Finally, after numerous hours of weeping under my bed beside the cockroaches, I managed to pull myself out and over to the computer to recount my first day of teaching. I’m alive, just barely. Actually, that dramatic opening was entirely facetious. Thanks to all your brilliant comments, my first day went well, surprisingly well. I introduced myself sans grammar mistakes. I laid down the law like the most cunning of dictators—(I loved telling those frightened faces that if they come more than 5 minutes late to my class without a valid reason in written form, they won’t be allowed in at all--Muahahaha) And I didn’t fall on my face nor fart once! I must admit, there is something delicious about standing in front of 30 anxious adolescents, each of which believing (naively of course) that I ... read more

Yesterday morning, at 8:00, the teachers at the Yinhabil Na’ben school, were supposed to meet to assign class subjects and schedules. Having slept through our cell phone alarms, the three American teachers and I rushed out of the house at 8:20. Mortifying. How could we be late would be late on our first day? We rushed up to the stairs, into the dusty classroom--which was empty. Had the other teachers moved the reunion elsewhere? Had they been so angry with our tardiness that they just left? We rushed down the stairs—perhaps there would be someone who we could ask, who had seen the others walk of towards another meeting spot, and then in walked the director. “¡Hola! Bienvenidas!” he smiled at us. “Thanks for being so punctual.” The other teachers too were punctual, arriving exactly on ... read more

Beneath a web of vines, she memorized the patchwork of the stars. This she did three thousand miles north, three thousand miles— from the sky?—no, away her body reflected three thousand times, that body the stars reflected. But they had escaped the night, those stars fled from the fog, how audacious it was, the icing of fog. That night it had draped itself over the flaccid buildings, over the glazed eyes of grandmothers; they tied the charcoal pigs, tied their necks to wooden posts, and from the posts, those pigs, they did not know, those pigs, whether the stars had scattered, or hidden, had they hidden that evening? The pigs could never know. Only the one displaced, uprooted from the north, hated that evening, and its barren stars, how hidden, those stars, how lost they were ... read more

As I child, when I craved junk food, my physician mother would hand me something fat free and organic, promising I would appreciate this someday that I when everyone around me had clogged arteries and diabetes. I was always skeptical of this, especially on weekdays. Back then, my parents would let me have a candy bar only once a week, on sundays, as if chocolate were a religious experience. One blustery Tuesday at lunch, the anticipation of 5 more sugar free days was just too devastating. I surveyed the playground to make sure my sister was nowhere in sight, then asked my friend if she would give me one of her mini-snickers left over from halloween. "Are you sure Jen, I mean, don't your parents not let…" "They don't care about that anymore," I lied, ... read more

And how do you like your chicken bus? Today was foggy enough for me to finally leave Huehuetenango for San Mateo Ixtatan, the mountain town in which I´ll be spending the next eleven months. All morning I prepared myself for this ascent. For breakfast I ate the best piece of dulce de leche cake, had my last double cappuccino and bought the two best bottles of alcohol I could find. Of course, best isn´t saying too much. Because they were out of Johnny Walker red (Julio had probably ordered the last bottle in Huehuetango) and I had to settle for ‘Black prince Whisky´, a flimsy looking bottle lauding its authentic Scottishness but with tiny print on the back admitting it was fabricated in Guatemala city. With the help of a few friendly Guatemalan men, I managed ... read more

For those of you who don´t speak French, guatemalade (Guatemala + malade (sick) is a catchy term invented by a friend of mine from Toulouse who had gringa disease every day of her two month stay here. Sadly, my guatemalade days began yesterday at sunset, an hour or so before I was intended to meet up with some authentic Huehuetecos I met through couchsurfing.com. Being sick is for sissies. I told myself, and headed out the door, thinking that if nothing else I could get a tea at the gringo-y coffee shop where the rendez-vous was to take place. In the café cabana, I met Julio Ramirez, who spoke English as well as I do, and William Mandrake, who spoke none at all. William had also brought his little sister Fleur (I never was able to ... read more

So I'm leaving in 6 days for San Mateo, and yes, one thing off the checklist. I've created this lovely blog, which apparently is more for "travelers" than crazy people who are staying in one cold place for an entire year to work. These past days have been fun, in anticipation of trips to REI for fleeces and trader joes for massive quantities of peanut butter. I haven't left any of you yet so I don't miss you---but I will very shortly... read more