Guatemala, Te Amo

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Sorry I haven't been consistent with postings- I've been so busy with school I hadn't had a chance to post the last few entries- here they are, in one huge chunk!!

Dias 31, 32, 33

Sorry I haven’t been able to write- life has been rich and full! I have been having an absolute blast here and am learning soooo much ☺ Tuesday morning I slept in a little bit- instead of doing our volunteer sites, we had arranged a private tour of the Gallo factory (gallo means rooster). Gallo is a Guatemalan brand of beer that is made exclusively here in Xela and in Guatemala City. We had to organize a group of at least 15 people. So I invited Jaime and Margarita to join us and everyone else pooled together friends. We met in front of the school at 9 AM to walk over to the brewery. It looked like a huge fortress from the outside, and there was pretty high security involved in letting us in. The tour took us through most of the important buildings involved in the making of beer, and the factory was built like a small city. There were large decorative fountains, several streets including a “main street,” and a large central park/square equipped with large, antique equipment that used to produce beer. She explained the complex process in Spanish, but I doubt I even would have understood it in English anyways.. haha. We saw the large tanks that hold the beer in various stages of processing, the lab where they continually conduct testing to ensure quality of the beer, etc.. my favorite room was a giant room where the bottles travel around on a little conveyer belt through various stations- one to run light through the bottle to ensure it is clean, another to fill the bottle, another to put the cap, another to stick on the label… it was extremely loud, the air rang with the clicks of thousands of bottles jostling together. The tour guide told us that the factory produces 40,000 bottles per HOUR! After the tour we had the opportunity to “taste” the beer, but it was only about 10 AM so I decided to have a soda instead… the boys had beer but not everyone was a fan. There is another special beer made at the factory called Cabro (which means goat) that is basically “Xela’s beer.”
After spending a few hours at the brewery, we headed over to BakeShop to stock up on some goodies for our trip to Tikal. We decided to buy a jar of homemade peanut butter, a few loaves of bread, granola, and some other goodies for the road. I also tried the signature cookie of bakeshop, a combination of peanut butter, chocolate chips, and oatmeal- sooo yummy! I went home to a huge delicious lunch with the family and headed to class with Eduardo, which was extremely productive as usual. After class we had planned an extra salsa lesson for 7 PM, which was a blast. I still feel pretty rhymically challenged.. but it’s a lot of fun regardless ☺ After class I came home and had a late dinner ( typical menu- beans, bread, and a fried egg sunny side up), did some homework, and headed to bed.
Wednesday I got up early to do a volunteer day at Toto, the big hospital. As soon as Mike and I arrived we found out that Tuesday ( my normal day, I didn’t come because of the tour of the cervezeria) there was like 5 births!! I can’t believe I missed them… but as usual my streak of bad luck continued and no pregnant women had arrived when we got there. We spent about ½ hour struggling to find masks and scrub caps to shadow surgery (the staff literally told us we were supposed to bring our OWN masks, hats, gloves, shoe covers- they are not provided by the hospital!) but finally got into the OR and watched a foot biopsy. After the surgery we headed back to OB/GYN and I was thrilled to find out a woman in labor had arrived and would be giving birth soon. After bouncing back and forth between surgeries and the hall, the moment finally arrived- I was about to see my very first birth! I was really anxious and so was the mother-to-be: it was her very first baby. Mike and I watched from a few feet away. The process was not easy… she pushed and pushed for almost an hour without success. Finally, the doctors warned her the baby could die if she didn’t give birth soon.. and the baby finally came. It was a miraculous thing to watch- I will never forget it. It was just so incredible to see a woman come in with a big belly.. and then a few minutes later there was a baby! I have to say, though, the entire process was a lot… messier… than I expected. There was lots of sweat, lots of blood, even a little bit of poop… and I was pretty horrified to learn what an episiotomy is.. (I don’t want to scar anyone, if you are interested, google it… haha). I had a pretty idyllic image of birth in my head, and it is certainly not as pretty as I imagined.. but miraculous nonetheless. I have a new respect and admiration for all mothers- what an incredible feat!
The birth itself happened very quickly; as soon as the baby came out a team of several people rushed in
and began attending to it. One woman used a tiny bulb to suction fluid and gunk out of the babies mouth. Someone else rushed in with a towel to wipe the baby clean and quickly look over the body for any problems or abnormalities. The baby, a tiny little boy with a healthy head of thick black hair, was laid on a tiny platform underneath a heat lamp. After about 30 seconds he finally began to cry, weakly at first but with increasing anxiety as many hands poked and prodded him with shots of vitamin K, rags, and tubes to clear out his stomach. For me, the most miraculous moment of the entire ordeal was when he opened his tiny little eyes for the first time. I was standing over him, and felt a little bit guilty that my face was the first he saw, not his mothers… but it was so incredible. Seeing the world for the first time. His eyes were wide and curious, darting around the room with anxiety. He seemed so scared and helpless… poor little guy was just minding his own business in his warm little home when suddenly everything changed. I stared at this little new life, completely absorbed in wonder, until he was finally dressed in his tiny little outfit and given to his mother. I wanted to stay and learn what his name would be.. but I had to leave to catch the bus back to Xela in time for lunch. Though seeing a birth wasn’t as pretty as I imagined… it was absolutely miraculous My dream to be an OB/GYN suddenly seemed so real- THIS is what I could be doing with my life. Bringing new life into the world. I left the hospital with my heart full and my mind buzzing. though I may consider choosing a cessarian section someday for my own kids… haha
Wednesday in class Eduardo and I had a productive day. I FINALLY got to review my biggest weakness- subjuntivo pasado (past subjunctive) and feel like I have gotten to cover my most important topics. Eduardo and I also spend a lot of time in class just chatting, which allows me to learn common expressions and subtle differences in words here. After class, we had an incredible conference at the school. A woman came to speak to us about her experience as an illegal immigrant to the United States. She hired a coyote (smuggler) in Guatemala for 3,000 Q ( about 400 USD) who promised to take her to the US in “cars” and “trains.” This, of course, turned out to be a lie. Most of their travelling was done on foot… They travelled in car to the edge of Guatemala, then ascended into the mountains. Each day, they would rest during the daytime and walk through the night. The walked for up to 12 hours straight in the darkness, navigating steep mountains, rivers, and desert. When the crossed over into Mexico, they constantly had to keep themselves hidden from immigration. This was a new concept to me- I always assumed they could just cross into Mexico without problems, but that is not the case. Apparently since Mexico is basically a corridor used to get to the United States, Mexico doesn’t allow foreigners from these countries, and they ahd to keep their existence a secret. The woman, Rosa, and her fellow travelers (1 other woman and 1 other man), suffered for weeks travelling through the night. During the day, the coyote would descend into the local towns, bringing back stale bread and sardines, sometimes a little bit of water. Each night, the women would cry. They were tired, dirty, miserable, and hungry. The food was often not enough, so they were forced to steal mangos or lemons from farms when they passed through in the night. Some days, they even resorted to eating grass because they were so hungry. Perhaps the most upsetting part of her story.. Rosa was also repeatedly raped by her coyote, as was her female companion. The coyote would simply order her to have sex with him, and if she refused, he would threaten to turn her into immigration, or abandon her in the mountains for dead. Finally, when they reached a certain city in Mexico, they were able to make part of the trek by truck, as promised. They were forced to hide laying down under huge bags of food and rice in suffocating heat. They couldn’t move or talk at all during the ride, but finally arrived in Tijuana. They continued on foot through the night in Tijuana, and eventually had to cross the border by crawling through a huge sewer pipe. When they arrived in San Diego, they were hustled into a tiny house where Rosa was raped by 2 other coyotes from America. She was then hidden under a carpet in a minivan and brought to Los Angeles, where she was forced to pay another $5,000 USD to American coyotes, which she had to borrow from a friend. It seems almost all illegal immigrants have to have a connection in the United States, in order to give them shelter when they arrive and to help pay their way into the states. In all, Rosas journey lasted almost 3 weeks and she barely survived. She spent 5 years in the United States, working as a nanny and a housekeeper for several families. She came to the US to send money home to her 3 children, who were cared for by their grandmother in her absence. As a single mother in Guatemala, Rosa could barely afford to feed her children. She applied for a legal visa to the US but was denied… and out of desperation, found the coyote to bring her to the US. She worked hard to send money for her kids, to give them opportunities to go to school. Sadly, the grandmother was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease 5 years after Rosa arrived, so she returned to take care of her children. She has been back in Guatemala for 10 years.
We asked her how her children are doing, and she proudly told us of their success as students. When asked if she ever wanted to return to the US. She hesitated… and told us that she had thought of going back several times. But she has had health issues lately, and worries that if she tries to return, and dies during the journey, her children will be left with no one. I asked her if she would encourage her children to make the journey- she said absolutely not. “Too much suffering, too much risk.” And her life as an undocumented alien in the US was a life in the shadows. She never left the house she worked in, constantly living in fear. Finally, I asked if she thought it was worth it in the end. She started strong, emphatically saying yes- to feed and provide for her children, it was absolutely worth it. But as she spoke, tears crept into the corners of her eyes, her brow furrowed in agony. It was clear that this woman carries deep, permanent scars from her journey. In a trembling voice she described the inevitable shame and dirtiness she felt for having had sex with the coyotes. She had no choice, of course.. but the trauma has stayed with her. Rosa described herself as lucky, as she didn’t end up pregnant from one of these encounters…. I found myself in tears listening to the horrible experiences this woman endured trying to care for her children. Surely, I’ve heard about the many people who die trying to cross our borders. I’ve heard that the journey is difficult. But looking into the eyes of a woman who experienced it first hand is very different. I never imagined how horrendous these experiences were, especially for women and children. I never realized how difficult it was to come here legally, how desperate the circumstances were that forced people to risk their lives for even a small chance of success. I’ll never forget her story… all of the experiences I have had here have forced me to question my views on immigration, my own prejudices and stereotypes now seen ignorant and cold. I’m not trying to justify illegal immigration… but I definitely have a new point of view, a new appreciation for the determination and intentions of these people. They are breaking the law.. but they are not all criminals. Most of htem are just looking for a better future for their families.. and it’s a shame there isn’t more legal opportunities for them to do so.
Thursday morning I slept in a bit before heading to the ICA clinic to shadow. It was a really busy morning, and I helped Mariano see tons of different patients. The first patient was an American man with his wife, and I helped translate a little bit. He had been working on a cold for a while, and was given some amoxicillin to take by a pharmacist. He had received bad information on the dosage, but we managed to set everything straight. We saw a variety of other problems, including a baby that potentially had hepatitis A. I was shocked to learn that this is incredibly common here- you can get it from the food, almost anywhere on the street… thank goodness I had a vaccine before I came! It basically just hits you like a hard cold, but I’m glad I don’t have to worry about it… after lunch, in class with Eduardo, I told him the story of the woman from the conference the night before. He listened intently.. and then told me he had lived illegally in the United States for 5 years also. I was shocked- Eduardo is a professional, has worked as a Spanish teacher for 20 years, and is 1 year away from becoming a lawyer. It just didn’t make sense to me… before we got too much into his story, we headed out to run a few errands. Eduardo is very flexible with our class time, and since I am advanced, our class today was basically just chatting as we walked. I was asking him about suggestions for clothing for my trip to Tikal. It is extremely hot and humid in Tikal, which suggests “shorts weather,” but there are lots of mosquitos and it is a “malaria risk zone.” He suggested I find a pair of light leggings and a loose fitting top. I told him I didn’t have time to shop before leaving, so he offered to take me to La Democracia, the big open-air market in Xela. We went through a few stands looking at a variety of clothes before I decided on an outfit with bright teal leggings and a tunic-style sheer top (obviously I’d go for the blue). I originally wanted to buy a pair of black or brown leggings, but he warned that they would be too hot. In retrospect, the blue leggings were wayyyy too loud to wear as daytime clothes.. and thankfully hau talked me out of it later. But, he helped me style the tunic and it turned out to be a great cover-up for over my bathing suit in Rio Dulce.. but I’ll get more into Rio Dulce later.
Anyways, after my baby shopping spree I went to Eduardo’s house to finally pick up my finished custom cowboy boots made by his brother, Mario. They turned out INCREDIBLE! The sample pair I saw the week before was nice… but these exceeded all my expectations. I chose brown boots with turquoise embroidery. They are completely made all by hand, all leather.. and they are fabulous! The attention to detail is clearly visible, they are absolutely flawless and fit me like a glove! I am so excited to wear them, it’s a shame theres so much rain here otherwise I’d wear them the rest of my trip! I rushed back to class in time for the break to show off my new boots, putting on a small fashion show for my classmates and the other teachers.
After our productive day of shopping and boots, Eduardo began telling me the story of his experience as an undocumented immigrant. First things first- he had to explain WHY he decided to come to the United States. Eduardo is an extremely hardworking man- he attended University and was studying to become a lawyer. He had completed 4 of 5 years and looked like he had a bright future in front of him. Then, one day, everything changed. He received a phone call that changed his life- he was told that the records showed he had failed to complete one course during his first year that was a prerequisite for all of the following years. He argued he had taken the class, and had the professor as well as hundreds of classmates as witnesses… but this didn’t help. The school did not have a computer system and all records were paper- and without the physical copy of the transcript, he may as well have never taken the course. The paper was lost, and so was his chance to become a lawyer- he either had to start over at year one and retake all courses, including the one he was missing, or find another career. This story was shocking to me- something like this would never happen in the US, of course. But, because of the way things work here, Eduardo found himself in a terrible position. He plunged into a deep depression, struggling with the impossible decision. He didn’t want to give up his dream to be a lawyer, but it seemed unthinkable to retake all the courses AND pay for tuition all over again. Then he decided he needed a change.
Eduardo had a friend named Jaco who had been hounding him for years to go to America. Jaco came from a wealthy family and was somewhat bored with his life in Guatemala. “Let’s just get up and go to America tomorrow,” he’d say. Eduardo had laughed it off and never accepted the offer for years… but then in 2004 when his dreams of law school were destroyed, he made a split decision and called Jaco, telling him they were going to leave for California in 2 days. Jaco didn’t believe him at first; he came straight over to Eduardo’s house expecting the whole thing to be a joke. Eduardo stood by his plan, insisting they go and find a new life in California. Two days later, they had said their goodbyes to their families and were on their way to the Mexico border. They decided to avoid using a coyote (smuggler) whenever possible. They stayed in a border town in Guatemala, crossing over into Mexico during the day to observe and listen to Mexicans. They paid careful attention to how Mexican men dressed, talked, ate… At night they practiced with each other, trying to abandon their Guatemalan customs and appear as Mexicans. A friend helped them get fake Mexican ID’s. They studied the names of the current president and vice president, practiced singing the Mexican national anthem- these were often used as tests when a suspected immigrant tried to sneak through Mexico to verify nationality. They exchanged money, bringing a few hundred dollars: some in Quetzales (Guatemalan money), some in pesos (Mexican money), and, of course, some in dollars. After preparing for a while, they finally crossed over to Mexico in broad daylight. Their tactic was simple- avoid looking, sounding, or dressing Guatemalan at any cost. Most Guatemalans who try to cross through Mexico do so in darkness, on trains, on second or third-class buses. Eduardo and Jaco travelled during the day, on expensive first-class buses, dressed in nice slacks and dress shirts with ties. They spoke little, but when they did they used Mexican slang. In buses, they sat far from each other and towards the front of the bus- most illegal immigrants would sit next to each other, towards the back, in hopes of avoiding the inspection of immigration control. Eduardo often feined sleep when officers would enter the buses for inspections, but was sometimes questioned by officers. He played the perfect part of a Mexican businessmen, and no one thought twice.
They arrived to a bordertown at the edge of Texas in a little over a week completely unscathed, having travelled in luxury. Once at the border they booked a cheap hotel and asked the front desk for the number of a coyote. The coyote arrived to speak with them, and they continued their charade as Mexicans, convincing even the most scrupulous critic. They coyote agreed to take them to Los Angeles for $1,000 each, half to be paid now, and half to be paid by a friend in Los Angeles when they arrived. They agreed to leave they next day, and Eduardo’s friend in Los Angeles deposited $500 into a checking account number sent to him by the coyote. That night, in their hotel room, Eduardo and Jaco heard a conversation in the room next to them in low voices. They listened intently, deciding the accent was indeed Guatemalan. They knocked on the doors of their neighbors, asking them if they were Guatemalan. The three men they found, dressed in tattered, filthy clothing and looking bewildered, insisted they were Mexicans. Eduardo and Jaco asked them again and again, and each time they tried to lie that they were Mexican, looking more panicked by the minute. Finally, Eduardo and Jaco admitted to the men that they were Guatemalan. They quickly admitted their own Guate roots, and the group hugged and exchanged stories. The men had paid a coyote who promised to bring them to Los Angeles. They had arrived in the bordertown, when they coyote left, ensuring them there was a previous arrangement with another coyote who would help them cross the border- this second coyote never arrived. The men had been stranded in the border town with no idea how to cross. Eduardo invited the three men to join their group, which they eagerly accepted.
They left at 8 PM the next day, just after sunset. Eduardo traded in his businessclothes for hiking shoes and work clothes. They trekked through the darkness, climbing mountains and passing through valleys. At one point they were forced to walk in a sewage pipe where they were up to their shoulders in human excrement.. they pushed onward, filthy and tired, until they reached an enormous river- the Rio Grande. The coyote gruffly instructed them to take off their clothes, so they could keep them dry for the other side. They stripped down to their boxers, and he barked at them to take those off as well. They complained, and the coyote impatiently explained a superstition that the border has to be crossed completely nude. “It’s like being born again, in the United States,” he said. They grudgingly removed this last piece of clothing and shuffled up to the shore of the river, awkwardly trying to cover themselves. In the pitch black, they heard a large splash enter the river a few hundred meters away. The coyote sprung into action, hissing, “Stay here and don’t make a sound!!” They froze in terror, unsure if the noise was another immigrant, an animal, or border patrol themselves. After what seemed like an eternity, the coyote returned, simply telling them to jump in and swim across. They had to swim at a diagonal to avoid being swept off by the strong current. Although Eduardo is not a strong swimmer, he arrived at the other side safely. They quickly got dressed again and were instructed to start running. Eduardo described a single moment when he suddenly realized, I am in America. Despite being exhausted and cold, he felt inspired and hopeful. He began running. The coyote had them run for a few minutes, then rest, then continue. The Texas desert was bitterly cold on the dark night, which was only amplified by their wet clothes (the clothes crossed over dry, but they were forced to dress while still dripping wet). At one point the coyote told them they had 3 hours to sleep. “It’s the changing of the shift of border control,” he said simply. They vainly tried to sleep, shivering and miserable hiding under some bushes. Finally, after almost 12 hours of walking, they arrived at a tiny house in the outskirts of Bronsville, Texas. They were herded into a small house with dozens of other immigrants. They were given food and water, opportunities to shower, and clean clothes. They stayed in the tiny house for almost a week. The coyotes told htem to rest up, that the hardest part of the journey would begin in a few days. The left on a Saturday, nearly 50 men crammed into 4 tiny minivans. They drove for 6 hours on a barren highway through the Texas desert. Then, about 50 miles before a known border control checkpoint, all 50 men were rushed out of the car into the darkness. The plan was to have the cars drive through the checkpoint, while the men, led by a few coyotes, made a large detour through mountains before reuniting with the cars at the highway on the other side of the checkpoint. Border control patrolled these mountains, but stopped at a certain point known to the coyotes, convinced that human life couldn’t exist past this point.
Eduardo described the relief he felt when he realized there were no women in his group. He explained that women are almost always forced to have sex with coyotes during their journey, and that he wouldn’t be able to stand by and let it happen. He would try to defend the woman, and he would surely be killed by the coyote. Either option- allowing an innocent woman to be raped or being killed trying to defend a woman being raped- would be horrific. Luckily, his group was 50 men. The trip, however, was still one of immense suffering. They marched for hours through the desert before beginning the climb into the mountains. It was sweltering hot during the day, and they weren’t able to bring water. Eduardo counted that they passed through 82 different swamps. They were damp and dirty, aching with hunger and thirst. At one point, after about 12 hours of walking without rest, many of the men began crying, begging for the chance to stop and rest. The coyotes ignored them for an hour, then finally gave in, telling htem they could rest for ten minutes. TEN MINUTES! Though it seemed ridiculous, they were grateful to even be able to sit down. The huddled together, trying to find a comfortable position for a short nap. After just a few minutes, they found themselves shivering uncontrollably, bitterly cold. After what felt like the blink of an eye, the coyotes began to yell that it was time to go. After just a few minutes sitting, everyone was stiff and had troule moving. The coyotes yelled fiercely, bellowing, “This is why we don’t take breaks! Get up you useless animals!” The pressed onwards in a delirious state. Eduardo said that this hike was the closest he has ever come to death. He slipped in an out of lucidity, sure he wasn’t going to make it. Finally, after almost 48 hours of walking, the highway could be seen in the distance. “RUN! Anyone who doesn’t arrive at the cars in 2 minutes will be left behind to die!” shouted the coyotes. The bewildered crowd began to jog feebly as the coyotes shouted and screamed even louder. Eduardo was barely able to stand, having fallen five times during the trek of sheer exhaustion. He pushed forward, summoning his last bit of strength. As they got closer to the highway, they were forced to climb 2 large chain-link fences lined with barbed wire. He says that to this day, he still has no idea how he managed to climb those fences. He scaled both quickly, dropping to the ground with huge gashes out of each arm. Many of the other men fell trying to climb the fence, while other became entangled in the wire at the top. A few were left behind. He tumbled into one of the waiting vans and passed out almost immediately.
They drove for hours before arriving at another coyote house in Houston, Texas. Sixty-two men and one woman were forced into a two bedroom apartment, where they received food and were forced to shower one-by-one. The poor woman was scared for her life, but luckily was not assaulted. The coyotes explained that they were free to leave when the remaining $500 was deposited into the checking account. Eduardo called his friend, but his friend was busy with work and wasn’t able to deposit the money right away. One by one the crowd was permitted ot leave until Eduardo was the only one left. Finally, his friend came through and he was told to leave. He told them he needed to go to Los Angeles, and they offered to take him for $250. Having no other choice, he accepted. They made most of the drive in a minivan before stopping off at the outskirts of Los Angeles. They were forced underground through a man-hole into the sewer, which he said looks exactly how it is portrayed in horror movies. Huge rats ran around their ankles as they walked through the darkness. At one point, Eduardo slipped and fell into the filthy water. He instinctively began paddling his arms and legs wildly.. before he realized the water was only 8 inches deep. He and Jaco began laughing uncontrollably before the coyote screamed to shut up, as they couldn’t risk being heard from the street. They finally arrived to the street where his friend lived. Eduardo arrived nearly dead, but his friend quickly helped nurse him back to health. He quickly began looking for a job, eager to pay back his friend in Los Angeles.
Eduardo’s first job was cleaning toilets. For $3 per hour. He felt frustrated and belittled, having left his country as a professional. He found some small jobs waiting outside a Home Depot, but was often forced to do back-breaking work all day only to receive $10 at the end. He was miserable, telling his friend he already wanted to go back to Guatemala. But, Eduardo knew he couldn’t leave until he had paid back his friend. He worked his way up through jobs, working as a delivery boy up to a cook at a Chinese restaurant. After paying back his friend, he went to Northern California and did a variety of jobs, from pressure-washing hotel facades to painting highrises. He worked on longer projects like remodeling houses. After a year he went to Florida, where a former student of his offered to host him and find him a job. Though he was working below his education level, Eduardo made good money and began to enjoy himself. He took English lessons in the evenings. Before he knew it, he had lived in the United States for almost 4 years. He had made friends from all over the world. He told some peple he met that he was Guatemalan, and he told others he was Mexican. Eduardo explained to me that it was better to have people think he was Mexican- that way, if he was deported, he wouldn’t be sent all the way back to Guatemala, he would just be sent to Mexico. Which would make it easier to cross back over to the US again.
Then, almost exactly 4 years after he left Guatemala, Eduardo got another phone call that changed his life. A friend from Xela called to tell him that his missing transcript had been found. He could come back and resume law school, finish his final year, and be a lawyer within 4 years (after a few years of practicing under another lawyer). The catch- he had to begin classes the very next week. Eduardo was torn again- he had built a life for himself in the US, and though he hoped to someday return to Guatemala, he wasn’t sure he was ready to leave just yet. After some soul-searching, he decided to follow his original dream and he went back to Guatemala. He returned to Xela in 2008 and began taking classes again at night, teaching Spanish at the school where I take lessons during the day. He met his girlfriend, who he was been with for almost 2 ½ years now. His life fell back into place, and he is very happy here. He will be a lawyer within the year, and hopes to propose to his girlfriend next Spring.
Eduardo’s story was fascinating to me. He wants to write a book about it. He knows that most Mexicans and Central Americans that choose to try to cross theborder illegally have no idea how difficult it is. He wants to paint a realistic picture for these people, so they can make an informed decision before they risk their lives. Though his story is not quite as shocking as Rosa’s.. his was powerful. He suffered a great deal on his journey, and suffered as an illegal immigrant in the US. The more personal stories I have learned here…the harder it is to accept the stereotypes I have accepted my entire life… he showed me a song by a Venezuelan artist called “Mojado,” which means wetback. The chorus asks why moonlight can enter our living rooms without permission but immigrants need visas to travel safely across the border. Life, of course, isn’t this simple… but what if it was?

Dias 34, 35, 36, 37
This weekend was like a dream. Friday morning we left Xela at 4 AM with Raul, our fantastic chauffer. We drove the windy roads to Guatemala city in darkness, arriving to the airport just in time to meet up with Krista, Hau’s friend. Hau works with Krista in San Diego and she came to Xela to study Spanish with Hau for a few weeks. We wrestled through the traffic of Guate before getting out onto the open road, which was incredibly gorgeous. We drove through many of the same emerald green mountains of jungle we saw heading to SEmuc Champey, but then passed through huge sprawling valleys of flat farmland. Tiny houses dotted the stunning landscape- it reminded of the countryside in Costa Rica. Five hours after we left Guate we arrived in Rio Dulce, possibly one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. We crossed a bridge across a huge turquoise river before Raul dropped us off at the small public dock. He set us up with a lancha (boat) driver named Chino (his real name is Edwin, nickname is Chino… no idea why). Chino took us on his tiny boat (8 seats total) to our hotel, El Tortugal. This hotel came highly recommended by Rachelle and did not disappoint. It can pretty much only be accessed by water and is a large, tropical style building rising straight out of the water on stilts with a bana leaf roof. The front deck houses a quaint little restaurant facing the water, with an upstairs lounge with a pool table and library. Hau and Kristy shared a private 2 person room, and the boys and I had reserved a 4 person dormitory (12 USD/night/person). We had to walk about 500 feet on a narrow plank bridge to get to our cabana, another structure right on the water. Our dorm had 2 floors- the first had 2 large picnic tables, a hammock, and a bbq area. A tiny wooden spiral staircase took you up to the second floor, which had a star-shaped floorplan with couches in the center and a twin sized bed in each arm of the star. I chose the bed closest to the water, which turned out to be a wind tunnel.. but this helped keep me cool at night. Having been used to the cold, gloomy weather in Xela, arriving to humid, tropical Rio Dulce was a bit of a shock. The sun was strong and the air was thick, but it was somehow still refreshing- it finally felt like summer!
We got settled in our room for a few minutes before meeting back up with Chino for a brief tour of Rio Dulce. We left about 4 PM. We bobbed along Rio Dulce, taking in its beauty. I didn’t feel like I was in Guatemala… Panama, maybe Bali… but not Guatemala. Rio Dulce is a river that runs from lakes in the heart of Guatemala out to the ocean, dumping into the Atlantic Ocean right by Belize and Honduras. Palm trees and dense jungle towered up from shimmering waters. Little bamboo huts on stilts dotted the shoreline and huge yachts bobbed along public docks. Chino took our boat close to a tiny island island called Isla de Pajaros (bird island). The mangrove trees seemed to come straight up from the depths of the river with no land in sight. Hundreds of fluffy white and black birds hovered and landed on the trees, many feeding tiny puffballs that were baby birds. We went looking for howler monkeys in a narrow cove that wove through the jungle, but had no luck… then Chino took us the opposite direction back towards our hotel to see Castillo San Felipe. The boys didn’t want to pay to enter.. so we took pictures from the boat. The beautiful, crumbling castle is nestled on the narrow junction between Rio Dulce and Lago Izabal, the largest lake in Guatemala. The castle was built by Spaniards in the 1600’s to protect the riches of their Guatemalan colony from pirates that entered from the Caribbean. After hundreds of years as a fortress, the castle then served time as a jail… and now it is a museum. We skirted around the castle to enter the lake, where we jumped out of the boat to swim for a while. The water was fabulous- just the right temperature to be refreshing but extremely comfortable to relax in. We played in the water and bobbed around on life jackets for about half an hour. Chino even jumped in himself to cool off. Though the temperature was perfect, large gray clouds had accumulated in the sky and lighting lit up the clouds in the distance. If you focused in one direction, your peripheral vision would catch a flash of lighting in another direction within about 15 seconds- it was an almost constant stream of lightning from all around. It was beautiful to watch, but too far away to hear the lightning. We headed back to our hotel to avoid getting caught in the rain… I took a shower (happily surprised by the hot water!) and we played a few rounds of pool at the lounge.
We had an overpriced dinner at the hotel (my only complaint- dinner was $6!! Which seemed ridiculous at the time…) and then headed back to our1st floor lounge to chat and have a few drinks. Although we had just met Krista that morning, the group meshed well and we had a great evening chatting about all kinds of things. Hau and I have bonded a lot already, and I can tell he and I are going to be friends long after I leave Guatemala. Saturday morning we got up around 7 to leave with Chino for Siete Altares (7 altars). We chugged along Rio Dulce in his lancha, spilling out into the open ocean after about an hour nad a half. The trip was breathtaking. When we started off in our hotel, Rio Dulce was wide… then it opened up to the width of a small lake.. and then it narrowed back down to a tiny winding river. We passed through gorgeous canyons, with steep green walls of jungle plunging straight down to meet the lazy river. One of the most interesting parts about Rio Dulce was that it doesn’t really have any shoreline to speak of. No matter which part of the river we were on, the jungle seemed to come right up to the water. There was no sand, no mud, no dirt in sight. The trees seemed to grow straight up out of the water, and the contrast was gorgeous and exotic.
When we passed from our calm river into the open ocean, the ride got a little choppy. Hau and I screamed and laughed as our boat pitched with the waves. About 25 minutes later we pulled into a tiny shore and had to wade into the beach. A black man greeted us in Spanish and charged us a small fee to enter the park. Siete Altares (7 altars) is a small river that feeds out to the ocean. It weaves its way through dense jungle, forming a series of tranquil pools with stunning waterfalls. The water has carved incredible shelves out of rocks- it reminded me of a miniature version of Semuc Champey. The water was cool and refreshing, the perfect contrast to the tropical heat. we started at the bottom and worked out way up through a series of 7 gorgeous freshwater pools, finally reaching a dramatic 15 foot waterfall with a large clear pool at the bottom. We climbed up barefoot, and I brought my stuff since I was afraid to leave it behind… and, in classic Lisa style, slipped and dunked it straight int eh water at one point… (surprise! Not.) Luckkily it was in its case and I managed to get it dry very quickly. I took the battery out and laid it in the sun… luckily it dried and came back to life a few hours later, but I wasn’t able to capture the most impressive parts of the pools since my camera was recovering from its bath… At the large waterfall, a thick, ancient rope was tied to one side to help make climbing up a LITTLE safer.. once at the top, we spent quite a bit of time trying to decide how deep the pool was below, and how likely it was that we could break our necks if we dove in. Thankfully, a group of locals showed up and began cannon-balling and diving in, which gave us our answer. I made the jump two times, pretty ungracefully each time. Hau, thankfully, offered to help me with my bag and camera after I dunked it. He is much more sure-footed on slippery terrain, but sort of looked like a diva carrying my handbag.. what a trooper. After an enchanting visit to the waterfalls, we hopped back on our boat and headed back towards Rio Dulce. Our next stop- Livingston.
Livingston is a very unique place in Guatemala. Located right at the mouth of the Rio Dulce as it enters the ocean, it is a port city with a completely unique culture. Livingston is home to a very unique culture known as Garufina (spelling? Sorry…) Hundreds of years ago, a slave ship crashed on an island off the coast of central America. Indigenous people intermixed with African slaves, giving rise to a truly unique fusion culture. The population survived this way for hundreds of years and fiercely defended its land from pirates and invaders. Finally, in the 1800’s, British ships forced the Garufinas to surrender and exiled all natives to Honduras, Belize, and Guatemala. Most of them ended up in villages along the Honduran coast, but some spread out and Livingston is an example of another community to which they fled. The town has an obvious Caribbean flavor with very distinct, darkly skinned locals that looked nothing like the Guatemalans I was used to. It is a TINY little town that reminded me a little bit of the Philippines…. We only had about an hour and a half to explore, and didn’t want to pay for a guide.. we wandered aimlessly up the main street, a little underwhelmed by what we saw. I was expecting a lively city with outdoor music and people everywhere, but was met with dozens of shabby little tourist shops… and LOTS of women who approached me trying to give me cornrows. It was still quaint, and apparently gets more lively at night. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a chance to see central park, which probably was a little more lively. We found a restaurant called Buga Mamma for lunch right on the water, which had a gorgeous deck and a beautiful view. I tried snook, a local fish, and it was delicious. Stephen was the winner at the table though with his order- Tapada. It is a local dish that is basically a seafood stew made with plantains and coconut milk. We had a delicious, filling lunch with a gorgeous view.
Back on our lancha, we headed back through the winding canyons of Rio Dulce. Chino stopped at a random riverside hut with a shabby sign that said “Agua Caliente”- hot springs. There was some volcanic acvitiy that heated water in a tiny little cove at the edge of the river. It was a strange sensation- one second, you were in cool river water, the next, you were burning up in hot water that smelled like rotten eggs. Because the hotsprings were in direct contact with the river, you were never completely hot or cold. Hau gave it a pretty memorable description- taking a shower while eating a deviled egg… it was fun, but I think I prefer normal hot springs.. ☺
We arrived back to our hotel, took a quick shower, and had Chino drop us back off at the dock. We piled into Raul’s van and set out on another stretch of absolutely gorgeous roads. Guatemala has to be one of the greenest countries I’ve ever been in. We crossed the border into the zone of Peten, a dense jungle area of much lower elevation in the North of Guatemala. The drive to Flores lasted about 4 hours so we arrived right about dinner time. Flores is a teeny tiny little city on an island in the middle of a small lake. We drove in after dark and it was gorgeus, with lights of the city reflecting onto the calm lake water. We stayed in a hotel called Mirador del Lago, at Raul’s recommendation. We walked through the sleepy little streets till we found a cool rooftop restaurant with incredibly cheap prices and generous portions. The rooftop was kind of ghetto (picture an unfinished cinderblock roof with laundry hanging on the edges) and the service was slow (pretty sure there were 2 people working in the kitchen, which had 2 burners) but the food was GREAT. I tried a traditional Guatemalan stew called Hilachas. Thin strips of beef were bathed in a sauce that reminded me a lot of good tomato soup, mixed with potatoes, carrots, and a Guatemalan squash called whiskil (I always forget the name and just say whiskey! Ha). We had a few happy hour drinks, and Raul met up with us part way through dinner. Full and satisfied, we went with Raul to a local bar to relax for a bit. The music was loud and good, but there was no place to dance- so we went to check another local spot, but no dancing there either. Our spontaneous night took a fun turn when Raul suddenly offered to drive us off Flores to the neighboring lakefront town of Santa Elena to go to a local discoteca (dance club). As soon as we arrived, I knew this was a real Guatemalan place. We were absolutely the only gringos there, and the music was authentically latino. The girls got in free, but the boys had to pay a cover that included one beer (guess that is an international custom!!). It was a blast! Even though the beats all sounded the same to me, the music was fun and we had a blast dancing in a circle. After a while, Stephen and I tried to bust out some salsa moves.. with very little success. Stephen has some pretty good rhythm, but I’m as awkward as they come.. we gave up after a while and headed home at about 1 AM. When we got back, we all sat out on the edge of a dock on the lake and chatted for a while before finally heading to bed.
Sunday morning, we got up at 630 to head out towards Tikal. We drove for about an hour before arriving ot the park, where we quickly realized we would need a tour guide. We met a very articulate guide who spoke English when we first entered, but were almost talked into going with a particularly sketchy guy offering us a discounted price. Thankfully, common sense got the better of us and we went with our first guide, Luiz. It turns out Luiz grew up in New York City and spoke wonderful English- which was good since Krista didn’t speak any Spanish. Luiz was extremely professional and knowledgable, showering us with facts about everything from Mayan customs to nuts and wildlife. He took us on a four hour tour to see some of the highlights of Tikal. To put it simply, Tikal was one of the most fascinating places I have ever been. It is essentially ruins of an ancient Mayan city that are incredibly well preserved, hidden in deep jungle. The ruins were abandoned hundreds of years ago and enveloped by the jungle. They remained hidden and untouched until 1848, when they were discovered by an explorer who had heard of rumors of an ancient city from locals. The many buildings have been restored one by one of the years. Luiz explained to us that the jungle initially damaged the ruins- the harsh weather eroded many of the stones, trees began to put roots in between steps… but with time it actually laid a thick protective layer of trees that kept the carvings and architecture safe from the harsh elements.
Luiz painted a vivid picture of a vibrant Mayan city that flourished for thousands of years. The city was incredibly advanced, with complicated irrigation systems to take advantage of the generous rainy season in Peten. We visited several temples, including some that were so tall they peaked out over the treetops to give us a breathtaking view of the jungle from above. It was absolutely breathtaking. I kept trying to imagine the structures I stood on having been built thousands of years ago.. but I just couldn’t wrap my mind around it. It seemed impossible. He taught us how advanced the Mayan calendar is, how accurately they could time things like lunar eclipses and solstices. The layout of the city was heavily influenced by astronomy and each temple was built to reflect the way they thought the world was organized. In one of the first temples we visited, we saw a large pyramid with a set of large arched stones in the front, which almost looked like giant tombstones. He explained how the sun would cast a shadow on a single stone at any given time. Each stone represented a month in the Mayan calendar (which has 18 months) and the Mayans used the stones to keep track of which month it was. I can’t even describe how incredible it all was.
One of the most mysterious parts of Tikal is the fact that it was abandoned. People have speculated on this since it was discovered- why would a society build this huge, impressive city for thousands of years, and then disappear? Some thought disease wiped them out, or some other catastrophic event. Tikal was never conquered by Spanish conquistadors, unlike many indigenous cities. It was actually abandoned long before the conquistadores even arrived. Luiz explained to us the most recent theory- natural changes in climate slowly made Tikal uninhabitable. According to complicated scientific studies that can project estimates of temperature, yearly rainfall, and oxygen levels, Tikal was actually not a jungle when it was founded. It was more of a swamp or a temperate forest. Slowly, over time, the temperature increased and the water levels changed, cutting off Tikal from its neighbors, which was previously well connected by a series of rivers. It seems that over centuries, nature began to present too many challenges for this advanced culture. So they moved elsewhere… I still don’t think it’s a totally satisfying explanation, and have trouble picture it.. but I think the mystery surrounding Tikal is part of what makes it so incredible. We have pieced together their language and interpreted their ancient carvings.. but still don’t fully understand what life was like in this ancient metropolis.
Even just four hours in the park made the entire rest of the trip to get to Tikal worth it. I absolutely have to go back someday-the ruins emanate an energy, an aura of beauty and wonder, that is as thick as the jungle air. Some tour companies offer an overnight trip where you scale one of the tallest temples just in time for sunrise.. I have to do it someday. We left in a pensive mood, scarfing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the stifling tourbus. It was even hotter than Rio Dulce, with LOTS of mosquitos. As we trudged through the jungle, mosquitos buzzed around us in huge clouds, attracted by our scent but then repelled by the thick layer of deet we had applied. About 5 hours later, we pulled back up to the dock in Rio Dulce and took a lancha back to Tortugal. We went for an incredibly relaxin Og swim in Rio Dulce, which was soothing for our sore muscles after our adventurous afternoon in Tikal. We took a lancha over to another local hostel, Backpackers, for a delicious dinner on the water. I had shrimp lasagna, which was as interesting as it was delicious. We headed back to our common room hangout spot and chatted until about 2 AM before finally retirning to bed. I drank a ton of water before going to bed… which turned out to be a huge mistake. The bathrooms were about a 2 minute walk in the dark across a rickety plank walkway on the water. I got up no less than 4 times to pee, and each time was absolutely terrifying in the dark.
Which brings me to my spider story. For those who don’t know, I’m not a fan of spiders. At all. And, as much as I loved our big beautiful open air hotel, I was aware that this setup, along with the warm weather, essentially made our room a giant spider nest. Thankfully, big beautiful white mosquito nets were draped over our beds. Before going to bed, I meticulously searched my bed for spiders, and surveyed all borders and walls of my mosquito nets to ensure any and all critters (6 OR 8 legs) were OUTSIDE my net, not in it… I also brought my little sleepsac which was pre-sprayed with promethrin, which repelled insects also. I already mentioned I got up 4 times to pee. Each time I used my flashlight to survey my path to the stairs to ensure I had no 8-legged friends in my way. But, I also woke up a 5th time. It was strange- I woke up panicked, feeling like something was wrong. Initially disoriented, I realized I didn’t have to pee… but still felt very anxious. I could just SENSE that something was wrong. I slowly clicked on my flashlight and surveyed my surroundings. I inhaled sharply when reality sunk in- at the foot of my bed, perched comfortably on my mosquito net about 6 inches above my feet, was a HUGE spider. At first, I thought the spider was on the outside of my net. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to attempt to flick the monster off from the inside. As I sat up straight, the blood drained out of my face when I realized the spider was in fact INSIDE my mosquito net. I was trapped inside my mosquito net with a huge, hairy spider the size of a silver dollar. Great.
I tried not to panic, surveying my options. It’s 3 AM… I could kill it… okay wait, no, that’s not an option at all, I can’t kill any spider bigger than an ant, AND I had no equipment to do so… I could try to escape and get help… but the spider may run and hide, and I may never find it… I’d never be able to get back into the bed knowing it was lurking somewhere nearby, and I had nowhere else to sleep. I could go back to sleep… and get bit by the spider and DIE! Obviously this was not a good option… so I settled on the last option- cry like a baby until someone helped me. Just kidding. Kind of. I started quietly calling to the boys, asking if anyone was awake. No answer… I raised my voice, trying individual names this time… “Mike! Stephen! Matt!” I croaked desperately, my voice edging near tears at this point. Still no answer. I got more desperate, practically shrieking at this point.. “SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!” Mike finally answers- “WHAT,” he growled from across the way. “I have a spider. IN. MY. BED.” Silence. “So?” I am nearly hysterical at this point. “PLEASE, I am so scared… can you please kill it?” Silence. “You’re serious?” Tears have welled up in my eyes at this point. “Yep.” Slowly, Mike hoisted himself out of bed and stumbled towards my bed. “Wow, okay… that’s a pretty f***in big spider” he admits. “Uh… yeah” I answered quietly, trying to figure out how he’s gonna kill this sucker form outside my net. He surveys the situation a little bit, then picked up two of my sandals, reached one from the outside and one through the perpendicular mosquito net wall.. SMACK. He missed… then SMACK. Success. I sigh in relief until I see the furry little legs drop one by one from the net onto my bed spread. “Thanks” I squeak, trying to fight back the urge to vomit. “Sure” he mutters, halfway back in bed already. I meekly brush the legs away from my own feet before vigilantly inspecting the remainder of my net for any friends this spider may have brought. All clear. I lay back down, relaxing a little.. until I remember what Eduardo told me in class the other day. How spiders usually travel in pairs, as mates… this lovely thought, that some scorned lover spider was hovering nearby, waiting till I fell asleep to avenge its dead mate, kept me awake for a while.. then I finally gave in to exhaustion and fell back asleep. I woke up to the sunrise, as far as I know unscathed by the spider’s lover. I thanked Mike again in the morning, who seemed pretty amused by the whole thing. All I can say is thank god the boys were there- who knows what would have happened to me otherwise.
Monday morning, we lazed around in the hotel in the sunshine. Our hotel has free kayak use included in the price, so Hau and I piled in a kayak that was really more like a canoe. Apparently we are both much stronger with our right arms, as our kayak never relaly went straight. We futilely tried to paddle towards Castillo de San Felipe for a bit before deciding to just chat and enjoy the beauty of the river. It was a beautiful morning, and the perfect way to finish our absolutely perfect weekend. A little after midday we met back up with Raul and the bus, finally heading back towards Xela. Raul was the perfect chauffer, always asking us when we wanted to eat and where. At one point, I was failing pretty miserably at braiding my hair, and he even turned the rearview mirror towards me so I could use it. We had a balst with him going out in Flores, and he always gave us good advice on prices and activites to do. I told him we wanted to try Pollo Campero, the Guatemalan equivalent of KFC. We had to drive a few hours before we arrived in a town that had one, but the food was worth the wait. The restaurant was oddly fancy for a fast food joint, complete with waitresses and metal cutlery. I tried what was basically popcorn chicken, which definitely rivaled Colonel Sanders. Hau and I split a delicious little cup of flan for desert, and we were back on the road. The drive went pretty well for a few hours, but then we hit a strange streak of traffic which left us parked in one place for an hour before we started moving again. When we finally did get moving again, we saw a mangled carcass of a truck being towed the other direction.. looked like a pretty bad wreck, and explained why we had sat still for so long. We hit even more traffic in Guatemala City, since we were battling Monday night rush hour. Due to poor foresight on our part, we failed to realize until about 730 that our only optiosn for dinner were Taco Bell or Pollo Campero. I was down for trying Taco Bell, but the boys revolted… sooooo, we ate at Pollo Campero. Again. I tried to go healthy and opt for roasted chicken, until they told me it would be 30 minutes before it would be ready. So I went for a premixed grilled chicken salad, which wasn’t too bad… or it wouldn’t have been, if I hadn’t eaten at Pollo Campero 5 hours earlier. We finally arrived in Xela about 11:30 PM after battling some of the craziest rain I’ve ever seen. For part of the curviest mountain turns, we could hardly see more htan 5 feet in front of us thanks to sheets of angry rain… but we got home safely somehow. When Hau and I finally got back into Julia’s house, we stumbled through the darkness towards our rooms. As I passed through the door from the living room to the kitchen, I noticed something taped to the window of the door. I looked closer, seeing a newspaper with the words “Nuestro Diaro” printed across the top in red letters – Our Daily. Then, right below the letters, I saw my face looking back at me. And Hau’s face. And Mike’s face! And Stephen’s! A huge picture of us cheering on the Superchivos at the football game from last week was staring at me from the front page of the newspaper! Hau and I laughed at this for about 3 minutes straight before catching our breath. What a ridiculous way to end our weekend. We are famous in Guatemala! This weekend was hands down one of the most epic weekends of my life… I was already loving Guatemala, and now I’ve seen many new sides of this beautiful country. Guatemala, te amo.

Dias 38, 39, 40, 41
I can’t believe my last week is already here! The past 5 weeks have flown by faster htan I could have ever imagined, and have been incredible. Though I was totally wiped out from my epic weekend, I got up early Tuesday to head to Toto with Matteo. When we arrived I was thrilled to find out 3 women were in labor and would probably deliver during our shift. We were told it would be a while, so we headed into the OR and observed a hysterechtomy, which was pretty cool to watch. The only unsettling part was that the patient repeatedly woke up in surgery. She must have received an epidural, because she didn’t seem to be in any pain. But I watched in horror as I saw her eyes flutter open the first time. I shook it off, assuring myself the anesthesiologist would take care of this if it was necessary. Then, the woman’s eyes flew open again and she began to mumble incoherently. Amazing, the anesthesiologist still seemed compeltley oblivious. “Um, the patient’s awake,” I whisper to her. She looks uninterested, taking her time to prepare an injection that put the woman back to sleep. A few mintues later, the woman started flailing her arm, knocking the bck of the surgeon who was working in the depths of her abdomen. I quickly grabbed her hand. The anesthesiologist quickly tied both of the woman’s hands down and pushed a little more medication… all I can say is I’m glad I don’t have to have surgery here.
We bounced back and forth between OB/GYN and surgery all morning, but the births were taking longer than expected. Suddenly, a woman came in with an urgent delivery. It was her second birth, and it went pretty smoothly. I force dmyself to watch the episiotomy this time, but luckily she had a fairly smooth delivery and the baby came out quickly. He was a precious little baby boy who I watched in fascination until he was whisked off to be taken to his mom. By the time that wrapped up, another woman who had been in labor all morning was brought in. Her delivery wasn’t quite as smooth… She struggled for almost an hour trying to push. Apparently she wasn’t pushing correctly, and the doctors began to get frustrated. She seemed to be in an extreme amount of pain, and her episiotomy was pretty rough- this was her first child, so she needed a little more cutting than normal…. (C sections sound better each birth I see!). Finally, the baby came out and the team sprung into action. Unlike the first two births I had seen, the baby didn’t start crying. I’m not a doctor yet.. but I knew this wasn’t good. They rushed the baby over to a little platform where they massaged his lungs and put an oxygen tube down his nose. They worked feverishly to try to get him to cry and breath. After about a minute, he started taking shallow little sharp breathes… but he looked like he was struggling. Matt and I watched in horror for about 15 minutes.. the little guy was still breathing, but he didn’t look so good…. I wanted to stay so badly, to make sure he made it.. but we had to catch a bus so we could get back to home in time for lunch.. so I’ll never know hwat happened to him. It was tough to watch.. but if I’m gonna go into OB GYN, I need to be ready to face situations like this. I felt so helpless… I hope he made it.
Tuesday afternoon I had another good class with Eduardo. We chatted for most of class. He wanted to hear all about our Tikal trip, and we talked about all kinds of other things. After class, I had a yummy dinner with Julia and the family. Julia told me to invite friends over on Wednesday for a “goodbye” lunch. She asked me what I wanted her to cook so I asked for Pepian (chicken stew with a sauce made with pumpkin seeds, sesame seeds, and tomatoes) and tamalitos de chipilin (tamales made with cheese and herbs). I asked her if I could get recipes from her the next morning, and she enthusiastically agreed, inviting me to help her prepare the food also. After dinner we had decided to have an extra salsa class. Rachelle couldn’t go, so we invited Hau, Nahal, and Margarita. It was so much fun- I finally got to take a few pictures and videos, we had a blast.
Wednesday morning I slept in a little bit, took a nice relaxing shower, and went down to the kitchen for cooking lessons with Julia. I brought my net-book down and scribed several recipes: pepian, tamalitos de chipilin, hilachas (beef dish I had in Flores), spinach soup, vegetable soup, frijoles, fried plantains, rice, and a desert called manjar that sort of tastes like bread pudding. It was a little tough trying to get enough information to make sure I could actually reproduce the recipes. Julia has been cooking her entire life, and definitely relies more on her instincts than on silly things like measuring spoons or scales… I ahd to work pretty hard to get her to commit to a specific amount of any ingredient, and she often gave me descriptions like “add it to taste” or “add water till you have the right consistency.” I am excited to try the recipes, but fearful that it may take a few tries before I get anything edible. Cooking with her was fun though, and pepian turned out to be quite a bit of work. Many Guatemalan recipes require a blender, and this was no exception. We actually ran out of time to make the tamalitos, but we still had an enormous amount of food. At about 1 oclock our guests showed up- Mike, Stephen, Krista, Hau, Eduardo, Nahal, Margarita, and Jaime. Julia gave a touching speech at the beginning thanking me for bringing joy into the house, and of course I teared up…. I decided to save my thank-you’s for her for later, as it was obvious anything I said would be cut off by tears. We had a really nice time and ate a TON of pepian.. and the manjar was a big hit also. Jaime even brought a huge bag of chocolate dipped bananas with peanuts and sprinkles (as if we needed more food) and it was really touching. After lunch I had class with Eduardo as usual. We did a little bit of grammar… but mostly joked and talked. Like Hau, Eduardo is one of the people I just click with. He and I have become fast friends, and I hope to be able to come back and visit him someday.
Wednesday night we had our “cena de despedida,” or goodbye dinner. Rachelle, Mike, Matt, Stephen and I walked over to a restaurant called Sabor de India, which is the only Indian food in all of Guatemala. It seemed an odd choice for one of our last meals in Guatemala.. but the food was absolutely AMAZING! I had a curry dish and some cheese stuffed bread… so delicious! I also had one of the most delicious licuados since I’ve been here- I ordered a pineapple licuado and it was basically like ice cream! So sweet and so rich… we each did “final presentations,” which were very open ended, brief oral presentations about whatever topic we chose. I presented on Guatemalan food and cooking, giving a recipe for a very simple desert called Manjar, which is essentially like rice pudding with cinnamon on top. Mike presented on the history of Gallo, Guatemala’s man beer company, Matt talked about crime in Guatemala, and Stephen talked about his personal experiences here. After dinner we were full and totally satisfied. I came home and passed out pretty quickly.
Thursday morning I worked at the ICA cinic with Mariano, a 5th year medical student. Clinic was very interesting, as usual, and we saw a little bit of everything. Some GI issues, several cases of head colds, and a few more nique cases. In particular, we saw a very elderly man who was most likely suffering from Parkinson’s and Alzheimers. He had the classic symptoms I had learned about in our neurology block- masked facies, tremor at rest… It was an emotional case to counsel. Mariano explained what he thought the diagnosis was, but that in order to confirm, special tests would need to be done by a neurologist. If Parkinson’s was confirmed, special drugs could be given to reduce the progression of the disease, but there is no cure. The tests themselves would cost thousands of dollars, and the medication is equally expensive… the man looked horrified at the thought of imposing these costs on his family. The guilt in his face broke my heart… later we saw a woman with diabetic neuropathy that had progressed extensively and hse required special meds with a very unique dosing. Mariano tried to explain this complicated dosing to her, writing down as he spoke. We quickly realized that she was illiterate and even told us she didn’t have family or friends that could read the instructions to her either. It was such a tough call- do we prescribe her these meds, despite the risk that she may take them incorrectly, which could be extremely dangerous? Or do we let her disease progress, which will surely cause her to go blind and probably require amputation of her toes nad fingers? The barriers to care here are huge, and it really forces physicians to be proactive about finding creative ways to ensure patients get appropriate care. Finally, Mariano decided to prescribe her the pills but asked her to come in for checkups twice a week to monitor her compliance and reaction to the meds… On the way home from clinic, I did a little bit of shopping in search for gifts for my host family. I had wanted to get a nice, lacy tablecloth. After hunting in vain through almost half a dozen stores, I finally settled on a cute set of lacy embroidered placemats. We had a nice lunch at home before I went to afternoon class, which flew by as usual. Eduardo and I talked about all kinds of things, and I can tell my Spanish ahs improved immensely. After class I went home for a quick dinner and scrambled to get my bags packed before heading back out for our final salsa class. Hau, Krista, and Nahal joined me and the boys for an epically fun final class. Stephen and I danced as a pair for most of the night, which was a total blast. HE is by far the best dancer and good at leading (which I need!!) so even though we had a few runins with other dancers, I wasn’t my usual “wrecking ball” self… haha.
After class we all headed over to Cueva del Lobo, Jaime’s bar. We played some pool and chatted for a few hours. Hau and I teamed up for games of cutthroat with the others and quickly proved to be the team to beat. It was a ton of fun, and we finally headed home around midnight. Friday morning I packed for a few hours before meeting up with the boys for a final walk through Xela. We started by going to bakeshop, where I had a heavenly mango donut and bought an apple pie for my host family. Then we walked over towards ICA cinic and took a walking tour of Xela’s cemetery, which was strikingly beautiful and very large. Most are buried above ground in mausoleums, grouped by family. Some sections of the cemetery had walls simply packed with cement catacombs, but most families invest in large, pretty structures with unique architecture and decorative statues. On our way back towards central park, we ran into a giant parade for the Miss Xela pageant. People were gathered in huge groups to see the contestants pass by in a parade of classic cars. What a way to finish out trip! We got to see all the contestants and even got candy thrown to us. The school had a graudation ceremony for us and invited our families. Julia and the family came, and she gave me a beautiful blue scarf as a parting gift. Gladys and her family served us a huge lunch of pepian ( woops.. two days in a row! Haha) and we all laughed and chatted for a few horus before class started. Eduardo and I had our final class together (sad!) but he told me if I ever come back his door is always open. I feel so lucky to have made so many wonderful friendships here, I really will miss everyone!
After class I finished getting my things together before heading out to dinner with Hau, Mike, and Matt. We had a final dinner at Smoothies and Rum, which was delicious as usual. We hung out for a few hours chatting before Margarita and Nahal arrived with Margarita’s cousin and friend. We all squished into her car and drove over to the same nightclub we went to the very first week we came- and had SOO much fun! We danced the night away, the music was great and we danced until the club closed at 1 AM sharp. Poor Hau had signed up to climb a volcano the next day and had to wake up at 4 AM.. but he still insisted it was worth it! It was such a fun group and a great night, definitely a great way to finish off a wonderful trip here.
Saturday we met at the school to head out towards Antigua. After an emotional and tearful goodbye to Julia and Margarita, I was on my way. I listened to “This American Life” on the drive down, and before we knew it, we had arrived. Antigua is beautiful, but seemed more like Europe than Guatemala to me. The quaint town is filled with rough cobblestone streets and colonial architecture and is bursting with tourists. It was strange to see other blonde people.. haha. We were all pretty tired from our exciting night on Friday, so we meandered through the main square for a bit before sitting down to a delicious lunch at a Mediterranean restaurant. Afterwards we got some ice cream, did some last minute shopping, and then just hung out for some excellent people watching in the central square. For dinner we went to a restaurant called Frida, a strange 50’s bee-bop themed Mexican restaurant just past the famous arch in Antigua. The service was TERRIBLE.. we waited almost an hour for our food with no updates from the staff, only t realize we were missing side dishes promised on the menu… but the food was tasty, despite being totally overpriced and completely non-Guatemalan. On our way back we stopped in at a very unique little bar that served fine run and cigars. I settled on a glass of the house red wine, which was actually really yummy. The owner was a character, an American man with a belly as big as his Boston accent. We chatted with a Guatemalan couple for a few hours before finally heading back to the hotel around 11 PM. Matt and Mike left early in the morning before we woke up, so we said our goodbyes before heading to bed.
In the morning, rachelle, Matt, and I headed to a local artesan market. I had spent almost every quetzal I had, so I dedicated myself to being Matt’s personal shopper. We had lunch at a cute sandwhich place and said our goodbyes to Rachelle, who headed back on a bus to Xela. Matt and I left Antigua around 3 PM with Rauland arrived early for our flight. It was a fairly uneventful final day, and I didn’t even feel like I was still in Guatemala… Antigua was pretty, but I am glad I spent my time in Xela, which was less touristy and gave me a much better flavor of the country.
Leaving Guatemala is completely bittersweet for me- I am exciting to be home, to see my friends and family, and even excited to be getting back to school.. but I am so sad to be leaving this beautiful place, and sad to be saying goodbye to my new friends and family here… I don’t feel ready to leave. This country has opened my eyes in ways I never expected. I have a new perspective on immigration, and a new appreciation for all the opportunities I’ve been given in my life. I have learned things about my country that I am not proud of… but have come to appreciate the many things I take for granted that it provides me. I have reached a new fork in the road of self-discovery, stepping closer towards the ever-changing goal of finding out who I am. This trip came at a pivitol point in my life, and has left an indelible mark in my world view. The beautiful simplicity of this culture has taught me to appreciate even the most mundane moments in life, to embrace strangers with warmth (and a kiss on the cheek!). It has fueled the fire that drives me to pursue my dreams, inspiring me to work even harder to try to advocate for those in need.
When I was in Madrid, I remember writing that my heart was so full I felt it might burst. I have found that feeling again. In Spain, I believed it was the country itself that had brought me that joy. After another joyful summer abroad, I know realize that the transcendent happiness I experienced both times abroad comes from a more abstract place. It comes from thrusting myself out of my comfort zone, from embracing the unknown and letting go of the fear of unfamiliar. It comes from opening my life to new foods, new people, and new ideas. It comes from challenging realities I have taken for granted, from shattering stereotypes. It comes from making connections with people. It comes from touching people’s lives, even in the smallest ways. It comes from growing and changing through self-reflection. It comes from freeing myself from all of the pressure, from simplifying my life and turning down the volume. It comes from opening my heart. I know these experiences will stay with me always. Guatemala, te amo.

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