Ice Queen?

The first time I was in South Africa doing an internship from June - August 2006 (South Africa's winter months) with Rich Products in Johannesburg, South Africa, everyone in the office was enamored by the snow that melted by the time it slowly made its way down to the pavement. It was the first snowfall in 25 years. I laughed at their child-like amazement- I mean, sure, snow was (and still is) pretty rare in Johannesburg, sitting at approximately 1,700 m. (just over 1 mile) in altitude, but let's be realistic: you put a girl from Buffalo ANYWHERE with snow, and nothing can really surprise her. Nevertheless, I will admit it was pretty cool to be there at the time.

Fast forward to July 2007. This time, I am in Buenos Aires, Argentina, taking a Spanish course during my summer break. It was getting so frigid that I would wear my Buffalo winter jacket and alpaca wool gloves outside just to get from place to place in the city. Before I knew it, I was looking at a light snowfall that suddenly turned into full on heavy snow falling, compact enough to build snowmen. This was the first time Buenos Aires had a snowfall since 1918- almost 90 years. Once again, I was there to witness it, experience it, take it all in.

Now here we are, 22 December 2009, in the Western Highlands of Guatemala in the department of San Marcos. Not only am I lucky enough to have a stunning view of Tajumulco (Central America's highest volcanic point at 4,220 m.) from my town, but from my front door step.

Just to give you all an idea of the Central American tropical paradise I have been living in the past sixteen months: I am nestled among mountains that abruptly plunge into twisting valleys. Each morning I wake up with the sun creeping its way into my room. I step out of my bed, covered in four layers of blankets, including a down comforter, and slip my moccasins over my thick wools socks. Hood over head and long underwear and sweatpants readjusted after a night's slumber, I climb out of bed and open my bedroom door to the courtyard to brave the cool morning air. The morning temperature ranges anywhere from 5°C to 10°C (41°F - 50°F). As I open my mouth to yawn, a stream of mist quickly escapes out of my mouth and disintegrates in the frigid air.

Did I mention I live at 2,280 m. (7,480 ft.)?

OK, so maybe it's not quite a tropical paradise... at all, actually. Every morning I muster up the courage to take a capricious warm shower under what I affectionately call my "suicide shower" (in reference to all the wires hanging astray above my head whilst showering). As soon as I'm finished, I immediately wrap a towel around my body and throw one over my wet hair and run into the sun out on the patio in an effort to warm up.

And I have officially woken up.

This morning I woke up at 6am for two meetings I had - one at 8am at the office, and then another one in a village about an hour's drive away for an inauguration of a school. Once I woke up, I decided to see how many clouds were out in an attempt to predict the weather, as it has been raining unseasonably for the past few days- extremely unusual, as it is now the second month of the dry season and thus should not be raining at all.

As I open my door, I'm shocked to see something I've never seen in over a year of being in my town: a snow-capped Tajumulco.

The news even made the front page of Guatemala's national paper, the Prensa Libre, and a YouTube video can also be found about the rare snowfall.

Snow in South Africa, Argentina, and now Guatemala. Coincidence? Perhaps... but as Guatemalans say, saber! (Who knows?)

But Ice Queen? I hardly think so. I'd just like to think of it as me ensuring that Guatemalans (and the odd PCV) in San Marcos can also enjoy a White Christmas.

12 Days of Christmas in Guatemala

On the 12th day of Christmas, Guatemala gave to me:

12 itchy flea bites,
11 ayudantes hassling,
10 lips a pointing,
9 awkward parties,
8 colleagues tardy,
7 fijese ques,
6 cups of sugar with coffee,
5 days of runs,
4 men ch-ch-ing,
3 days without water
2 hours waiting,
And a camioneta packed beyond its limit!

Top 10 Reasons Why Guatemala is Awesome - Revamped

10. Being called "bien gordita" (fat) is a compliment.

9. It's perfectly acceptable to own your own machete and walk around town with it hanging around your belt.

8. Procrastinate much? No tenga pena! Showing up 30 minutes late to a meeting will just give you some points for culturally integrating - and save you from waiting around for 30 minutes.

7. The first and most widely debated topic of any meeting is what the "refracción" (snack) will be. Can take up to 15 minutes (after waiting 30 minutes for the meeting to start).

6. After getting asked where in the US you are from, 1 out of 2 Guatemalans will say they have either been there or currently have a relative in the state.

5. Two words: Street food. Cheap, yet delicious. Stool test not included.

4. After being here for a while, you sit impatiently waiting for tortillas while your food gets cold because you can't eat without them.

3. You thought the first time you stepped up on that shiny yellow school bus in kindergarten was going to be cool- little did you know you would be on that very same bus 18 years later, in a different country and totally pimped out blasting anything from Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" to Nigga's "Te Amo Tanto" - AND have to pay your fare to a guy who is best described as the Indiana Jones of Guatemalan transport while the bus barrels down the Inter-American highway at top speeds, securing your luggage on top of the bus.

2. Catching a ride in the back of a truck when the bus hasn't come by for hours is just doing what you need to do- even if it's with livestock.

and the No. 1 reason why Guatemala is awesome . . .

1. "Fíjese que . . ." can be used as an excuse for pretty much ANYTHING.

I am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Since I've been in Guatemala the past fifteen plus months, not one day has gone by that I have not come upon a new realization, an epiphany, of the lives people live here - in the real world- or, on the contrary, the life I have been living in the Western world - our fantasy land.

Being a woman in Central America has made me something I never thought I would say about myself - please excuse my French - a feminist. There. I said it. Now excuse me as I wash my mouth out with soap...

No, I haven't burnt any bras down here (they're too nice, comparatively), but the feeling of lashing out at male - or passive female- colleagues at times overcomes my emotions so much that, just for the sake of keeping peace and my reputation as a calm, collective woman, I "take a phone call" (read: make a phone call to someone to blow off some steam); or, in typical Barbara-fashion, bluntly ask the reasoning for whatever "solution" they have found to make the men dominant in whatever given situation.

It usually takes them by surprise, as they're not used to being questioned... especially by a woman.

The first time I truly felt affected by this was in my second month in site. There was a problem with managing the money of the artisan store in town- namely, there was no setting aside a small percentage of the profits to build up over time, so that would allow to serve as a cushion for when payments weren't received immediately. This way, the ladies could get paid right away and not have to wait for the payment to arrive.

I suggested this to the director of the organization, as well as two other male colleagues. No one said anything. They continued to argue over possible solutions when the director repeated my exact words (though in better Spanish). Immediately the two male colleagues praised him for such a stellar and ingenious idea.

I was dumbfounded.

It was then I realized that it does not matter what you say- what matters is who says it.

As frustrating as those situations still are, the fact of the matter is that being a Western woman in an indigenous community allows me to get away with far more than I could ever dream of if I were a local woman.

For example, I live alone. People don't understand why.

"What about your children?" they ask me.

"I don't have any," I tell them.

"Well, did your husband give you permission to leave?"

"No, I don't have one. But if I did, then I wouldn't need to ask him for permission... he would need to ask me for permission to do anything," I half-jokingly explain.

They laugh, but probably think my situation is just as ridiculous as I think what they are asking me.

So we're 1 for 1, I guess.

Another thing I manage to get away with here is having the freedom of carrying a backpack as full or as empty as I want at the age of 24.

If I were a 24 year-old indigenous woman in my town, I would probably have my third surviving baby strapped to my back, one child in each hand and be balancing a basket full of chickens on my head, walking one and a half hours to market at 7 in the morning.

And if I'm lucky, my husband would be walking next to me, empty handed- sober.

The freedom of choice is something I have never realized so much before as I do now. And I am not talking about the choice of abortion- I'm talking about being fortunate enough to have been educated to make clear, conscious decisions... knowing the possibilities that lay ahead, and knowing the possible outcomes- being able to make decisions based on choice, rather than accepting to live life the same way everyone else has and is, because that's how it is "supposed" to be.

Being one of two gringas in town allows for many exceptions; however, it also allows for many opportunities.

Earlier this evening, I was doing some Peace Corps work in my kitchen while my trusty site mate, Charlie, was building a rabbit cage for the three rabbits we have. He told me there were two women knocking at my door. Not expecting anyone, I opened the window and peeked out to see who it was. I saw a teenager with a baby strapped to her back and her friend, both whom I had passed in the street earlier in the day.

After greeting them, the friend of the mother started explaining how they would like help with their baby. A million thoughts were whizzing through my head... they probably want money, or food, or clothes... or me to take the mother and baby to the states? Absurd, but not that far-fetched, I have learnt after being in site for over one year.

Finally, after asking them how I could help them, the friend managed to say that they wanted help naming the week-old infant, and would like me to write down a list of names for them. I ran into the kitchen to fetch a pen and paper and went outside.

A bit frightened that they were going to name the baby after me, I asked what the sex was.

"Male," they replied.

I was secretly relieved.

I then asked what kind of name they wanted?

"Something that is uncommon around here," answered Aurelia, the 17 year-old mother.

So I started naming a random, assorted list of names off the top of my head, mainly of male Peace Corps friends in the region, as well as some more bizarre names I thought they may like- I mean, there are a handful of men named Wagner, Nixon (mainly in their 30's) and Jackson in my town, so I was just trying to fit the mold. Charlie also yelled out a few names as he continued working on the rabbit cage.

I left them with the list of names, which they told me they would look over with their family, and then let me know of the outcome. I can honestly say this is the most thought I have ever put into naming a child- even more than my future ones. ;)

I cannot tell a lie- I had to throw in a Hungarian name- so if a little indigenous Zoltán is running around in a couple years, you will all know who to blame...

Thinking Critically in Guatemala

When joining Peace Corps, I knew many challenges and difficulties would come along the way, but of course, I didn’t quite know what those challenges and difficulties would be. Almost a year into service, I can now say I have a reasonably good idea of what to expect most of the time- but that certainly does not rule out a surprise every-so-often.

Being a marketing volunteer for an artisan co-op has been an awesome experience so far - I absolutely love my job. I get to help out the ladies with color combinations, designs, and even help create and improve new and existing products. I consider myself a fairly creative person, but never in my life did I think I would be designing products people would actually wear… seriously.

Though it’s fun to get creative on my own, the whole idea of me being here is to teach the women how to be creative themselves, how to think outside of the box. You must be thinking “Well, geez, they’re artisans, they must be creative!” And they are, but not the same way we have learnt to be creative.

Hugh MacLeod once said, “Everyone is born creative; everyone is given a box of crayons in kindergarten.”

Well, Hugh, you could not be more wrong.

It’s probably safe to say that about half of the 130 women I work with have never gone to school. Not for one day. Those women, by default, are illiterate. Another 25% of the women have had some education, perhaps two or three years. The remaining 25% have a few more years of education, but only one of two of the 130 artisans have actually received their high school diploma. Receiving your high school diploma in Guatemala is equivalent to receiving your university degree in the US, Canada, Europe, etc.

While doing a product improvement workshop in one of the more advanced communities, I showed them a shoulder bag that I had bought from another artisan co-op. The bag is similar to a product they make, but to avoid singling out the artisan herself and using a product from our group, I opted to use a product from a different co-op to get the ladies to see the flaws and suggest improvements without having to criticize one of their own.

I started by passing around the bag for them to see it in their own hands, examining it closely. Doña Victoria said it was a good bag, she wouldn’t change anything. I told her to give me three things she would change. After some thought, she said she would put a zipper on the outside, one in the inside, and make the strap adjustable, since some people are taller than others.

After Doña Victoria, the bag was passed to another 15 women, and they all made the same suggestions- two more zippers and an adjustable strap. Though I encouraged the women to propose different improvements to be made to the bag, they stuck with Doña Victoria’s three ideas.

Once I got the bag back, I presented my two suggestions. The first was for a better-quality zipper to replace the original one that closes the bag. The second was better tailoring work- I showed this to the ladies by showing the two inch hole in the side of the bag that none of them had mentioned, for some reason. They were all surprised when I showed them this.

I must say that kind of baffled me at first – of 16 women, not one picked up on the most obvious error. But after thinking it through, I realized that Doña Victoria was the first to point out her suggestions, and the rest followed. They either didn’t want to say anything different to what she had already said, or they really didn’t know what else to say, so they felt safe by repeating her over and over again.

I tried giving them the analogy of when they buy a new güipil (traditional embroidered shirt- what fashion is for indigenous Guatemalan women) for themselves. They try it on, make sure it’s sewn together properly and that it’s of good quality. Gringos do the same thing, I told them- if they are paying for something, they want to make sure it is a quality product.

Although the workshop didn’t go quite the way I had imagined it to go, it made me realize two things:

1. Creating analogies is probably the best way to get the ladies to understand a lot of concepts that are so foreign to them. They certainly are not stupid, they just need alternative ways of looking at things to make them see and understand a point more clearly.
2. As much as I thought learning how to “critically think” was so dumb when I was in grade school (I thought, “Everyone knows how to think, duh!”), I cannot express how much I realize now that it is such a vital part of our education. Just by working with the ladies, who are wonderful in so many different ways, I see how not having an education has hindered them from being so much more than they already are. It really makes me wonder sometimes what some of them could have become had they been given the chance to complete their studies.

Teaching business concepts to illiterate women is something that did not really cross my mind when I found out I was going to be a business advisor in Guatemala. We are so used to the “general knowledge” we have been gifted in our first world countries that we take for granted the littlest things that make the biggest difference. That is why it is so humbling when the ladies, many of whom are single mothers to families of 6+ children that cook, clean and manage the house, still come to workshops and make an effort to understand what is being presented to them and take part in dialogue with their colleagues, because the one thing they do understand is that they want to improve their quality of life.

The Right to Endure

The following is based on two interviews undertaken with two local indigenous community leaders, Isabel Miranda and Juana Jiménez. All stated facts, unless otherwise noted, are information retrieved from the aforementioned women, based on both their personal experiences and trainings on Guatemalan Constitutional and Human Rights laws. In case you can't tell from the article, understand this: these women rock.

Almost 13 years after the Peace Accords were signed in Guatemala City’s Central Plaza in 1996, discrimination and marginalization among the indigenous Mayan population continues at an alarming level today. Under-educated and many times uneducated indigenous Mayans are uninformed of their rights through no fault of their own, a problem that seriously hinders the progress in the development of Guatemala’s indigenous communities.

In 2007, Guatemala was cited with having the highest percentage of chronically malnourished boys and girls in Latin America, and the fourth highest in the world. The Evangelical and Catholic churches have created a stronghold in more rural communities that discourages families to use any form of contraception, while organizations that promote family planning collide with those moral barriers.

Women in the rural communities are fortunate if they have a second grade education- few of them can read, write, or even have a strong command of Spanish. Through the local association AMMID (Asociación Maya-Mam de Investigación y Desarrollo, Maya-Mam Association of Research and Development), many of the participating women have recently learnt that they have equal rights to their husbands, brothers, fathers and sons, which are outlined in the Guatemalan Constitution.

“But this is not common,” says Juana Jiménez, a local indigenous women’s rights activist and regional presenter. “If you walked up to anyone on the street and asked them what their rights are, the majority of them would not know how to respond.” She continues to elaborate that the Guatemalan Constitution not only states that men and women are equals, but that children, boys and girls, must be treated in an equal manner by their parents.

The ancient Mayans believed in a variety of equilibriums that made their life on Mother Earth possible. Balancing one another are the sun and the earth, the day and the night, the heat and the cold, and men and women, who stabilize one another. The ancestors of the current indigenous population highly respected these beliefs, and it was not until the arrival of the Spanish that their customs began to change. Many people lost their native Mayan tongues to the imperialistic Spanish, while many indigenous women were raped, which according to Juana, brought a change of machismo culture into the Mayan world.

“Women are only to cook, clean, look after the animals, and bear children- preferably males,” Isabel Miranda explains what her father told her when she suggested she study beyond the second grade. “We don’t have the opportunity to leave home to look for a job, such as being part of a community committee- just to get married.” At just 12 years old, her father told her that she was now a woman; her place was at home- not in school- and it was her job to tend to the animals, the kitchen, and to find a husband.

“I cried and cried to my mother; I just wanted to study, but my father would not let me.” Isabel made an agreement with her mother. She would work hard at home with additional responsibilities, and her mother would give her the opportunity and pay for two more years of schooling, which she says she took advantage of by taking her studies in school and work at home seriously so her mother would continue supporting her. She completed her studies at the fourth grade level when she was 14 years-old.

At the age of 16, she married and had her first child. After she had her fourth child, she became an active member of the local artisan group in her home village of Taltimiche, where she advanced her weaving and crocheting skills. Through AMMID, which she helped establish in 1992, she was able to complete an additional two years of study through a government literacy program, Conalfa, and is now the head artisan with a sixth grade education- the second highest education of 130 women in the artisan group spanning 10 villages.

Unfortunately, this is not a common story among indigenous women. The vast majority, especially those in rural villages, grows up with the belief that they are inferior and must act subservient to their fathers, brothers, eventually their husbands and all other males. This problem not only stems from the lack of attention women get from their fathers growing up, but from their mothers as well.

“Mothers also contribute to the machismo culture,” says Juana. “Many times, they will serve better or more food to their sons because they are raised with the mentality that men are superior to women and deserve better opportunities.”

“This mentality,” explains Isabel “is because once a girl is married off, it remains the son’s responsibility to care for their parents when they get older and can no longer work for themselves.” For that reason, daughters also are discriminated against when their parents give them land.

“I have three brothers,” explains Isabel. “They each received fourteen, ten and seven acres; my sister and I received two acres each.” Her father has passed away, but her mother, a frail 84 year-old woman, depends on the assistance of her two daughters, even though her three sons also live in the neighboring fields. Although only the two daughters continue to help their mother financially and with domestic duties, Isabel says that the remaining land her mother has will be given to her brothers, who have neglected their duties to their ailing mother.

Fidelio, Isabel’s husband, thinks it is a bit worrisome what her parents did to her and her sister. Isabel and Fidelio do not differentiate between their eight sons and daughters; they have provided them with the same kinds of opportunities concerning food, clothing, and education. Two of their three daughters have their teaching degree, while one of their sons will graduate with his teaching degree at the end of this year.

Both parents who give equal opportunities to both their sons and daughters have a tremendous affect on the future generation. “Mothers especially should boost the self-esteem of their daughters by showing them they are loved and valued,” says Juana. “Instead, many mothers tell their daughters to aguántate, or tolerate, the way they are treated by their male family members, particularly their fathers.”

Consequently, many adolescent girls attempt to fill the void of affection they could not find in their fathers by seeking it in young men, to whom they marry at a young age. As a result, the vast majority of women have identical or comparable problems as their mothers in their marriages.

Some women know enough about their rights that they take their husband to court on account of abuse in front of a judge; however, the problem with this justice system is that most judges are male who are biased towards the wife.

“Many judges will accuse the wife of being an instigator to the problems she alleges against her husband,” tells Juana. “And instead of listening to both sides, the judge will usually rule in favor of the husband and not apply the law the way he should.”

Injustices like these reaffirm the wife as being inferior to her husband, which pushes her into a corner. At this point, most women accept that they must respect their husband’s demands- whether she must ask permission to leave the house for normal domestic duties, do only what she is told, “…and even subside to sex against her will,” says Juana “because many women are frightened that if they don’t, their husbands will either leave them for another woman or physically abuse them.” Sex, in this instance, becomes just another obligation that must be performed by women, not an act of affection between husband and wife.

When Isabel and Fidelio married, Fidelio’s father told him that Isabel should be free to work and help support and develop their family. “He understands that women’s active participation in the community and supporting the family is important, and I am very grateful for the support he has given me, and for the values he has instilled in my husband.”

Though she does not have an advanced education, she finds it important for women in her community to involve themselves in municipal activities and let their voices be heard. “If you want things to improve, you must have the will power and the want for change.”

Juana, on the other hand, makes a point to teach her son, Marcos, normal domestic duties that women in Guatemala take on every day, such as making tortillas and tamales, cleaning, and even washing his older sister Brenda’s clothes. “Women need to take the initiative to involve their husbands, and especially their sons, so that they will be able to set the example in the future. Women learn everything they need to, so why can’t men?”

The signing of the Peace Accords in December of 1996 ended 36 years of armed conflict that left some 150,000 - 200,000 dead or “disappeared,” victims who were mainly indigenous men. It has also shed new light on not only indigenous rights, but also women’s rights. Many indigenous communities continue to be unaware of the rights they have been guaranteed with the signing of the Peace Accords

The current constitution of Guatemala cites that the all citizens have the right to life, liberty and equality for both men and women; furthermore, both share the rights to equal opportunities and responsibilities. It also states it is the duty of the State to guarantee inhabitants of the Republic to life, liberty, justice, security, peace and development of the individual. Although these laws already existed during the armed conflict, the main objective of the Peace Accords was to put the civil war to an end and pave the way for the transformation of the cultural, economic, social and political structures of the country.

While laws that protect the rights of all inhabitants, including the indigenous population, exist, it is now a matter of educating people in indigenous communities, particularly girls from an early age on, about what their rights are as citizens of their country and how they can exercise them without being discriminated against.

Helloooooo! Anybody out there?

Welcome back to my Guatemalan life. Other than pure laziness, I have no valid excuse for not writing for the past…. uh, four months. Sorry. I don’t think a “fíjense que” can get me out of this one.

Where to start…? I suppose from where I left off. To give a quick rundown of the last four plus months, I suppose the best place to begin is, or was, should rather say, a very important milestone in my Peace Corps experience: my parents’ visit.

My parents came for just over a week towards the end of April, which included a brief visit of Antigua, where they experiences everything a Western tourist could want in the third world: beautiful landscape, cobblestone streets, and… let’s be honest: cheap beer. Because there’s truly not an awful lot to see in Antigua, other than the decadent Semana Santa (Holy Week) processions they have (which are truly quite stunning), we headed out to the Western Highlands to visit my site, my Guatemalan reality.

Since we rented a 4 x 4, it was a much more comfortable ride, though I must say my Dad was quite perplexed when I said that we would be getting there faster had we taken a bus. After a handful of chicken buses cut us off on the two-land, two-way highway, he understood why we would have gotten there faster.

Albeit the rough traffic and rough roads, we made it to my site in one piece. We spent two days in my town, during which there was a ridiculous amount of noise being played at ridiculous hours, the water was inconsistent, and electricity kept on going off. It was perfect- I mean, I don’t think I could have planned it better myself had I tried. My parents truly got the feeling of what it is like to live here- even if they only got to experience it for just two days- it was great.

They also got to meet a few of the ladies who I work with, which meant a lot- both for the ladies and my parents. I think it gives a better idea for the both of them as to where I come from, from the ladies’ point of view, and what I am actually doing, in my parents’ point of view. That was probably the most important part of their trip for me, and I’m for them as well.

After spending some time in my site, I made sure to take my parents to Xela, about a three-hour trip away, where we soaked ourselves in Fuentes Georginas, and then headed to the lake for a serene three nights, which was a fantastic holiday for both them and me!

About a month after they came and visited, I went back home for quite a short visit- a "long" weekend. I barely had time for anything, but the real reason I went was to be at my second cousin Tony’s wedding. My family might be small, but there is definitely a lot going on. Tony, Lebanese-Hungarian, married Sonia, Japanese-Peruvian. The wedding was a blast, and totally worth going home for, especially since I saw many relatives whom I hadn’t seen for over 10 years, or baby cousins whom I had just first met then.

For the majority of June and July, there were two engineering students from University of Dayton, Ohio, who came for a summer internship to do community service type of work. Not quite knowing what they were going to be doing, they ended up building stoves, with one of the appropriate technology PCVs (who finished his service about two months ago in July). Also wanting to get in to this, I helped with some of the coordination between the office, who was helped choose the community and families that were to receive the stoves, purchasing of the materials, and of course, the actual building of the stoves. But before building was started, the families had to attend a workshop where it was explained to them why they were receiving these stoves, what the health benefits are (these stoves are smoke-safe wood burning stoves, which use less wood than open fires, and have a significantly less amount of smoke that enters the cooking area), and why these health benefits are important, how they will be positively impacted by this.

In addition to the stove project, I also got to participate in an HIV/AIDS workshop, which was given by a PCV who has done an impressive amount of these workshops. Though I only got to participate in one, so far, I’m really looking forward to starting to get a little more involved with the health side of things.

On the artisan side of things, I have been making a lot of progress with my counterpart’s computer literacy. It’s really refreshing and rewarding when you can actually see someone using the knowledge you have shared with them, having them ask you questions, wanting to learn, and you not feeling like you are forcing yourself on someone to try to help them- they want to help themselves. That is one of many things I have learnt about being here; you can have all the enthusiasm, knowledge and will-power in the world about helping people, but what it really comes down to is whether or not they want the same for themselves.

August was a pretty uneventful month- the first week I spent doing a lot a research on administration workshops, among others, and trying to put some material together before I left for the states for 15 days. As long as that may sound, I felt like I was running around the entire time! I saw a lot of people, but did not get the chance to spend as much time with everyone as I would have possibly have wanted to… but I suppose that’s how it goes. Nonetheless, it was absolutely wonderful to see everyone, and I am really happy I got the chance to go back for a longer break this time around.

Right now I don’t believe I’ll be going back before I finish my service at the end of next October- a few friends have said that want to visit, and I also would like to visit one of my best friends, who is also a Peace Corps Volunteer in Nicaragua, so I will have to start using my vacation days wisely and try to plan out everything.

As for the month of September- B-U-S-Y. I am giving a workshop on administration almost every day these upcoming weeks, and I will also be shadowing my site mate as she gives her health and nutritional workshops to the artisan groups. She will sadly be leaving in November, so I want to get a feel of what and how she does her work, so that I can help orient the new PCV, who will replace her, as well as give some of my own health and nutrition talks to the artisans.

Well, that was a hastily written update, but I hope that it gives you all a better idea of what I have been up to these past few months. I have definitely been busy, and it seems to be getting even more so as time moves on… things with my primary project (artisanal work) has really started to pick up, which I am over the moon about. There are still problems with the administration of my organization, but I am doing my best to work around that. I butt heads a fair bit with my director, because I see things should be done differently, both administratively and what I give workshops on in the communities… but time will tell. I’m trying to stay positive about it, which is the only thing I can really do. Thankfully, though, this is the worst. I feel fortunate to have such a great counterpart to work with.

I hope all is well with everyone. My apologies for such a delayed, and now as a result of that, LONG blog entry… but I will make an effort to keep a better tab on my blog entries!

Top 10 Reasons Why Guatemala is Awesome

I have been meaning to make a list like this for a while, but finally got the well-needed "shove" from my wonderful friend, Carolyn, who is also a Peace Corps Volunteer in Nicaragua. Coincidentally, she started her training just three weeks after I did, so we're practically at the same time in our service- we also write back and forth to one another (I'm talking snail mail!), which is such a great thing to get, real mail from a *real* person. It's really gotten very under-rated.

Anyway, sigamos adelante! I've always loved Top 10 lists, so I may as well start one now...

The Top 10 Reasons Why Guatemala is Awesome

10. Being called "bien gordita" (fat) is a compliment.
9. It's perfectly acceptable to own your own machete and to walk around town with it hanging around your belt.
8. You get all you can eat tortillas or tamales with every meal (but I suppose this could also be a bad thing if you're not into either)
7. Fruit and veggie markets- never will I have such fresh produce in my life as I do now
6. Volcanoes, mountains, lakes, ocean, tropical forest...what else could you ask for?
5. That song you hated two weeks ago? You now love it. Because it's playing all the time everywhere you go.
4. You never thought you'd look forward to having eggs, beans and fried plantains twice a day.
3. You thought the first time you stepped up on that shiny yellow school bus in kindergarten was going to be cool- little did you know you would be on that very same bus 18 years later, in a different country and totally pimped out- AND have to pay your fare to a guy who is probably better qualified for acrobatics than professionals. Not only that, but these buses rule the roads.
2. Catching a ride in the back of a truck when the bus hasn't come by for hours is just doing what you need to do- even if it's with livestock.

and the No. 1 reason why Guatemala is awesome......

1. "Fíjese que..." can be used as an excuse for pretty much ANYTHING.

¿Qué onda, vos?

Semana Santa, or Holy Week, is arguably one of the biggest holidays here in Guatemala; Holy Thursday and Good Friday are even recognised by the Government as Guatemala as official Guatemalan holidays, making a four day long weekend to people of any creed, even though about 60% of the population is Catholic, and about 40% Evangelical Protestant, and approximately only 1% still follow traditional Mayan beliefs.

With a country with such a strong Evangelical population, Semana Santa is basically a huge celebration for the Catholics of the country (and let's not forget the tourists), but for the Evangelicals it seemed like life just went on as normal, in an effort to differentiate themselves from Catholics. Sunday service, or daily service, for that matter, is a norm for many, but the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ are not viewed the same by Evangelicals as Catholics.

I had been in Guatemala for just three full days when I got placed with my host family for the duration of training. They were very open, friendly and talkative, which made what are usually quite awkward moments, especially when trying to get to know new people in a language you speak at the level of a five year-old, much, much easier.

We chatted about family and then moved on to what I thought were hobbies... little did I know.


My host mom: "¿Te gusta bailar?"
"Do you like to dance?"

Me: "Claro, pero no puedo muy bien, pero si, me gusta mucho... ¿y a Usted le gusta bailar también?"
"Sure I do, I can´t dance well, but yeah, I like dancing a lot. And do you like to dance as well?"

My host mom: "No. Somos Cristianos."
"No. We're Christian."


Ouch. I halfway thought about saying... you know that thing I said about dancing...? Only after she put me on the spot like that did she directly ask if I am Catholic. The next morning she invited me to the Evangelical service, to which I said "but I'm not Evangelical," but she encouraged me to go anyway, saying that "it's the same God." It was a very pleasant view on what I'd like to believe was her progressiveness, and not necessarily judging me because I am apart of the religion she has been taught to "practice against what Catholics do" (besides not being able to dance, Evangelicals are supposed to lead a straight-edge life, no drinking or smoking either; it seems like basically whatever Catholics are allowed to do, they aren't).

The service the next day was an experience itself. It lasted about four hours, and from my observation, Evangelical service is where most people are able to "shake it" and get it out of the system to the word of God and Jesus. Truly a unique experience. Such a unique experience, I felt that I should just keep it to that one time I shared with my host parents.

So moving back to Semana Santa, PCVs were granted a long weekend, meaning that we got Holy Thursday and Good Friday as official PC Holidays, which meant that we could either spend it in our sites, appreciating and for some, taking part, in the local traditions, or for others, such as myself, taking advantage of the long weekend and traveling to a new part of the country.

Already planned for quite a while, quite a number of us had the beach written into our planners for months, with the long weekend in anticipation. As the week came closer, a few people pulled out, more joined, and then some others pulled out last minute. In the end, we were a group of 10 beach-goers, eight PCVs and two friends, ready for whatever lay ahead on the road...

To get to the beach, I first had to travel to the city of Xela (Quetzaltenango City), which is about a three hour bus ride from my site, depending on bus schedules, among other things. From Xela we broke up the trip instead of going straight through with one bus. This came as a recommendation from others who had traveled the same route just a few months before, and ended up having to wait in some bus terminals for 1.5 hours, because the ayudante (the guy who collects the money) wouldn't give them the difference of their fare back so they could save time and catch the first bus that was leaving, while they were only the fourth bus in line.

So taking their advice, we did exactly as they told us. Problem was, it was Semana Santa. And by the time we got down to Mazatenango, the buses were P-A-C-K-E-D. We debated on waiting for the next one, but we were told that all buses would be the same. So we all took a deep breath and squeezed ourselves in.

To give you a picture of what it was like, imagine a school bus with three grown-ups in each seat, and every now and then a family of three or four kids in one seat. The aisle already has about 10 people standing in it, leaning on seats in an effort to not get tossed around around like Shake 'n Bake chicken. Now add 10 more gringos to the picture, putting them in the aisles. The bus moves out of the town and picks up even more people. The ayudante asks us to move further back so more people can fit in. Move where? One of the girls got offered to sit on a woman's lap, so she took up the offer. More people crowded the bus, and by this time passengers, as well as the ayudante were hanging out the open door, holding on for dear life. While the bus barrels down the Pacific Highway at about 130 kph (~80 mph), the ayudante climbs up to the roof of the bus and back down the ladder of the bus, opens the door and finagles his way through the aisle to collect the bus fare.

Once we got to our almost-final-destination, we got off our bus and immediately were surrounded by tuk-tuk (rick-shaw) drivers, as if they knew we were coming ahead of time. We got a flat rate to the port, packed in our belongings and took a 15 minute ride to the boats, racing against one another. My tuk-tuk won. ;) Once we got to the port, we got ourselves a boat, which took us through the mangrove forest to the island where we hopped off the boat, grabbed our belongings and then walked down the sand roads to the surf camp.

The place itself is small, but comfy. The 10 of us filled the 10 beds available, although some nights were so unbearably hot that some people opted to sleep out in the hammocks- the idea lured me, but the thought of getting eaten up by mosquitoes left me in bed under my mosquito net instead.

Other than just going to the beach, the main reason (for me, at least) we went there was to learn how to surf. One of the PCVs offered to teach us, and she kept true to her word. The board we had was... well, not quite the best, but somehow us beginners even managed, albeit the board slipped out underneath us or we slipped off it too many times to count! It was very encouraging though the few times we did manage to get up- even for just one or two seconds- gave me the reason to stay out that much longer to try a little harder.

I am not one to deny myself sleep, but the pure thought of being at the ocean- unfortunately not something I can allow myself to do every weekend, not even every month- and not seeing the sunrise and taking "long walks down the beach" (hehehe) every morning would have been a waste. So up I was at 5:45am every morning and ran part of the stretch, then walked the rest on the way back. I had an early breakfast, and as soon as that was finished I was in the water till about 9am with our personal surf instructor, learning the ropes of the waves.



Those few days were absolutely wonderful and much-needed. I've decided that after my Peace Corp service, I will live near or at the ocean within a year. I'm not sure which country, nor which continent, but the ocean is surely a must.

The trip back was much more eventful than the trip there. My friend and I were the only ones headed to Xela, the rest were headed directly north to Guatemala City. Little did we know the amount of traffic we were going to hit. As we hopped onto a completely empty bus, we were a bit concerned at first, but it turned out to be an "express" bus going in the opposite direction all of the traffic was going in, to later turn around and take advantage of the loads of people heading back to Guate.

As it turned out, there were to be only six of us on the bus- the driver, the two ayudantes, another passengers, my friend and I. It was Guatemalan transportation heaven. We were stuck in traffic congestion comparable to LA jams, except this was on a two-lane highway-turned up to five lanes at some points. Three to four lanes was traffic flowing against us, and then our small lane tried to finagle its way onto the side of the highway it rightfully had, but in vain.

There wasn't even an accident that caused the backup; so many people were headed in the same direction, and everyone tried passing one another that it turned into a huge mess. It got worse when people still tried passing one another, which made the backup even longer and more complicated. At one point the police managed to clear out one lane, only for the cars to go right back in once the police were out of sight.

Elodie, my friend, and I, got so sick of sitting on the bus in the traffic that we decided to walk along the traffic to at least move a little bit instead of laying across two seats the entire afternoon on the bus, as we had already done all morning. We hopped off the bus and walked against the traffic for 5 km. I had packed pretty lightly, so I only have my small backpack and a costál, or durable weaved plastic bag, the latter which I actually managed to balance on my head for most of the 5km we walked, with absolutely no hand support. My ladies would have been so proud of me.

By the time we reached the end of the line, our bus managed to get out of the jam and we hopped right back on. After one more transfer and 12 hours, we finally made it back to Xela, only in twice the amount of time as it took us to get there.

So there you have it. My Semana Santa adventure. I got back to my site in one piece, thankfully, and am enjoying being back and planning out some business discussions with my ladies and helping out in the artisan tienda (store) each market day, Wednesday and Sunday.

I hope you all had a great Easter, Passover and time off in general with family and / or friends, where ever you may have spent it!

Dentists and Reconnecting

The past three weeks have been a whirl wind- the first of the two weeks I translated for a group of dentists, assistants, hygienists and general helpers (18 in total) that came to my village to do dental work for two weeks. It was amazing to see all the work they did- they worked Monday through Thursday for two weeks, and in eight days they saw more than 500 people. One group stayed in town, and the other group traveled to a different village each day. Unfortunately we had to turn down some people, but it was really amazing to see both the gratitude the Guatemalans had here toward the dentists, as well as the humbling the work had done for the dentists.

One thing I really commended the dentists for was the fact that they charged people to get work done- not anything significant, but just a small amount so that they would be able to value the service and not "expect" gringos coming in to do work like this for free. Each procedure was charged at Q5 ($0.63) and up to Q20 ($2.50), even if more than four procedures were done. Unfortunately extractions were in abundance, as many people here don't brush their teeth, because they don't have the health education, nor can they afford tooth paste and tooth brushed for each family member. Potable water is not safe to drink (unless boiled for at least 5 minutes), and doesn't have fluoride in it like it does in the US, Canada, and even South Africa. It's something so simple that could really change the lives of many who are fortunate enough to have potable water in their houses or close by, yet some communities's main water source is a river, which many times is polluted with rubbish.

The last week I spent in the small city of Antigua, Guatemala (not to be confused with the island in the Caribbean) for "Reconnect," which is two days of getting general country updates, discussing problems / difficulties we're having in site and solutions to those problems we've found, several presentations on reporting systems and some committees made informative presentations as well. It was a bit of a reunion for everyone, since we are now in our sixth month of Peace Corps service- pretty amazing if you ask me! The rest of the week we had Spanish classes, which was great for me, especially since I speak a lot better Spanish than many people in my site- it's 99% indigenous, which is a great cultural opportunity, but in terms of learning grammatically-correct Spanish, not so much unfortunately.

With Semana Santa, or Holy Week coming up, we are fortunate enough to have an extended four day weekend, as Thursday and Friday are official Guatemalan holidays, and as Peace Corps Volunteers in Guatemala, we get all official Guatemalan holidays off as well as 4th of July and Thanksgiving off as official PC holidays, during which we can either take advantage of the happenings in our host community, or we can travel around the country to see more of Guatemala.

Being accustomed to quite a fortunate lifestyle of travel, eight months in Guatemala is quite the feat for me! With that said, I am taking advantage of the long weekend we have and hitting the beach with a few other PCVs and will attempt to surf. Luckily two of the people going are excellent surfers, and one of them even a seasoned surf instructor. With over 15 years of swimming under my belt and a good instructor, I'm crossing my fingers I'll be able to get up at least once! More to follow on this once the mission has been accomplished. Hopefully.

As for the project work, the ladies were extremely busy the past couple months. They managed to crochet 800, count 'em, eight hundred kippahs! They also completed half of the 500 wine bags, as well as various other products that the dental delegation had ordered. Now my work is really going to come- trying to find something to keep them busy until next year's dental trip! It seemed like it really did motivate quite a few of the women whose groups were advanced enough to be able to handle the order and finish it in time before the dentists left.

As for funding for the organizations, things are still not 100% clear as to what will happen. Tuesday we have our monthly meeting, so I'm hoping that at least some good news will come out of it.

I hope everyone has a wonderful spring break, Easter, Passover, or whatever it is you may be celebrating!

Todavía aquí en Guatemala

The past month and a half has been a bit of a battle- I've questioned myself what I am really here to do, what my goals are and how I am able to achieve those amid the challenges my host country agency faces as funding has become much more difficult to come by. Many community members, who have contributed an immense the last three years our agency received funding were unable to come back because of the financial difficulties our agency is facing. Our funder basically told us that they are being more picky about what projects they are funding as well as who they will give funding to. The crisis has hit here in Guatemala's small villages, too.

On 11 February I celebrated my 24th birthday in my village. My APCD (Assiciate Peace Corps Director- basically our program coordinator), came out here to check up on things, how my projects are doing, where I'm living and speak to the my counterpart, Isa, and see how the work is going, what could be improved on and give suggestions in general. The site visit went quite well. After lunch we even returned to the office to celebrate my birthday- my APCD was kind enough to buy some goodies at one of the bakeries to share with the others who were there and then my counterpart started talking about me and as Guatemalan tradition goes, everyone went around in a circle and basically said why they liked me. A bit corny, but really sweet. At the end, they presented me with a beautiful crocheted bag with a very intricately woven strap- one of the many products made by the ladies.

The day after my birthday I was awaken at 11:45 from deep sleep by a phone call from my parents. A plane had crashed into a house just minutes away from our's. All 49 people on board and one person on the ground had died. A bit confused I went back to bed and woke up again the next morning not knowing whether or not it had just been a bad dream. I check my incoming calls and sure enough I had picked up a call at about 11:45 the previous evening.

I later found out that the flight was en route from Newark to Buffalo and on board was a girl I had graduated high school with in 2003. The house that it had crashed into was yet another girl I had graduated high school with. Her sister was blown out of the house and her mother managed to escape. Both survived. Their father died.

I've flown that flight in bad weather before, and the mere thought that had it been in air 15 seconds longer it very well could have been our house. Of course it wasn't, and my heart goes out to the Wielinski family, the Kausners and all others directly affected by the flight 3407 tragedy in Clarence, New York.

On a lighter note, with the beginning of February came a new beginning of water. After four weeks of a dry tap, words cannot express how happy I was to finally have water once again in my own flat. And not only that- to my pleasant, pleasant surprise, my landlord kept his word and started fixing up my bathroom, tearing out the old, small basin and put in a new, plastic blue pila, or a water deposit with a large washing area. I had been drooling over Kelly's (my site mate) pila since I had moved into my place and had to wash my pots and pans, bigger than my basin, splashing water all over the floor and wall. I now understand why women get all excited about new appliances and kitchen renovations. They change you life forever.

The next two weeks our community has visitors from both Canada and the US- a delegation of dentists have come every year in March the past few years to do dental work on community members free of charge. A lot of teeth pulling goes on, along with cleanings, fillings and other general dental-fixtures. Unfortunately for the community members I don't think that the dentists put in golden stars as a decorative fixture, but who knows, maybe the dentists have been able to adapt their procedures to the community members' taste!

Having the dentists here means a busy two weeks, which I am really pleased about since the last few weeks have been quite uncertain in a lot of respects due to not as many people working at the agency. After the two weeks of the dental delegation, our training group will have a "reunion" to talk about our time out at site thus far, things we've accomplished, problems, solutions and general frustrations and stories that we care to share with one another. Semana Santa (Holy Week) is right after, and then almost two weeks before my parents come and visit. Thankfully it will be quite a busy next month and a half to keep me distracted, and hopefully some things will sort out by then as well. I plan on giving my ladies some lessons on the importance of being on time for meetings, since some other artisan organizations who have come to give lessons are often left waiting for almost two hours before half of the group shows up. I am definitely not the most punctual person in the world (and I'm sure many of you can attest to that!), however when free trainings are being given and the trainers are left around waiting for hours, it is not only embarrassing, but makes me wonder how serious the trainers must think the groups are about actually learning new and different techniques and designs. Start small, and hopefully grow on from there. The ladies have a lot of potential, but most of them don't realize that, unfortunately, nor do they see the business aspect in it.

Overall it's been a very mentally challenging past six weeks. I'm doing it though, I didn't come here to "try it out." I knew the challenges would be there, just not the height of them.

I hope you are all well and would love to hear from you. As I've said many times before and will keep on saying, hearing from any of you has been what has kept me going and puts me in better spirits. Take care and until next time...

A little bit about...

To give a better idea of where I’m living, I thought some of this information might be a bit useful to get a better perspective of my life here.

Though I didn’t write all of this up myself, I did make a few minor changes:

The municipality I live in is located in the western highlands of Guatemala, in the Department of San Marcos, at an altitude of 2,280 meters (7,480 feet) above sea level, which makes for warm and sunny days during the day, but can drop to almost freezing in dry season (November – April). The wet season (May – October) is, as you could imagine, wet. It tends to rain around the same time of the day, usually in the afternoon. And when it rains, it pours, as the saying goes. Consequently, it can take days for laundry to dry during the wet season, if it doesn’t mold first.

There are around 60,000 inhabitants in the municipality, 3,000 of which live in the town center itself. It is believed that town was inhabited by the Mayan people well before the Spanish invasion in 1633. The current inhabitants are descended from the reign of the Mames, whose capital is in Zaculeu, Mexico. In Mam, the name means “between rivers”, or “between the houses”.

99% of today’s inhabitants are Maya-Mam, and speak Mam as their first language. About 60% also speak Spanish. Unfortunately, the town has consistently been recognized as one of the poorest municipalities in Guatemala and has one of the highest rates of malnutrition in Central America.

Unfortunately, alcoholism is a growing problem- between both men and increasingly women as well. This problem is being addressed through a couple AA locations that have opened in town; the programs here are intertwined with Evangelicalism, which teaches that forgiveness can be found through God. Whether or not you’re a believer, you have to admit that this is probably one of the better solutions for a problem that leaves many mothers with up to 14 children to take care of themselves. Family planning is yet another issue, as many women don’t realize that they can decide beforehand how many children they want.

Being so close to the Mexican border (two hours), it is not uncommon to hear that someone’s family member (children) or husband (who has consequently left behind a wife with a number of children) has crossed into the US through Mexico to try to find better fortune. Some of the stories I have heard are indescribable. Though I do not advocate illegal immigration, just by living here and seeing how people live day-by-day has made me think completely differently on the immigration problem the US faces. On the other hand, here and where ever you might find yourself in Guatemala, speaking English freely isn’t always the best of ideas, as many people have returned from the states and can understand more than you’d think.

The citizens in my site are the only people in Guatemala to use a distinct hand-gesture as their greeting. The women still wear their traditional Mayan clothing and weave on traditional back-strap looms. The holiday of the Sacred Cross, which appeared as a gift from God in the spot where the Catholic Church currently stands, is 29 April through 3 May.

So there you have it. Despite some of the more serious problems that my site faces, it is moving forward. One example of that is the agency that I work for, which works on teaching families better nutritional practices to solve the malnutrition problem. Additionally, the artisanal groups are a compliment to that- not only does it provide income generation to allow the purchases of healthier (and often more expensive) foodstuffs, but it also encourages and empowers women to have a sustainable income apart from that of their husband’s. Food security, women’s rights and empowerment and income generation, all in one.

Enjoying It

I think at any point during their service, any PCV or RPCV can truthfully say that they’ve had moments where they just wanted to kick and scream at the inconveniences, annoyances, and yes, sometimes people- why don’t they care about getting things done to improve their lives? I don’t think it’s all that far-fetched to say that almost all PCVs have had times where they wanted to pack up their things and catch the first flight back to the land of comfort, convenience and service.

Because that would be the easiest thing, no?

But let’s not kid ourselves either. We didn’t sign up to spend 27 months away from home expecting to find the same luxuries, expediencies, and general ease of life as we had back home- but if we have, then we consider ourselves pretty damn lucky.

Anyone who does find (or has found, for that matter) himself or herself on a plane home shortly after arriving in their host country, or shortly after seeing what their site will be like, the place where they would have been living for the next two years probably didn’t have realistic expectations coming into PC, or else it really wasn’t for them, which is fine too, because there isn’t anything that is for everyone. But let’s be honest here: you don’t come to do aid work in a third world country and expect to be living the same lifestyle with the same excitement as you had back home.

Difficulties come in all shapes and sizes, and though I can only speak on behalf of my experience thus far in the Western Highlands of one of Guatemalan’s poorest municipalities (which certainly does no justice to the array of experiences of PCVs worldwide), I can tell you that life for the everyday Guatemalan here is something we would relate to a Swiss Family Robinson lifestyle. Sure there are modern conveniences such as cell phones, internet (though painfully slow at times, but don’t take that as a complaint!), cars and old school buses (which most likely would have failed any state’s exhaust emission test), electricity and running water, all those things cost money.

If she can’t catch a pickup truck on its way into town, then my counterpart, a wife and mother of eight, hikes one hour into town to work all day in an office, or go out to another community to a women’s group. I don’t think any you reading this right now, be that you’re in the US, Canada, Europe, South Africa or Australia, can fathom hiking one hour to work, only to hike one hour to get home. And after that you’ll most likely still have your chores to do if you’re a woman, because that’s just the way things work here.

Two days after I moved into my apartment, I found myself with no water. None. Not a drop has come out of the shower, emptied into the toilet or come out of the basin faucet since 6 January. Unfortunately I don’t have a pila (to store water and wash dishes and clothes in, something which I plan on talking to my landlord about). Fortunately, though, there was a water source from which I was able to haul up water with my new plastic pail I had bought as a rubbish bin, which has proved effective for the time being.

But leave it to Murphy’s Law. Before bad things get better, they always get worse. And worse they got. I thought hiking one mile to take a cold bucket bath was rough. I was most unfortunate to get food poisoning, which if you know what it comes with, does not mix well if you do not have a toilet that does not flush. I’ve come to the point of being here to just accept things, good, bad or ugly for what they are: good, bad and ugly.

A lot of PCVs have a romanticized idea of “changing the world” during their two year service. Though I have realized that this is pretty much unrealistic, you can definitely change some people’s world during the time you spend in your host community.

Cheesiness put aside, you still have a mountain of inconveniences to deal with, whatever kind of work you’re involved in. And it sucks. But everyone else seems to deal with it, so why can’t you? You’re not accustomed to it, it’s frustrating, gets in the way and slows down what you want to accomplish. Why can’t anyone understand that?

I think what’s more important is to embrace all the inconveniences, annoyances, and things that, from time to time, genuinely piss you off. Come on, if everyone else in your community has been living with the same inconveniences, either because they don’t know what exists out there that could be more convenient, or just that they’re used to the unreliability of, say, electricity or running water, what makes you so much more important than them to not be able to flush your toilet with a bucket of water every night? Your only bucket of water for the day?

Now, I have a wide range of music on my MP3 player, from Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Gorillaz, Led Zeppelin, Corben Cassavette, Ozzy Osbourne, Hungarian folk and pop, and yes, all four Classic Disney CDs I had purchased when I was 12 years old. And I still love them.

The song that I can best relate to any PCV’s service is “Enjoy It” with Hayley Mills (just one) and Maurice Chevalier from the movie “The Castaways.”

Why cry about bad weather? Enjoy it!
Each moment is a treasure, enjoy it!
We are travelers on life’s highway, enjoy the trip
Each lovely twist and byway, each bump and dip

If there’s a complication, enjoy it!
You’ve got imagination, employ it!
And you’ll see roses in the snow,
Joie de vivre will make them grow,
Voila, that’s life, enjoy it!

So, here’s to 21 more months to “enjoy it” and embrace the experience, because after this, it’s back to “normal.” Though I do hope the water comes back before I leave.