To leave it all behind... for now

I have now spent the last week with my family outside of Cancun in a fishing village called Puerto Morelos. "Fishing Village" is somewhat of a misnomer, as I am overlooking a beautiful pool and 50 yards beyond the pool is a pristine ocean with three shades of green water and white sands. Rather luxurious for a fishing village. But a fishing village I read it was so a fishing village it shall be labeled. A bit different than my jungle accommodations, in Puerto Morelos we stayed in a beautiful condo and Chistoph - my personal doctor from Ak'Tenamit - even met us here for the past couple days.

Highlights? I could say Tulum - the beachside ruins. The weather hasn't really gone above 82 degrees and there is a constant breeze off the ocean. Parasailing too, would be an understandable answer as yesterday Christoph and I soared well over 100 feet up in the air in Playa del Carmen for 20 minutes. With its aqua-colored water, I can understand why so many flock there, but part of the reason I have loved Morelos is that it hasn't been taken over by foreign tourism. Many of the tourists are Mexican. While some of the waiters and shop owners speak a some English, it isn't something thrown in your face or even something that physically pursues you as it does in Playa. I digress. Even with great seafood and now penny-pinching as I may have done throughout a year in Guatemala, by far and a way, the highlight of this trip has been seeing my sister and my parents after another five months. I am truly privileged to have such a supportive, empathic, uplifting and comical family. So in part, I must give thanks that my mom is turning ** years old :) and my family decided that this trip made sense.

Anyway, I hope folks have gotten something out of these past few months of blogging. I know I have gotten an immeasurable amount including even more documented memories and the wonderful support friends, family and relative strangers have left as posts along the way. Not knowing exactly how my next three months will be at home, I won't say how they will be on the blog. But check back come the end of November to see what we can do at the new Ak'Tenamit school.

Love to you all. To a better world.

Jesse

Travel Extremes

On the final leg of this year's travels, I have seen every extreme of the travel spectrum. From two beautiful boat rides leaving Guatemala for Belize, to a 'puddle jumper' north traveling up Belize overlooking the clear waters of the baby neighbor of Guatemala, the sweet has been just that. But I have also tasted my fair share of the sour. Finishing off the Belizean journey by bus, I was the only passenger forced to stay on foot although I paid full share. That same bus delayed two hours at both the Belizean and Mexican borders, enough so to deny me the opportunity to catch my connection bus to Cancun. From a border town I blog, waiting 10 hours or so until I can take an overnight bus up to meet my parents and sister on Saturday in Cancun. That's just life down here. I'd say the highlight was standing in line at one immigration office, waiting a solid 45 minutes while one customs agent processed our passports. When it seemed the lunch break of his co-workers ended, three other agents returned to their posts and we silently rejoiced thinking the process would be greatly expedited. And it would have been had the woman at the desk not have stared at us, put up a hand to say 'where to you think you're going?' and proceeded to do her make-up and read her magazine. I get that your break might not have ended... but is it necessary to taunt us? Really? I think not.

A week from tomorrow - hopefully after a long resting vacation with the family - I will be back in the States. Regarding posts of late, I have since accepted the job with Ak'Tenamit to oversee the opening of the new education center in Cancuen, Guatemala. The challenge will be great, long (two years,) but made easier by the three month break they have given me. So homeward bound. Three months in the States, most certainly traveling madly from city-to-city trying to see all the family I can. Preliminary itinerary is as follows: stops in Boston, New York, Chicago, Burlington, possibly DC and Atlanta. If you are in one of these cities, please let me know because after this trip home, it'll probably be another two years before opportunity rises again for us to see each other - unless of course you decide you're ready for a break and pop down to Guatemala.

I hope each of you is safe, healthy and well.]

To a better world,
Jesse

Dengue Fever!! That is all...

Las Conchas

For some time, the hype had been built around this place: Las Conchas. "Smaller and less touristy than Semuc Champay" - a tourist hotspot in Guatemala. "Clearer water and more seculded." Upon my arrival with my Austrian doctor friend, Christoph, the reality came to a front. Don't get me wrong. The site itself is quite beautiful, but we were told the season was wrong and coming back in summer would be more adventageous to seeing the aforementioned clear waters or swimming period. Trying to interpret this comment in the middle of July - also known as summer - would be our next task.
I am, however, ahead of myself. A couple days ago we left the project and after a couple of stop offs to change microbuses, we arrived in Chahal where we passed an eventless night in a non-descript room with one of the hardest beds known to humankind. I almost felt I could envision the person who designed the bed, sadistic in his own right, laughing at the poor sucker - me - getting approximately 37 total minutes of sleep.
When we awoke and went exploring for the first micro that would lead to the second micro and in turn, Las Conchas, we met Uswaldo, an apparent good-hearted Zacapatan who offered to take us directly to our destination in his pick-up. We accept his offer and are off, only to return to ton after 10 minuts or so in route because he forgot to get gas. The 45 minute trip was extended by a stop-off at his finca where he gave us a tour, picked us mangos and maintained conversation - all while other passangers waited patiently in the back of the true. He offered us a place to stay, free of change; took us to the hotel where we planned on staying - only to find no one there - and back to Las Conchas for a total of 10 Q. My estimate for gringos in a pick-up as such to be between 200 and 300 Q.
No one, like at the hotel, was there to greet us at Las Conchas. We let ourselves in - bypassing the 35 Q entrance fee - took our pictures and decided to hit the road. With not the greatest of options, we chose to head back towards Rio Dulce to stay at Casa Perico - a hotel located on the river with great food (BBQ buffet!) The trip - waiting time included - should have been 3 1/2 hours. That is, of course, until the truck that had been pulling chivos came passing by and offered us a ride. Initially we tought it would take us to the town to find the micro, but the driver informed us that he would be passing Rio and we were welcome to join him. Cristoph - expert climber - hopped right up effortlessly. After my first several unsuccessful attempts to mount our savior of transportation, and later with the help of Christoph's strength pulling from up in the cab, I dragged myself, ass first on to our chariot. It as upon standing that I realized the substance and stench that was now on my backpack, body and clothes. At first, denial set in and I told myself it was mud, but with everyone having a good laugh, I finally let the reality that I was covered in chivo shit set in.
Fortunately I am freshly showered and waiting to head back to the project for my last few weeks there. Looking forward to coming home and the big decision that lies ahead. Pictures will follow this post
Write with any life updates - jesse.schaubenfuerst@gmail.com

To a better world,

Jesse

The Future

With a ticket back to the US in just over a month, I have begun to think quite a bit more about the future. You know, those two words that dictate where we'll live; how we'll pay the bills; the whole nine yards. After living abroad for just about a year now, I feel the transition back to my country of origin to be a tough one, but not an impossible one. That said, a recent opportunity has arisen in Guatemala. It will be a decision I have to make before leaving in a month, I believe. A great job offer; experiences to learn and grow, advance any sort of career I want to have in the future, and help bring education to a part of Guatemala where it is lacked. At 23 years old, I know that two years is not a huge commitment. But the idea to envision myself not at 23 today, but at 25, having spent the last three years of my life in Guatemala is a startling one. I still no not what I will do. In fact, I don't even know when I have to inform my organization of my decision. But the last few weeks have been spent feeling like the ball in a game of pong - shot back from one decision to another.

Being considered for a position as such has helped to realize maybe, some sense of self-worth in the professional sense. The reality of the situation is that this will be my first true employment. To start out overseeing an entire project site - the creation of a new school in an area where education is unseen - is often unimaginable. The responsibility is great; the potential incredible; the learning will be exponential. The economy and job market the way it is in the States also isn't the most pleasant "Welcome Home" sign either. Coupled with all those is the reality of going to a more remote jungle; to be the contact person for the surrounding communities - the share my organization's vision of indigenous education; at times feeling like - and possibly being - the only person out at this new site; working part time in Guatemala City which is neither the prettiest or safest cities in the world.

Anyway, there are many factors that need weighing. Input always welcome.

To a better world,

Jesse

Crash

Yesterday I had one of my first true clashes of culture since I left home nearly a year ago. During my weekly staff meeting, a problem regarding a student arose and it was decided unspokenly that our time – normally reserved to give updates on class progress and announcements – would be dedicated essentially to this one topic. A dilemma it was, as this particular student’s mother had arrived to complain about how her daughter was being treated at the institution. Having this young woman as a student, and having had mainly positive experiences, I listened patiently to what my co-workers had to say and began to hear a trend. Behavioral and attitude problems topped the laundry list of complaints; a lack of respect for authority, and a rebellious temper were also offered on more than one occasion. My experience? All somewhat similar. But for me – unlike my co-workers and the Maya people in general – this is general adolescent behavior for a 16 year-old living at home, let alone away from home as is this girl.
As always in such meetings, I have to be careful knowing that for one, each of the individuals whom I am with carries much more time at Ak’Tenamit than I do and therefore, I often lack some very important background information; and two, I do not come from this culture, and therefore do not always understand some of the differences that exist, be them minor or grave. I did my best to share my experience with the student when my time was given, but it seemed that this sort of adolescent behavior has little or no place at Ak’Tenamit. They surprisingly – as I have heard has happened in the past – did not try to expel the student, but essentially decided they had had enough. In part, it is understandable. A sixteen year-old, away from home, calls back to complain about anything as a cry for help or attention, or maybe out of true desperation, what parent wouldn’t want to believe their child and come to the rescue? That said, everything with a grain of salt, no? My boss and friend would later tell me that the mother would listen to nothing she had to say, was dismissive and rude. All in all, it was a bit of a mess. But for me, a difference in the expression and stages of adolescence was only the beginning.
The topic turned quickly to students’ dress and style. What is appropriate and inappropriate? What aligns with the Maya culture and what does not? Again, I sat listening to my co-workers explain their position as to why they felt it inappropriate for our males students to wear their hair in Mohawks, or with a little tail hanging to the side. After a rant in which the majority felt that barring these fashion statements from the classroom made the most sense, I pulled my boss aside. She - as she had already indicated during the meeting with the support of the teachers – reiterated her belief that these trends didn’t align with the Maya culture as they new it and had no place – due to that fact – in our organization. I asked her if she felt that cultures were a static being or whether they were evolutionary. I asked her whether the internet or Pepsi was a part of the Maya culture, or just another thing brought in from the outside world. My feeling was that this was an arbitrary statement on their part; one that erred on the side of conservatism. This was very foreign for my experience with Ak’Tenamit – a normally more progressive and inclusive organization.
With a bit more back and forth, I realized progress would not be made in this setting and I let the conversation go. With only one month left teaching here, I will plant my seeds, maintain my convictions, but also not let them be the obstacle to working with the students positively for the time that I still have. Surprising that 10 months into this experience, I just had my first true cultural clash, but I hope to use it more as a “teachable moment” for both me and my co-workers.

Life

It's been a while since I have made my way back to the blog. Pinpointing the reason is not a simple task. I think when I look at this blog that has taken task to document the second half of my Guatemalan journey, it brings my reality back home. The date is June 13th. That leaves me just over two months left until I fly back to the States. My goal, it seems - at least when I let myself think about it long enough - is to come back to Latin American in the years to come. The means? That I am unsure of still. But my quality of life down here is amazing. I feel healthy, happy, and am learning at an exponential rate. At the same time, there are things back home that I miss. A friend of mine said the other day that when it comes to living in your country of origin or abroad, there are sacrifices. While living on the river in the jungle is breath-taking, the absence of family and life-long friends makes me want for home. If only we could mix the two worlds. That said, my friends here in Guatemala have filled my life with so much joy; my students drop pearls of wisdom on me constantly while challenging me about what I think I know about "education;" and when I sit down to lok at the world around me, I smile. That's a good sign.

Half-heartedly I look for work. Knowing that if and when I find work, it means this chapter will close. Not to say I can't come back, but it is true it will never be the same. Leaving behind my new Guatemalan family will not be easy, but I look forward to the adventure. Forward any job postings?!?! :)

Recently, I read a book by Haruki Murakami. It was great to be encapsulated by a book again. When I first got to the project, I was not overly enamoured with the community. As a younger person I had never read too much. But with forture, over time my desire to read increased, and the free time at the project and a personal library at our disposal, I was reading five books a week. When the community and my role at the organization improved, reading went to the wayside. Anyway, short rant, but read "Dance Dance Dance" if you want to be laugh at the simple humor of every day's common occurrences around us.

A special happy birthday to those whom it applies.

Wish I had something more of interest to share, but I am afraid that I am fresh out. I'd love to hear about some of what's going on in your worlds. E-mail me at jesse.schaubenfuerst@gmail.com

To a better world,

Jesse

The Stubbed Toe That Wasn't

So it seems as if my body is hinting that it might be time to get out of the jungle. A false stint with scabbies, and then actually getting scabbies (I think,) and the recent removal of what seems to be known as a nigua, or a small bug that lives in pigs and plants itself in humans top my recent laundry list of ailments. Lovely, I know. Better yet, it lays eggs. Fortunately, my friend here made several strong comments and made me ashamed. Later that day I went to the health clinic to see que onda (what's up?) This poem is the result of that visit.

The Stubbed Toe That Wasn’t

When walking with a friend of mine from her village to another,
She asked if I had stubbed my toe,
I said she needn’t be my mother.

The toe hadn’t crossed my mind, but the thought had entered quick.
And when I tried to let it go,
The thought managed to stick.

Days went by and just by chance the thought I’m glad to say,
Left me lonely,
Afterall, the thought had gone away.

But a few more days had come to pass,
“What’s on your toe?”
Friends began to ask.

Unfortunately as fast as the thought had gone away,
To me it seemed to look
As if the thought was back to stay.

There’s a little black dot that’s set up shop on the tip of my toe,
A squatter that pays no rent,
It was decided time for the dot to go.

What could it be? Where did it come from? How can I rid me of it?
Dried blood, an ulcer, or nothing at all?
I’d begun to throw a fit.

To the clinic I went to resolve my worries and they asked if I was ready?
Off with the toe they told me at once,
Will chop it with the nearest machete.

When all was finally said and done and rest put to the bother
Eggs and mama bug were extracted from the toe,
And I am now a happy father.

Language

After a couple months of teaching English at Ak’Tenamit’s school for indigenous students, I have come to some realizations. Several students at our project come from an orphanage in Guatemala City. Often, these young people come from dire circumstances having been brought up in broken homes, been abused, and some on the streets. Knowing the reality for the majority of their lives was an existence on the street, it should be no surprise that these members of our community are as clever and street smart as they are. They learned to survive by any means necessary. Along with their trickster pranks (some certainly more serious than others) these ten kids or so, speak the best English at the project. The scary thing: they aren’t in the English classes. Yesterday, after five hours of trips on the boat as a chaperone, I think I might have come to some sort of a conclusion on the matter. The capitalinos have spent their lives – even while on the streets – surrounded by the globalized world and mass media. Television and movies in English, music in the streets and on the radios. For some time, this left me somewhere between blown away and ashamed. Blown away because these kids picked this language up living on the streets. Ashamed because these kids speak significantly better than the students in my class.
Chaperoning this trip gave me five hours on a boat with my students. Many asked me questions; there favorite being “como se dice…” followed by a complete sentence in Spanish, or “how do you say…” I want to play soccer today. It was a bit disheartening, especially knowing that many of the words they asked me to translate were words we had already learned. Ok, that aside. On this boat ride I began to feel these students need a “real teacher;” someone with experience because I felt helpless. It dawned on me at one point some time ago though that I have to begin to take each disadvantage that I see and turn it in to a positive, not only for myself, but for the students as well. Why did the students from Guate have a better level? Why haven’t my students the least bit of an idea to pronounce some of these words we have been learning for two months? In part the answer has to do with globalization. To this point, the extended arms of the western world, its media and money making machine have yet to completely infiltrate the communities where most of my children grew up. Television still isn’t prevalent, and even when it is, English doesn’t dominate the airwaves.
So although frustrated – often, by the low level of my students in the classroom – the reality is that we too, can flip this into a positive. Unlike many parts of the developing world which have been pillaged of resources, culture, and everything down to their language, the indigenous Maya communities where we work, where my students come from, have been able to maintain the aforementioned aspects of life. And had the same process occurred in these communities, yes, it is true that the level of English would be substantially better, even if driven by mass media. My job would be much easier, and the kids would probably have more fun, self-esteem, and determination to learn as they could measure their own progress by the results that were built upon their initial level of the language.
This, however, is not the case. And I realized too, on this trip, that if I had a classroom full of Mayan students who spoke at the level of English that those same students from the Capital speak, it may very well result in the loss of their own language. I’m always so proud to see my students proud of themselves, their culture, and their identity. If their lack of English is a trade-off for that pride, I should begin to welcome it openly and just work a bit harder to find a better balance to life.

Filtered Water

My experience at Ak'Tenamit and Guatemala is coming to a close. The reality is that I still have a little more than three months, but after having grown accustom to my life here, I must face the facts that soon, some things must change. Part of this process includes the inevitable job search. One job asked me to write about cross-cultural experience that showed my ability to adapt to new circumstances. This story is much less about me than the power of communication, and for that, wanted to share it with you all.

Coming to work in the Guatemalan jungle, I realized that many pleasures, luxuries, and some things I previously had defined as necessities would be left behind. With a decent level of Spanish, however, communication was not a worry that I had heavily dwelled upon. Starting at Ak’Tenamit, one of my first weeks was spent in the aldeas, or villages, where our organization does much of its community and gender development work. Told that I could accompany my new co-workers on their several-day journey, I eagerly packed what I was told would be essential for the trip. We were delivering potable water filters to every family and each school in two communities. With no actual knowledge of how the filters functioned, I figured that my role would be purely observatory. That was until I was told by my co-workers that they too, were unfamiliar with the process. Together with the community members, we began to unpack the filters and begin their assembly. The most important aspect of this was the educational component, knowing that a member of each community must have a full understanding of how to properly use the filter in order to improve the health of their families.
For one reason or another, it had not dawned upon me that there was one major obstacle I had failed to see. My co-workers – all members of the same indigenous group as the communities we visited – gave their charlas, or lectures, in Q’eqchi (their Mayan dialect). The community members paid attention, but being new to the organization, I figured that these people, as my co-workers did, would speak both the Mayan language and Spanish. After explaining the process of how to properly use the filters in Spanish only to receive a handful of blank stares in my direction, I realized my earlier oversight and knew that our communication technique would have to change. Having been a long-time believer in the power of non-verbal communication, I put on a brave face and welcomed the challenge openly, although was truly concerned that none of us actually really knew what we were doing.
After several hours of working with the elderly, the young boys and girls, the mothers holding new-born children, we finished arming each last filter. Yes, there were ups and downs, points of frustration and points of joy. But after having spent this time, this experience, with the community, I was fortunate to share a moment with a woman, child in arms. On her contract she marked her thumb print in ink where a line was reserved for signatures. While we could not formally exchange words, she smiled, which I interpreted as a “thank you,” which I returned to her. But she held her gaze and I realized that this woman was for the first time envisioning the possibility of life without contaminated water; both her children’s and her own health being exponentially improved by this plastic that she and I had shared to create. No, I know not what words she would have chosen for this moment, nor what I would have said to her. But we shared something more powerful than words, and that moment lives on through their improved health and water of her community.

Safety

The other day our project, like many other places, was hit with the panic of the Swine Flu. Volunteer doctors, teachers, program coordinators gathered together with inclined pressure from all sides with the realization that this influenza was actually capable of, and probably had killed people. Clearly our own mortality was brought to the forefront, being in a foreign, developing country, that may lack the necessary and often plentiful resources of our homelands. With such limited information about the flu (where it might have started, and where known cases have been confirmed) it dawned on us as a group that we have 550 students coming back from vacation in the next couple days from every corner of Guatemala. What happens if one of them brings the Swine? With all of the students - and ourseleves - living on top of each other, the flu would undoubtedly travel swiftly from one dormitory to the next, devestating many in its path and possibly leaving some for dead in its wake. The doctors processed the situation, informed themselves through news outlets reporting up to date information, and made the conscious decision to let the students come back.

I did not fear for my life during this episode. No. However, being here in Guatemala, without the safety net of my past in sight, I was forced to face the concept of mortality, even if not of my own. How could I best support our students? My co-workers? The community at-large? This swine flu really confronted me about how the bubble of my childhood and even time at the University allowed me to be passive to such events; to think in myself more than others, and how I was rarely ever (consciously) presented with feeling unsafe.

I went to a friend's hotel for a few days only to encounter a 20-year-old American with flu-like symptoms... talk about a nice escape from the drama! He seems to be improving in health.

This thought led me to another. 13 months ago there was a kidnapping of six tourists five minutes from where I live. With an on-going dispute over land rights, a radical indigenous group protested - what they saw as the unlawful imprisonment of their leader - by kidnapping a tour group. The tourists, according to all reports, were treated well while held hostage, but learning this story certainly was a bit shocking. The shock would continue to grow when I was informed that some people from my own organization were involved in the kidnapping itself. They were fired upon the organization's learning of their role. As of late, this group has been stirring again because the said leader was sentenced to eight years in jail for his role in the organization. I do not pretend to understand the nuances of the situation, nor would feel comfortable casting judgement on this group, as I know that people pushed into corners and compromising circumstances often take extreme measures. That said, the knowledge that this group plans retaliation for the sentencing is much like the swine flu. Whom will they attack? When? Where? There is a feeling of helplessness that comes along with this news, but also cognizance that it, these threats of violence, these outbreaks of illness, cannot stop us from living our lives. And being part of a community, especially in a position of responsibility for young people, my perspective on safety has changed.

Who knows how all these events will pan out. I certainly do not, and in part am happy not to have a script of the future, albeit a scary one at times. We can only put ourselves in the best positions possible, and hope to guide those around us to do the same. While it seems the swine flu will imminently affect some gravely, we hope for the best, safety, and health of all. And in reading this post, I hope all realize that I do not feel in danger in Guatemala. In fact there are more confirmed cases in New York than here; there is more radical or gang related violence from coast to coast in the States than the Mexican and Guatemalan drug cartels jockeying for power or radical indigenous groups could possibly fathom. While the aforementioned safety net may no longer be seen, and very possibly no longer exist, I think that is part of life. And it is there where I find myself.

Thanks for reading, posting comments, and loving those around you.

To a better world,

Jesse

The Return

After spending some amazing time in León - which felt like the political capital of Nicaragua - I felt it time to head back towards Guatemala, my friends and my home in the jungle. I spent my last day in Nicaragua visiting museums dedicated to art from the world, the Nicaraguan revolution, and wandering through the streets soaking in the incredible graffiti that lines the buildings. But having grown tired, visited four beautiful, distinct sites in about ten days, met folks from all of the world, climbed a volcano, eaten amazing food, and thoroughly enjoyed life, my journey home was about the only thing left on my to-do list.

León, 4am: I leave on a bus up to San Pedro Sula, Honduras. This trip, I take believing that it will leave me only about an hour and a half of travel the following day according to every map I've investigated. On top of that, I get the privilege of passing a night in SPS, the HIV/Aids capital of Central America! San Pedro also has a reputation as a very dangerous city, but the people there were wonderful and helpful. I headed off to a cheap hotel when the older woman who helped me not only made phone calls to try to search for the easiest way back home, but even left me an envelope in the morning with half the money I had paid for my room as a discount. We had chatted about volunteer work and how this was just a passing through point on my trip back to the jungle... she was truly a joy.

San Pedro Sula, 4am: For the second consecutive day, I rise well before the sun to start my journey. Having heard many "horror-stories" of this city, I contemplate waiting for the sun to come up and people to start their work day before I head off in search for my bus. But my eagerness to get back to Guatemala pushed me out the door and everyone I encountered in the street offered to help me find the bus I was looking for. Gotta love when stereotypes fall on their faces!

Slight disappointment: I was a bit disappointed that only one prostitute blew me kisses in an attempt to conquer my heart. That said, I only saw one prostitute in plain-sight, so I guess I'm still batting 1.000 in that department, and it could be worse.

As I said earlier, I thought the trip from San Pedro Sula to Puerto Barrios (the closest city to where I live was a short one) and by land it is. But 3 buses and 7 hours later, I finally arrive back in Guatemala and could honestly feel the difference. It's amazing after having spent about 7 or 8 months in this country how I have that feeling that I am home. While I don't see it as a permanent home, for now, it feels right. Seeing some of my students upon arrival working in Buga Mama, our restaurant/practical classroom, a smile broke across my face as these kids have become such an important part of my life. How privileged I am to lead the life that I am living!

Pictures hopefully to be coming soon. Thanks for reading and please e-mail life updates on your ends as I am curious how folks are doing. jesse.schaubenfuerst@gmail.com

For a better world,

Jesse

Quick Shout Out

Shout out to my 3 blog "followers," although I'm not exactly sure what that entails. 2 of them happen to be my parents... which is probably a clue-in to my social connections in the world. But hey! Happy to have them. A special shout out to the wonderful, beautiful Melissa Sandoval, with her super tips on Nicaraguan hot spots. Thanks Mel! In Leon & Nicaragua until tomorrow; hitting up the museums a little later to get a better perspective on the Sandinista/Somoza histoy. Nothing more, nothing less.

For a better world,

Jesse

Medio Quemado

After a day of traveling by old school buses, boats, and rickity taxis, I have made it back to Granada. Without realizing it along the way, I must have been sitting on the same side of each means of transportation, because as I just dipped into the mini pool in my hostel, one side of my body, I find is completely burned and the other in good shape.

But before any more details about the here-and-now, I feel some backtracking is in order. As I had mentioned, while the students at Ak'Tenamit are on vacation for Semana Santa (Easter), I would head off to Nicaragua. I have finally just had some time to reflect on some of the past days goings-on and am quite pleased to report back on the range of these events from some good and bad, some that went right and others wrong, and some that are just plain bizarre. And it is there we will begin...

Before reading this anecdote, one must understand that I am still unsure to whether it is dream or reality, and for that it should be read with a grain of salt. Background: Guatemala offers a 90-day tourist visa. April 3rd I got back from a three-week trip to the States and therefore was granted a new visa. Introduction to 17-hours on bus from Guatemala City to Managua: In order to prepare for the ride, I took sleeping pills, and because they had expired decided to up the dosage and take two. One, we can now safely say, would have done the trick. My memory reports back the following: One of the employees of the bus company wakes me up at the El Salvadoran border demanding the payment of a fine of some 300 Q or $40. I don't know too many people who react well being stirred from their sleep, especially for demands of ludicrious payments. The drugs in my system were just an added bonus. Lacking the ability of words and thought processing, I stared dumbly until I could shake into some state of relative consciousness. It eventually dawned on me that they were probably referring to the aforementioned visa and merely struggling to find my newly acquired stamp. Be it in my dream or reality (that I will never know) - I showed them the stamp and fell back into a deep sleep - or was never out of it to begin with.

My day began in both Managua and Granada with tours from boys from the street. In Managua they boys explained to me the history of the old cathedral, National Palace and a local park. They children blew me away with what seemed like endless knowledge of their city and shared it with such pride. All day, people had been telling me to steer clear of such children who lurk around, and that they are "robbers," "cheaters," and in general were up to no good. When I asked my "tour guides" about this, they conceded that some boys were exactly those things - mostly out of necessity. My guides went on to say they felt it unfair, however, that most gringos stayed at a distance and even went to great lengths to avoid their paths all together. In exchange for their services, I gave each a quetzal (the Guatemalan currency) as a memory of our interaction. That was Easter Sunday and each of the three gifted me a little art sculpture made from banana leaf. Great kids.

After we parted ways, I headed off to the new cathedral to see how the people of Nicaragua were celebrating Jesus. It seemed though that most Managuans had headed out of town and I soon followed suit. In Granada, my guides new much less about their city, but were sweet and helped pass the time as I tried to get my bearings in a new city.

Granada led me to a Canadian woman who told me she was "doing business." She used the word so non-chalantly as if one would have no difficulty in understanding. Over our conversations to come, I learned that she, her brother, and another guy had started a business with the intention of buying property and "developing" it. Six properties later she claimed a successful trip. When I asked what they planned for their business, she said there was still debate within the "partners" and that the land would need 15 years until ready for whatever might come in the future... She then ranted about what awful steps the new government had taken to prevent foreigners from purchasing land in Nicaragua. We back-and-forthed for a bit about colonization, outsiders buying up and pillaging local resources without giving anything back. These ideas had not been points of concern thus far, she told me and they would cross that road when it presented itself. Clearly this was not the most pleasant way to start my re-immersion into hostel life.

After a day in Managua and one in Granada, I headed off to las Islas de Ometepe. Tagging along with a British guy I met, my adventures carried on at El Zopilote - an ecological hotel. Environmental consciousness is at a high and natural beauty is its rival. A couple days ago I hiked Maderas, the smaller of the island's two volcanoes. Size is such a relative concept, as "smaller" in this case is still a 6 km hike to an altitude of 1400 meters, so give me a break. Our group was composed of the Brit and a woman from New Zealand. We got up in a little more than 4 hours and with how I felt the day after, I believe it to be one of, if not the hardest hike I have ever done. There was no lookout from the top, but a climb down into a crater with a beautiful lake at its center. At this spot we relaxed for a little more than an hour, and ate homemade bread and jam to build our energy back up for the trek down. It was breath-taking... on many levels. Upon our descent we took a wrong turn and at some point, it dawned on all three of us that we were not on the parth which we rose. Carrying on, we eventually (3 hours or so later) came out into a banana field in the backyard of our hotel. It worked out perfectly and were greeted back with a great pizza dinner. A great meal to end a great day.

(Pictures of volcano hike and other highlights to come...)

So now I am back in Granada for the night, only stopping through to split the journy from the islands to Leon. There I hope to get a better feel for the Nicaraguan political scene of which I have heard so much. Hoping that the world is well and that the pirates stay out of this part of the world :)

With love,

Jesse

Reflections

Still here in Guatemala City. Leaving for Managua, Nicaragua at 3 am. Haven't had this much internet in Guatemala for what seems like all my previous six months combined so please forgive my rambles. Just found out via blogger.com that my zodiac sign is an Ox - not sure exactly how to feel about that. Living in a manatee reserve, I have begun to identify in our giant, peaceful neighbors. But now this new revelation that I may be more of an ox than a manatee is stressing me out.

Really proud of both Iowa's and Vermont's (especially my former home's) step towards equality for our gay brothers and lesbian sisters on the same-sex marriage issue. Shout out to House Rep. Kesha Ram for helping get the job done. The passage and previous debate has helped open up some great conversations down in Guatemala for me about inequality, diversity, and social movements. These have been especially profound with my students who find it difficult to believe in the concept "justice" after so many of their communities were destroyed, family members killed, and any resources taken away by the dominant groups in their society. So thanks to Iowa and Vermont!

Spent today wandering around Guate to see how the folks here celebrate Good Friday, went into a couple cathedrals, talked to some street vendors and kids about why today is such a special day for them. Many spoke to me about the power of Jesus and how he died for our sins. The kids however, seemed more thrilled because this is one of the few days out of the year that families spend part of whatever money they've been saving. Be it an shaved ice in the street or eating out in a restuarant, I saw many children of the street - normally forced into begging and kept out of schools - with sincere smiles on their faces enjoying a treat for maybe this one day out of the year, all while I was walking around in the heat, sweating: Truly a great reward from the kids.

To a better world,

Jesse

A Blogger's Recap

Greetings to all!

Welcome to Waxiru - Loco - Crazy (WLC). For those of you who haven't dusted off your Q'eqchi in a while, or Spanish for that matter, "Waxiru" ((Q'eqchi), one of the Maya dialects that is spoken in Guatemala) and "Loco" (Spanish) both mean, "Crazy," or one of the many words I could have chosen to describe my experience thus far in Central America.

This is my first ever blog entry and had I been writing seven months or so ago, the introduction would be a bit more fluid and this would have read more as a pre-departure for my trip to Guatemala. If you check your calendar today, it is not seven months ago. In fact, it is today, the 9th of April, the birthday of the wonderful Sarah Schauben-Fuerst (brownie points) and the beautiful Joseph Thomas, and therefore it is my duty to backtrack just a bit. I will refrain from a detailed outline of the past half year I have spent down here, but provide a recap of several highlights.

1. Decided to move down to Central America for some time to do some volunteer work, help find my passion and some direction in life all while trying to make the world a bit better a place topped off by trading in a New England winter for a Central American one.

2. Helped re-organize the Kamalbe Spanish language school (kamalbeschool.org) in Quetzaltenango (Xela), Guatemala. Spent about five weeks with three determined guys who started this school with the intention of offering Spanish courses to foreigners while providing volunteer opportunities in the rural outskirts of the second biggest city in Guatemala. Things started out well but I decided that this work was not fulfilling nor sustainable and it was time to move on.

3. Before moving on was possible, twenty-five local police officers thought it would be nice to thow me a "going-away" party at 5:45 am on the my intended day of departure. They brought party favors including big guns, a broken front door, a full search for fire arms, drugs, rabid animals, etc., the arrest of my housemate for a few crumbs of marijuana, and his charging of storage and distribution of illegal drugs. What party favors they forgot: cake, presents, the little cone-shaped party hats. Needless to say it was not the best party I'd ever been to, but boy did they think it was fun to come wish me off! My friend spent six days in jail before the ludicrous charges were dropped.

4. I arrive back in Livingston, Guatemala in route to Ak'Tenamit (my current place of volunteer employment) after first visiting the Caribbean coastal town two years earlier with a group from the University of Vermont. A small, laid back beach town, Livingston is made up of three primary ethnic groups. The q'eqechi indigenous population, the latinos, and the garifuna (a black population made up of the mixing of Caribbean, African and Arawak people.) Livingston continues to be the main weekend destination of Ak'Tenamit volunteers for an escape from some of our (not so) pleasant realities (keep reading further...)

5. Ak'Tenamit (aktenamit.org) is a multi-faceted social development project, owned and operated by the local and indigenous people focused on improving the lives of the native population which was targeted during the 36 year civil war in Guatemala that left 200,000 dead and another 50,000 whose whereabouts are still unknown.

The organization works in areas of health care, education, community and gender development, HIV/AIDS prevention, and alternative income generation. Tucked away on the Rio Dulce between the towns of Livingston and Rio Dulce, Ak'Tenamit is as serene a setting that one can find in Guatemala. With breath-taking sunrises over the river, animals singing their songs in the jungle, people trying to improve their own lives and those of others, my six months here have been one of the greatest and most beneficial experiences of my life.

Highlights here include eating beans and tortillas for almost every meal for six months; using a hole in the ground for a bathroom; having a tree-trunk bridge (intending to support both me and a co-worker) snap below my feet while we hiked into the communities to conduct research on contaminated water sources, leaving him to jump back to the mainland and me plumeting down about 13 feet into a water source below, and my first of too many cellphones breaking in the process... the camera fortuantely survived; having another cell phone see its life end in the river and an iPod to boot. Since then I have divorced almost all electronic devices from my life. Had I only learned before the iPod.

I currently teach English and a class on American-Guatemalan relations at our boarding school to about 2/5 of the 550 indigenous students (aging from about 12-23) from aldeas (villages) spanning from one coast of Guatemala to the other. My life consists of waking up in my little, electricty-free house to the shouts of the students bathing and washing their clothes at about 5 am. That usually means that it's time for my morning bath/swim in the river as we don't exactly have a running water supply. Breakfast comes and goes and then it's off to class. After about a 30 minute ride down river in my hollowed-out tree (or a canoe if you will) I teach for the day. We subsidize our food - beans and tortillas for the most part - with fruits and vegetables from down river.

Life is simple, but romantic. Other volunteers come from Argentina (1) Austria (2) Belgium (2) Germany (1) Spain (4) and two others from the US.

So there is a not-so-brief recap of the past six months. I just got back from a three-week trip back home. So for those of you whom I saw, it was great to see you. For those of you whom I missed, until the next time. Easter, or Semana Santa has arrived and is one of Guatemala's biggest holidays. Therefore, in order to escape a bit, on Saturday I leave for Nicaragua for about 10 days before the next trimester starts.

Stay tuned for updates. As I am a new blogger, it is still undetermined how attentive I will be. Some overdue it and end up concentrating more on writing than actually experiencing, others never post again after the introduction forgetting to keep their readers in the loop. Here at Waxiru - Loco - Crazy we will be looking for that perfect balance. Thanks for reading.

To a better world,

Jesse