I saw the wave coming at the end of May. Five teams in four
weeks, and my family on their way to Guatemala – I knew June would be a rush. It’s
been awhile, but here are some highlights:
I finally got to join the Safe
Passage mothers for their Saturday morning running club. The day I went, it was
five moms with about four kids in tow each; the youngest was 2. The mom in
charge of bringing snack that day ran the whole 30 minutes in her traditional
traje (woven ankle-length skirt) and flats. Snack was refried bean sandwiches.
On a similar note, playing
ultimate frisbee on Sundays has gotten epic with the rainy season. Playing
sports in the rain always has been and always will be twice the fun.
Work got wild. I led all those
teams, in a row. They were almost all high schoolers. In many ways different
and in many ways the same week to week. One team came from a Jesuit school that
had me flashing back to my high school experience a lot more than average.
Another team engaged me a in a plot to solicit a serenade for their student
leader by a dark and handsome Guatemalan guitarist. Multiple teams had dance
parties with the Safe Passage students. Nothing breaks down cultural barriers
like a spontaneous teenage dance party.
I moved, again. Third move, fourth
living situation, and this time, really, it will be the last. I now share a
house with two friends, Amanda (the same roommate from the last house) and
Melissa. It’s a one story little casita that costs less and is much closer to
the center of town than we used to be. We call it Los Tulipanes (The Tulips)
for a sign conveniently posted outside our door with that title. To save money
even further, I opted to take the smallest room, which was built originally as
the maid’s quarters. On our first night, we discovered that Amanda’s room, the
master, has a wall switch that rings a bell in mine, should she need to call me
to bring her hot beverages, etc. Like that scene in Cinderella, haha. Anyway
the place also has a baby little courtyard and a comfy family room with
fireplace. We have instituted periodic family dinners. I know I said I planned
on making the last place my home, but this place already feels like home
without my trying.
And finally, the highlight of
highlights, just a day after we took over the new home, my own family came to
Guatemala! Lisa (my sister) and my dad arrived just in time to meet my Jesuit
team (an easy group for my family to mingle with, for sure). They shadowed me
on the job for a few days, getting the official Safe Passage tour and a few
project sessions in with some students. Lisa made instant friends with my team
members, and with the kids in their classes. Dad was a beast at groundskeeping
in the preschool, hacking up weeds so fast he broke one of the shovels. They
were a mighty force.
On the days I was able to take off
work, we went exploring together, discovering new wonders and basking in Guatemala’s
natural beauty. We took a gorgeous hike at Earthlodge one day, catching the
view above the clouds. Another day, we hiked Volcan Pacaya. We took a
completely different route than the previous time I’d gone, complete with lush
forest and picturesque views of a crater like called Amatitlan. When we got to
the top, we roasted marshmallows on open vents emitting volcanic steam. The top
of the volcano, as before, was windy and barren - a rough, out-of-this world
landscape. But our tour guide’s tag-along puppy kept us company the whole time,
reminding us that soft comforts were still not far away.
Near the end of the visit, we took
the family tour on the road and headed out to San Marcos, one of the towns
along the Lake Atitlan shore that I had yet to spend enough time in. True to
the reputation I knew of it, it was full of hippies. Lisa and I got massages
from a woman named Beatriz and sipped “raw” almond-banana smoothies under the
fan-like leaves of ceiba trees. The three of us stayed in a hotel that the tour
sites describe as “Alice in Wonderland for adults” where each room had a theme;
ours was recycled art, and it was possibly the coolest (indoor) place I’ve ever
slept. Everything was constructed with colorful old glass, the walls sported
mini murals of indigenous stories, and every nook and cranny was creatively
utilized. And it was up high. Dad kept saying how it felt like a treehouse.
Our last adventure together in San
Marcos was a visit to a park along the town’s western shore. We rented kayaks,
hiked a small hill to a Mayan “ruin” (circle of stones?), and took a swim off
the rocks. I was easily persuaded to jump off the 25-foot-high platform set up
over the water. The second time, I even managed to do it without screaming. It was a
beautiful day.
I am hoping that more days like
that one are on the horizon. Having now passed the sixth month mark in
Guatemala, I am officially in the second half of my year here. I’ve lived here
longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere outside the U.S., and I feel like I still hardly
know this country. There are still cities to get lost in, peaks to
ascend to, views to wonder at. It’s time to make a bucket list – everything I want to be
sure I do before my time here is over. The way things have been going, I know time's not about to slow down and wait for me.
