Me & Juan Lopez
At the first site
Me & The family
On the Pacaya Volcano
Beginning of the second site
an account of making the most of each idea and persevering every dream imaginable.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Day 15- LAST DAY
Bittersweet endings seem to cling to me. Its a pattern of occurance I cannot seem to shake off.
We cranked out half of the house today in compensation for the time we lost waiting for materials earlier this week. At the end of the day our coordinator brought us cake and drinks to share with the family and to celebrate a long and hard week we endured to bring them this house.
It was sad to say goodbye to the family. To Hugo and Elivia, the little children. To the kittens born a couple days ago in the barn house. To the crazy uncle that would always come up to me and say "Whaaaa tyyme izit!!!!!" no matter how recently he had just asked me. To the kind grandmother that sewed my pants (I brought her a traditional cake bread the next day in thanks, and to my horror as soon as I handed it to her I realized that she had no teeth.... I dont know how she ate it). And to the masons especially. They were so patient and understanding. I learned so much. Who knew I could build a house?!
I leave for the airport soon. In the 25+ hours of travel I'm sure more eloquent words will come to mind, but for now I'd like to give everyone that I have met a giant hug. I realize that they have all shaped this adventure in their own way. However trivial or large, my new experiences would have been nothing without the people that created them.
We cranked out half of the house today in compensation for the time we lost waiting for materials earlier this week. At the end of the day our coordinator brought us cake and drinks to share with the family and to celebrate a long and hard week we endured to bring them this house.
It was sad to say goodbye to the family. To Hugo and Elivia, the little children. To the kittens born a couple days ago in the barn house. To the crazy uncle that would always come up to me and say "Whaaaa tyyme izit!!!!!" no matter how recently he had just asked me. To the kind grandmother that sewed my pants (I brought her a traditional cake bread the next day in thanks, and to my horror as soon as I handed it to her I realized that she had no teeth.... I dont know how she ate it). And to the masons especially. They were so patient and understanding. I learned so much. Who knew I could build a house?!
I leave for the airport soon. In the 25+ hours of travel I'm sure more eloquent words will come to mind, but for now I'd like to give everyone that I have met a giant hug. I realize that they have all shaped this adventure in their own way. However trivial or large, my new experiences would have been nothing without the people that created them.
Day 14- Naipes
This morning while we waited for the materials to come again I taught the masons how to play a favorite card game of mine, Rummy. My great-grandma Billie and I used to play on mornings when we'd visit and she would make us pancakes. We would emerse ourselves in mini tournaments and watch the hummingbirds feed off of the flowers sitting outside her window sill. Needless to say, in her wise and practiced years she usually won, but I think my playing today would have pleased her.
Day 13- El Jardin de Amor
Today we got our first break since beginning work. Our coordinator took us to visit a school in Santa Maria de Jesus, outside of Antigua. We got to take a miniature "chicken bus," so I was able to cross that off my list of things to do before I've left. I will post a picture soon of these buses so you all will know exactly what I mean, and what a feat this truly was.
Appropriately titled "El Jardin de Amor," "The Garden of Love," serves about 50-60 families that cannot afford to pay the exorbiant rates the village's official school demands. These children come from ranges of families with 10-16 children, with an income of less than 20 Quetzales a day- an equivalent of less than 3 dollars. They are usually forced to work for thier food, simply because if they dont, there cannot be enough to supply the whole family. The school strikes a deal with the families, convincing them to let the children come to school for half a day, and then work the remainder.
I learned that "El Jardin de Amor" is not only a place for the students to learn. It is a safe place for them to play and have fun too. At home they only work and sleep. There is no time to play or joke around. Most students dont celebrate their birthday at home, so the school provides monthy parties for the students. It is thier only opportunity to experience real, child-like life.
Appropriately titled "El Jardin de Amor," "The Garden of Love," serves about 50-60 families that cannot afford to pay the exorbiant rates the village's official school demands. These children come from ranges of families with 10-16 children, with an income of less than 20 Quetzales a day- an equivalent of less than 3 dollars. They are usually forced to work for thier food, simply because if they dont, there cannot be enough to supply the whole family. The school strikes a deal with the families, convincing them to let the children come to school for half a day, and then work the remainder.
I learned that "El Jardin de Amor" is not only a place for the students to learn. It is a safe place for them to play and have fun too. At home they only work and sleep. There is no time to play or joke around. Most students dont celebrate their birthday at home, so the school provides monthy parties for the students. It is thier only opportunity to experience real, child-like life.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Day 12
Today I played with baby kittens and chickens. I climbed a peach tree. I visited the Spanish embassy. I went to an art museum. I tried my hand at drawing. I watched Guatemala lost to Portugal 0-1 in the U-20 Mens World Cup. I ate cactus flesh. I conversed with a police officer. I wrote an essay for a college app. I did not take a nap.
All in a day's work.
All in a day's work.
Day 11- Ordinary Unordinary Day
The supplies couldnt make it up the mountain because the truck wasnt four wheel drive so today was unusual from the beginning. We began framing the house and quickly finished. Then because we had nothing more to do, we dug more foundation trenches for the house scheduled for construction next week. I dare say digging is the hardest thing I've had to do this far, and that's because you are bent over at an awkward 90degree angle and are constantly using some muscle to its full extent. But anyways, that was all relatively normal.
To my delight we played soccer at lunch with some of the local boys. During that hour the temperature rose to the hottest it has been since I've arrived. I must've sweat 6 or 7 pounds off. Right as we were about to finished up, I ripped my pants. A clean rip right from the zipper all the way down to the crease of my knee so that it flared open right away. All the boys fell on the floor laughing as I tried my best to conceal myself and hold the fabric together. Pretty soon I was cracking up too and ran back to the house to ask the mother for help. I sheepishly approached the girls, who were all under a tree braiding each other's hair, but I didnt even have to say a word; the grandmother grabbed my arm with a smile and took me inside. She gave me one of their skirts (really just a long piece of fabric wrapped around your torso) and tied it up with the ribbon in her hair. She took my pants and asked if I could sew, but before I could even answer that she shook her head and said she would take care of it. I ran back down to join the soccer game again, and stood in for a makeshift "portero." Only 15 minutes later my pants were ready, and literally as good as new- I cant even tell there is an extra seam.
Then the rain came. We all crowded in the family's metal shed to wait it out. Inside was so tiny, and as the rain kept pouring I could see how important a real, concrete house really was. From the doorway we could see the pathway outside quickly morph into a river. The muddy dirt seeped in the sides of the house and rain trickled down the inside of the walls. It created a muddy soupy floor- only the very middle was dry. The clouds rolled in and soon we were enveloped by fog. The thunder and lightning disrupted the monotony of the rain pounding on the tin roof.
The I thought about our trenches. At one point when it seemed to sibuside a bit I ran outside and saw that they were both newly filled with water: a sickening answer to my wish for pool only hours earlier. I ran back inside and we proceeded to wait out the storm. About an hour and a half later we made a break for the truck still parked on top of the mountain. Tomorrow the water in the trenches awaits me and my muscles and my bucket. Joy.
But for now, I'm off to a Guatemalan yoga class.
To my delight we played soccer at lunch with some of the local boys. During that hour the temperature rose to the hottest it has been since I've arrived. I must've sweat 6 or 7 pounds off. Right as we were about to finished up, I ripped my pants. A clean rip right from the zipper all the way down to the crease of my knee so that it flared open right away. All the boys fell on the floor laughing as I tried my best to conceal myself and hold the fabric together. Pretty soon I was cracking up too and ran back to the house to ask the mother for help. I sheepishly approached the girls, who were all under a tree braiding each other's hair, but I didnt even have to say a word; the grandmother grabbed my arm with a smile and took me inside. She gave me one of their skirts (really just a long piece of fabric wrapped around your torso) and tied it up with the ribbon in her hair. She took my pants and asked if I could sew, but before I could even answer that she shook her head and said she would take care of it. I ran back down to join the soccer game again, and stood in for a makeshift "portero." Only 15 minutes later my pants were ready, and literally as good as new- I cant even tell there is an extra seam.
Then the rain came. We all crowded in the family's metal shed to wait it out. Inside was so tiny, and as the rain kept pouring I could see how important a real, concrete house really was. From the doorway we could see the pathway outside quickly morph into a river. The muddy dirt seeped in the sides of the house and rain trickled down the inside of the walls. It created a muddy soupy floor- only the very middle was dry. The clouds rolled in and soon we were enveloped by fog. The thunder and lightning disrupted the monotony of the rain pounding on the tin roof.
The I thought about our trenches. At one point when it seemed to sibuside a bit I ran outside and saw that they were both newly filled with water: a sickening answer to my wish for pool only hours earlier. I ran back inside and we proceeded to wait out the storm. About an hour and a half later we made a break for the truck still parked on top of the mountain. Tomorrow the water in the trenches awaits me and my muscles and my bucket. Joy.
But for now, I'm off to a Guatemalan yoga class.
Day 10- Lake Atitlan
I will not take credit for this picture.... Google is to thank for that. But my lack of a camera cord and my inability to describe the beauty of this Mayan lake with mere words leaves this the only option.
We spent the day sailing around, eventually making it to 3 surrounding villages, each a snipet of different Mayan lifestyles.
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