Advertisement
Published: April 12th 2006
Eggs for Carneval
The Guatemalan crack painted eggs on each others heads during their Carneval - a certain number of weeks before easter. They fill them with brightly coloured confetti and weeks before people sell them in the streets to excited children.After my whistle stop tour of a few countries in Central America I decided that I was time to settle down and relax in the central highlands of Guatemala in the second largest city of the country. The city is named Quetzaltenango, (literally, “the place of the Quetzal”. The Quetzal is the national symbol of Guatemala. It’s a beautiful bird with an amazingly long tail. Renowned throughout Central America, it appears on the flag of Guatemala and even gives name to their currency. However, in one of life’s more bitter ironies the Quetzal is fast disappearing due to deforestation and consequently the destruction of its habitat. Hence there are no Quetzals in “the place of the Quetzal” but I will diligently report back if I happen upon any) however, perhaps in recognition of the sad plight of the Quetzal most people refer to the city by its Mayan name of Xelaju or just plain Xela (pronounced shayla). In the past few years Xela has become renowned for its Spanish schools and as I am always heavily tempted by every nerdy pursuit I enrolled in a school for 2.5 month. The school I chose is name the Proyecto Linguistica Quetzalteca (PLQ) and
The Guatemalan flag
Resplendent with the Quetzal on it appealed to me because of its heavy political focus. Not only does the school provide language instruction it also offers an in-depth perspective of the struggles in the daily lives of Guatemalans an of the bitter civil war that lasted for almost 40 years which only came to a nominal end in 1996.
The school is involved in projects to better the living conditions of whole communities of Guatemalans and also employs several former guerillas who were active during the years of the war in resisting the systematic oppression and slaughter of Guatemala’s indigenous and indigent peoples.
The teaching is 5 hours a day one-on-one and is intensive to say the least. I’m pleased to report back that my Spanish has improved in leaps and bounds during my time at the school.
Part of the experience with the school is living with a Guatemalan family and learning what day to day life is like for a normal (albeit slightly well off) Guatemalan family. My experiences with the families have been quite enlightening. My first family was indigenous Guatemalans who (it appeared) were ruled by a matriarch. They were very welcoming and also very keen to talk about
Nice sunset
Taken on my second visit to Flores while on my way to Xela. Australia and the benefits of living there. Strangely, within my first week of being there I had to explain the Federal Government’s Baby Bonus Scheme to the family as one of them had heard a rumour that the Australian Government paid large sums of money to people if they have babies. Once I confirmed that this was the case the whole family was hell bent on moving to Australia to enjoy the benefits of John Howard’s social engineering.
The other thing that was interesting about this family was that they were Mormons. This made for some interesting conversations - during which I discovered that they all wanted to travel to the USA but only, and I mean ONLY, to visit Salt Lake City. They also had difficulty believing that I didn’t have a religion (the second question I was asked - after “what do your parents do?” - and how do you explain to someone in broken Spanish that your folks are barely reformed hippies?) After about ten minutes of probing about where I went to church and what I believed in, I gave up and told them I was a member of the first church that popped into
Guatemalan market
Note the traditional clothes of the women. These are amazing and each village has a differenmt style. the weaving is very colourful. my head - consequently one family in Xela think that I am a lapsed Lutheran (whatever that means!).
Unfortunately during my stay with this family the son of the matriarch of the house died of cancer. This proved to be a difficult (and interesting) time in the house where I was privy to the grieving processes of Guatemalan Mormons (something I never, ever thought I would gain first hand experience of). In Guatemala they bury their dead very quickly and consequently within 24 hours of the son dying they had the funeral and buried him. This meant that as I went away for a weekend on a Saturday Morning all was fine in the house but when I returned late Sunday afternoon the son had been buried and I was now living in a house of mourning. I expected to see lots of flowers and cards around the house but none appeared. In fact everything went back to a fair degree of normality after just a few days.
After returning from my time at the coffee plantation and Cuba (see my next blog for updates on what happened when I was put to work making pure Guatemalan coffee)
Crazy church
I cant recall its name but it is famous for its painted entrance. I moved in with a new family. My experience here has been totally different and just as interesting. My host dad is very active in the community and has even taken me to his radio program that he hosts once a month for the over 60’s. The family is great fun and includes a cute dog named Pulga (Flea) who continually has a cold and spends her time wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the couch like a decrepit grandma.
Compared with my last family this one didn’t seem too interested in my religion but on finding out that I was a solicitor they were very excited. I’m always weary when people are excited when finding out that I am a lawyer because it means either they are a) slightly deranged (I mean who gets excited about meeting a lawyer?) or b) they want some legal advice for some strange problem they have.
Luckily for me my family fall into both categories. On hearing of my profession they promptly asked me to call the police and complain about all the noise the church across the street had been making since the Pentecostalists had moved in and started
Thar she blows
Volcan Santa Maria and another volcano erupting behind it. It does this several times a day. Really cool. conducting the world’s loudest prayers sessions. As my father said “Who can possibly listen to Christian rock all day, it’s just not right” (never a wiser word has been said). My family explained that perhaps the police would finally take notice of their complaints if they were delivered by a Gringo lawyer. Not wanting to start any serious neighbourhood conflicts I politely declined, but after the last week of Christian ballads I’m either gunna buy the next Jars of Clay album or pick up the phone and call the cops ASAP.
Guatemala is awash with fascinating traditions and beautiful sites and I can’t possibly manage to describe all that I have seen here in this entry. The PLQ arranges numerous excursions each week and I have been fortunate enough to witness everything from Mayan rituals and psychedelically decorated churches to natural hot springs and the world’s most dangerous slippery slide. Some of the photos I have included will give a small indication of the remarkable things I have experienced during my time at the PLQ.
Rather than focus on the good, it’s more my blogging style to focus on the weirder aspects of life in Central America. And
The photo you've all been waiting for!
Yes that's me digging half a hole. We were volunteering at some reforestation project. Note that I am still talking all the while... to do this I need to acquaint you all with perhaps the most dangerous aspect of my time here in Guatemala and most other countries around this area. That is none other than the act of showering. Not usually associated with danger - the risk that comes with showering here is that most bathrooms are fitted with my favourite piece of bathroom furniture - the Shower of Death!
As most houses don’t have integrated hot water systems these showers create hot water immediately prior to the water leaving the showerhead. It does this by heating the water by creating an electrical current with two bare wires so that once you turn the shower on the water is heated. After my electrocution in Honduras and the years of learning that electricity and water do not mix it is more than disconcerting (read, absolutely terrifying) to walk into a shower and see two old, twisted electrical wires leading from some unknown power source directly to the showerhead. On first impressions it looks like a new version of the electric chair and once in and you turn the shower on you aren’t greatly reassured when the bathroom lights flicker as the shower
Slide of Death
At the bottom is a 100 metre drop! draws away current from them.
My fear of these showers has led me to adopt a “don’t touch” approach to them. This means that every time I shower I duck as low as I possibly can so that there is zero chance that I will make contact with the shower. Crouched over while soaping myself I often think it will be hard to explain to everyone back home how I possibly managed to die in the shower via electrocution - “what was the damned fool doing in there anyway, using the hairdryer” I can just hear everyone asking when the news is delivered tat I was found crouched over and burnt to a cinder in a Central American shower cubicle.
I was telling someone this same story yesterday and she pointed out that if I was really that scared of death I should, while showering, adopt the pose that I would like to be in when I am found dead in the shower. So, for the rest of my time here I’ll be showering in some cramped approximation of a Napoleonic style, wistful and as graceful as you all know I can be…
Advertisement
Tot: 0.093s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 12; qc: 54; dbt: 0.0639s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
venga girl
non-member comment
I want to be at the best of Venga spas! Miss you Venga