I love my apartment. Love it. It makes all the difference in the world to have a place that feels like home, where I can relax.
I have a terrace with a view of all three volcanoes. Sometimes at night, I can see one of them spurting fire.
My tv has cable, and every night at 8pm E! shows, ¨Battle of the Hollywood Hotties.¨
There is a washing machine!! I don´t have to carry my clothes across town.
I also have discovered I have a medium-sized red spider living in my shower. My question for the day is: to kill it or not to kill it.
After all, it is red. And from what I can see, that´s almost never good. Plus, I´ve had this weird lump of pain (lump o´pain, for short) on my forehead for over a week now, which I think might be a spider bite.
On the other hand, it doesn´t really deserve to be killed. It´s just trying to live a normal spider life. Killing it would be very un-buddha of me.
But you know how spiders are. You think you´re coexisting amicably, and then every once in a while you eat one in your sleep.
Although, it may be killing other things with which I would not coexist amicably. Also, it seems to be appropriately afraid of me. When I get in the shower, it cowers into its little hole. This brings me pleasure.
I´m leaning toward not killing it.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Jason´s visit
Pictures of our trip to the lake!
A few of my favorite moments:
As we both lay in our serene room on the lake, he reading his Esquire and me my Rough Guide to Guatemala, we noticed a prehistoric-sized mosquito buzzing around us. Both of us immediately turned from lazy loungers to focused hunters. Over and over we both sprung up, got quiet, looked frantically, and clapped at it. Over and over we were unsuccessful. When it flew away, we´d go back to our reading, knowing it was bound to come back and planning our attack. Finally it came close again. We both stood up, following it as it flew higher. Jason clapped at it suddenly, showed me his hand, and inside was the little sucker. My first reaction was to yell, ¨Kiss me!¨
Our last night, we walked through the main part of town looking for a restaurant. It was after dark. We walked by a bank with three heavily armed guards hanging out outside. As we pass by, Jason greets them with, ¨Buenas noches!¨ The three guys looked so excited and all three of them answer back, ¨Buenas noches! You too! Have a great night!¨
Jason went out with me and our educator, Haroldo, into ¨the field.¨ They did interviews with guys on the street. Haroldo was totally impressed with Jason. ¨I´ve never seen a non-Latino guy be so great at creating trust. He´s got a great character.¨ Then he adds, ¨Is he like that in English?¨
A few of my favorite moments:
As we both lay in our serene room on the lake, he reading his Esquire and me my Rough Guide to Guatemala, we noticed a prehistoric-sized mosquito buzzing around us. Both of us immediately turned from lazy loungers to focused hunters. Over and over we both sprung up, got quiet, looked frantically, and clapped at it. Over and over we were unsuccessful. When it flew away, we´d go back to our reading, knowing it was bound to come back and planning our attack. Finally it came close again. We both stood up, following it as it flew higher. Jason clapped at it suddenly, showed me his hand, and inside was the little sucker. My first reaction was to yell, ¨Kiss me!¨
Our last night, we walked through the main part of town looking for a restaurant. It was after dark. We walked by a bank with three heavily armed guards hanging out outside. As we pass by, Jason greets them with, ¨Buenas noches!¨ The three guys looked so excited and all three of them answer back, ¨Buenas noches! You too! Have a great night!¨
Jason went out with me and our educator, Haroldo, into ¨the field.¨ They did interviews with guys on the street. Haroldo was totally impressed with Jason. ¨I´ve never seen a non-Latino guy be so great at creating trust. He´s got a great character.¨ Then he adds, ¨Is he like that in English?¨
Travel plans!
I have made my travel plans for August!
Wahoo!
I fly back to North Carolina July 31st. I´ll be there until August 5th, when I fly to California. I fly back to North Carolina August 26th, and will leave August 30th or 31st for Guatemala.
NC: July31st-Aug. 5th, Aug.26th-30th. CA: Aug. 5th-26th.
P.S. Jason will be in CA with me August 5th-12th.
If any of you, dear readers, will be in either of those places at any of those times, and want to hang out, PLEASE let me know! I will also begin tracking you down very soon. Six more weeks!
Wahoo!
I fly back to North Carolina July 31st. I´ll be there until August 5th, when I fly to California. I fly back to North Carolina August 26th, and will leave August 30th or 31st for Guatemala.
NC: July31st-Aug. 5th, Aug.26th-30th. CA: Aug. 5th-26th.
P.S. Jason will be in CA with me August 5th-12th.
If any of you, dear readers, will be in either of those places at any of those times, and want to hang out, PLEASE let me know! I will also begin tracking you down very soon. Six more weeks!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Longest post ever
There is so much in my head right now, I need to start writing some of it down.
And my man is coming tomorrow!! So I might not write for a little while...
***
Always, I am asking myself the same questions: how could this happen? In a place so rich with resources, beauty and history, what causes all this poverty and suffering?
I had dinner with a girl named Lorena this past weekend. She grew up in Guatemala, left to start her Ph.D. in Sweden, and has just returned. When she found out where I was from, she sighed. ¨Oh God, I´m with three Americans,¨ she said.
¨Hey!¨ One of us chimed in. ¨We´re not all bad! There are good and bad people everywhere.¨
¨Yes, but they´re not all from countries who use them to destroy other countries.¨
So naturally, my first reaction was, Now this is someone I want to get to know.
***
There´s an editorial in the New York Times today called Politics and Hunger. It lists several of the reasons for the current global food crisis, and blames the U.S. for many of them, calling on it to do more for poorer countries.
Right now there are 85 comments on the editorial. They all have different slants, but the majority of them have a common thread: deflecting responsibility.
¨I am so sick of the prevalent ´blame-America´ attitude. Why not blame the oil rich Arab nations who are responsible for the reeling Western economies?¨ After all, oil companies are charging more simply because they can. Where is their moral conscience?
¨A good part of the blame should be laid right at the door of the poor countries themselves.¨ After all, their populations are growing at an unsustainable rate. They are corrupt. They are not participating in ¨responsible self-governance.¨ Civil strife and war keep them from producing more.
Then there´s the Darwinist: ¨We're taught that it's an awful thing to say or think, but I choose quality of life for my loved ones over quantity of people whom I do not know. If I knew them, I would want to help them, of course. But I do not know them. Nature is terrible, brutal, heartless, and we need it to stay that way. Because if it's not, then it's not nature any more.¨
***
I picked Lorena´s sharp, fiery, irreverent, uber-educated brain for hours. The whole time, my own brain was short-circuiting from everything she taught me.
Lorena disdains well-intentioned academics, who think they can help anyone with their words. She rolls her eyes at anyone who ever uses the word ´empire´ except in a Star Wars movie. She railed on people who proudly theorize about power because ¨they read one chapter of Foucault.¨ ¨Discourse is not enough, ¨ she said. ¨Discourse like that keeps you from being with people and helping them.¨
On several points, I think Lorena would agree with the Times comments. Yes, she would say, nothing is simple. On that subject, we have lot to learn. Yes, she would say, everyone bears responsibility. She criticizes Guatemala as much as she does the U.S.
***
1981-1983 were the absolute worst years of the civil war in Guatemala. Lorena was born during those years. People our age here have grown up in their country´s worst times. They watched the ideology and hope of the revolution fail. They are well acquainted with injustice, with power misused.
During that time, somehow the U.S. seemed to have plenty of resources. We sent dollars, equipment, and people to aid the oppressive regime in Guatemala, without much concern for how it would be used, or whether it would be repaid, or whether it would be better used in our own country. Jerry Falwell sent members of his church--armed, trained manpower--to fight with the Guatemalan military.
When it comes to humanitarian aid (within our country and throughout the world), however, we are quick to hoard our resources. Suddenly ¨scarcity¨ is the word of choice. We´re very concerned that our charity will not be ¨sustainable.¨ We are quick to find other countries´ faults.
***
The more I learn, the deeper and more complex things seem to be. I also see more clearly, though, how interconnected the world is. It´s not possible to be autonomous. People affect each other. Countries affect each other. In the act of trying to protect our loved ones alone, we cause others´ suffering. We depend on each other for survival--I think about world trade, or the World Bank, or outsourcing, or oil, or immigrant labor, or the UN, or the WHO just to scratch the surface.
We have the opportunity to think of the world as more and more unified--one big ¨us¨ with no ¨them.¨ And, well, it looks like were gonna have to.
And my man is coming tomorrow!! So I might not write for a little while...
***
Always, I am asking myself the same questions: how could this happen? In a place so rich with resources, beauty and history, what causes all this poverty and suffering?
I had dinner with a girl named Lorena this past weekend. She grew up in Guatemala, left to start her Ph.D. in Sweden, and has just returned. When she found out where I was from, she sighed. ¨Oh God, I´m with three Americans,¨ she said.
¨Hey!¨ One of us chimed in. ¨We´re not all bad! There are good and bad people everywhere.¨
¨Yes, but they´re not all from countries who use them to destroy other countries.¨
So naturally, my first reaction was, Now this is someone I want to get to know.
***
There´s an editorial in the New York Times today called Politics and Hunger. It lists several of the reasons for the current global food crisis, and blames the U.S. for many of them, calling on it to do more for poorer countries.
Right now there are 85 comments on the editorial. They all have different slants, but the majority of them have a common thread: deflecting responsibility.
¨I am so sick of the prevalent ´blame-America´ attitude. Why not blame the oil rich Arab nations who are responsible for the reeling Western economies?¨ After all, oil companies are charging more simply because they can. Where is their moral conscience?
¨A good part of the blame should be laid right at the door of the poor countries themselves.¨ After all, their populations are growing at an unsustainable rate. They are corrupt. They are not participating in ¨responsible self-governance.¨ Civil strife and war keep them from producing more.
Then there´s the Darwinist: ¨We're taught that it's an awful thing to say or think, but I choose quality of life for my loved ones over quantity of people whom I do not know. If I knew them, I would want to help them, of course. But I do not know them. Nature is terrible, brutal, heartless, and we need it to stay that way. Because if it's not, then it's not nature any more.¨
***
I picked Lorena´s sharp, fiery, irreverent, uber-educated brain for hours. The whole time, my own brain was short-circuiting from everything she taught me.
Lorena disdains well-intentioned academics, who think they can help anyone with their words. She rolls her eyes at anyone who ever uses the word ´empire´ except in a Star Wars movie. She railed on people who proudly theorize about power because ¨they read one chapter of Foucault.¨ ¨Discourse is not enough, ¨ she said. ¨Discourse like that keeps you from being with people and helping them.¨
On several points, I think Lorena would agree with the Times comments. Yes, she would say, nothing is simple. On that subject, we have lot to learn. Yes, she would say, everyone bears responsibility. She criticizes Guatemala as much as she does the U.S.
***
1981-1983 were the absolute worst years of the civil war in Guatemala. Lorena was born during those years. People our age here have grown up in their country´s worst times. They watched the ideology and hope of the revolution fail. They are well acquainted with injustice, with power misused.
During that time, somehow the U.S. seemed to have plenty of resources. We sent dollars, equipment, and people to aid the oppressive regime in Guatemala, without much concern for how it would be used, or whether it would be repaid, or whether it would be better used in our own country. Jerry Falwell sent members of his church--armed, trained manpower--to fight with the Guatemalan military.
When it comes to humanitarian aid (within our country and throughout the world), however, we are quick to hoard our resources. Suddenly ¨scarcity¨ is the word of choice. We´re very concerned that our charity will not be ¨sustainable.¨ We are quick to find other countries´ faults.
***
The more I learn, the deeper and more complex things seem to be. I also see more clearly, though, how interconnected the world is. It´s not possible to be autonomous. People affect each other. Countries affect each other. In the act of trying to protect our loved ones alone, we cause others´ suffering. We depend on each other for survival--I think about world trade, or the World Bank, or outsourcing, or oil, or immigrant labor, or the UN, or the WHO just to scratch the surface.
We have the opportunity to think of the world as more and more unified--one big ¨us¨ with no ¨them.¨ And, well, it looks like were gonna have to.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Good people, good times
Sometimes people surprise me with their goodness.
I dropped a Q50 note in the gym the other day, and one of the guys who works there picked it up and brought it to me. He did that even though I consistently try to give off a ¨Don´t mess with me!¨ vibe.
I was walking to work yesterday, and a construction worker looked down at me from his ladder. I brace myself for a whistle or an, ¨Hola, Princesa!¨ but instead he just nods and says, ¨Have a good day!¨
I went into the field yesterday with Haroldo, to a town called San Martin Jilotepeque about two hours from Antigua. We talked to men who had attended our reproductive health workshops. Men actually talked to me about their perspectives on contraceptives and STIs. I was really struck by one man who visibly lit up talking about his wife and his son and how he wants to be a responsible father.
When I was riding the bus back by myself, there was this older man sitting in front of me with a corduroy vest and a suit jacket. We didn´t exchange words or even glances, but when he got up to leave, he got this big, sincere, gold-toothed grin on his face, grabbed my hand like he was going to thumb-wrestle me, and wished me well.
Recommended reading:
If you want a good book about Guatemala, I am completely enthralled by Silence on the Mountain. I´m reading it a second time. It´s even better the second time. It taught me a lot about the world, including my own country.
The house I´m in has an impressive book collection. I picked one up I´d heard of in school but not read. It´s an old classic about relationships. Because I am a therapy nerd, I got sucked in and read the whole thing! It is HANDS DOWN the most helpful book I´ve ever seen about relationships (though it´s definitely biased toward opposite-sex couples), once you get past the title: Getting the Love You Want: A Guide for Couples.
I dropped a Q50 note in the gym the other day, and one of the guys who works there picked it up and brought it to me. He did that even though I consistently try to give off a ¨Don´t mess with me!¨ vibe.
I was walking to work yesterday, and a construction worker looked down at me from his ladder. I brace myself for a whistle or an, ¨Hola, Princesa!¨ but instead he just nods and says, ¨Have a good day!¨
I went into the field yesterday with Haroldo, to a town called San Martin Jilotepeque about two hours from Antigua. We talked to men who had attended our reproductive health workshops. Men actually talked to me about their perspectives on contraceptives and STIs. I was really struck by one man who visibly lit up talking about his wife and his son and how he wants to be a responsible father.
When I was riding the bus back by myself, there was this older man sitting in front of me with a corduroy vest and a suit jacket. We didn´t exchange words or even glances, but when he got up to leave, he got this big, sincere, gold-toothed grin on his face, grabbed my hand like he was going to thumb-wrestle me, and wished me well.
Recommended reading:
If you want a good book about Guatemala, I am completely enthralled by Silence on the Mountain. I´m reading it a second time. It´s even better the second time. It taught me a lot about the world, including my own country.
The house I´m in has an impressive book collection. I picked one up I´d heard of in school but not read. It´s an old classic about relationships. Because I am a therapy nerd, I got sucked in and read the whole thing! It is HANDS DOWN the most helpful book I´ve ever seen about relationships (though it´s definitely biased toward opposite-sex couples), once you get past the title: Getting the Love You Want: A Guide for Couples.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
A poem I´m still working on.
only the smell is new. A week´s worth of unknown musk.
I tap my lamp and lunge for the bed, feeling full-grown
And still. Stillness becomes zippers, bags and dust,
Brushes neatly wrapped, boots bleeding odor
From half-pounds of coffee, blending like prayer shawls.
Sweaters spill over wire shelves, reach for the floor.
Almost enough light shows me nearly white walls.
I have forgotten it. It greets me again.
My eye catches pictures of other places, other loves:
My love and me. My loves, far away.
My loves, this moment. Clothes become piles,
Become drawers, one after another.
Even though I don´t know where I am,
Or if I will always be missing someone,
Or if I would rather be holding my niece in a mall by the beach,
Or staring into eyes who love our history.
Everywhere I pile and pack, fold and unfold.
I track in dirt and clean it. My tea leaves circle and sink.
I wish for what I might become.
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