Lago Atitlan

We spent this weekend enjoying the wonderful vistas, people, and food of Lake Atitlan. This is a must-see of all of my travels! Lake Atitlan is a huge crater filled with water surrounded by mountains on all sides. There are 12 cities named after the 12 disciples (or some religious thing like that).

We left Friday afternoon following class to the bus terminal. We boarded a bus and traveled for nearly 4 hours to San Pedro. Every shift, I thought the clutch was just going to drop out of the bus – it made a terrible ratchet sound. We arrived at the same time as a storm. The clouds came over our lake toward the hotel and began to pour. There was lots of lightening and we all hid in a covered second floor balcony. I shared a room with Harim and Rachel on the second floor. During a pause in the rain we headed to dinner. We got lost in the dark and about an hour later arrived at the restaurant. In the mean time, the power had gone out and come back on. We ate a restaurant called D’Noz, owned and run by an America. He was obviously stressed by the power outage and was not pleased about seating our group of 15. When I ordered in Spanish, he responded, “I really don’t have time to think in Spanish right now” and he was out of lemonade. Another girl asked for a licuado (fruit smoothie) and he again responded, “I don’t have time to make one of those tonight.” The restaurant was not full but there were a few other parties. With all this attitude, drinks (mostly bottled soda and water) arrived 40 minutes later, nachos (bagged chips with salsa) an hour later, and dinner nearly 2 hours after our arrival. I ate a delicious meal of steak and chow mein, which I mitad mitad (shared half and half) with Aeja. In this time, some people went to store next door, bought a bottle of rum, and were pouring drinks under the table. The food was delicious but we didn’t want to leave the required tip an American put on our bill. We concluded the night by visiting a local bar La Buddha. This bar was filled with travelers from many countries. I heard accents from England, Australia, and Israel and many others that I could not identify. I went home with the first group and crashed.

Saturday morning I woke up at 5am to watch the sunrise – so beautiful. I sat on the roof alone and watched the clouds change. This was some much needed alone and decompressing time. For breakfast, we headed out and I ate a typical meal of beans and eggs. We then took a lancha (boat) – but bigger than the one at the playa – across the lake for twenty mintues to Santiago. We walked through the small town, past many vendors, soccer tournament, and locals to the Hospitalito Santiago. We walked past it the first time and up a hill. Kate decided to call our contact who came and met us up the road. The hospital is brand new and just opened 8 months ago. The previous hospital was wiped out in a mud slide during Hurricane Stan in 2005 and had been working out of a hostel converted into an operating room. This hospital is the only one of its size and function on the lake and is open 24 hours. The next nearest hospital is across the lake and over the mountain nearly an hour drive. The last lanchas cross the lake usually occur at 430pm. Pretty tricky if you go into labor in the evening. There doctors and nurses on staff are a combination of Guatemalans and foreign volunteers. However to be a permanent staff member you must be fluent in the local language, which is exclusively an oral language. There is a movement to create many educational guides with drawing to help patients. On Saturday, the hospital was low on staff and patients. They said the week days are usually busier. They only have 16 beds to accommodate patients and the waiting room is the patio out the main door with cement benches. We did not get to meet any of the doctors or nurses. Our contact was a Canadian working for the NGO that supports the hospital but she had only been there for two months and her primary role is fundraising. She was not able to answer some of my healthcare related questions. After our first introduction, we watched a video about the history of the hospital on the unfinished second floor. The hospital is in its final phase of construction and should be down in December. Our volunteer project was not to interact with patients or sort medicine or organize but to do some heavy lifiting. In front to the hospital there was a pile of dirt of some kind (I think it was mixing concrete) that we had to move around the back of the hospital and up to the second floor. We created an assembly line of filling 10-gallon paint buckets, carrying buckets, lifting them up two flights of stairs, and dumping them in a new pile. I worked primarily in the carrying division. We tried to make an assembly-line but some people were resistant. After two hours, nearly everyone got on board and we were shuffling lots of dirt. After three hours, we ate lunch and the rain began, preventing us from finishing the move. The saddest thing is this same task could have been completed by a cat and a pully in about 45 minutes. Just a matter of resources and efficiency. Our initial plan post hospital had been to visit Panajachel, another city on the lake. One group wanted to hang glide, another zip line, and another shop. However the last boats cross the lake around 430pm and we would not have had enough time for it all. So we all headed back to San Pedro for some rest and relaxation and refuge from the rain. The driver let Molly drive the boat for a bit. She did not cross a wave correctly and sloshed water over the front of the boat. Needless to say, Sarita and I were sitting backwards and were surprised by the splash. Reminded me of the time my mom was driving our boat and completely soaked our family friend Katrina because she was trying to get a good bump for her son who was inner tubing.

Saturday night we met under a giant circus tent (very hippie style) for dinner at Zoola. We all sat on the floor around a small table with pillows. There were hanging paper mache lanterns. This definitely supported what we had been hearing about the hippie nature of the lake. The restaurant served a combination of Israeli, Greek, and Italian. Many people were excited to order pasta with real sauce and meat (we usually get mayo or tomato paste at our homes). I had an absolutely fantastic “hamburger” of meatballs and mozzarella with French fries and salad – soooo good! After dinner (another 2 hours adventure – life is slower in Guatemala), 6 of us went to solar pool hot tubs. For 35Q each, we got to sit in warm pools of water surrounded by candle light and jungle sounds. We had some nice conversations about life and the future. The pools were incredibly warm and we were often in and out to cool off. We stayed for about an hour and a half then headed to Buddha Bar again. They had live salsa music. We danced a bit and laughed a lot. Some people had too much to drink and we had some good laughs at their expense. It is nights like these that I am really happy to have made some great friends here. At this bar, I also met a kid from UW who went to Mt Si high school (a rival of Issaquah) – small world!

Sunday morning we woke up after only a few hours of sleep for our last adventure. We kayaked across the lake to San Marcos where they have cliff diving. We did not know exactly where we were going but knew the general direction. After some scrambling, everyone was on a kayak and we were off. Rachel and I were definitely a strong team and got along great in the process. After about 45 minutes, we found a deck hanging out over the cliff and decided this was the place. The paddle across the lake was so incredible. The water was blue in the middle and we were surrounded by mountains. We saw some butterflies and birds too. As we arrived at the base of the jump, we struggled to organize the boats. There were not any places to hook or tie them so we took turns holding them together and tried to use the small tie lines on the ends to hold them together (we only lost one boat for a short bit). To get to the top you climbed steps carved into the rocks and ultimately a wood platform. The jump was about 30 feet from the top to the water. I watched several people jump and emerge from the water was exhilaration on their faces – that kind of smile that you cannot describe and cannot force. As I descended, my nerves set into action. My heart was racing and I wasn’t sure if I could do it. Taking the step of the ledge was very difficult. Sarah was up there and coached me through it. The first time I counted to 3, I couldn’t jump so I tried again and just stepped off. I entered the water mas o menos streamline with my nose plugged and toes pointed. The impact of the water pushed my swimsuit around but I was able to reassemble before surfacing. I have never felt so happy to have done something! I wanted to do it again. The second time, I still felt the same flutter of fear before and during the initial descent. My heart was racing but I had no choice but to step off. A few other people went twice. Some people were less experienced in making their body streamline and slapped the water – one girl has a bruise on her leg (reminds me of diving), one girl hit her ear because she entered the water at an angle sideways, and another girl hurt her back. My host brother Jeremias is from San Pedro and said that his friends often jump off and sometimes belly flop – can you imagine that pain from 30 feet up? Yowser! After all the jumps, we had to race back to San Pedro to catch our bus. We were supposed to be on a bus at 11am but at 10 after 10 we were still jumping off a cliff (sorry Kate). Some people did not row efficiently and were tired so we didn’t all get back to the shore at the same time. Someone went ahead to tell Kate that we were late. Luckily, there was another bus leaving at noon.

For our return trip, we took 2 buses. The first bus arrived in the center of San Pedro near a cute town square with a beautiful church front. There was also a fountain with live turtles, fish, crawfish, and crabs in the pool. One turtle was eating a dead crab. We bought oranges (but they are actually green) and bananas at the market to eat the bus. The first bus trip lasted approximately at hour to get up the mountain. We got dropped off on the side of the freeway – it felt like the middle of nowhere. The bus was pulling away as people were still jumping out of the back of the bus (in Guatemala you can enter and exit from the main door and the back emergency exit door). You cannot assume the bus driver will wait for you. I was one of the first ones out and nearly jumped before it was time. Some Guatemalan man yelled at me to get back inside. The second bus arrived less than 5 minutes after our arrival. The seats were already full and we had to cram in the aisles. Needless to say, the gente (people) were not pleased. As people were stuffing their backpacks in the overhead space, waterbottles, shoes, and backpacks were falling all over the seated folks. We were being shoved on the bus from both ends with little room to spare. I had to wear my backpack because there was no place to put it. I had my feet staggered in the aisle and leaned against the seats when we turned either way. The driver was quite aggressive and seemed to accelerate during each turn. I felt fine other than my hits bouncing off the metal frames. For this hour and an half adventure, other people in our group did not look so well. However, there was no place for them to throw up if that was the end result. About 40 minutes outside of Xela a large number of people disembarked so we were able to sit finally. We got off the bus before the terminal and walked to the parque central area for lunch. Luckily, Kate had called ahead and the pizzas were ready for us. We dove for slices and were anxiously awaiting more. We polished off 5 large pizzas and all headed home for showers and naps.

To summarize this weekend: my new favorite place in Lago Atitlan. If you ever come to Guatemala, you must go here. If you ever have the opportunity to jump from a cliff or rock and you are scared, do it anyway. The experience is vale the pena (worth it). Sunday was my favorite day in Guatemala thus far.

Huehue

Today (Sunday) we traveled to Huehuetenango which is another department adjacent to Quezaltenango. This journey was also by chickenbus but lasted for two hours. We (Rachel, Sarah, Hannah, Korrin, Aeja) went to the Minerva Bus Terminal la terminal to pick up a bus. There are easily 20 colored buses and we need to listen for the ayudante calling the destinations. We climbed aboard a bus headed for Huehue (pronounced way way) and waited for loading passengers and gas and set out for our two hours adventure for 20Q. We squished three to a set, which is the custom for crowded buses, and more in the aisle. Many people came on board with bags, food, and small children. When we stopped near Huehue, the ayudante passed down a bed frame, mattress, and dresser from the roof of the bus for a woman passenger. Strangle-y, our bus had a working television at the front. We watched Ghostrider with Nicholas Cage in Spanish. They spoke pretty slowly and I was able to understand the majority of the movie. We didn’t quite get to finish it but I can imagine the ending. At the Huehue terminal we boarded a microbus for 2Q to the central park.

The original plan was to eat at one of the restaurants recommended by my guide book. The first was a log-house (actually looked like a log house) but it was closed. The second was a recommendation supported by my host dad but it was also closed. It is strange that things here are so quite on Sundays – everyone is resting and going to church. We ended up eating at restaurant overlooking the park (see photo). I had a very delicious piece of carne asada. The first I have had in Guatemala. Yum!

Our primary purpose for this visit was to go the Zacuela ruins. We waited for yet another bus 2.5Q to take us to the ruins. A very helpful ayudante from another bus tried to get a bus to wait for us but we couldn’t run fast enough. We hung on the street corner where several other locals helped us to catch the right bus. We arrived at the ruins which are literally next to a neighborhood – so strange! We encountered a glaring example of taking advantage of tourists. The entrance fee for Guatemalans was 5Q and for foreigners 50Q. I was put off by the huge discrepancy in price but probably would have paid it if some of the other girls had not also been upset. I was anticipating 20-30Q entry but not 50. I told the “cashier” (hardly, in his concrete box) that we lived in Xela but he would not accept my paper with my host family address as sufficient identification for locals. I could see some of the ruins from the entrance and four of us decided not to pay the outrageous cost. I understand that 50Q is only $8 but the principal of price gouging foreign visitors is ridiculous. Rachel, Korrin, Sarah, and I walked along the road next to the ruins because you could see the ruins through the bush fence. A creepy man followed us on the opposite side of the bushes – I assume to make sure we didn’t try to sneak in. We ended up just getting a cold drink and chatting while Aeja and Hannah wandered the ruins and the small museum. They said it was worth the cost but I am going to hold out for Tikal, another set of ruins which is much larger.

As Hannah and Aeja exited, a bus arrived to take us back into town. Then we had a brief connection to a bus to the terminal. Again, the ayudantes and street people were incredibly helpful. At the terminal, a man aboard the bus guided us to the right section of chicken buses back to Xela. I paid 2Q for toilet paper to use a public restroom (probably one of the dirtiest places I have peed). As the rain began, we found a bus back to Xela. This time the man charged us 30Q. We explained that on the way here we had only paid 20 but we ultimately agreed because we weren’t sure when the next bus was coming or if there was another option. It is tricky to negotiate when you are not quite sure what to say and you are being ushered onto a bus. It took us forever to leave as we waited in the terminal and again on another street. Another bus for Xela passed us as we sat squished together. Eventually we hit the road and made good time. Our bus driver was somewhat of a speed demon and we took the curves pretty fast. We had to hold on to avoid crushing eachother and knocking us off our seats. No movie this time but some nice conversation.

In all, I had a great day. I enjoyed the time with my new friends and exploring. This was the first trip I navigated and we did not miss any of our bus connections. Although the trip was not initially my idea, Hannah and I set up the time to go. I had a drawn a map (copied from my travel book) and a list of restaurants and important intersections. We made it there and back in one piece. I do not know if I will return again because the city had many of the same offerings as Xela but smaller. However, I will say again the people here were incredibly nice and helpful.

Zunil

Saturday I took my first adventure in a chicken bus. These are old American school buses that were shipped down here when they failed to meet emission standards, have been repainted in bright colors and designs, and serve as public transportation. They are notorious for black fumes of smoke, fast driving, and little patience.

We traveled to Zunil for the afternoon to take in some of the local sights. Zunil is located about 30 minutes south of Xela but in the same department (state). Six of us (Rachel, Sarah, Aeja, Hannah, Shannon – Logan’s housemate) picked up a chicken bus at a gas station a few blocks from the park. For 5Q we packed three to a seat and went on our way. Zunil is much smaller than Xela and located in a valley between mountains. The city grows up onto the hillside. We walked across a river filled with foam and trash to the city center.

Our first destination was the church. It had a large white front with spiral columns. There were some men sweeping the floor as we surveyed the insides. The sheer size of Catholic churchs amazes me. We also saw the remains of the day’s market outside the church and wandered the stands. We were the only tourists.

Our second destination was a textile cooperative. Below the church, we a found a group of women who weave fabric in traditional patterns. We were excited by a bunch of bracelets which were woven in the same manner as trajes. They are much nicer than the typical friendship bracelets you find in the market (no worries – I bought a plenty to share). I also saw some neat clothes. I may go back and buy them to use a table cloths, wall coverings, or otherwise.

Our third destination was the “house” of San Simon. The women from the cooperative directed us up the street and said to ask for directions along the way. I stopped at a tienda and asked where the house of San Simon was. He replied that San Simon did not exist and neither did his house. I then questioned whether it had been closed and that I had read about a place to visit San Simon. He then understood what we were searching for – not actually a house but ceremonial location. Uphill we went following a few signs along the way. We walked past the room the first time in the maze of sidewalks (the city did not have planning, that’s for sure). On one side of the “house” was a tienda to buy candles and gifts to donate. On the other side was a dark room with people praying and an array of candles burning. For 5Q we were permitted to enter and view San Simon. He is represented by a small mannequin sitting in a chair. He looks like a doll. The attendant lights his cigars and pours his drinks. San Simon is the saint of evil. Myth says that he was a Spanish conquistador who brought medicine but was representative of the defeat fo the Maya. People pray to him and give offerings to ask for safety from disease and to commit harm on others. The different color candles represent different desires. We watched two couples (I assume) light two red candles of a man and woman embracing. According to my guide book, red is for love. They offered the saint Quezalteca (a local alcohol). The attendant removed the smoking cigar from the mouth and tilted back the chair. He then allowed one of the men to pour the liquor into the saint’s mouth from a special cup. This was repeated twice for the second couple. Each time one of the couples drank from the bottle as well. This whole procession was a bit strange and incomprehensible for us. We left to allow the others to proceed in peace and avoid giggling in a sacred location. It is interesting how some people handle uncomfortable situations – again I was the mom educating the group and regulating our time.

When returned to the bus as the rain began. Onward to Xela the rain stopped. We detoured to McDonald’s on our way home. I had a small fry and vanilla cone – tasted exactly the same as at home. Next time I will try the cheeseburger (for you Kathryn).

Discotecas and Electricity

Thursday night after salsa we went to a Mediterranean restaurant. Harim and I shared kabob, seafood lasagna, and garlic bread. The kabob and side were pita style garlic bread triangles. The lasagna had real mozzarella cheese (so rare here) and the seafood flavor was minimal. Easily the best meal I have had in Xela.

After dinner, we head to Student Bar – Logan and Molly’s favorite stomping grounds. It looks similar to what I imagine a European dance club to be. It happened to be ladies night and tequila shots were 2 for 5Q (less than $1)! This was a crazy good deal – I have been paying 15-25Q a tequila shot. It was the last night in Xela for Corrina, one of our new friends (she grew up in Xela but goes to college in Arkansas), so we celebrated with her.

We recollected the group and went to La Duende, a discoteca recommended by Corrina. Half the group went home and the other half was ready to get down. This club played the best selection of music by far in Xela. It was a great combination of popular music here and in the US. We have started to recognize the most popular songs here. I like Spanish pop a lot. We danced for hours and hours. There was a fog machine and strobe lights. My favorite part was how much everyone was dancing. We all danced in a big group – sometimes together and sometimes independently. We took turns dancing with the boys as well, which is always an interesting time. The boys improved mucho with some liquid hip shakers and were set. I liked that we were not being leached upon by Guatemalans (like at our previous club experience). We were the only foreigners here and most people seemed to come in mixed groups of girls and guys. That must mean we came to a good spot!

The night ended with a bit of drama between Logan’s new friends, some entitled wealthy chico, who said some not so nice racial comments to two of our girls. I was not affected directly other than I was chasing after one of the girls who was trying to walk home alone in a fury. Sometimes I hate my motherly instincts because I feel responsible for drunk people.

Friday we went to try out a new spot, Zona Cero. It is on the same block as Thursday night. However, when we walked to the club, the power went out. We thought just the street light went out overhead but it was all of Xela. Blackouts are not uncommon in Xela (we have experienced 3) but they usually only last an hour. We decided to continue on to the club and found it to be sin (without) electricity also. We sat at some elevated tables and drank and talked by candlelight. Being the dork that I am, I had my mini flashlight in my purse. This came in handy for the dark trips to the bano. The moment we decided to leave to find somewhere else that may have power, the music suddenly started. I think the club was eager to maintain our business and everyone else’s. They must have had a generator because when we left later there was still no power in the streets. The music was alright but not quite as fun as the night before.

I plan to dance quite a bit here. As always I am down to dance for hours. Fortunately several people here are the same. Many more adventures I am sure.

Midwife

This week we had a special presentation on Wednesday from a local midwife, una comadrona. She works in a nearby community with a group of 60 other midwives to serve nearly 2000 people. She represents generations of information passed down through conversation and demonstration. She explained that women will come to her if there period arrives late in life (after 16 years old) or arrives early (before 10), pregnancy, and during the first five years of life of a new child.

She began by explaining the pregnancy process. The pregnancy is first detected by physical changes in the woman’s body, such as the absence of a period and darkening of the nipples, since you cannot see inside the woman. The woman is advised to avoid coffee, chili, alcohol, and cigarettes. There are several teas made from various plants around the community which are used at specific moments in the pregnancy. Each tea serves a purpose. The comadrona passed around examples of many of the different plants. The majority of them are local plants that are unfamiliar to us but one was chamomile.

During the seventh month, the baby must be positioned so that the head is pointing downward. This is the appropriate position for a safe birth. If the baby is side ways or inverted, the midwife will slowly massage the women’s belly to rotate the baby. She said it is important not to confuse the head with the butt as you rotate the baby. They do not use any ultrasound equipment to confirm, only their hands. If it is difficult to rotate the baby (because an arm or leg is blocking the way), she will try to rotate the baby in the opposite direction. This massage concerns me because there seems to be no awareness of the umbilical cord. If the baby cannot be rotated entirely, the midwife will refer the woman to a hospital for birth. According to the comadrona, 80% of her communities’ births are by midwife and 20% are hospital births for complications.

When a woman begins contractions, she will drink a tea. If the pain increases, they know the woman is beginning labor rather than false contractions. During labor, the woman is encouraged to walk to alleviate discomfort. When the woman can no longer take two steps, the midwife knows the birth is near. Recently, the midwives learned to use gloves and measure dilation. However, before, they used physical signs to tell. A cloth belt is also wrapped around the woman’s hips for pressure. A woman can give birth in three positions – lying on her back (what you traditionally think of), kneeling, or squatting. In each position, the midwife performs different massages to comfort the woman and encourage the birth. Typically, the father is not present. Other family members and friends may be on hand to support but sometimes the woman prefers to be alone.

After the birth, the mother is washed in a steam bath house. The comadrona creates a bathwater for the same plants as the tea to wash the mother. She also uses a special soap (jabon negro) made from fat and ashes. The mother is washed and massaged for 25 minutes. This massage includes massaging the breasts to promote lactation and beat the body with the leaves of the plants. If there is vaginal tearing, hot leaves will be pressed against the skin to promote healing. However, if there was a lot of hemorrhaging during birth, the entire bathing process will be delayed. The midwife demonstrated this massage and slapping on Jefe, a boy volunteer from our group. Although this is a very serious moment, we were all holding back (but not very well) our laughter. Imagine a six foot lanky college boy having his “breasts” massaged and being slapped with leaves by a woman under five feet and easily sixty years old. She even had him kneel on his hands and knees as she pinched his butt to imitate the vaginal heat process. He said he was biting his lip to avoid bursting into laughter himself.

The newborn baby has a similar but less hot bathing process. The wrapping and clothing of the baby serves several ceremonial points. A scarf is wrapped around the head, over the shoulders, and ties on the chest to mimic the physical stress men and women endure on his head and back while working. The blanket is hung around the feet to request a pain-free menstruation for women and remind men to return to the comforts of home at old age. Then a pencil and money are placed in the baby’s hand for good education and financial success. The girls also receive a weaving tool for good skill in creating clothing. Lastly a salted chili is placed in the baby’s mouth to prevent him or her from speaking poorly in the future and using bad words. The hands are also bound down by the baby’s sides for 15 minutes to prevent the baby from touching everything as 3 and 4-year-olds do. Finally the babies are wrapped in another blanket and given to the mother.

I was very intrigued by our demonstration. I asked a large number of questions and want to visit her in her community to see all this in action. As many of you know, I despise pregnancy and have no current inklings to have children. Nonetheless, this is quite fascinating. Alternative, rural, and traditional medicine combined.

The comadrona has no formal training but says she is able to read and write. The majority of the women in her community only speak the indigenous language (not Spanish). For this situation, it is very scary for women to give birth in a hospital. They do not understand the treatment that is provided. They can also only give birth in the laying down position (which isn’t always best, according to the midwife). An additional concern is that in the hospital the woman will be alone in the room. Her family and husband are not allowed in the delivery or pre-delivery room. Occasionally the mother is allowed to be with her daughter who is giving birth.

Side note: my current Spanish teacher Miriam gave birth in a public hospital. Her plan was to deliver in a private hospital but her physician was unavailable and she was starting labor. Turns out her private physician was serving public service hours in the same public hospital and was able to deliver her son. Once she was admitted, she was not allowed to leave and go to a different hospital – as per hospital regulations. Her husband was not allowed in the room with her and she was not allowed to eat during labor (which lasted more than 15 hours). She kept telling the nurse her stomach hurt with hunger but they would not allow her to eat. She gave birth after the kitchen closed and did not eat until much later.

From Hannah: two of our host mom’s three daughters were delivered at her house (not sure if that is this house or another)

La Playa

This weekend marked our first adventure to the real coast. Any area within a few hours of the actual coastline where the climate is hot, humid, and jungle-like is considered la costa. We had been anticipating this trip for weeks. Many of us are big fans of the beach and this weekend turned out to be just the relaxation that we needed.

We left Friday afternoon with our trusted driver, Oscar. We sat more comfortably this time then on our previous trip because we were not packed in by suitcases. In a four-row mini school bus, we loaded our bags and snacks. During our four hour drive, the clouds socked in the surrounding vistas and most of us slept. I was thankful to have packed my inflatable travel pillow - definitely a clutch decision for the trip. We all awoke as we felt the suffocation of the humidity closing in. We had closed all the windows with the rain in the clouds and later needed some air. We arrived at the "dock" warm but ready. We took a wooden lancha (wood boat - think tavel channel) to our hotel. We passed mangroves, pelicans, and saw the waves breaking around the island. We arrived at our hotel after a twenty minute ride. The hotel was located on essentially a giant sand bar. There were no paved roads, only sand.

We dropped our bags and headed straight for the ocean. Some people went swimming immediately, especially with the heat. The water was warm and the waves were gorgeous. There was not a single other person on the beach. I watched Sherry have her first ocean swim - all smiles. It seems so strange to me that people have never swam in the ocean but I guess that's what happens when you grow up in the middle of the States (Michigan). After our swim, we came back for dinner. We could choose between fried shrimp, garlic shrimp, fried fish, grilled fish, ceviche, or seafood stew. All the fish was caught that day and cooked by the family who ran the hotel on their fire. The fish and shrimp came whole and you had to do some work to enjoy the food. I enjoyed the garlic shrimp but it took me so long to eat it. I need Courtney Lamar with her crawfish skills. I tried to use the technique she taught me but it didn't quite transfer. A few kids sampled the fish eyes from their fish too. After dinner, the drinking continued and everyone sat around the table and chatted for a while.

Saturday was entirely a sun day. We went for a swim in the ocean and walk along the beach before breakfast (eggs, beans, tortillas, sweet coffee). We spent all day going to and from the beach, swimming in the pool, taking drinks from the frige (the only cold drinks we had all weekend), and reading. The heat and humidity were so high you had no choice but to be wet. Because of this, most of my sunscreen washed away in the waves or was sweated off. We were all a bit pink to say the least by the end of the day. For lunch, we ate a giant "fruit salad" of 2 oranges (which are actually green), 2 bananas, 1 apple, watermelon, pineapple, and white melon that tasted like canteloupe. We did not have any casualties but Harim lost her glasses in the waves. Unfortunately, she is nearly blind without them and was convinced she could swim with her glasses on. She does not have a second pair here but luckily, Jefe is nearly as blind as she is and could share his glasses for the weekend. Saturday afternoon we took a boat tour of the nearby waterway. We were told there would be lots of wildlife and some explanations but there was neither animals nor guidance. We sat, chatted, watched the mangroves pass, and spotted three heron like birds. The evening continued in the same manner as Friday night - fresh seafood (I tried the ceviche instead - no peeling required) and merry making.

Saturday night Kate (our coordinator) surprised us with a beach bonfire. The kids who lived at the hotel built us a bonfire out of palm fronds. Kate brought marshmellows, Hersheys, and graham crackers. The 12-year-old Mateo chiseled sticks out of palm trees with his machete. It was my closest reminder of Big Lake and was delicious. The kids showed us how to chase and catch clear crabs in the darkness. Essentially, when you spot movement, you charge with a stick. You can use a flash light to illuminate the crab. After you spear it, you tear off the pincher. Our chicos wanted to probar (sample) the crab after grilling out over the fire. We later saw a whole family of 10 show up on their ATV on the beach and scramble around looking for crabs. We had some serious bonding time during the bonfire watching, chatting, and enjoying each others company.

On Sunday, we went back to the beach for a final swim and ate breakfast. We took the same lancha back to Oscar, who was waiting for us. When we returned to Xela, we got dropped off at a restaurant owned by Kate's Guatemalan boyfriend. We ate vegetarian sandwiches (tofu or tempe) with homemade oregano and garlic or seed whole wheat bread. The vegetables were grilled and it came with mozzarella cheese (a hard find here). We rounded out the meal with fruit and a strawberry-blackberry lemonade. Very delicious for its absence of meat!

I returned home, showered, and reconnected with life here. We are considering a future beach trip on a free weekend. I am very much looking forward to another ocean swim :)

PEILE and the Peace Accords

Today (Wednesday) we did not have Spanish class. A few of us took advantage of a later meeting time this morning to go to a Yoga class. I found that my body is much more flexible in the afternoon or evening after a full day of moving about then immediately after running.

We met up at the school at 9am to go to a presentation about the Peace Accords, which officially ended the armed conflict. The Acuerdos de la Paz are actually 13 different agreements around reducing the army, recognizing indigenous populations, redistributing land, and making compromises. This process took 11 years and included many parties – the government, the guerrillas, the private sector, NGOs, the UN, and others. Although these passed, they were not enforced. Currently 21 people die in Guatemala every day from violence, disease, etc. and only 11 died a day during the armed conflict. Obviously, peace has not been found.

Our presentation was given by a professor of philosophy from the public university San Carlos and he worked for the human rights campaign during the peace accords. He is definitely the type of well-spoken, passionate, left-ist who could swoon a girl into revolution – I was captivated.

The organization PEILE – Proyecto Educativo Integral Libertad Ensenyanza (Project for Integration of Education and Learning) – is a nonprofit that builds schools, educates women, and does whatever other education, health, or social reform projects that are necessary for the community. This is one of the possible volunteer locations for later in the program. We were invited to come and teach a lesson about anything or participate in a day project. I am not really interested in teaching at this point but health education is especially important to me. I would like to teach a single-sitting lesson about common health problems here or preventative care. I think for my volunteer commitment I will be looking for a more patient/medical focus.

http://www.peile.org/

Salud and Cuba

Yesterday (Tuesday) we watched an incredibly interesting movie about the doctors of Cuba called Salud (Health). The film documented the efforts of Cuban doctors to travel to places in need of physicians, such as South Africa, Venezuela, and Honduras, to provide preventative and family medicine, especially in rural communities. Although Cuba gets a bad rep for its political ideology, its health care system is entirely free and accessible. There is 1 physician for every 250 people. The physicians live in the communities they serve and are accessible at all hours of the day. Their biggest limitation is access to certain medications made exclusively in the United States. They need to buy these drugs from another country, who bought them from the US at a high expense or find an alternative. However, for some conditions, the US is the only supplier and the Ministry of Health has to make some arrangements.

One of my favorite things about the movie is it shows the generosity of Cuban doctor force. Doctors live in under-resourced communities around the world to provide care to those people. They are able to use their health model to help developing nations create a similar sustainable model. For example, the Gambia in western Africa has worked closely with Cuba to develop a community-based health system with doctors living in each community. There is also a movement in many countries to build medical schools in these underserved areas so that health care is accessible to these people.

Another great asset of the Cuban health system is their medical school, ELAM. They provide free medical education to students from any nation to can prove a need or inaccessibility to medical education in their own country and a commitment to return to their countries to provide care. There are some students from the US who are studying here and learning the preventative care philosophy and health care (all in Spanish, too).

After the film, we discussed our likes and dislikes as usual. For the majority, we expressed the desire to bring universal access to healthcare in the States. However, we all agreed, the business of medicine and politics gets in the way. Many of us have worked in public hospitals and clinics in the US and see the need for more community-based health and less expensive services. In the US and other countries around the world, people die daily because they cannot receive services in time or the services are financially inaccessible.