horrible hours. It was a VERY drawn-out and extremely heart wrenching process that was topped off with possibly the most horrible night of my life. I held him and cried for hours on end as the virus destroyed his nervous system and rendered him completely unable to walk, control his bodily functions, or even focus his eyes and still his head long enough to look at me, let alone eat or drink. It wasn't an easy transition, he had horrible seizures, dramatic episodes where he would try to accomplish basic movements he was completely in control of only a few short hours ago and then panic at his inability to complete them. Twice during the night I thought he died, in fact I was praying he would just let go during his most horrible moments, it was clear that it would not going to end well. He was very scared I couldn't leave him even to use the bathroom and had to take him with me in his bed to avoid having him try to follow me. The worst of it was definitely that he was scared and that this was so clear made the decision to have him put to sleep painfully easy. At the end he was so far gone already he didn’t even smell like my puppy anymore.

To avoid depressing myself, and everyone else, further… that is all I’m going to say about that. I've already said to much but I can't bear to delete any of it. It will have been a month this Wednesday… he died on Sept 15th, the Guatemalan Independence day. I have already started the process of looking for another dog. I know how important it is to my happiness, but after a few false starts I’m trying to take the process slowly. He’s a hard act to follow. My landlord helped me put up a fence around my concrete pila area so when I do get another dog I will have a better prepared space. This wouldn’t have helped Chulo though. I started his vaccinations the second day I had him and the vet assures me that he already had the virus before I even got him. I can’t regret getting him though I really loved that little duck.

Up until this point I haven’t been able to think about writing about anything else and I don’t think I was ready to write about him. But now its done. It is about to be a very interesting time for me. We are in the last week of classes. I am designing and getting ready for summer clubs with the students. We are about to have Reconnect which is a two day training session in Santa Lucia where we will also have 4 days of language classes keeping me away from site and in Antigua for over a week. Things are happening and I will start writing about them… starting now.

My lovely amazing thoughtful parents sent me enough yummy/healthy food for months! I have a significant portion of my life outside of the states, but while I don't usually miss things/food from the states all that much (goldfish and chocolate being the huge exception) I ALWAYS miss my mama's food when I'm not home!

This weekend Kelly came down and we visited the Zaculeau Mayan ruins which are located just outside of Huehue. We bought an ice cream for the bus ride and settled in for what we expected to be a half hour ride at least outside of town. Turns out we'd practically been all the way there by foot only a few weekends ago. It is so easy to get to and less than a dollar to get in (with PC id) that I think I'll have to go back more often.

From what we’d heard, we weren't expecting much. And to be fair yes some of the ruins had indeed been concreted over a while back. But the weather was wonderful and the site had the feel of a park, couples making out families coming in for picnics. The best part was that there were hardly any visitors on a Saturday morning we were able to run up and down all the stairs and take pictures to our hearts content without having to wait for a crowd to clear in order to get a good shot. I want to come back soon, maybe bring the dog, some lunch, and some form of shade and just relax.

I love gross/weird stuff. So naturally I was very excited to pose with this decapatated chicken's head. We assumed it was part of a mayan ceremony of some sort. There was another one a little ways away in the grass... but this one might have been moved by the handful of dogs who were taking interest in it. There was also a burn pile with plastic coins strewn through it.

A close up of the handsome beast.

My lovely traveling partner, Kelly, who just happens to come here all the way from Boise, Idaho!! Although more recently from just about 4 hours North of me on the way to Mexico.

I’m doing nothing right now. Im sitting on my bed. Chulo is curled up in my lap twitching in his dreams. (Is it just me or do dogs smell differently when they’re sleeping. He seems to, sort of a dust and graham cracker smell. Call me what you will..) I’m listening to a lot of new zero 7. I’ve had it forever but haven’t gotten around to hearing it yet. I cleaned my room, swept the whole house. It’s raining outside and I’m feeling damp and a little cold. I went to the store, went to the ATM. Tried to go to a school I will possibly start working at, but failed because of a miscommunication. I ran some errands instead. To sum up I’ve been relatively productive all day… but it’s only 3:30 and I should really REALLY go knock on the door for upstairs and ask the five year old Jahandi (no idea how that is spelled) if she wants to come hang out and watch Dumbo, because this is all she ever wants to watch. I SHOULD really do this. But really I don’t want to. I don’t want to watch Dumbo again. I really don’t want to have to tell her 5 times not to push every button on my laptop or to touch the screen with excitement every time dumbo gets drunk and imagines his mother or when he finally flys or when he jumps from that really tall building or when… or when… I have no food, and she will inevitably want a snack and when I say I have no food I am exaggerating. I have eggplant and oatmeal and some onion and garlic. Exaggeration or not, for her purposes I have no food. Chulo hasn’t been out in a while so I want to watch him like a hawk so I can ensure he goes outside not in a spare room. I am loving this time, this lazy self-indulgent time. I know if I don’t knock on her door she will inevitably come over when I am trying to get dinner ready, and won’t go until her mom calls her for dinner, which is frustratingly close to when I want to be getting ready to sleep.

So I figured as an odd form of public procrastination I would write about my reluctance.

She really is adorable and a very sweet girl. This is one of those things that might just be my own personal cultural adaptation challenges. I LOVE my alone time. I LOVE my alone time and I love my privacy. I am half hermit half extrovert, maybe today I’ve just spent all my extrovert points and the hermit has settled in for the night. But that’s that, I’m off to knock on her door and invite her over to watch Dumbo. I must buy more children’s movies. I can only watch Dumbo a few more times. I’m going. I’m going… as soon as Chulo wakes up I wouldn’t want to wake him up… especially since its time to give him his medicine... another thing I really just DO NOT want to do. He's hardly forgiven me for the last time I shoved that syringe down his throat

So, really I baffle myself. I don’t quite understand how I could FINALLY get a puppy and not try to tell as many people as humanly possible. The whole shout it from the rooftop thing. To be fair to my enthusiasm I did email a bunch of people and lost no time in putting pictures on Facebook even though it takes about as long to upload a picture as it does to clean the entire house and watch paint dry afterwards.

But here I am. Sitting in the office of one of my schools blogging. Exams are going on so the students aren’t clamoring for me to translate inappropriate American pop songs into Spanish. I’m trying to get teachers to hand back the Baseline survey’s I passed out and until then I’m a little at a loss for how to spend my time. I figure being present is half the battle and it doesn’t hurt that I’ve read through and taken copious notes on basically every single Peace Corps resource we were given and on any I managed to find on my own. (www.advocatesforyouth.org, by the way is amazing!!! I will be using that a lot) So I figured in the interest of being productive, and looking productive, I’d update the world on the joy that is Chulo my amazing, incredible, devastatingly adorable puppy.

I finally caved and gave up waiting for someone to miraculously offer me a puppy or to find someone in my town who was selling one. I couldn’t take it any longer. I have been telling myself for years that I couldn’t have a dog until this or that or who knows what happens. But as soon as I gave myself permission to get a dog, it became even more of an obsession than dreaming about a dog had been. (If you know me you will know I am not exaggerating… sorry to everyone who had to listen to me)

I bought Chulo for Q100 in the main bus terminal. This is about $12 and according to everyone I have told (everyone’s favorite question for anything is “how much did you pay?”) I got the special Gringa mark up. I was expecting to pay more, I had heard that people who had bought dogs at the terminal had paid Q300. So after all that anxious planning I surprised myself by buying practically the first dog for sale that I saw.

He was standing at the end of a plastic twine leash with his brother who had a spotted noise and more of a calico look going on. An older man, whom I actually quite liked, held them both. He didn’t show me the dogs by lifting them haphazardly by one paw and when he picked them up he actually used his hands and let the puppy’s body rest against his. Incredible considering the way I’d seen other people handle puppies. Nevertheless both puppies were terrified. They were in a crowded market on a very hot day standing only a few feet away from where the chicken buses were rolling past. Ayudantes were shouting off their destinations, people were crouding past. With all the commotion it wouldn’t have been hard to miss the puppies in all the commotion, but I had a single minded mission. Callie was with me and when we spotted the puppies we made a b-line towards them. It was easy to see he was adorable, despite the fact that he was filthy, covered in splattered mud and exahast from the buses and visibly crawling with fleas, and overheated from the sun, giving him a dull slightly desperate expression. When the man dragged his “leash” forward to bring him in for a closer look, poor puppy screamed like a dying rabbit. He was so afraid to be brought closer to the buses.

When I finally expressed a desire to hold him, I don’t think the man I bought him from was expecting me to even touch him, I am pretty sure he peed on me before he tried to curl up in a ball in my arms. That was what made my decision. His brother was a little braver maybe, or a little more scared, but whatever the reason it was difficult to even let me pat his head. He backed up with a huff. I’m a sucker for a pathetic mess of a puppy, and his perfect little face didn’t hurt either, it was still sad to choose and to leave the other little guy in the terminal.

When I paid the man, he slipped the puppy in a small… very small… cardboard box with the lable of Salvavida Aqua on the outside. I kept expecting him to hand the box to me but he shut the top, for a second I thought he was going to tape it shut, but he just interlocked the flaps one over one under. The puppy was already settled listlessly at the bottom of the box. The way he looked I was frightened he would die before I had a chance to get him home and to some water. I stole a little water from Callie and dripped it on his back and behind his ears. Probably scared him more than it helped and it certainly made him look worse but I was hoping it would cool him off at least a little.

(I’m sure you are all on the edge of your seats… I know everyone loves every detail of this story as much as I do. HA!)

As soon as I got of the bus and walked him home I got him some water and food. It was a very good sign that he didn’t hesitate with either, he almost couldn’t decide between the two. Next was a very traumatic flea bath. In hindsight it was very foolish of me to try to bathe him with just pila water. I should have used the shower or the stove to heat some water up and maybe that would have made the whole experience less horrible for both of us. He acted like I was trying to kill him and screamed loud enough that for a while I thought somehow I was killing him. He didn’t shake off the water like other dogs I’ve known he just stood there shivering staring at the ground. When I finally wrapped him in towels he settled against me and was out for the rest of the afternoon.

Since that first evening he has become a completely new puppy. On Monday I slipped him into a backpack and got a bus downtown to find the vet. He got his first shots and his de-wormer, which subsequently resulted in a worm free puppy with shockingly more energy. For the fist couple days I thought I’d lucked out with the most chill calm puppy ever, he slept all the time and was more interested in laying in my lap than in tracking down socks and slippers to carry around. In the 10 days since the visit to the vet though, he has become a truly a bouncy, happy energetic puppy. I have puppy bite marks on my arms and ankles to prove it. But still, he’s a good boy. Apart from a couple sniffles he doesn’t cry when I leave him alone. He is smart and although accidents happen he is getting the hang of potty training and is already a superstar at fetch.

Anyways, I’m done I’m done. For those who made it this far I will spare you. I won’t detail the cute way he wiggles when he is about to be fed, or the adorable little dreams he has where I can tell he’s thinking about nursing, or the silly little growl/bark he uses when he sees the neighbor’s huge dog coming into the yard. I’ll save those for my very patient grandma my more captive and helpless audiences.

These are pictures of my wonderful student during my town's Feria parade. It was so hot and they were such troopers. The girls in the dresses walked/danced for HOURS in those heals. I was surprised they could walk the next day.

These are pictures from swearing in with my host mom and sisters. The other picture is with Wendy and the Ambassador.

This is a view of my town from the cemetery up on the hill. It is very green here, and because it is off the highway the air is fresh and unpolluted by sounds or smog. That said the moto's people use to get around and the lack of trash collection keep the town from being any kind of yoga retreat.

Ew... my latrine. I will say no more, except that a toilet seat would do wonders for my day-to-day life.

It looks terrible and rather scary in here, but this is my amazing shower that gets almost hot! That said I have to shower without the light on if I want warm water at more than a trickle. I won't complain though I am lucky to have this. With a few improvements mainly a shower curtain and a place to put my shampoo and soap so it doesn't get covered in concrete dust, this is a quite adequate shower.

Outside my back door, my pila and clothesline. It is pretty private out here, apart from the fact that the barrier that keeps most people from seeing me from the street is my neighbor's latrine.

This is a picture of my house from the outside. I live on the bottom floor. The space is huge and I have two bedrooms and a large entry room with nothing in it at all. Notice the lack of a gate/fence. This makes for exciting 2 am antics as I chase Chulo around trying to get him to drop the disgusting rotten meat he uncovered in the neighbors trashpile... or if I'm really unlucky thrown from the second floor right outside my door.

Just one of many of my nighttime visitors. This one was medium sized. I didn't get a clear image of the mama spider I killed or the thousands of babies she dropped that I had to hunt down with raid while wearing my boxers and flip flops. If the water had been warm I would have showered I was so disgusted.

I just read through my last post and couldn’t help but shake my head… did I actually start with “The first couple days were rough”? And then did I really go on to list that I had to eat while sitting on the end of my bed as one of the hardships I’m experiencing? Yea life is tough! Ha.

When I wrote that I was basically trying to bang out a newsy entry. Truth is that I don’t even feel like I’m roughing it a bit, except maybe that night I killed a HUGE spider with my boot, only to be responsible for accidentally birthing thousands of baby spiders that started crawling all over the place. That was a low moment, sure, but who cares. Truth is that the story almost makes it worth it. Just like everything here, it is what you make of it. The nurse says these HUGE spiders I see every night aren’t brown recluse, the contadora at one school says they are harmless. So that just leaves me with not poisonous, not harmful, just really gross- gross I can handle. Plus I learned something: Do not crush spiders that big with swollen bodies with your boot unless you want to chase down a gazillion babies with your can of raid.

I’m very happy here. I have trouble living in the now some times, but when I walk down the road to buy tortillas for dinner and end up chatting with a students mother I feel oddly present. It is satisfying. And I can't help grinning on a regular basis. I live here, I work here. I have waited to feel that for while. Two years would hardly pass for "settled" by most accounts. But for me it more than I've lived in most places. Not that I would trade it for anything. Without moving around you'd never get that amazing feeling that comes from having a whole new world stretched out in front of you. Endless possibilities, potentially life changing opportunities, and the chance to be the best version of yourself possible. Its a thrill I couldn't trade for all the stability and "roots" in the world.

That’s not to say that it’s all roses. I have a half dozen awkward moments every day. No matter how polite and conscientious I try to be I still manage to drop the ball every once in a while and completely show my gringa colors. The other day I had to set a meeting with a teacher for later that afternoon. I was on my way out when I ran into her outside of a class. I launched right into business, thanking her for working on this charla with me and asking when she would like to meet so we could plan. Although I was speaking in what I thought was a very normal and respectful manner she looked taken off guard. I had forgotten to make a big deal out of greeting her and making small talk for a few minutes before getting to my point. It’s all in the details I guess. Live and learn. If there is one thing I am hoping to learn while I am here is patience and the ability to be professional and laid back at the same time.

Meanwhile, as I’m trying to find my work feet, I am looking for a dog. I can honestly say I met a real dog-fever low today when I actually bought puppy chow and flea shampoo… apparently for my imaginary dog. I have officially caved it appears.

I miss you all. Peace and Love my dears.

About three weeks in my site and I’m sure there is a lot that I have been neglecting to write about. I’ll try to make it up to you.

The first couple of days that I actually stayed in my house were a little rough. My house was completely empty except for what I brought from the states in a suitcase and a backpack. When I wanted to eat, my only options were granola (that I’d bought in Antigua) with bottled water and powdered milk. I slept on my thermarest and sleeping bag on the floor for maybe four nights before I finally figured out how to get a bed, and then bit the bullet and begrudgingly handed over 1/3 of my settling in allowance. After I got a bed, stove, and fridge however, it was all downhill. The mosquitoes that were waking me up all night have stopped being quite a big problem. I don’t see quite as many spiders the size of silver dollars, or at least I have gotten more or less accustomed to them. The latrine situation is not as bad as I was thinking it would be. I absolutely am not brave enough to go in there after dark, but during the day if I kick the wooden seat a few times I’m usually pretty confident that most of the mosquitoes/spiders have cleared out. I still don’t sit down, I can too easily imagine the long bus ride and the embarrassing medical check up if I am unlucky enough to have a spider bite me in the butt. As for settling in to my house, I still don’t have a single chair and eat all my meals at the end of my bed, but poco a poco right? I am enjoying making little advances with my house. I have no doors yet, but I made some curtains, bought comfy bedding, and set up the typical Peace Corps shelves, and made a place to hang my clothes with cinder blocks and a broomstick. I really love my house; I just have a lot of work to do before anyone else would use those words.

I love my community: it is beautiful here, the people are extremely friendly, I feel safe, and I am very lucky in that I have very easy access to almost anything I could need from Huehue. The schools are also both awesome. I am going to have all the typical challenges that Youth Development Volunteers face, but I like my teachers, the students are wonderful, and I feel like there are projects and work to be done and that with time I will figure out how best to approach them. In the meantime I have been going to the schools everyday, doing my diagnostics, and giving a couple charlas with some of the more pilas teachers. Eventually I want to make a more comprehensive plan and schedule but in the meantime I’m trying to take it slow and feel my way though, there will be plenty of time to make major plans over the school break before the next year starts.

Pictures pending I promise.

So site visit went really well. Anna, the girl I am going to be taking over for was so helpful and showed me around the entire time, which was really great since it also meant she introduced me to a lot of people it will be important for me to know. The four days were very exciting and entirely overwhelming. I am happy to be back in Xenacoj for a week before I have to hit the road. That is not to say I´m not excited. I am thrilled with my site and can´t wait to get started. I just am happy to have a bit of a breather between meeting everyone and actually getting to work.

My reaction to the site can be divided into two categories personal and professional. As far as work goes I was very impressed by the work that Anna seems to have done and also glad to find that most all of the teachers I met seemed supportive and enthusiastic. That said, I´m sure I will encounter plenty of cultural differences which will keep me on my toes. For example, from what I have seen it is not umcommon for plans and activities to be cancled or rescheduled at the last moment, and then not to be informed. It is no longer a surprise for someone to show up over and hour late for a meeting or to answer the phone and have a conversation while they are in a Charla or Taller. These would be problems anywhere in Guatemala I think, but maybe over the course of two more years working with American´s I´ll rub off on them a bit. Likewise I am hoping that Guatemalan culture will rub off on me and I´ll be more easy going, patient and understanding. None of these behaviors are necessarily offensive within the correct context, they are just offensive coming from the American context.

As for the job itself, Anna has already began transistioning from first to second generation by working a lot with the teachers and parents. This should make my first few months as I adjust a little easier since many of the teachers already fully understand the program and are taking a lot of the teaching responsibility on themselves. There is also potential to begin working at a third school about 40 minutes away. I would be very interested in setting this up because it would mean that I would be able to work directly with the students and have a slightly different role than in the other two schools. We´ll se how it goes though.

As far as personal reactions go I feel like I´m fairly estatic. The town I will be living in is beautiful and just the right amount of rural to kep me happy. It is only 15-20 minutes away from Huehue so I have access to almost anything I could want. There is even a Pais, which is the Guatemalan version of Walmart. I will definitely not be roughing it as much as I expected I would be. I feel foolish for being a little sad about that. However, considering that the house I will be living in lacks doors and an indoor toilet or sink... I think I will find plenty worthy of adjusting to.

I think I will really like the house a lot after I do some serious painting. I assume this will be okay with the owners... or at least I hope so because currently with its shabby whitewash throughout the house comes off as a little dreary and dingy. But the tile floors are so great that will paint the whole feeling of the house will be different. The place is huge and completly empty. There are four or five rooms, I can´t remember, but it is too much space for just me. I´m sure I´ll end up leaving at least one of the rooms completely empty or just using it to store my suitcases and the huge collection of paint supplies I plan on accumulating. Three of the rooms have fairly good lighting, but the future storage room is like a cave without any windows and a single light bulb. The shower and bath situation, like I said, will be the biggest challenge. I can live witout doors, I´ll just have to get some funky fabric somewhere to hang over the doorways, but the latrine system will take a bit of an adjustment. Especially since its very close to the Milpas, and I predict there will be plenty of critters crawling in from the corn fields at night. I already plan to figure out some kind of chamber pot set up. I wouldn´t even be opposed to peeing in the grass outside the back door if there is enough privacy... We´ll see I might not have to do anything drastic, I have a head lamp and it is a brand new latrine so it didn´t look too bad when I peeked in.

The other major event during the visit is that all my resolve to NOT get a dog, has been quickly deteriorating. The crushing blow came when I met the one Mr. Terry. He belongs to Anna´s host family, but because the moved down the street to live in the house attached to their tienda, when she leaves no one else will be living at that house except for three other dogs and some chickens. Anyways... I kind of fell in love. He is probably 8 or 9 months old and unusually calm for a dog his age. He´s very sweet and gentle - pretty timid. He gets around on three good legs and a bit of a gimpy one because of a very close encounter with the front of a car. And he was entirely unaccustomed to all the attention and love I was showering on him. I am not planning on actively trying to get a dog but... well I really don´t like living without one. I would post a picture of the adorable Terremoto, and of the town, but I forgot my camera cable, so you´ll all have to just wait to see his beautiful face peeking out from on top of my trekking backpack.

You don´t have to worry mom, Terry has a home, so I´m not planning on abducting him anytime soon. That said, I think that either way eventually I will end up with a dog here. Not only do I really want one, but it makes sense from a safety standpoint as well. I have no illusions of a dog like Terry doing anything to help me out in a real emergency but he barks when people go by and having a dog would be a real plus if I wanted to go on hikes or go on longer walks though more rural areas. Plus I bet a dog would take care of potential mice problems. Anyways its just food for thought at this point. Like I said I´m not so far gone that I would actively try to get a dog at this point.

So expect pictures in the future. I miss you all and look forward to hearing from you all. Peace

Host family pictures from a few weeks ago. I´m donning the Xenacoj Traje in the first picture, and my lovely friend is the wonderful Ponkey

We finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, know where we are going to be living for the next two years! I am pretty surprised... I think we were all expecting the worst, a cruel but polite ¨Fijanse que...¨ But nope Gonzalo and Carlos showed up even earlier than they promised.

Anyways without further delay (drum roll) I will be moving to an aldea in Huehuetenago. I am really close to the cabezera (3 kms). At first when I saw Huehue I was a little thrown, as much time as we spent obsessing over possible sites, the thought of Huehue never really crossed our minds. In hindsight this is exactly what I wanted. I am in a small community, close to an urban center, I am only two hours from Xela, which I’m pretty happy about. Also my living situation will be fairly independent. We are all required to live with a host family the first three months in site but my living situation sounded fairly private, which is great because then maybe I won’t have to move after three months. The host family itself consists of a young couple without children. It is apparently a brand new house and I will have my own separate living accommodations. The bathroom situation seemed a little unsure at the moment. Gonzalo said the words latrine… so I’m not holding my breath for anything spectacular. But as far as I’m concerned that’s fine. I’m really excited about the prospect of cooking for myself!

I will be the first volunteer in this site but I will be a second generation volunteer. Meaning that I will be working with mostly teachers since someone else, who did not live in the same town worked has been working in these schools. I kind of think that is the best of both worlds. I wanted to be second generation, but it will be nice to be the first gringa in my site.

So I will update everyone when I get more info, so far that is basically all I know.

The last couple of weeks have been fairly busy. We now only have Spanish classes in the morning and our afternoons are spent working on our technical projects. In my case this means that my language group and I are working on preparing charlas or carrying out community diagnostics. We were supposed to give our first charlas on Friday. We had everything prepared but school was canceled in most of the area because the Volcano Pacaya erupted. This is the famous volcano that overlooks Antigua and lake Atitilan. We didn’t notice the eruption except for a possible tremor Thursday and some ash on the laundry Friday morning. We would have done our charlas on Monday but then Tropical Storm Agatha hit Guatemala and the torrential downpour Saturday meant that school has been canceled for the entire week at all public institutions in the country. It seems more than a little extreme here in our town, because there was little to no damage and the weather has been perfect ever since. That’s just how it goes I guess.

Unrelated, but the family cat decided I was the best bet for a warm place to sleep during the storm. Like a little cat burgler he snuck into my room at bedtime. The little guy has decided he loves me and had already climbed in through my window a few times to explore my space. He tries to sleep on me. It would be really cute if he didn't smell. I hope he doesn't have fleas... but I'm sure he does.

At first, I let him stay because it was raining so hard… I pet him a bit and he settled down, but then he kept creeping closer and closer to me until he was directly on my chest. I'm so starved for a pet... I let him stay. But then I started thinking about actual flea bites and eventually that line of thought led to me throwing him out. I figured it rains almost everyday here and he always sleeps on the patio anyways. The effort was rendered pointless however. I woke up a few hours later with a cat nestled directly under my chin, with an added yuck factor of wet feet and a cold nose. Apparently he did come in through the window the first time and there isn’t much I could do to keep him out. It would have been cuter if he wasn't so smelly. I let him stay though, on the condition he nestle somewhere below my knees where I couldn’t smell him. There isn't much of a way to close up that window, but if he hadn’t snuck in I probably would never have known there was an open pane its always covered by a blanket. Even though I understand its disgusting and no normal person would let a dirty cat sleep on their bed... I can't quite see this as a problem yet. Luckily he isn’t visibly dirty and he has short hair and fairly good cat-hygiene. He could just use a wipe down since he’s an outside cat. That morning I shut him out. He didn’t use the window again but I could see his shadow pacing around outside my door for another half hour. I almost caved and brought him back in. But my host family was up and about and I know they already think it is strange enough that I even bother to pet him. They would never let me live it down if they knew I let him sleep in my room!

Sunday morning the rain seemed to hit a resting point. It had been raining consistently for about 36 hours and the power was out for another 30 hours or so. Peace Corps had us on Standfast until about mid day yesterday because the roads were compromised and there was a lot of concern that they would not be safe to travel. I heard rumors of quite a few mudslides in Guate and throughout the rest of the country. Apparently 80 people died in Central America in total. For us I thought the Standfast was a little superflouous. There was no way we were going to leave our town. The rain itself would have been enough of a deterent. I couldn’t even leave my house. My street flooded almost immediately and was practically a river for most of the day. The house is much higher luckily and had no problems at all but leaving would have meant water up to my shins. The rest of my group met up and played wheel of fortune and around the point that I ran out of chocolate and pan dulce the cabin fever started setting in. Luckily the power held out through most of the rain and I was able to watch a slew of Dexter episodes and read my book so I didn’t feel cut off completely. Unfortunantly from what I´ve been hearing however, the rest of Guatemala had far more trouble.

This weekend lock in gave me a good deal of quality family time. During dinner we had a great time talking and exchanging words in English and Kachequel. I now know the parts of the face a few random animals, greetings, and some of the funnier words they mentioned including belly button and balloon which are fun to say. They laughed at my pronounciation. Listening to their English attempts was pretty funny as well, especially when my host mom accidentally mispronounced one word and ended up saying another… one with a less than appropriate meaning... It would have been even funnier if my explanation for why I was laughing hadn’t been so awkward!

Here are some more photos of my lovely sitemates, my room, and a few of our awesome pueblo!

I wrote this a while ago but I hadn´t had a chance to upload it.

5/8/10

Today was awesome! First of all my Spanish class went to Antigua for the first time. We weren’t there long and mostly were there to run some errands. I now have shampoo and conditioner that doesn’t come out of a hotel bottle and a cellphone!! Theoretically this means I can call the states… I just have to figure out how. I heard a rumor that it wasn’t very expensive. I’ll have to look into it though. I wonder if its free if you call me? (hint hint)

Anyways but the best part of the day was when I got back to our town. My host mom took me over to her sister’s house and I got to see all the women that I met last week before the Municipal party. There were tons of kids running around. First we swapped words in English for words in Katchekel (sp?) I know about 6-7 words now. Which is roughly a word a day. It doesn’t help that the only once I can remember are about a syllable long so they have no real connection to each other. I learned both Eek and Aak (again I have no idea how to spell the words) Eek means chicken, and Aak means pepper or chili. I’m not quite sure what they were indicating. After the language lessons the kids insisted I play basketball with them. I did pretty well considering the last time I played basketball I was probably their age! I taught them how to play four square too. I enjoyed this infinitely more because I practically had a panic attack every time the opposing basketball team ran across the street to their “basket”, which was actually the next telephone post. You really can’t see around the corners and cars solidly have the right away here.

The women of the family were making tamales and arranging flowers. This is the third anniversary of one of their sister’s deaths. Tonight we will return for a mass. It feels so wonderful to be so involved in a community. I am not even fluent in the language or the culture and already I feel like I’ve participated in more social and community events and activities then I ever did in the States. During the day my room gets really hot, so even when I’m reading or studying I am usually in the public space of the house, mainly the patio. In the states I have the tendency to bask in my alone time, since the weather makes that impossible here, I have found that I don’t mind giving up a little of that alone time. Its very comfortable not talking but just being in the same space with one another.

Anyways life is good. I promise more pictures as soon as I can. To be honest I haven’t been taking my camera anywhere. Around the pueblo I’m sure it would be perfectly fine. It feels very safe here. I didn’t take it to Antigua however because I don’t feel I have a good enough grasp of the bus situation and didn’t want to worry about it getting stolen the whole time I was worry about getting the right fare out. But soon enough. Plus the other girls in my Spanish class brought their cameras so I’ll be sure to get pictures from them and post them when I get a chance. Until then, much love!

Okay. Here we go! First post in country.

I have to start by saying I am not at all in the situation I was expecting. I am writing this from my bedroom in my host families house. (I’ll pop in on my zip drive and post it from an internet café). I have only been here for three nights. We spent the first few nights with a different host family in the training town before we moved out to our host towns. I didn’t expect to be quite so comfortable! (Our training director the wonderful Gregorio, warned me not to get used to it though.)

My room is big; bigger than my room in the states. I have a great bed, a wardrobe that locks and has a full size mirror, a comfy chair, two side tables, and a desk. On top of that there is a TV and a huge stereo in my room, neither of which I intend to use, but its crazy that they’re even in here. I think my host family is a little surprised I haven’t been watching tv. I told them I didn’t even have a TV in the states and they were a little shocked. I tried to explain that I watched tv on my computer and I really didn’t miss out on that much, but I think that concept was definitely lost in translation.

Anyways and the luxury doesn’t stop at my room alone. The whole house is great. It is probably a typical Guatemalan home in its design. It has a lot of outdoor space, and the rooms all open up on to the “patio”. There is a pila where the dishes and clothes are washed. But the pila is huge by normal standards I think. The kitchen has everything an American kitchen would have. There are two stoves, a gas stove and another… that might also be gas but seems to only be used to heat water in a huge pot. There is a giant fridge and a microwave and a large agua pura cooler. The whole place is nice but wait… this gets better.

My host mom is a chef! And… wait for it…

They have a dog!

You all know how happy that last part made me I’m sure. His name is Ponkey and we are already great friends. I think one of these days, when I’m a little more settled in however I am going to try to give Mr. Ponkey a bath. There isn’t much else I can do, its either bathe him, or bathe myself after petting him. So I figure I’ll save some time and water and put my dog washing skills to the test. I wonder if my host family will mind, they think that its funny how much I fawn over Ponkey already!

So my housing situation is great. The family is so welcoming. I am the first Peace Corps trainee they have hosted and they are obviously trying very hard to be very accommodating. I live in a predominantly indigenous pueblo but because the town is rather large the majority speak Spanish as their first language and study Ketzequel (sp?) starting as soon as they go to school. They have already taught me a few words. I know how to say: good morning, chicken, thank you, and balloon. Obviously all essential words I know. But the word for chicken sounds a lot like the English word Egg, so that was super easy to remember and the word for balloon we generally agreed was a hilarious word. It sounds like Pompoosh.

Today was action-packed. It was the first day that we went back to our training village via los camionetas or chicken buses. Not only were we confused about exactly what was going on, but we were constantly worried about being robbed because theft seems to be fairly ubiquitous here- more petty theft than in any other Peace Corps post! That said we had no problems what so ever today. So 1 point for the gringas! (We’ll see how long we win at this game!)

Anyways there are probably a million more things I could say.

The Peace Corps training site is a complete paradise.

I have tried a handful of new veggies.

Everyone in my program is extremely nice.

I got a rabies booster today, we’re on malaria pills already, and prenatal vitamins (Guys too!)

On Saturday I served Guatemalan tortillas with the rest of the women in the family at a municipal party.

I love the Guatemalan traje and can’t wait to get one.

And a million more things I’ll write about later.

I love you all so much and I miss you millions. I wish I was with you, but I feel so lucky to be here. I just hope that I can get everything figured out and manage to make a real difference in my short time here.

Peace

Its amazing looking at all that stuff strewn out on my parents bed... how much of it didn't actually make the cut when I reweighed everything. Oh well... its all just stuff, and hopefully this whole Peace Corps thing will take me one step closer to my lifetime goal of living an existence with minimal stuff.

When I woke up today I was in a very emotional and generally down mood. I was pretty certain it was going to take all my effort and as much GRE studying to keep my head from rolling towards an apathetic funk. Its amazing how easily that can all change. Not that my mood is much different I still feel blah, but now its an optimistic mellow, if you will.

For one thing the weather is stunning and if you know me, you know how important that is to the part of my brain that triggers optimism.

But more importantly I met a very inspirational man.

I was going to the library to study and take a GRE practice test but its Sunday and I was there before it opened. I had my watch with me, the same watch I had when I was in 6th grade, the same watch that had been in a dusty drawer since 2003. I figured I'd use the time to get the battery changed. Since the library is in the "downtown" part of Coeur d'Alene, this meant I had a few blocks to walk to the resort shops where there is a watch store. (Yes I'm sorry grandma and dentist... I walked while carrying my heavy backpack... I promise I walked slowly and was careful not to do anything that might give me dry sockets.

Anyways short story long, the man who owned the watch store turned out to be awesome. I know I have seen him there plenty of times, and I'm sure we've probably made small talk every time, but this was different. I told him I needed a functioning watch because I was leaving for the Peace Corps, and with that little sentence he lit up. I'm used to people saying "that's great" and "how exciting" but his reaction was more thoughtful. He shook his head and told me that he was so proud of me, and my folks must be so proud, and this is an incredible opportunity. I don't take praise or compliments very gracefully, and I think I might have just blushed (if my green skin could turn red), and said awkwardly said something about "I hope so, and thank you".

While he was changing the battery he told me a little about how he was learning Spanish himself. I was impressed, he must be in his mid 70s, and starting to learn any language is difficult, let alone when you are older and don't have the support system of classes in school or the motivations of a job. He had been listening to Spanish CDs in his car and we practiced throwing around basic sentences about the weather, and ordering from a restaurant. He and his wife have a condo in Mexico and he had apparently decided by the time they went next winter he was going to be ready to join classes for foreigners.

He started to give me advice. People in older generations love to give people my age, particularly if we are between life stages, lots of advice. Generally his was no different, except his advice came with a visual. He told me that at the end of my life I should make a list. One column should be a list of all my positive life experiences and the other should be a list of my assets, cars, houses, dinero. He told me to live my life in order to fill up that first column. He said "You need money- money is good. But all of it- cars, houses, and money you can loose, or it can be taken from you. Your experiences will always be yours, and no one can take that from you."

All in all of course, this is great advice. You should live your life to the fullest and make sure your priorities don't start with all financial goals because as the expression goes 'all the money in the world won't keep you warm at night'... is that how it goes?? Anyways, like I said this was pretty standard advice which I thanked him for and promised to think about and keep in mind. But honestly, in the back of the mind I could hear my 23 year old self going "yada yada yada".

He finished up with the watch and rubbed it down with a soft cloth, which I thought was a little bit superfluous because I plan on submerging it in volcanic dust in a few weeks, but I appreciated his thoughtfulness. As I was leaving he said, "Now I want to share something with you, because I know you are going on your own adventure and I want to share some of my own with you." He showed me a few pictures on the wall of the shop, the only hanging objects that lacked a pendulum or a second hand. They were of him and of a few action shots of a soccer game.

He then proceeds to tells me he's an amputee and these were pictures from a soccer league he'd started for other amputees. Now it was international project. I would never have guessed he was missing a leg, it hadn't even occurred to me. The picture I had been looking of was from a match between a Brazilian and Argentine league, on second glance I realize each player was missing a leg. He didn't give me much time to react, even though I was fully interested now. He handed me a folded up article and said that when I was done with the Peace Corps if I'm back in CdA I should stop by and say hi. He didn't charge me for the battery, instead he shook my hand and told me to have a wonderful experience.

I was a little stunned after I walked out of the shop and into the beautiful day that had started out so saturnine. (GRE WORD!!!) Like I said, I was already in a fairly emotional place, and his story was so inspirational and his delivery was so humble, that it kind of pushed me off an edge... I may just be quick to cry.

After glancing at the article however, I realized he was more than a little humble in his description. Apparently he had a multi-million dollar company and an eight bedroom waterfront home on Mercer Island before he lost his leg to a boat propeller in 1972. He decided never to feel sorry for himself and went on to first become a ski instructor, then to climb Mount Rainier, and as I said to start amputee soccer and he kept going. I feel silly summarizing the article though, and I can't find the exact link. Here is a link to the soccer association if you're interested however, http://www.ampsoccer.org

Anyways, I know this is getting long, but one of the surprising things I got out of this experience comes from just how random it was. You never know who around you, strangers you pass all the time, might have this incredible inspirational story. It makes you think a little differently about all those damn lines and crowds we deal with. Maybe waiting wouldn't be so bad if everyone before you was somehow completely awesome in their own way. It is easy to brush aside advice from someone who is older, or who didn't do exactly what you're planning on doing. But occasionally someone like Mr Bennett follows up with an example that you weren't expecting and reminds you that you really don't know everything yet. It makes you reevaluate all that other advice you put in the "think about later box" of your brain.

And his reaction to me, was encouraging. He seemed convinced I was destined to do something meaningful and important even though he knew nothing about me except what I'd told him in those few minutes. It is nice to be seen so completely in this light. I felt the need to post about this mostly because I know, like most people, I have a tendency to shrug off these kinds of sentiments, as undeserved or even merely polite, but this one I want to remember and I want to live up to.

Cheesy I know, but like I said- emotional day. I am very grateful that I met him. I know the store and his name, I think I'll send him a post card!

I have been so busy lately. I have lists running through my head and every time I sit down I make myself go through a mental checklist to make sure that its ok to rest. I'm very nervous about missing a deadline, or forgetting to do something essential. I've just about finished packing, apart from a few odds and ends. I still need to get the H1N1 vaccination, in one week I take the GREs(!!) and tomorrow I get my three remaining wisdom teeth taken out. I think it might even be good for my sanity that I have the GREs coming up. Because honestly, I really hate waiting, and having something I dread between me and leaving actually seems to have worked nicely to balance out my excitement and make the days go by at a relatively normal pace.

That said trying to keep everything I have to do straight is making me crazy. Last night, I had two dreams that I remember. (I promise there is sort of a point to this- I know no one else thinks your dreams are as interesting as you do.) Anyways, in the first one I was leaving the house to run a random errand, (probably heading to REI to stress out over compression sacks and quick dry towels), and I realize that somehow the entire side of my car has been dented and scraped and it looks like I drove it along side a wall. I freak out, because of course I don't remember having an accident. My whole family shows up and my dad and brother manage to get out some of the worst dents out (magically with only their hands!!!). The inside of the car is still twisted up pretty nicely, and it might have looked rather beautiful if it wasn't so awful. But even my dad and brother, who in my mind are the very best go-to car people, can't fix the disaster. Luckily my mom is there too, and maybe Sarah. Eventually, I am able to laugh it off and decide that it doesn't matter because I hate driving, I'm leaving for two years, and when I come back I'm just going to have to move somewhere with public transportation. Apart from the initial sinking feeling of seeing the car, the dream isn't that bad. The second dream was a typical "apparently I speak fluent Spanish in my sleep" dream, or at least the other people in my dreams are speaking Spanish. Its encouraging because if random characters in MY HEAD can speak miraculously speak Spanish then maybe I can too. Its discouraging because without fail the dream always involves a scenario wherein I do not understand anything, or I get the gist but panic when I'm supposed to reply. The later, is probably a fairly accurate description of my Spanish abilities to be honest... yikes!

My point as promised, is that obviously I'm fairly wound up, but that I don't think I'm nervous about starting the Peace Corps, moving to Guatemala, or even starting my job there. It is just that this whole application, nomination, invitation process has been so drawn out and stressful that I'm actually just worried that somehow I'll miss something and not end up going to Guatemala at all. I'm surprised I'm not having dreams about going to Staging in a different city or oversleeping and missing my flight altogether!

On a positive note though, I asked and was told that my official passport has been issued, and both will be waiting for me at staging. I also did a trial pack and everything fits with room to spare and fortunately well under the weight limit. I took some dorky pictures and will upload those later.

Peace