We ain't Chicken!

Transportation in Guatemala is remarkable.  If you want to go anywhere in the country, you can--pretty inexpensively!  Granted, that means you may be flagging down a pick-up truck on the side of the road or traveling by the infamous "chicken bus" system.

 

What's a chicken bus, you may ask.  They are retired American exported school buses that have been painted and customized to the bus operator's liking.  In my opinion, they were retired because they couldn't pass an emissions test in the US.  The wake of black smoke that is left behind a bus can leave you gasping for fresh air.

 

Our bus, that that took us from Xela to Los Encuentros, was painted green with red accents and was so affectionately named "Carmen".  Most of the chicken buses proudly bear a female name on the front.  We discussed this among our female friends here and decided there wasn't anything appealing about having a bus named after you.  "Honey, you're as wide as a bus." or "Sweetheart, you smell like a bus."  See.  Nothing good.

 

Anyway, these buses are notorious for packing in as many people as possible and for the drivers to be a little, let's just say, aggressive.  Some advised to use a private bus service, but living on a budget and knowing many friends who rode the chicken system unscathed, we decided---we ain't chicken! 

 

The morning started earlier than expected.  After hearing the news about the potential protests, we called for a cab to pick us up at 4:30 am to catch the 5:00 am bus.  Our cab driver was a little late, but made up for lost time by barreling down the deserted cobblestone streets to the bus terminal.

 

Terminal Minerva, the hub of the chicken system in Xela, was nothing more than a dirt field next to the shopping center.  Since we arrived when it was still dark, it was difficult to see.  But, the smell of exhaust confirmed we had reached our destination.  Our cab driver validated the departure time of 5 am with a man "working" the terminal.  He assured our direct bus would be coming around the bend in five short minutes.  Excellent!

 

Twenty long minutes later, no bus.  With a growing concern of being held up by the protests, we decided to split up.  Robert checked with each of the bus drivers and I sought out another worker who may have had a better idea of the schedule.  After many different stories and ten quetzales (about $1.25), we were on a bus to Guatemala City, where we could transfer to another bus to Panajachel.  However, we didn't leave before we had a chance to see the "taxi" with blown headlights pull up to the station in the dark.  The driver was quite innovative. Not to be stopped by something as benign as blown headlights, he attached a metal tub to the top of his car, where a fire raged to light his way.  I can't believe we didn't get a picture!

 

When we left Xela, there were only four people and our giant bags on board.  We sat in different seats across the aisle from one another (the furthest we had been apart in weeks!).  Exhausted, but unable to sleep, as we wound through the highlands of Xela like a bat out of hell.  White-knuckled and convinced that the "this bus is surveyed by cameras" sign was left from its time in the states, we were comforted by the "God bless this bus" sign. 

 

Our bus came to an abrupt stop at Los Encuentros, where my very friendly and very ripe seat-mate explained our journey together had come to an end.  Our stuff, Bert, and I spilled into the aisle, where my bag became stuck between the floor and the seats.  I had created a serious bottle-neck at the front of the bus.  After much kicking and maneuvering (not to mention oodles of laughing), we freed my bag and exited the bus--to everyone's delight!

 

We jumped on a bus to Panajachel, and threw our bags on top.  We were separated again on this bus, where Robert and I towered over the Guatemaltecos.  As we looked around at our fellow travelers, we both confirmed we had exceeded the maximum capacity of 50 posted at the front.  Surely, it too was left from its stint in the US. We arrived at Solola and changed buses again. 

 

So, four hours, two transfers and 40 quetzales (about $5) later, we arrived at our destination.  We were relatively unscathed (to be shared in the Great Escape-uncensored) and proved for sure --that we ain't chicken! 

 

 

La Casa Del Mundo

Dark and early on the morning of Friday, August 18, we left our home and family in Xela to set off on even more adventures. The 4:30am departure wasn't exactly what we had in mind...

Thursday night, as we were packing, Martha came in to tell us that there might be a problem with our travels the next day. Once again, there were to be major protests near Xela at the major intersection just outside of town -- Cuatro Caminos. Sure enough, we had to go through that intersection on our way to Lake Atitlan. We are not exactly sure the details of the protest, but it had something to do with disagreements between teachers and the government over how many years of school were required for teachers to be certified. To get to this point, with weekly protests slowing down all major commerce, things must have been bad.

Rosi (Martha's daughter) had called with the news; to confirm, her son called his "connections" in the government to see what time the protests were going to take place. Much to our dismay, there were to go from 6am - 6pm. So much for our mid-day bus!

Luckily, and with Martha's help, we arranged for a cab to pick us up at 4:30am in hopes of catching a 5am bus. It all worked out in the end, though the 4 hour journey is worth its own story that is in the works...

Fast forward--

We eventually arrived at La Casa Del Mundo around 9:30am, in time for a fabulous breakfast followed by a much needed nap as we waited for check-in time. It's truly hard to describe just how nice the weekend was.

The setting was perfect. Each of the 15 rooms overlooked the lake. The balconies at water level were great for soaking in the sun or taking a cool swim. The beds -- words cannot describe the comfort, particularly the cloud-like pillows that we (I) had been longing for. Meals were AMAZING -- easily the best we have had on our trip, and the Chilean wine was equally as tasty. Dinner was served family style and we got to meet many other travelers, a few of whom confirmed just how small a world it really is. Kayaks were available for use. It was heavenly, and a perfect setting for our first anniversary!

Unfortunately, our budget wouldn't allow us to stay much longer...if we wanted to eat, that is. So we convinced ourselves to explore other cities around the lake, which has been great.

Enjoy the pictures of La Casa Del Mundo...

La Casa Del Mundo

Aug 19, 2006 - 86 Photos

Cambiamos nuestros planes.

Buen dia a todos.  Beinvenidos de Lago de Atitlan!  Esperamos esta correo electronico los encuentra bien.  Queremos darlos nueva informacion sobre nuestro viaje.

 

Rapidamente...  (No es possible para mi, pero mi esposa insiste!)

 

We have changed our plans quite a bit from our original idea -- mostly because WE CAN!  Xela, our school, and our host family were all great.  But for a plethora of reasons, we have decided to move on a little earlier than originally planned. 

 

1) 5 hours a day of classes is INTENSE to say the least -- not unexpected, but more than we hoped it would be.  Between school and homework, there wasn't enough time to actually learn what we were being taught.  So we are taking some time off from formal schooling, practicing as we travel and studying on our own. 

 

2) Schools have an inherently transient feel. Most students stay for two or three weeks.  We met wonderful people, but they kept leaving us!  And, they kept telling us stories of places we should visit.  So we are...

 

3) Xela is COLD. I mean, it's not upstate NY winter cold, but this is the most beautiful time of year back home and we don't want to spend it all bundled up!

 

4) A few weeks back we booked a room at La Casa Del Mundo, a paradise-like hotel on Lake Atitlan.  Check the map again on the blog, but it's about three hours West of Xela -- halfway back to Guatemala City.  The hotel was AMAZING.  Seriously, it was heavenly.  We will post pics and things when we have a faster connection, but just try to imagine private, comfortable beds (and wonderful pillows!), all 15 rooms with gorgeous views of the volcanoes across the lake, gourmet food served family style for dinner, hammocks, kayaks (and cliff diving!), patios from which to swim or sunbathe.  I'm almost tearing up just thinking about how nice it was!

 

As all of these things piled up, we realized it made sense that after our anniversary on the lake we will just stay in the area to relax, read and study.  While there are conveniences we miss from Xela, we are very happy with the change.  The weather here on the lake is amazing -- warm days and cool (not cold) nights.  And you just can't beat the views.

 

Our first stop after paradise is in the small lake town of San Marcos La Laguna -- a small hippie town known for its convergence of "free spirits" and thought to have a magical spiritual vibe.  There is plenty of vegetarian food, yoga, massages, meditation, holistic healing centers, composting toilets, and, fortunately for our stomachs, Ramen Noodles (which, along with Coke and Pepsi, are EVERYWHERE!).

 

That said, a quick walk through town confirms its peacefulness and tranquility.  We might be here awhile!

Los Vahos

On Tuesday, August 15, we took a short trip just outside of Xela to Los Vahos ("The Vapors"). It was a small little cluster of buildings at the end of a 45 minute hike off of a main road out of town. It was heavenly, but hot as hell!

The natural saunas there are fueled by veins of volcanic heat pumped right into our own private little room. The temperature was easily over 110 degrees according to my trusty EMS thermometer. We lasted an impressive 30 minutes sweltering in the heat and enjoyed the cold shower.

We later learned from our host family that many indigenous people believe the saunas help detoxify the body; they also believe the vapors promote "let down" for breast milk, and often go to Los Vahos a few days after giving birth.

Los Vahos

Aug 15, 2006 - 26 Photos

Especially for Tami and Sue: A Day In the Life

I apologize for the delay in this much requested post.

This is what a typical week day has been like for us these past five weeks. However, after next week, Robert and I head out to explore Guatemala and beyond.....

A Day in The Life of Bert and Liz Campbell
6:00 am- After hitting snooze for 10 minutes (yes, we do that here too!), Robert and I furiously finish our homework from the night before (for those of my college friends, you know my homework switch turns off around 9:00 pm).

7:12 am- I throw on a long-sleeved t-shirt, wrap my towel (it is pink with minnie mouse on it) around my waist, put on my flip-flops, and head for the bathroom.

7:15 am- I am done! It is really cold here. Showers are short and sweet (just like me!)

7:20 am- I pass my wet flip-flops to Bert and he heads into the shower.

7:20 am to 7:30am- I dry my hair while Bert finishes his shower.

7:30 am- We eat breakfast with our host mother. We usually have eggs, black beans, and bread every morning. (I repeat, EVERY morning. We are on day 20 of black beans and eggs. Needless to say, Robert and I need to drink A LOT of water. Yikes!)

7:55 am- Literally, we walk across the street to our school. (By the way, it is somewhere between 50 and 55 degrees here in the morning, and Robert and I have limited choices in our attire. I have worn the same jeans and sweater for 15 days now!)

8:00 am- School bell rings, and classes begin.

8:01 am to 10:30 am- Classes go something like this, "Lo siento, que? Si, Lo siento.....que? Repite por favor."

10:30 am to 11:00 am- We speak in English as quickly as possible to express all of the things we wanted to say in Spanish. Oh and we eat a lot of bread. (By this time of the day, we are starting to de-layer our clothes. It can get into the 70's in the sun.)

11:00 am to 1:00 pm- We continue with classes.

1:00 pm to 2:00 pm- We go home and eat lunch with our host mother and her housekeeper, Angela. This is typically the largest meal of the day and it is difficult to stay awake afterwards. Our host mother (and Angela) are excellent cooks and we have enjoyed a variety of local cuisines.

2:00 pm to 3:00 pm- Siesta!

3:00 pm to 7:00 pm- We spend a lot of time walking around the town and trying the hot chocolate at the many little cafes here. We usually find a cafe and spend the next few hours studying and doing our homework.

7:00 pm to 8:30 pm- We return home to Martha's house, where she has a small dinner waiting for us. These meals are typically composed of bread, bread, more bread, and oh yeah, bread! But, I admit this is my favorite time of the day. Robert and I usually spend over an hour talking and drinking tea with Martha. I am certainly going to miss her when we leave.

8:30 to ?- Bert and I spend a lot of time in our room in the evenings. We work on homework, read, and talk about our day. It is great to have him to share all these new experiences. We are both learning so much; not only about Guatemala, but about ourselves too.

Every Friday evening, there is a graduation ceremony at the school. We get together with other students and eat dinner. Typically, we go out afterwards. It has been a great way to meet some interesting people. Saturday and Sunday we are free to do whatever we want. Those days have been filled with wonderful excursions and we have the link to the pictures posted.

Although the routine has been comfortable and relaxing, we are ready to move on to the next part of our trip. We will spend one week in Xela without taking classes, and then head to Lake Atitlan to celebrate our first anniversary. It is hard to believe that one year has already passed. We are looking forward to our next adventures and sharing them with you. Stay tuned.....

Xelaju Super Chivas

Last Saturday night, August 5, we went to the home opener of Xela's national league fútbol team -- Xelaju Super Chivas. It was quite an experience.

The game started at 8pm, but we bought tickets early upon recommendation. Someone in our school or in a host family even mentioned getting there (and staying there) starting about 3pm for the game. Futbol is HUGE here, as it is in most of the world outside of the US. And it being a World Cup year (why Zuzu, why??), the excitement was that much higher for the home opener of Xela's beloved Super Billy Goats.

After a quick dinner at Tacos No Mas, we headed to the stadium. It was crazy and will be hard to capture in words (particularly because we are losing our ability to speak in English after talking like a third grader 5 hours a day).

The stadium isn't what likely comes to mind -- Death Valley, Rose Bowl, Old Trafford, even Ladd-Peebles. Think more....well, don't really think about stadiums you have seen. The newly constructed stadium seating at one end dominates the seating. Everything else is about four tiers high all the way around, with prime seating being on top of the 20 ft. concrete walls enclosing the entire structure. We got a pretty good spot down front in the large stands behind one goal.

Streets were blocked off all around the stadium. Venders were everywhere and all seemed to be getting lots of business. It was packed and the energy was high. Yet we still had no idea what we were in for. Small and large groups had already started chanting as both teams warmed up an hour before kickoff. Trumpets blasted mostly regognizable melodies as people chanted the often profane words (we'd met a 6 ft. 8 in. Peace Corp Volunteer earlier in the day at the glass blowing factory that stayed with us and provided some translation...not that we really wanted to know what they were saying).

The best, and most shocking, came as the teams formally took the field through the tunnel. The opposing team was greeted with a series of "boos" and a few other extremely unpleasant comments and gestures.

Then it happened.

Xelaju took the field. We thought it had been wild the hour before? HARDLY! Everything kicked up about 50 more notches. Fireworks...EVERYWHERE. And I don't just mean a stadium sponsored fireworks show while the crowd clappend and cheered. I mean FIREWORKS. I think we might have been some of the only people in the stadium not carrying our own stash. Sparklers. Flare-looking things. The usual bottle rockets. Strings of m80s (at least 1000 went off over the insuing 5 minutes).

And my favorite -- the hand held bottle rockets. I'm not even sure how to describe them, but as we looked behind us, dozens of people were holding their hands straight out and somewhat shielding their eyes. It looked like they were holding skinny, colored, paper towel tubes. But believe me, this was no paper towel tube. Out of the end was a seemingly endless supply of quick shooting small white flares. They typically went about 30 or 40 yards through the air, making a high-pitched whistling noise before dying on the field, in the air, or before hitting someone else in the stands! (Jeff aptly proclaimed, "They're shooting at us! They're shooting at us!)

It was GREAT! And the game hadn't even begun.

The rest was just details. The Super Chivas prevailed on a shutout 3 goal performance. A great way to open up the home season. A few pics are below for your viewing pleasure. We will hopefully see a few more games in and around Guatemala over the next month or two and only hope for just as much fun!

Xelaju Super Chivas -- futbol 2006

Aug 5, 2006 - 13 Photos

Did I Really Marry Someone Who Says, "Wicked Cool"?

........I will save that pondering for another post.

So on to more important things; I have heard quite a bit of criticism from mis amigos about our posts lately. Some say that they have gotten a little too serious for their liking. Well, too bad! It's our blog, not yours. Start your own blog and write about whatever you want: fast food, cable TV, warm showers, ice in your drinks, hell you can even write about your glutenous desire to read US Weekly (MC, could you write me with more details on Pam and Kid Rock-those crazy kids!) Robert and I are serious people with serious things to share; and just because so many of you infinitelizard critics have been so harsh, we are holding off on Robert's intestinal fortitude piece. A form of punishment, some may say.

So, we are off to hear how the introduction of religion has killed the Mayan culture, and there will be more serious posts to come!

Dork Alert!

Thanks to Nolan, feedblitz, and my infinite dorkiness (yes, even in foreign countries), I added a feature to the blog that will email you once a day with any new blog posts. That way you (Claire, foodbankcnyers, etc.) don't have to check so much from work. Don't worry, if you are checking to see if you won the translation competition -- which I completely forgot about until just now -- I will put that up as soon as I find the translation.

So I realize this feature is completely unnecessary, but it's also wicked cool. You can sign up on the toolbar on the right.

Enjoy.

Fifty Marathons, Fifty States, Fifty Days

A friend of mine from college, Sam Thompson, is 40 marathons into an event I feel compelled to share.  He began July 1st and is running marathons daily for 50 consecutive days, all to raise awareness and funds for Hurricane Katrina Relief efforts.  Liz and I were just reading his blog and it is amazing.  He is ACTUALLY doing it!  It´s worth checking out...

http://www.50in50in50.com/home.htm

Pictures

We have started to regularly post pictures online.  They are stored in our picasaweb account (http://picasaweb.google.com/rcampbell) which is also now linked on the toolbar on the right.

Enjoy!

Mary Poppins worked for the Guerillas?

The Guatemalan civil war is a topic that Robert and I are starting to know quite a bit about.  It is one thing to read about the effects of war in a history class or see a news channel's perspective on the television, but we are living in the aftermath of an incredibly unjust and complicated civil war that affected thousands of people. And we have the opportunity to hear what those people think and feel about the war and Guatemala today, first hand. To read more about the war click here.

 

Two particular personal stories come to mind and I am having a hard time processing, or I guess believing, that humanity can be so raw and cruel.  I feel like I need to pass on these stories, and be a voice for those who should be heard. 

 

 

Story 1

This past Wednesday Bert and I ventured to an organization called Entre Mundos, a volunteer coordination hub, to hear a torture victim from the Civil War share his story.  The conference was held in a modest courtyard, which is very common in the colonial-style buildings of historic zone 1.  There were plastic chairs and wood benches placed around a "stage" where two stools and a table sat, which were for the speaker and his translator.  The speaker, whose name was Pedro, looked like he was close to 80 years old, but, like many Guatemalans, he looked much older than he actually was.  His face looked weathered as if he had spent many long days working on his land unshielded from the sun; he wore blue jeans, work boots, and an old-school green Celtics jacket.  He looked kind and very timid. 

 

We spent the next 2 hours listening to him retell his painful experience in great detail.  There were times that he held his head in his hands as if he couldn't bear to spend another second reliving those moments.  But, he always continued and it was difficult to hear what he had to say.  He lived in a small indigenous village in the mountains of Guatemala.  He was the coordinator of a large farming co-op and had no ties to either side of the civil war.  It was common practice for the Guerrillas (the rebels) to demand food and shelter (among other things) at gun point and for the government to consider those who obliged the guerrillas' "requests" as conspirators.  Many innocent people died at the hands of both sides not knowing what either of them were even fighting over.  And many of those people happened to be indigenous. 

 

One day the military came to his small village and demanded that he come with them.  He didn't know why they chose him or where he was going.  The tied him up, stripped him of his clothes, and threw him in the back of a military vehicle.  That was the beginning of his torture.  He endured rounds of beatings and interrogations; sometimes he went days without water or food.  The military was convinced he was a rebel and wanted him to divulge his co-conspirators.  But, he wasn't a rebel, and he refused to give up innocent persons' names.  The beatings continued.  They bit his ear, spit on him, and stabbed him with knives.  Still, he endured.  After months of this treatment, he was released and returned to his village.  However, he did not feel safe and was not accepted by his neighbors.  He left by foot to live in Mexico and left his property and family behind.  He returned to Guatemala in 1998, but couldn't return to his land or village.  He now lives in a village composed mostly of refugees from the war.  And 8 years later, he still hasn't seen retribution (monetarily) from the government. 

 

 

Story 2

 

During the war, my teacher joined an organization that worked to reestablish war-torn areas.  Among many projects,  they created schools and cultivated crops.  Miriam worked there for two years before she realized that this "organization" was really a front for the guerrilla forces.  After learning of this facade, she started to get to know some of the women in the village better.  Many of them were living in the mountains hiding from the military.  And among the many difficult decisions they had to make, they often had to choose between leaving the protection of the guerrillas to raise their children or to "dispose" of the children.  Miriam said she knew many women who became pregnant and either had an abortion or smothered their child at birth in order to stay within the protected group. 

 

Miriam continued to work teaching children Spanish lessons and found herself well known by the organization's top authorities.  They recognized her commitment and talent and felt compelled to harness her skills for use in the war.  She continually received pressure to leave the country to train in Cuba where, on her return, she could join the guerrilla forces.  Miriam, at the time, had young children and used that as her defense against the training.  Needless to say, she left the group shortly after the pressures became threatening. 

 

 

These stories only begin to scratch the surface of the thousands of stories that exist in post-war Guatemala.  I hope to learn more about the war and to continue to share those stories....

Chichicastenango

As you might have noticed, we are a bit slow to post much of anything to this blog of ours. Mostly, that is because after having five hours of classes every morning, we typically have mucha tarea (lots of homework). When both are completed, our brains are fried and we need mental down time. That being said, we have gone on some fabulous weekend (and weekday) excursions in and around Xela that we will try to share. As it decided to rain this afternoon before tonight's home opener for the Xelaju Super Chivas (local futbol team), we decided to share...

One such was two weekends ago to the town of Chichicastenango (or Chichi to us gringos). Chichi is first and foremost known for its biweekly market which is said to be the most colorful in Guatemala, Central Amercia and possibly all of the Americas. The town has been a dominant trading hub in the largely Mayan area for centuries and it was overwhelmingly impressive. Market days are Thursday and Sunday and they are packed -- so much so that many friends recommended you go the night before in order to be up for the early morning (4am!) sales by candlelight.

A bit of backround again from Wikipedia (very similar and much easier that typing from our guidebook)...

The famous handicraft market of Chichicastenango draws not only the K'iche' Maya of the surrounding region, but vendors from all over Guatemala. They represent many of Guatemala's linguistic groups: Mam, Ixil, Kaqchikel, and others (Guatemala has 23 indigenous languages). Each person hawks his or her products in a cacophony of color, dialects, costumes, smoke, and smells.

Vendors start setting up their own portable booths in the main plaza and nearby streets of Chichicastenango the night before and set-up continues into the early daylight hours. Although it is sometimes not immediately apparent, the market is very well organized. Vendors of specific types of items occupy traditional places in the market. The fruit and vegetable vendors have their traditional area that they occupy, as well as the vendors of pottery, wooden boxes, condiments, medicinal plants, candles, pom and copal (traditional incense), cal (lime for preparing tortillas), grindstones, pigs and chickens, machetes, and other tools. In the central part of the market plaza are comedores (small eateries, which tourists are advised not to eat at).

Among the items sold are textiles, particularly the women's blouses. The manufacture of masks, used by dancers in traditional dances has also made this city famous for woodcarving. Much of what is sold is of good quality, but there are also products in Chichicastenango's many factories for the not-so-discerning foreign
companies.

Early in the day, homemade rockets and firecrackers are set off and continue randomly throughout the day. The smell of incense burned at the church of Santo Tomás (on the steps and in the nave) and fireworks mingle together.

The market and experience was wonderful and it really is as colorful and erratic as it sounds. Pictures are below, but a bit about the trip overall...

Our school organized the outing and there were maybe 25 other people with us. The travel in the two private microbuses (squatty minivan type vehicles you don't see in the states) was a "trip" in itself and makes us really look forward to riding chicken buses all over Central America! We were winding through the mountains on a two lane road, mostly well paved, and passing other cars/trucks/bikes at will. And the passing system here is a bit different than what we might be used to, or shall I say one that we are "comfortable" with. Think of those pretty double yellow lines in two lane highways that are conveniently dotted when someone decided it is safe to pass -- or solid yellow lines advising against it....they may even have some legality attached to them in the states.

Okay, now forget about pretty yellow lines, add lots of turns on mountain roads, little use of the brakes at any point, lots of honking, and one of the teachers pops in a CD and on the radio starts blasting none other than -- Highway to Hell!! I promise I'm not making this up. I actually got out my camera to take short video to document the insane irony. Fortunately, the 80s jam continued for an entire CD which we jammed to for a good portion of the 4 hour trip. How fitting a start!

We arrived safely in Chichi and had about 4 hours to wander, look, smell, and, of course, bargain. It seems to be the way things go. The vendors really are talking/yelling at anyone who passes, but particularly to foreigners. As expected, the experience came with mixed emotions. It is partly invigorating (and fun!) to really bargain and feel very much a part of the centuries old market system, but it is simultaneously disheartening as they lowered their prices again and again.

Still very ignorant of the economy, it is hard to know just what was behind it all. When she lowered the price of a table runner from 700Q to 400Q without our saying anything at all but only by starting to walk away, does it show the level of inflation that comes with our skin or just how much they need the money? Did the few dollars we paid for shirts and a bag cover the production costs? What exactly are "production costs" here anyway? Outside of material costs, how is an individual's labor value determined? Does it depend more on how much money they need at the time of the sale than the countless hours that went into the beautifully hand woven crafts?

So much more to learn...

We were fortunate enough that in the next week, the school also organized a weaving demonstration and testimony from a local women's cooperative. It helped give insight into the artisan culture. More on that later. For now, enjoy the pictures of Chichicastenango...

Chichicastenango

Jul 23, 2006 - 97 Photos

I HUFFED and I PUFFED and...

(Don't worry, the volcano story and a few others are still in the works as we sort through some photo storage obstacles...thanks Teesh!)

So last Friday we got home from school at the usual time, around 1:15pm just in time for lunch. We removed the padlock from our bedroom door and pushed. Nothing. We pushed a little harder and gave it a good shake. Nothing. The door would not open. We looked at each other and laughed, knowing that the other door into our room from the courtyard was definitely locked from the inside.

Liz went to get Martha while I tried to see what might be keeping it from opening. I could hear Liz in the kitchen where Martha and Angela were preparing lunch: "Yo tengo uno problema con la puerta." Remember the post about the Terrible Two's?? As is often the case, it was an amuzing (and quick!) conversation.

Luckily, we are REALLY good at charades these days and Liz and Martha soon returned. I stepped aside and Martha, our four foot six inch host mother, stepped up to the plate. Now Martha is adorable and has graciously opened her home to us for these past three weeks....but this was hilarious. She grabbed the little handle and just started shaking away -- head swaying with each shake, jewelry clanking -- she really gave it her all.

Nothing. Door still closed....more laughter.

Off they go again, headed somewhere to get something that would hopefully help us get into our room. I checked out the door just a bit more and it appeared to my Handyman eye that the door had been pulled shut harder than usual and the lock on the door itself was pushing on the doorframe. I just need to push a little harder...yeah, that will do it...

One more good push and, sure enough, the door opened. And with it came the door frame and large chunks of the sheetrock-like wall crumbling to the floor! Uh-oh...

Whoops!

A few seconds later Martha and Liz, ignorant of the events that just took place, come leisurely around the corner. I was still standing in the doorway, mouth wide open and stunned that there were actually pieces of the wall around my feet. I felt horrible.

Liz, attempting to console her saddened husband, proceeded to fall on the floor laughing. Martha took a moment to assess the situation before joining in...whew! Angela, hearing all of the commotion, came to see what was going on and, of course, joined in.

I can't tell you how many times I said "lo siento" the rest of the day. But Martha just took it in stride and told us that the next morning she would go talk to the carpenter across the street while we were on our Volcanic adventure (Of course the carpenter lives across the street...but hopefully she didn't feel the need to see the lawyer next door to him.)

It made for a lively conversation at lunch, during which I earned the nickname "super hombre" among others. Angela continues to make fun of me to this day.

When we got back from the Volcano on Saturday afternoon, the door frame and wall had already been repaired. All things considered, minor costs for a great story.

all better!