tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72013606869798229942024-03-13T00:32:09.002-07:00¿Por qué no Guatemala?Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-18877291537511660982011-07-26T00:46:00.000-07:002011-07-26T00:46:33.631-07:00Last days...<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I woke up yesterday in Antigua, not fully able to comprehend that, that day <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in fact, was my last day in Guatemala. It was not unlike many mornings spent there, scrambling to gather what I needed for visiting families in remote corners of the country. Raingear, camera, pen, paper, water, snacks and small bills for various bus rides. It was different, in that, I had a friend with me, Brittn, and we were going to help with the construction of a home I had found funding to build. I knew the materials had arrived and the construction had begun a day or two prior. To make it real, I had to go and see the family smile one last time and touch the block that would become their home. It just seemed a bit surreal to think that a home was actually being built by the effort I had made to see a project through.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We stepped outside our hotel at a quarter to seven and were greeted by the most awe inspiring rainbow cradling the town of Antigua in the early morning light. I flashed back to hearing the song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” a couple of weeks prior and was immediately reminded how important it is to always keep searching and seeking, no matter where you are. The rainbow stayed with us as we walked to the bus stop and then just vanished. I knew it was going to be a wonderful day. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmplnwzxMevs-Tq3C5eEB5Yn11d55rj9rmQsEMPEO0UQNbIw7ayq5YFoDpPZcswzvWGrwb8bh3l1i6PjC-6slM5i_JgLScwoRoEQHVVqJrG9JLsHnKS92Ws59u3u5HW0mnojv5F4Y_3Bi7/s1600/IMG_7741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmplnwzxMevs-Tq3C5eEB5Yn11d55rj9rmQsEMPEO0UQNbIw7ayq5YFoDpPZcswzvWGrwb8bh3l1i6PjC-6slM5i_JgLScwoRoEQHVVqJrG9JLsHnKS92Ws59u3u5HW0mnojv5F4Y_3Bi7/s640/IMG_7741.JPG" t$="true" width="640px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">The first bus deposited us in Chimaltenango, a bustling transport hub that is gritty, chaotic, and 100% Guatemalan. I had it in my mind to have one last good, cheap, typical Guatemalan breakfast before my departure and we found just the right eatery. After checking that off the list, we boarded bus number two and let our food digest as our eyes feasted on the impressive spectrum of green that those hills and mountains produce in the form of corn, beans, cabbage, and other crops. Interrupted by swaths of dense pine forest and deep ravines, each curve left me buzzing with anticipation of what was to come. On a visual level, the mountains and farms surrounding Tecpan and Chimal are my favorite area in all of Guatemala. I spent hours and hours traversing this area making house visits and fell in love with the beauty from the back of the motorbike. It only made sense that somehow, serendipity had led me to this area I now loved, to make a deposit of kindness to a wonderful family, almost lost in one of its many pockets. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FISqZ3uiQFKqLnrlq6LDZ8vZm3BmC9Al9He50kREbpWZ41lh45lE7xxCXVOguVFqEgELtoiWSfsJVdZJNsVhfrt2kyNZc6eh8GVekqPoNUkDcanFWwxDtYZKI2aUZWvGTagzLYUs_El6/s1600/IMG_7743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FISqZ3uiQFKqLnrlq6LDZ8vZm3BmC9Al9He50kREbpWZ41lh45lE7xxCXVOguVFqEgELtoiWSfsJVdZJNsVhfrt2kyNZc6eh8GVekqPoNUkDcanFWwxDtYZKI2aUZWvGTagzLYUs_El6/s640/IMG_7743.JPG" t$="true" width="640px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We arrived to Patzun to take bus number three, which runs twice a week, on market days. As we sat on the corner in Patzun, waiting for the bus, people stared (as they often do and why can be summed up in one word: BLONDE) and some stopped to talk. The bus grunted up to us and the driver seemed pretty certain we didn’t want on his bus but let us on after we muttered the name of a community on his route. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the first time I had gotten on a chicken bus in Guatemala with only women (except the driver). Their clothing was beautiful and glancing from one person to the next was like looking into a kaleidoscope. The women chatted in their native language after a morning at the market. The moment was special and half an hour later, we found ourselves at the church close to the family’s home. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We walked a few minutes and were greeted by huge stacks of concrete blocks. By the grin on my face, you would have thought we were old friends. I don’t think a person could be happier to see some blocks. The supplies were at the top of the hill so we wandered down to the site of the new house and found Josue (the owner of the home) and the mason hard at work, surrounded by more blocks, cement piles and other supplies. In that moment, it was real. The house was being built. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXAmxyxF1HfcnBIsoRrPJqOuUQBzLHlCJsMchOhzTY4Mlg0xzgzJxinHsGDZtFijCCpnF5JmTloQbdqL5WwgW4nTTis6toOWi5USV5vPR0-B1QhmqOW7tjHd2D53AxP4KQCHbLd8uHFws/s1600/IMG_7753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXAmxyxF1HfcnBIsoRrPJqOuUQBzLHlCJsMchOhzTY4Mlg0xzgzJxinHsGDZtFijCCpnF5JmTloQbdqL5WwgW4nTTis6toOWi5USV5vPR0-B1QhmqOW7tjHd2D53AxP4KQCHbLd8uHFws/s400/IMG_7753.JPG" t$="true" width="400px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Over the course of the day, Brittn and I moved over 100 blocks (yep, I counted) down a slippery, slightly treacherous, newly made path in the hillside. On our breaks, we ate freshly prepared chicken soup and tortillas, played with the kids, and learned of the struggles and perseverance of this family. I talked to Josue about the education of his children and what he saw in their future. He barely reads but clearly sees the benefit of education and spoke very intelligently about wanting his children to have opportunities he or his wife never had. His eldest child is eleven and has two more years in the local school. After that (if not before) most children in the countryside stop attending because of cost and the fact that they need to work to supplement the family income. My hope is to maintain a friendship with this family and contribute to making continued education for the children a reality that will improve their quality of life. </span></div> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilwGZmRP4Ck6VIjyXRzZQFbZkyyS0NwESPrHNH_c_SEQg4F_lAegTYLLXR9TAVVvsgxXqZaHuOue8K394JHeC13f290BcVV-9fGkneP5vJBD25Ejp5rZEHkRr29EBwdfoN61tToO6pL17U/s1600/IMG_7746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilwGZmRP4Ck6VIjyXRzZQFbZkyyS0NwESPrHNH_c_SEQg4F_lAegTYLLXR9TAVVvsgxXqZaHuOue8K394JHeC13f290BcVV-9fGkneP5vJBD25Ejp5rZEHkRr29EBwdfoN61tToO6pL17U/s400/IMG_7746.JPG" t$="true" width="400px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">block moving=good workout</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArPHEYNwkgYeoj073sfi8g2PrO2wykl1q9X5CMDOL-5gGVJjz11LLuTJ6y4BKDfwNI3blQoapUAa1_B6OhlwmZAmDG021IwSydTS4fehlKTC6WYzCax8wDjPMG-ofmX4ZAeDODjkwsCqq/s1600/IMG_7764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArPHEYNwkgYeoj073sfi8g2PrO2wykl1q9X5CMDOL-5gGVJjz11LLuTJ6y4BKDfwNI3blQoapUAa1_B6OhlwmZAmDG021IwSydTS4fehlKTC6WYzCax8wDjPMG-ofmX4ZAeDODjkwsCqq/s320/IMG_7764.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">These kids are sharp, talkative, creative, and funny. They have a mother and father who love them, show them affection, and are accepting of their children having more education than they do. In the countryside of Guatemala, rarely have I see the combination of those things in one family. There is something really special about this family and we are all certain that our paths crossed for all the right reasons. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">In the final fifteen minutes that I sat with the whole family in their old house, Josue and his wife, Hilda, showered me their blessing and thanks. Blessings for my family and friends. Blessings on my upcoming journey. Blessings that I will easily find work. Blessings that I will return to see them. Thanks for giving them hope. Thanks for being someone that cared. Thanks for making a positive change in their life. In all their blessings and thanks, they spoke of God. For me that is just fine because after my time in Guatemala, I know that God is hope, no matter who your God is. As I gathered my things to leave, Josue told me that I have a home in Guatemala and the door will always be open. I can’t imagine anything better than one day walking through the door to their new home. It will happen. I just don’t know when. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLewNhRisFDmwiiEjbBc6Uwm4S4CIC7JROf_gWZc6qIg8sitH8gOT03Ey-emqxlp-XpWrMVaZV_GP0JXuvb2KaBlGxsrAVbAENTdbjv3j_xLLhDz682Bp_7T13KbOoXaL5xV3KL71FP3It/s1600/IMG_7765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLewNhRisFDmwiiEjbBc6Uwm4S4CIC7JROf_gWZc6qIg8sitH8gOT03Ey-emqxlp-XpWrMVaZV_GP0JXuvb2KaBlGxsrAVbAENTdbjv3j_xLLhDz682Bp_7T13KbOoXaL5xV3KL71FP3It/s400/IMG_7765.JPG" t$="true" width="400px" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSLG8TQrWKtluOdG1j2d6xcx9nrvnEVodBtOpYQJc4_X7tbEMqnsaqx6v0feLC0hhX6NkUp5vZSqMIhi3Fxh6f0eFEd7nFpnHzSuol8q_Ffd-yuPtHW5b2BMPZGF5oip5wmbmKjCTtFXMU/s1600/IMG_7770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSLG8TQrWKtluOdG1j2d6xcx9nrvnEVodBtOpYQJc4_X7tbEMqnsaqx6v0feLC0hhX6NkUp5vZSqMIhi3Fxh6f0eFEd7nFpnHzSuol8q_Ffd-yuPtHW5b2BMPZGF5oip5wmbmKjCTtFXMU/s320/IMG_7770.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josue, building his home</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">The first two rows of block have been laid for the foundation and the house should be completed in two weeks. Brittn will be returning in a month or so to see the family in their new home and give an update with photos. I appreciate her willingness to get involved and am grateful to have been able to share something so special with someone I find to be such buena onda. </span></div> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCt740Hg4iyz0Cb7cWuqci7CwLdMLNon11QTD5RgEe9tKkAU7NsFoMlRStQIFxy13crlzKGD1EoLAxIbytg0R4jSC4d8QOHDQq68a2FR5bKWH2rEysdvo6B9QLgbFxA2Snw8B5tE9LOa2D/s1600/IMG_7783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCt740Hg4iyz0Cb7cWuqci7CwLdMLNon11QTD5RgEe9tKkAU7NsFoMlRStQIFxy13crlzKGD1EoLAxIbytg0R4jSC4d8QOHDQq68a2FR5bKWH2rEysdvo6B9QLgbFxA2Snw8B5tE9LOa2D/s320/IMG_7783.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brittn and I (taken by Dani)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_o9U_chpyj6nJr6yKuQX3yj9iSvDTSRFmu3D-BQ1g_93UNehFBUXFOFiLLDek0mRudGc5dGVCgUGem3bXAHk9w31YAm7LIQjn5NC9H5E5RJegWJz6Gej9tffk4_rd-Kq_2lHTl5IJS52/s1600/IMG_7771.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_o9U_chpyj6nJr6yKuQX3yj9iSvDTSRFmu3D-BQ1g_93UNehFBUXFOFiLLDek0mRudGc5dGVCgUGem3bXAHk9w31YAm7LIQjn5NC9H5E5RJegWJz6Gej9tffk4_rd-Kq_2lHTl5IJS52/s320/IMG_7771.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">some of the blocks we moved and the view from the new house</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I shed a few tears on the way to the airport. I am happy for what is to come but sad to say goodbye to what has been. It is the end of an era, a moment in passing. I will be back but it will not be now. I am above the clouds, above all the rusted tin roofs and patchwork fields, flying like a bird towards an oasis. The most important thing is that I am happy and with that, I can do anything. I am happy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I close my eyes and see and hear Dani, the only son in the family. He has a huge grin, is high up in a peach tree and yelling E-RAY-NAY, E-RAY-NAY. He is offering me peaches, asking when I am leaving today, and in the same breath, when I will be back. The smiles of the Catú family will forever warm me in a chilly moment. They are giving to me more than they will ever know. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNrvh6tgKwB5YSPdO0Z0r8tyZQN0ecq24bGZWCzRI6ATiuE-oUcJpI820b1UGTSolBsT1T_I2jC4sA810Ypn51OnWsrOqf3cyDvaJjbt9JT2TSOPek3cuspbR6rI8s53IJ07y-2OVkh-p3/s1600/IMG_7778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNrvh6tgKwB5YSPdO0Z0r8tyZQN0ecq24bGZWCzRI6ATiuE-oUcJpI820b1UGTSolBsT1T_I2jC4sA810Ypn51OnWsrOqf3cyDvaJjbt9JT2TSOPek3cuspbR6rI8s53IJ07y-2OVkh-p3/s640/IMG_7778.JPG" t$="true" width="426px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dani "the champion of the world"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-20249425350109526092011-07-07T01:13:00.000-07:002011-07-07T01:13:59.710-07:00Cambio de Planes (Change of Plans)We're Building a Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGnQTiIBb5ZKSdS6PRacwEoG_D2v1UjzACoKb5Vp_e98lnHpT3GX_GeMZBLnwT4BE_mrwrug-bpS2FaaoCbBDJPBE_JuWVQHFWgZZe3a9L4yuibMLKUhNdg9IXyQ9fwQUxJ63U8PaT-6Ik/s1600/irenebean+540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGnQTiIBb5ZKSdS6PRacwEoG_D2v1UjzACoKb5Vp_e98lnHpT3GX_GeMZBLnwT4BE_mrwrug-bpS2FaaoCbBDJPBE_JuWVQHFWgZZe3a9L4yuibMLKUhNdg9IXyQ9fwQUxJ63U8PaT-6Ik/s640/irenebean+540.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where the family currently lives</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6b0eKdWm_hq8frQpq9ugNasx5SpW0cLiQslvxZgPbLf1446myPesZt4pI-VUCyDeAlLMxhM_Tzc8CHATwIO3jEVD7ssa7JTu0gU8lkGmA-nxkfw0FCgZfwM5RnsEQxWo8hoL3FyLkFlp/s1600/irenebean+553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6b0eKdWm_hq8frQpq9ugNasx5SpW0cLiQslvxZgPbLf1446myPesZt4pI-VUCyDeAlLMxhM_Tzc8CHATwIO3jEVD7ssa7JTu0gU8lkGmA-nxkfw0FCgZfwM5RnsEQxWo8hoL3FyLkFlp/s640/irenebean+553.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once the new house is built, this will beome the kitchen</td></tr>
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With one week left, to the day, I finally took all the money raised (plus a good chunk of my own) and used it for a great cause. I was worried when the initial “project” fell through and stressed about what I was going to do and what I would tell all the people who donated money. What started out as an easy way to give back turned into a realistic look into the difficulties of helping someone I deemed in need. Edvin, the man whom I was going to pay to have the water hooked up for, declined the help for various reasons. In the end, all I can think is that everything happens for a reason and all the right reasons. As the days passed and I was mildly freaking out with a large sum of money sitting in a Paypal account, I decided to have a little faith that things would work out and the money and good energy would fall upon the right person. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I had told Jose, my work mate from Habitat, to keep his ears open for a worthy cause. A few weeks passed and then he called to say he was sending photos and information about a family in need. The pictures showed a dilapidated looking home and the suggestion was that I pay to have a new roof and cement floor added to the existing structure. Immediately, I thought “How can I just put a new roof and floor onto this mud and wood home that may fall in the next earthquake or be destroyed in heavy rains?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had too much knowledge from my days making Habitat house visits to deem it a viable, long term solution. I mean, how much more could it really cost to just build a whole new house? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I was involved in visiting around twenty homes that were donated to families who lost their homes during Hurricane Agatha and knew the two-roomed, concrete block homes well. They are super solid, warm at night and last for a long time. The benefits to health and security are abundant and so I decided to go meet the family, see their current home and make a decision. I made the three hour bus ride to Tecpan to go on the hour motorbike ride to where they live. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I met the Catú family: Josue (32), his wife Hilda (32), and their five children, Yenny (11), Darmaris (10), Dani (8), Yohana (4) and Diana (2). They were all smiles, had an amazingly positive energy and within an hour of being there, a decision was made. Let’s build your family a new home and let’s start as soon as possible. As we sat inside, with the heavy rains leaking through their old, rusted roof, I explained that I had raised the money for another cause through the kindness of friends and family. It had fallen through and for all the right reasons, I was sitting in their home that very moment. I told them that the money raised was not sufficient and that I would be essentially borrowing the rest (from myself) to make the home happen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0gqyanPGWUIENzs8hssc2j2KY8qR2ecnceaEVinfGnRliYRA1X7VEATG0VJ7OYeMllLfx9e4uYsm-kk37vin3MpXgEnXtoE1eYuo9DPIloLH69HHbaFf1JP2mluaj7XrnfUpnca9Q5o0/s1600/irenebean+506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0gqyanPGWUIENzs8hssc2j2KY8qR2ecnceaEVinfGnRliYRA1X7VEATG0VJ7OYeMllLfx9e4uYsm-kk37vin3MpXgEnXtoE1eYuo9DPIloLH69HHbaFf1JP2mluaj7XrnfUpnca9Q5o0/s400/irenebean+506.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Catu family</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I made it clear that I was not rich and had worked hard over the years as an educator. I also thought it important that they be involved in paying a small part of the home and asked them if they would be willing to commit to paying 100 quetzales per month for 15 months, a total of 1500 quetzales (around $200.00). I know that it will be a challenge for them to make the payments on Josue’s wages as a farmer but I have also learned in my time here that getting people to be apart of their own success gives them an investment in what they are receiving. It is not just a handout but a form of assistance. I spent a couple of hours with the family talking, as the rains were too strong for motorbike travel, and showed the children how to use my massive camera while we all grinned and laughed. I left with the feeling that the project I started had found the right place. It just needed time and a little faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The details were ironed out and the decision to build the home made last week. Today, I stuffed the two checks my good friend Judy gave me and a few hundred dollars into my bra and set off for Tepan via chicken bus to pay the building supplies, windows, door and mason. Jose picked me up and we made the proper stops and by noon all was paid in full. Getting to that moment was a process, full of learning, confusion, disappointment and then finally ended with an easy success. Supplies should arrive tomorrow or the next day and construction should start on Friday. My hope is to help build at the site next Tuesday and fly to Memphis, Tennessee the following day. I am bummed I will not see the house complete but it gives good reason for a return trip to this country that has wedged itself well into my heart and soul. The house should be completed by the end of the month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I raised $1,033.00 from friends and family to help with the water project (double what I needed). All the money raised is finally going to a grand cause and I can only speculate that those involved will be perfectly happy with where it is going. The total cost of the house build is $1,906.00 so I am taking a loan from myself with hopes of raising more money over the next few months, either from generous folks or possibly in a photography exhibit. I am also content knowing that I may have just paid $900.00 to build a family a home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As I debated on spending the money, I kept thinking that I could so easily make that amount of money in the States (if I did in fact have a job) and also that I have the resources, here and now, to get the house built cheaply, efficiently, and to a high standard through my contacts with Habitat. I am certain that the house would have cost as least a third more, if I had just been anyone trying to build a house, so I decided to seize the moment and put to use what I learned the last six months. I want to say a huge thank you to Jose, from Habitat, because this project never would have happened without him and I also want to thank the friends and family who trusted that I would use their generosity to really make a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Together we're building a home. </span></div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaj8Ke-vu1uDf10HwSKmdDnFKdDQ5EwqkE8yK7UA5uM2chKcYeIgOSp77WS_M_zHi7v-jRwDnGsv69xRysu20_r0vqIjGJZXLgtGakLzTfa3tDzoIa_Rj7YiZ5fuf3YCBryITp5Ql40A0i/s1600/irenebean+538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaj8Ke-vu1uDf10HwSKmdDnFKdDQ5EwqkE8yK7UA5uM2chKcYeIgOSp77WS_M_zHi7v-jRwDnGsv69xRysu20_r0vqIjGJZXLgtGakLzTfa3tDzoIa_Rj7YiZ5fuf3YCBryITp5Ql40A0i/s400/irenebean+538.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jose, my workmate, with the kiddos</td></tr>
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-13088437122822956902011-07-07T00:34:00.000-07:002011-07-07T00:34:11.821-07:00Salty<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:HyphenationZone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>ES</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_By-chAvIsvzNnxfmy55kSXp_WVszECvMXxFImuIaeydcBXMwYMO7ppUd1kfVF6yapBbNurSMoEmktSOmeK1L_DhqvtOROmQGAmWNSVD4YsrUPUZFBBXbzX5sEcOIk9yRyTCWLH5N8m9b/s1600/IMG_7618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_By-chAvIsvzNnxfmy55kSXp_WVszECvMXxFImuIaeydcBXMwYMO7ppUd1kfVF6yapBbNurSMoEmktSOmeK1L_DhqvtOROmQGAmWNSVD4YsrUPUZFBBXbzX5sEcOIk9yRyTCWLH5N8m9b/s320/IMG_7618.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For some reason I waited. I couldn’t face her until I knew I wouldn’t be too sad to leave her. It is like seeing a good friend who for all the right reasons stepped out of your life for a bit. Upon being reunited, you know that it is time to make the effort to get close again. She is the mighty Pacific Ocean. From my home in Xela, she has always been a mere four hours away. I am glad I let her be because I knew I would long for her all the days I lived in the city. My journey to be more permanently reunited has begun. I plunged into her salty goodness for three days this past week and let the sound of the waves recharge my step. I always knew that I needed her but I pushed myself to embrace my current circumstances. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx8X-Br5JKVEA93NWq-FhzYFy3TJVa0MkAMbogkT1PXkzdzFHm6IOl_HPl2MtSEwEvko1dXdDzU-cYQty0oPb4vAMAb67gbCwbmNvvDDt056OwFK5JU244_7yvB0lL_v4H6Gsl083rGdwW/s1600/IMG_7633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx8X-Br5JKVEA93NWq-FhzYFy3TJVa0MkAMbogkT1PXkzdzFHm6IOl_HPl2MtSEwEvko1dXdDzU-cYQty0oPb4vAMAb67gbCwbmNvvDDt056OwFK5JU244_7yvB0lL_v4H6Gsl083rGdwW/s320/IMG_7633.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2kip-RboF0YF80uGIxXUzUVIpY3FjMepHW-7XO4sqSI_HRAqygFky7dtNKE_FWKNTW_dQbcoufHuJk1o20y1d_S6zQ-PmylzXLzWLRzIo6uN7jr2vW_XJTynepPgmvDkvTC8IjULg4pm/s1600/IMG_7683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2kip-RboF0YF80uGIxXUzUVIpY3FjMepHW-7XO4sqSI_HRAqygFky7dtNKE_FWKNTW_dQbcoufHuJk1o20y1d_S6zQ-PmylzXLzWLRzIo6uN7jr2vW_XJTynepPgmvDkvTC8IjULg4pm/s640/IMG_7683.jpg" width="640" /></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I wouldn’t change the last six months for anything but its time to stop pretending I am a big city girl. I want to trade the smell of exhaust for an ocean breeze. I want to feel the sand in my toes any day I please. I want to watch the sunset into the Pacific Ocean with old friends, cold beer in hand. It is time. We have some catching up to do. People often say the beaches of Guatemala are not very nice or beautiful but if you love the ocean like I do, her embrace is always kind and satisfying. I am,however, ready to go home. </span></div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-82931922477717951132011-07-07T00:15:00.000-07:002011-07-07T00:15:27.547-07:00Somewhere over the rainbow….<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXzWI5_7c5ex0ZsuBF3GHvk1vbTkH4WV0XD79v85OLhV7Jhbnvlv54kXCnivp-AwBBOs7saqu3cHvMnHJYvylixM9CuiK1owfARWSxJvPnQxycBkdzS6xMih2FWvixj3h646PB40Zm1pi/s1600/irenebean+461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXzWI5_7c5ex0ZsuBF3GHvk1vbTkH4WV0XD79v85OLhV7Jhbnvlv54kXCnivp-AwBBOs7saqu3cHvMnHJYvylixM9CuiK1owfARWSxJvPnQxycBkdzS6xMih2FWvixj3h646PB40Zm1pi/s640/irenebean+461.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjeFdXOI6Mb9ECKtsCIHda_GbZiJQdtIiC8L4jWIZlc96JLLWEmIq9Cg527Me19SfGteB4Vzy_CGf75WGYa6lw4OmRnKqeS0yMTVrJl0EzegW43Q5OS-9H7Y-nWBffliwitjkMn7iIk9H/s1600/irenebean+396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjeFdXOI6Mb9ECKtsCIHda_GbZiJQdtIiC8L4jWIZlc96JLLWEmIq9Cg527Me19SfGteB4Vzy_CGf75WGYa6lw4OmRnKqeS0yMTVrJl0EzegW43Q5OS-9H7Y-nWBffliwitjkMn7iIk9H/s640/irenebean+396.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:HyphenationZone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>ES</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There is always something wonderful waiting to be found. I think you just have to look hard and not forget to keep looking if it seems to be eluding you. I was not sure what I was looking for when I decided to move to Guatemala for six months but I am certain I was seeking wonderful. My time here has been nothing short of that and I have found it in the people that I have met, the job I worked, the food, the scenery, the motorbike rides, lasting friendships, the seemingly endless bus rides, the confusion, and within my own heart and mind. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As I rode through the drizzling rain on a backhoe tractor, down the main highway, I was thinking of how in the blink of the eye, I will find myself on a plane and POOF! I zoned back in to my co-worker asking me if I had ever taken a ride of the sort before. It blasted me back to the days of roaming the Caterpillar Tractor Dealership my family owned in Mississippi. We used to go for short rides in the parking lot, but not down the highway with buses and trucks zooming past. In so many situations, Guatemala just takes it to the next level. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It is true that amazing jobs often pay little. In fact, mine has paid none at all but the experiences of a lifetime have no monetary value. I couldn’t be more pleased with my final days of work as a Habitat Profiles Volunteer. I visited nine houses and dealt with all sorts of obstacles and moments of frustration in the final two days. Some say that when things are not going your way in this country, it just simply can be stated as “Guatemala” or that one word can be used to take your blame. I frequently found myself thinking, “oh Guatemala!” and “are you really going to do me like this on my last days?” After a few house visits and wanting to scream Guatemala at the top of my lungs, I came back to the beauty of it all. I had an amazing interview with a family who for the first time ever has a safe, secure, warm, dry home. They were all smiles and made me feel silly for getting so worked up and frustrated. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With two interviews left (that had to be done that day), I squeezed into an over packed minibus to start towards finding the homes. I stared dreamily at the clouds shrouding the mountains all around us. I thought back to my first week in Guatemala when I took my first chicken bus ride down the same road. I was legitimately scared and thinking, maybe I am not cut out for this and how will I survive to tell the tales if all the roads are this bad? After months of travel around Guatemala, I now know that it is actually a pretty sketchy section to travel and of course I quickly became desensitized to the impending dangers lurking around the bend of most Guatemalan roads. I actually grew to love the jerky, shall I say “unique” bus rides that carried me in all directions and the motorbike rides that made my butt numb but let me be a part of the landscape. I can’t seem to get enough but soon it will have to enough, at least for now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I like memorable endings or happy lasts. It leaves more to be desired and that is the best time to go. The last house we visited made me truly appreciate the work I have been doing. Being 45 minutes walking from the main road into the ever entrancing highlands, I was hopeful to make it out before dark and a torrential downpour. Of course the road that never has traffic had a truck pass by and give us a ride. I seem to get picked up at just the right moments, at least by fast moving wheeled objects. Better than nothing I suppose. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The next ten minutes in the back of that truck was a moment I want to remember and summon when needed. There was an elderly woman, around 70, with a physically deformed man, about the size of a ten year old, swaddled to her back, like a baby. She smiled, asked where we were headed and thought nothing of her circumstances. She got a ride a few miles down the road and waved us goodbye. She was going to walk all that way and probably does most days. For the second time that day, I felt silly for stressing over the inconveniences of my day. Sometimes you just have to open you eyes and change your perspective to realize that life is not bad or even that difficult. It is actually quite wonderful and around so many unlikely corners is that reminder of how good it is. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">At the final house, the family hardly spoke any Spanish so my co-worker translated the interview from Quiche to Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were radiating the joy and happiness that their few days in their new home had brought them. I felt blessed. Blessed to have seen and known so many families all over Guatemala (around 100). Blessed to be apart of an organization that is truly doing great things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes me want to find ways to keep giving to others, always. It has filled me with a love that is bubbling over and made me realize the human spirit is an amazing force and I am infected with its beauty and kindness.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi90nK_aZWJoIyDesuEcd5GBirufX0gtubz1s1zhbIx1t2Xoj-N_8ARjNHSppUiKa60TuRl7amMi2JQc_GpA252wTB1qib2kt_DFUAftqA-s7Jq4E6BcLrQCBvmI6U3z0Cc-MWi7cJbegtb/s1600/irenebean+355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi90nK_aZWJoIyDesuEcd5GBirufX0gtubz1s1zhbIx1t2Xoj-N_8ARjNHSppUiKa60TuRl7amMi2JQc_GpA252wTB1qib2kt_DFUAftqA-s7Jq4E6BcLrQCBvmI6U3z0Cc-MWi7cJbegtb/s320/irenebean+355.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">old house</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR6i0WViaXRNZM10mAzwXkoDXoNM2Bb7LlepAWtE54aMAGb2pX3khxRPxO9B02r36O8SmLRQDj9JBFO8Bz9ZNaJoQ_ZDhlzS-q2moSoSuInT7Sf4Agzq5oKd9dy78dg7ZrBktyvYbfIQmm/s1600/irenebean+432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR6i0WViaXRNZM10mAzwXkoDXoNM2Bb7LlepAWtE54aMAGb2pX3khxRPxO9B02r36O8SmLRQDj9JBFO8Bz9ZNaJoQ_ZDhlzS-q2moSoSuInT7Sf4Agzq5oKd9dy78dg7ZrBktyvYbfIQmm/s320/irenebean+432.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">new house</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As we walked the 45 minutes back to the main road, I was blissed out in my borrowed, highland terrain. I said a prayer of thanks to the highlands for all the beauty cradled in its nooks. I said thank you for showing me light and giving me hope and bringing me back to a life filled with love that is truly wonderful. My days of travel through the highlands have often made things seem so clear or just so perfectly fine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will always carry gratitude for them like one does for a close friend that lets them confide. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Upon getting close to the main road, I heard music coming from a house and stopped. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” was playing and at that moment, everything made sense. By that, I mean, I was certain that I had found wonderful and everything I was looking for without even knowing it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The journey had been successful. We hopped on a back hoe tractor and started the two hour travel back to my hotel. It was dusk and the rains had held all day. There was a light drizzle that started to fall. It was a memorable ending for sure. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GsIftpnYIZnCXOfGyNjlM6_Mr63iMJGNRf-uAQPkNgdKZ9AjrdTPtSdIo99cyuLiQWt-YtJCsjfVA7UYBNNFb_2pr3Juogq9pXrLRQ6Xmwh6gEAN_AOaI9Sn-246gYa9a7Jm37Ukdwcq/s1600/irenebean+323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GsIftpnYIZnCXOfGyNjlM6_Mr63iMJGNRf-uAQPkNgdKZ9AjrdTPtSdIo99cyuLiQWt-YtJCsjfVA7UYBNNFb_2pr3Juogq9pXrLRQ6Xmwh6gEAN_AOaI9Sn-246gYa9a7Jm37Ukdwcq/s640/irenebean+323.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKDH5AnSnh2PSeoIyGvoT1Yq1rdRrRErIwNdfdOjJF7B2Qy5Vc9U3vU3D5PuQzUstt4HYHdyS9nfft_WaLGXOubyFP8PEDQlwv0FQYdN9i2MBuxJunQFnGaoQDt5-ZRm6fdXG1RGxD142/s1600/irenebean+404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKDH5AnSnh2PSeoIyGvoT1Yq1rdRrRErIwNdfdOjJF7B2Qy5Vc9U3vU3D5PuQzUstt4HYHdyS9nfft_WaLGXOubyFP8PEDQlwv0FQYdN9i2MBuxJunQFnGaoQDt5-ZRm6fdXG1RGxD142/s400/irenebean+404.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gl2wTGMPF10dqhhLFhnARtgN4FHvTKxi9vOgjG1EO_U8GE_KD1ncB1g0ppmzoq6TY8l2xzCPAcX6Tu8lmWyCngppYHdkhGtHRaKyv084JmbKKZt7fGh4cJyyFMCD_w_ys1X8DPAjxsVb/s1600/irenebean+384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gl2wTGMPF10dqhhLFhnARtgN4FHvTKxi9vOgjG1EO_U8GE_KD1ncB1g0ppmzoq6TY8l2xzCPAcX6Tu8lmWyCngppYHdkhGtHRaKyv084JmbKKZt7fGh4cJyyFMCD_w_ys1X8DPAjxsVb/s320/irenebean+384.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-58671419579196576262011-07-04T23:11:00.000-07:002011-07-04T23:32:14.146-07:00Cafecito con Leche<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5V1VC8dARexZYHzhEf3SOI97xIQPC8FhZChY0qtVDNr3LbDxwn-al4tRWPtuyjVFX8wpXHraF34Vod8fsXhsQmT6c1SmicyetKy_DKphZIljYRDLppP29bLIpncsmjXpodg1FsLcu-NC/s1600/IMG_6699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5V1VC8dARexZYHzhEf3SOI97xIQPC8FhZChY0qtVDNr3LbDxwn-al4tRWPtuyjVFX8wpXHraF34Vod8fsXhsQmT6c1SmicyetKy_DKphZIljYRDLppP29bLIpncsmjXpodg1FsLcu-NC/s640/IMG_6699.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyqBvhX5blsJTZ-5Ha939nCAQD9Ox22U6G2J0A6OnVysMtCQZbNgw_4n1zjSU-G2YvdAEpF1y72nTMk8Nx4exWJICjPRJ5MYWHfIEMz-SVRvIV1ur5-osRLOhdgD2bRZSIud57mK6vPl7/s1600/IMG_6742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyqBvhX5blsJTZ-5Ha939nCAQD9Ox22U6G2J0A6OnVysMtCQZbNgw_4n1zjSU-G2YvdAEpF1y72nTMk8Nx4exWJICjPRJ5MYWHfIEMz-SVRvIV1ur5-osRLOhdgD2bRZSIud57mK6vPl7/s400/IMG_6742.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I have been travelling and exploring for the last ten years. I was twenty-one when I left the States for the first time. I never knew then that the next decade would see me spending around four years combined in other countries. It is a little hard to believe. I tasted the unknown on a trip to Costa Rica in the summer of 2001 to study Spanish. My eyes were so wide and it was hard to believe that so much was going on outside the small reality I had known for the previous twenty-one years.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">It is hard to shed the layers upon layers to find myself naked of the experiences; difficult to remember what it was like that first month in an unknown land.</span><span lang="EN-US">It has become so much a part of who I am and the very rhythm that I step to. Who would I be or where would I be if I hadn’t hopped on that flight from Memphis, Tennessee to San Jose, Costa Rica in 2001? The thoughts flood me as I am in the midst of opening the eyes of a dear friend who is twenty-one. She is out of the States for the first time and I want her to be infected by the magic that new experiences in foreign lands can bring. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYW8lUc4kRfWX3bawIvYsHlIxDaPxC2A8lqoL2MJKvBOA07r8SUwoPnox1GF1gTeAIJQAAz9_sU9QdC87liyzPMHO9-v3E7CRl8BNsxZ-4hvnHWOXOeDDFTzIpvraTIbbqE65_jyF3RLk/s1600/100_1086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYW8lUc4kRfWX3bawIvYsHlIxDaPxC2A8lqoL2MJKvBOA07r8SUwoPnox1GF1gTeAIJQAAz9_sU9QdC87liyzPMHO9-v3E7CRl8BNsxZ-4hvnHWOXOeDDFTzIpvraTIbbqE65_jyF3RLk/s320/100_1086.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Julissa was a student of mine in Montana on a 25 day adventure education program in the summer of 2007. She had just graduated high school and I quickly learned of the harsh family life she was coming from. Poverty, alcohol and drugs, homelessness, hunger, the death of her father three weeks before, were all things she had endured. Over the couse of the program, there were many firsts: backpacking, canoeing, horse riding, rock climbing, living with 11 other, pretty crazy, strangers (me and my best friend Ally included). On the high peaks of Yellowstone National Park and canoeing down the Yellowstone River I like to think she had moments of clarity and I am certain at the end, she had a little more faith in herself and her world was opened in a positive direction. We connected and over the last four years kept in touch. I have tried to be a supportive friend and an admiring mentor as she persevered through college against the odds. When I decided to come to Guatemala, I knew she had to come. It never was a question. It just was. I don’t know why really. Since she was graduating college this next fall, my gift to her would be to help make travel abroad a reality. Not just anywhere, but where her father was from. Julissa’s father was from Guatemalan and her mother is from El Salvador but she had never left the USA. It was time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She arrived to a land where people look like her and have the same dialect as her father had. I can only imagine what it feels like. She is learning the sad realities of a country overrun with problems- a country she is half from. Through cultural classes with my Spanish teacher and cooking time with my former host mom, she is learning about her roots and identifying with a culture she knows almost nothing about. I wonder sometimes who she will be when she leaves here. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I have been waiting five months for Julissa to arrive and she is here now. Her eyes are so wide and that makes me feel really content and proud. I am struggling with my role in her journey. I want her to have all the wonderful, sometimes painful, experiences that a newcomer has in a foreign land. I want her to make choices, discover, process, be confused, look silly; but I am ten years in. It is hard to just let those things happen without stepping in or saying something. That is my challenge to myself. She is learning how to use a Lonely Planet guide book, bargain, pick a destination because it sounds amazing, and just travel. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Her reality is so different from anything I have experienced and this whole concept of travel is surely somewhat mind boggling. She lives in a one roomed apartment in a bad part of Los Angeles with her boyfriend. It is a busy, loud street that breathes violence, prostitution and drugs. They don’t have a fridge or stove and usually can only afford to eat once a day because money is tight and they are limited in the cooking department. She hopes he will have bought both items upon her return and she can start cooking. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">As the layers of her life unfold before me, I listen and hope my words are valid or useful. Her life has been tough, is tough, but no matter what, I love her and will always be proud of her. Sometimes it makes me sad because I just want it to be easier or less complicated. I want to take some of her struggle, make a trade, anything. We make each other laugh, in fact we always have, and laughter it seems can be the cure for whatever ails you. As we walk arm in arm on the streets of Xela, Guatemala or down from a volcano, I am reminded that for some reason, our paths crossed. Being with her makes me happy and happiness is life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Julissa and I climbed her first volcano and swam in its crater lagoon. We slept aboard a friend’s sailboat at anchor and jumped from its deck into the Rio Dulce and spent hours swimming in its waters. It makes me really happy how much she enjoys the water. She only learned how to swim five or so years ago after joining a swim team because she wanted to learn. I look forward to more plunges in the days to come. We will journey towards the ruins of Tikal tomorrow.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmBRAgKCFWG0izJBicPFZbMw8DI5RPh5E31ODEqT6E5FF2mf7ViXrcNQB5c_MyKL_k9ogRQVI97X4V-BtNVqXTelRRO-dNf4cQVkc8PzVKVMpzndov_wNaFFihTjgXN_1ErTg5O771ZfWa/s1600/100_1055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmBRAgKCFWG0izJBicPFZbMw8DI5RPh5E31ODEqT6E5FF2mf7ViXrcNQB5c_MyKL_k9ogRQVI97X4V-BtNVqXTelRRO-dNf4cQVkc8PzVKVMpzndov_wNaFFihTjgXN_1ErTg5O771ZfWa/s640/100_1055.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cafecito con Leche</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LSVYP1DOWdDyOluiPoaqmY3JuFRgkDomsCG4JRLaj7fFwtnCxQAV81kf4sS6GeAIWjvScl-9P1HprcjpjKfmXaG9RFDI3obDIpblwS7jBwzkqmK2abPwJspT8lvnEoNe-7ilntbyMM1j/s1600/100_0836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LSVYP1DOWdDyOluiPoaqmY3JuFRgkDomsCG4JRLaj7fFwtnCxQAV81kf4sS6GeAIWjvScl-9P1HprcjpjKfmXaG9RFDI3obDIpblwS7jBwzkqmK2abPwJspT8lvnEoNe-7ilntbyMM1j/s400/100_0836.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-34906106279624140022011-05-29T16:05:00.000-07:002011-05-29T16:05:55.625-07:0031 with my chin up<!--StartFragment--> <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">31. I got some years on me but am proud of them. One thing I have been thinking about is that you can’t change the number of years that you have.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You can lie but that even proves difficult because with age comes forgetfulness. You can only change your circumstances and do things to make you feel happy and secure with the number that you are so blessed to have. I am truly blessed to be here, now. I may have acquired some wrinkles and worry at times that I should have accomplished certain things, or remember that I thought by 30, I would be …………it is irrelevant and living in the past or worrying about the, “I should haves”, prevents us from fully embracing what is to come. As a good friend said, “Soon, </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">my smile will give me wrinkles in all the right places” That is my hope as I continue manifesting happiness and doing things that truly make me smile. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yesterday, I hopped on a bus that took me passing by the Guatemalan Highlands that I now call home. It made me a bit sad to think of leaving and having only memories to take me past their beauty and that the magical bus rides will have to be summoned from my mind. I am sure that when I am old and grey (or in a few months), I will close my eyes and be looking out the window at freshly planted corn fields covering the highlands and gripping fiercely to the handles on the bus as it races up and down the mountains. The roar of the engine and the blasting of music as the bus squeaks to a stop to pick up the traditionally dressed women with babies slung on their backs will always be with me. It will make me smile and for that I will be thankful. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Of course, life is not without its challenges and confusion. I was so optimistic that the 3-hour bus ride would land me in the right place to easily make a big difference in one person’s life.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I met my Habitat co-worker, Jose, and we took a bus an hour away for a meeting with the local community committee. I have been working on trying to help, Edvin, (a man I met on a Habitat house visit) get water run to his house. Last May, a landslide in Tropical Storm Agatha took his home away. All the research I did, with the help of local friends, told me that it was easily obtainable. I asked for donations from family and friends to help this poor farmer and within days, I had the money. I was overflowing with an appreciation for the genuine desire that people have to help those they don’t even know. It made me feel so optimistic and just blissful. It is hard to put into the words the emotions I felt but if you could have seen my grin, there would be no need for words. I am proud to know such caring folks.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am sure that eventually the water will flow, but, as with all things in Guatemala, the process is slow and patience must be summoned. I sat in this meeting with Jose, and the 10 local men from the committee and listened to what needed to happen to get the water run. It made me think about how much is going on in all the little pockets in the world and how complicated things can get. Yes, there is an electric pump and well next to Edvin’s house, but as of yet, the project to make it fully functioning is still in process. With time, it will happen and yes we can pay the water rights but the water will not be immediate. Right now, the water is coming from the mountains but the amount is not sufficient for the needs of the community. The projects need to be combined (pump and mountain) and that takes money. The community would like Edvin to be involved in the project, if he has water rights, so we have to see if that is of interest to him. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There is also the thought of just putting a private well and pump on the land of Edvin but the community might frown upon that. I am frustrated that something seemingly so easy is so difficult. I am waiting to see the next step and it may be that we pay the water rights and Edvin joins the project but the water will take time. And what do I tell all the people that made donations? All I can say is thank you for your kindness and I hope you understand that life is not as simple as turning on the faucet sometime. I wish I could send pictures of the water flowing but for now, know that your donations will be used to help when the time comes. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The committee listened to our desires to help and was kind and upfront about the realities. Jose also told them of a new stove project that Habitat is doing to see if their community might be interested. It would provide stoves to families that are still cooking directly on fire without any ventilation. With the new stoves, they use around half as much wood (less work and less deforestation) and respiratory problems are greatly reduced (the leading cause of death here). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They were interested but also made it known what they really need. They need food. With the storms of Agatha last year, they were one of the worst hit areas. With all the landslides, they not only lost their crops and stored food, their farmlands were covered with huge rocks and the nutrients were washed away. They are interested in stoves but who really needs a stove when you don’t have a lot to cook. The government is not helping (the norm here) and the community of around 500 families has food shortages. Overwhelming.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I rode away in the back of a pickup truck to start the 4 hours back home, I was so confused. I came to help one man but left with a tremendous pain in my heart for all those suffering in the small pockets of the world. I fully understand why God is so big here and why everyone is always thanking God. There is no other hope for most of these people but a thing called God. This place called Guatemala is tough and often brutal but with each day that passes, I see the glow of optimism radiating in the most random of places. You have to keep your chin up so you can see it and not miss out by sadly looking down. We can’t let hopelessness settle in because then, we would have the worst problem of all. Amazing things are happening here, through the hard work and dedication of so many individuals, and I must always believe that change is possible. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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</div><!--EndFragment-->Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-29091602379653015902011-05-29T15:33:00.000-07:002011-05-29T16:49:44.120-07:007 Cruces<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I have found such peace in the mountains of Guatemala and my time spent wandering through their forests has been able to provide me with the serenity and clarity that the ocean usually provides. On my last overnight, I was in the company of good friends and we found ourselves sleeping on top of the crater of Volcan Zunil. It took us seven hours to arrive but the pace was chill and we stopped often to chat, decorate a cross, make coffee, have lunch above an old Mayan ceremonial cave, and enjoy the slowed pace not found in the city. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrT7luf2kYXEwDorebvNA5ZwLJg66a65rYqXqXxj2KovxOVk0Zf9fBUVqpQAT8NxGq8INg0SywrcWBNTUvgi-bqXxCE7g7BqNvBFJbrZrFT4Gf7vKUXbKmM9wSa9nbcRmVN1Hchvlon7rx/s1600/hike8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrT7luf2kYXEwDorebvNA5ZwLJg66a65rYqXqXxj2KovxOVk0Zf9fBUVqpQAT8NxGq8INg0SywrcWBNTUvgi-bqXxCE7g7BqNvBFJbrZrFT4Gf7vKUXbKmM9wSa9nbcRmVN1Hchvlon7rx/s320/hike8.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Decorating a cross </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">to celebrate</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dia de los Cruces</span></td></tr>
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</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I saw fire flies that night and I think I was as excited as I was the first I saw them. At first, I had no idea what they were because it was so out of context and they didn’t really fly around (maybe because of the cold). It reminded me of Tennessee and summer nights as a child and also that I will be spending time with my niece and nephew in that special place this summer, hopefully catching fireflies. It was just so incredible to see them atop a volcano, so far from where I first was introduced.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The morning sunrise was spectacular and the views in all directions were clear. We could see the peaks of another dozen or so volcanoes, Lake Atitlan, and even into Mexico. We made a fire, prepared hot chocolate, and waited for the show. It was a fine morning of Channel 1 viewing. We watched Satiaguito erupt repeatedly in the distance over the course of a couple of hours as some local people sang and prayed atop an outcropping of rocks a few hundred yards away. It was magical.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohyphenhyphenIzSPqzW_gic0OiT2bFV-4rtIJMpoiEw-Is4gfaUPnrfGEMplJQYb3KANOkrpdTTVqK2uOXB0QUREJh8C8Sd9ANLvLximd3XNPp8A-Oze6a2wziKM_IULzlf0JPQsvy55R7kP_tKuS_/s1600/hike11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohyphenhyphenIzSPqzW_gic0OiT2bFV-4rtIJMpoiEw-Is4gfaUPnrfGEMplJQYb3KANOkrpdTTVqK2uOXB0QUREJh8C8Sd9ANLvLximd3XNPp8A-Oze6a2wziKM_IULzlf0JPQsvy55R7kP_tKuS_/s400/hike11.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Santiaguito erupting in the distance</span></td></tr>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We broke camp and made our way down through varied trees of the forest. There was cypress, which I think of as swamp trees found in the Delta of Mississippi, grandly growing out of the mountainsides. We passed through cloud forest full of lichen covered trees and then sections of dense bamboo. Pines surrounded us at times and flowers of bright colors dotted the green. It was impressive and then came the cherry. We spotted a quetzal and were mesmerized by its song. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One of my Guatemala friends on the hike asked me why I like to be outdoors and go hiking. I told him I liked the quiet and simplicity of it and that you never know how things will unfold. You have everything you need on your back and it reminds you how little you need to actually be happy. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Irene, Carlos, Judy, and Elias in front of 7 crosses (that is the name of the trail)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">corn starting</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-51306764864318467002011-05-01T21:24:00.000-07:002011-05-01T22:05:44.086-07:00quite absurd really<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_QKE9ETnhcErmdI0y9aBzHwNOcw9UsLRTcdXtYgMfQFqnrgWI4Qd6M7zEz2VRbsk3FF0jFr_ay6UU_3WOmytL6VhNZcHjwUBK6tLaWBCXXxIXnSxjo3Frp60Rf3hcUI_kflrBjHnNq0o/s1600/IMG_4383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_QKE9ETnhcErmdI0y9aBzHwNOcw9UsLRTcdXtYgMfQFqnrgWI4Qd6M7zEz2VRbsk3FF0jFr_ay6UU_3WOmytL6VhNZcHjwUBK6tLaWBCXXxIXnSxjo3Frp60Rf3hcUI_kflrBjHnNq0o/s640/IMG_4383.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd2sGpUdyN2zacRmqKP2CMGg-ZHDSTBP-7lI2Xf-klLOCkbd7OMslO9ZGjLPenkYNME3-KLr_mjuedotLScXT9Lyw28LAo-35JyYoGN3EsQej9Yh1z5VVQc3YPhfssFItRW0y0_CakDL5F/s1600/IMG_4405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd2sGpUdyN2zacRmqKP2CMGg-ZHDSTBP-7lI2Xf-klLOCkbd7OMslO9ZGjLPenkYNME3-KLr_mjuedotLScXT9Lyw28LAo-35JyYoGN3EsQej9Yh1z5VVQc3YPhfssFItRW0y0_CakDL5F/s640/IMG_4405.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9k8tE2yN-hLfwG93xD_7gWupNO81XeyxaQnTRRir46hAY1tyLTqWSf7kPL22FrkZ4H-d028-lVnSirrVcYqv7rzdECjLM2kaNst_Effe1P8lnATuGIDAmPn_L7xqcRpEV66-dYoMIzmop/s1600/IMG_4419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9k8tE2yN-hLfwG93xD_7gWupNO81XeyxaQnTRRir46hAY1tyLTqWSf7kPL22FrkZ4H-d028-lVnSirrVcYqv7rzdECjLM2kaNst_Effe1P8lnATuGIDAmPn_L7xqcRpEV66-dYoMIzmop/s400/IMG_4419.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">PHOTOS FROM OMETEPE ISLAND, NICARAGUA </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There I was briskly walking down the shop lined and traffic filled streets of Xela, Guatemala. It is something I do all the days I am here. All I could do was grin and be so thankful for my wonderful appreciation of the absurd. I was carrying a mini-cup of my own urine and my sidekick, Blanca, had hundreds of dollars in local currency in a plastic bag shoved in the upper area of her crotch. I looked at Blanca, my host-mother, laughed and mentioned that we were quite a pair. She agreed. I dropped my urine off for a $4.00 testing and we continued on to drop her money at its proper place. Her granddaughter had to have her appendix taken out so she borrowed the cash to pay the private hospital and apparently no buses go to the hospital. She’s a good walker, that Blanca, and fast for being a foot shorter than me or maybe we were both a little wary of getting robbed. Letting yourself be absurd or being aware of it, if done mistakenly, and relishing in the moments is quite refreshing. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Some synonyms for “absurd” provided by Miriam-Webster are:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">fantastic, bizarre, crazy, foolish, insane, nonsensical, </span></span><span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">preposterous, unreal, wild</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Life should be all of those things or at least I want my life to be all of those things. Actually, I want to use those words to describe myself as well. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It seems that children have the most developed talent when it comes to being absurd. I envy their ease to slip into a place that maybe does not exist for adults or their certainty that what they are thinking is actually true. I visited family in Memphis this past March and Nina, my niece who is four, invited me to build a fox nest with her. It was a grand moment and we spent the time to make it really nice and comfortable. We even provided food for them. Later that day, I was thinking how easily I believed that what we were doing was real. Real is what you want it to be and pretending is just a word used for those who are scared to let themselves go. We returned the next day to check on the nest and feed them again. Some people might say foxes have dens and not nests but whatever they are called, building a fox nest with Nina was fantastic. It seems such a shame that at some point children lose their ability to be completely bizarre and they start holding their imagination back. They get stifled into being a bit more boring so people might not think them weird. The tolerance for them being unreal decreases quickly.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I hope people find me weird. I find all of the people close to me at least a little weird in a marvelous way. I like make believe (or is it truly believing), talking in funny accents, bringing inanimate objects to life (especially stick ponies), putting on a good costume (pleather with Nate for ocean jump-ins), dancing before breakfast in bathrobes on Catalina, reading children’s story books aloud with friends, becoming characters aboard a vessel (Lady Hornsby, Sharkfoot, Captain Luigi), having nonsensical family conversations with my brother, and doing an assortment of things that might be seen as being foolish, insane or even crazy. Perhaps living life absurdly is the best remedy for being uptight, stressed or bored. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Creating an environment for being preposterous can take time because people are afraid to just join right in. They don’t want to be seen as weird. Maybe you have to find people who never fully lost the ability to be a bit absurd but there is nothing wrong with encouraging those you care about to give it a go.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Having my father always make the “rat face” when we were too far away to speak (he still does this) or creating characters like “Fingers” (recently reborn for the grandkids) might have helped nurture my absurdity seed. Real friendships seem to blossom when I have someone on board for a wild bit of shenanigans, be it via conversation or event. I guess the bottom line is, I love to laugh and I find that being absurd brings the most plentiful amount of this magical potion. You have to give into it, seek it and encourage it. Making life a little less serious can certainly help you enjoy it a whole lot more. So get a little crazy ya’ll!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;">Any absurd ideas or suggestions on being more absurd? <o:p></o:p></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">PHOTOS FROM GRANADA, NICARAGUA</span></td></tr>
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-46779041549224324232011-03-12T22:59:00.000-08:002011-03-12T23:05:20.488-08:00YES!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxI03FrkHf9Gnf0yuoqX9lRD3fgfIOp_C7ooFuvo7oCoR19rFs36RnCINqm_hOox-hdxhp5eFO-5JDqz3cG24uG3SnYKS1QO2EEqw-H-3wSQdfqJZHZ1PLRVB7-6j2Yp0nAo4iu3zPsX_/s1600/IMG_2993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxI03FrkHf9Gnf0yuoqX9lRD3fgfIOp_C7ooFuvo7oCoR19rFs36RnCINqm_hOox-hdxhp5eFO-5JDqz3cG24uG3SnYKS1QO2EEqw-H-3wSQdfqJZHZ1PLRVB7-6j2Yp0nAo4iu3zPsX_/s400/IMG_2993.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb1reNlFCP5aiMJL8tBxVje96R4iYdMmjV9taNEVtLhou9kSbTkeO3XzDFpDSVbnJH9FbKVrrn5pgf2QFUO5d3aLhZ4eHJn5cxn838R4_ixcb3eFTOUGgkJs-25bQxB4uFBT-BsEjhMvO3/s1600/IMG_3188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb1reNlFCP5aiMJL8tBxVje96R4iYdMmjV9taNEVtLhou9kSbTkeO3XzDFpDSVbnJH9FbKVrrn5pgf2QFUO5d3aLhZ4eHJn5cxn838R4_ixcb3eFTOUGgkJs-25bQxB4uFBT-BsEjhMvO3/s640/IMG_3188.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Verapaz translated means true peace. I have spent the last week in Baja Verapaz and Alta Verapaz. It is somewhat of a blur of constant motorbike rides and family interviews, separated by the transition from a hot, dry climate in Baja to cool, green and rainy in Alta. I found myself appreciating the moments in between house visits with the local promoters that took me to the viewpoints over towns, ramshackle, delicious lunch joints, an enormous one-room cave, churches, and lakeside. I get to plunge daily into the local scenery and culture, almost by accident and absorbing at will. It seems I am a very porous sponge that never tires of doing its job. I guess I should say rarely, as I do tire after lunch and I find that I have to really focus not to fall asleep. The back of a motorbike is not the place for such an activity so the rule is, no closing the eyes and focus. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After a long day, all I craved was coffee and a large piece of chocolate cake. I told myself I was going to explore tourism options in Salama, Baja Verapaz because all I could gather was that there was a real nice church to visit. Good; but I like options even if I have no time to explore them and Habitat was interested for me to have a look. The Lonely Planet offered the address of a tour operator in town so with a couple of hours before dark, I set out on a recon mission. The tour agency was only recognized by the numbers that hung on the wall indicating the address. The hum of the sewing machine coming from inside didn’t make me think there was any use sticking around. After being handed the one and only faded brochure on the premises (and internally chuckling), the apologetic gentleman offered to make a call that would connect me to potential info. The former tour agency now sells school uniforms. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I decide I want something, I like to get it and I wanted coffee and cake. I didn’t even want a tour because I had to leave right after work the next day. “Yes I will meet you at your house to see the museum at 6:15 after my coffee. Gracias.” Why do I so often have a problem saying no?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next five hours made me realize how important yes can be. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Things stop at no. Yes leaves things open and means that you are willing to gamble that something amazing just might happen even if you can’t see it. We so often want to know outcomes and where a moment will take us but with too much control and lack of spontaneity, the creative edge is lost. We will not be pleasantly surprised and that is such a joy in life. I am not saying that I am planning to say yes to everything but maybe a little more. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The cake was amazing and the coffee picked me up. Off I went to hear about tours I would probably never take and to see a museum that I doubted existed. I did not see a sign and I took that as a bad sign. Deep breath and here we go, buzzzzz. The door opened and peeking at me through the entryway was a huge collection of marimbas and the walls were lined with photos and newspaper clippings. I immediately wanted in. I met Jose; a well-spoken, young, good looking Guatemalan with a contagious smile. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I explained that I was working for Habitat and interested in potential tourisms options in the area for groups and just plain curious. We chatted for a while about nearby options: the tallest waterfall in Central America, a well-known nature reserve called Biotopo del Quetzal, the informative marimba shows they put on. I was informed of the different types of marimbas in their home: gourd, bamboo, wood. </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQFIbci9T7qe3qytG3mpMrM1ajlu4T6WT79lQi8oGxgXdtE1Sx-3nHhMh2HfINKL06raVXvKHahB_ch-fUSiAVMZVsd4SaoUuRDf-M7Gmn8PF-I4XSqVm81FR-TYtcTsW5R97EiD2cxyc/s1600/IMG_0071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQFIbci9T7qe3qytG3mpMrM1ajlu4T6WT79lQi8oGxgXdtE1Sx-3nHhMh2HfINKL06raVXvKHahB_ch-fUSiAVMZVsd4SaoUuRDf-M7Gmn8PF-I4XSqVm81FR-TYtcTsW5R97EiD2cxyc/s320/IMG_0071.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ernesto! all smiles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jose asked if was ready for the show and in came his father, Ernesto. He introduced himself and I immediately felt his warmth radiating in the room. Jose played a large drum that was over a hundred years old with a turtle shell accompaniment and Ernesto moved from one marimba to the next educating me on the sounds each produced while playing songs from different regions of Guatemala and other parts of the world. It was spectacular and their smiles kept catching my glances. I so was happy I said yes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UmsMetJk9fyk2nvqTY6Z9Pnz2U9V5VlfOMDovxZA3A9cupvf8NdyXQBgomRdyKsSqSzRcgY_d0K1llLDl-4dlDCsya-FkmgFa07fVyHDPKho9vDj4gCJWSOx4cgOn_32dLBqUh-NuIPd/s1600/IMG_0101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UmsMetJk9fyk2nvqTY6Z9Pnz2U9V5VlfOMDovxZA3A9cupvf8NdyXQBgomRdyKsSqSzRcgY_d0K1llLDl-4dlDCsya-FkmgFa07fVyHDPKho9vDj4gCJWSOx4cgOn_32dLBqUh-NuIPd/s320/IMG_0101.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After the “show” we chatted and laughed, as if old friends, for a couple of hours. I learned that Ernesto, a naturalist for over 40 years, had initiated the creation of the nearby reserve. He is older now and aged in his physical appearance but his thoughts are clear and his love of the environment and teaching are still driving him. He was like a kid sharing his toys and a proud man sharing his achievements. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He brought out feathers from a quetzal bird to look at on a TV screen via a very powerful electrical magnifying lens. The feathers appear green but under the lens, you see that it is numerous different colors that create the green we see with our naked eye. I was giddy and he was so into sharing. From a leather bag came the five medals he had received over the years for his work in conservation and he talked of their reasons. I started to realize this man was a bit of a legend, yet ever so humble. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMMQti6akF0C_oU4yoibLMpY7qPu0ScTH_-WtvGVnZp43AOpPg6HGpkg8lL2fez9iiy4pvzBZwDHQi2G-XWVTRW_S4Przy13Z9onUIbldv9f9n0xSa7W4yE_VQ-L1T9SJNCI9l0lTV0ko/s1600/IMG_0082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMMQti6akF0C_oU4yoibLMpY7qPu0ScTH_-WtvGVnZp43AOpPg6HGpkg8lL2fez9iiy4pvzBZwDHQi2G-XWVTRW_S4Przy13Z9onUIbldv9f9n0xSa7W4yE_VQ-L1T9SJNCI9l0lTV0ko/s400/IMG_0082.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">magnified quetzal feather</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ernesto is also a marimba teacher and teaches a lot of girls in the area. In the early 2000’s, he accompanied a group of his female students to New York to perform. A couple of his students even stopped by while I was there to get some help with schoolwork. I was elated to see a glimpse of women being empowered through music, by men, in a country that gives so little opportunity for women to realize their full potential. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The conversation never lulled and I told them of my work and life as they listened acutely. It was comfortable and when Ernesto presented me with a wooded piece from a marimba and tied it on my wrist, I was fully aware of how unique and special this chance meeting was. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWt4WY68vt-UQcYzpeCP2hu1LFu7FFmoVDkB7Q5Y1iE6nbx8HdOvyrD1U8Zdq9WUXyDBmhV6nufHXwT32PsAcyQJMffVAuD-Yx7rYXAzR_OA8hJ1TMdCqCzgGAUqjJ7zwKIsKuazJV1BN/s1600/IMG_0106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWt4WY68vt-UQcYzpeCP2hu1LFu7FFmoVDkB7Q5Y1iE6nbx8HdOvyrD1U8Zdq9WUXyDBmhV6nufHXwT32PsAcyQJMffVAuD-Yx7rYXAzR_OA8hJ1TMdCqCzgGAUqjJ7zwKIsKuazJV1BN/s320/IMG_0106.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ernesto and Jose with a painted gourd gift</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jose offered to walk me home and I realized that four hours had passed since I arrived. I would have never known. We found ourselves having dinner and talked of working as guides in beautiful places while laughing about bear hangs and how you can boil water in a plastic bag over a fire. I don’t believe him on that one but I just might find myself back in their neck of the woods to find out. I look forward to a possible camping trip and getting to know the area these men have called home for all their lives. I am certain now that Baja Verapaz has some amazing things to be discovered. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">YES! </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfLb4bbn9G4zW6MdMxNktnA43A7S-lq7BzTDQESUOMO8QwVCf50zo4NQy5GQFkqCSb_SHIp2B8XGIkb6iqq-5OX90lW5W70Zpo6y7EUJh-hl9wBbY0_bNzfGuN8BEITPoJ6hwJqvuBjby/s1600/IMG_3011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfLb4bbn9G4zW6MdMxNktnA43A7S-lq7BzTDQESUOMO8QwVCf50zo4NQy5GQFkqCSb_SHIp2B8XGIkb6iqq-5OX90lW5W70Zpo6y7EUJh-hl9wBbY0_bNzfGuN8BEITPoJ6hwJqvuBjby/s640/IMG_3011.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">random farmer, father, grandfather</td></tr>
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-28682230729503025212011-03-12T21:53:00.000-08:002011-03-12T21:53:04.425-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-A_JvWJ_kav0S3Jc6DckcRdkzB16sAKzTZ2KNVW0Svd82fWqI6ghpTesfZs_cHtHO2PNBdNTtubtNlxTNum2MDlhWsNoqjHYxCiy8JO99D_RrhFnZWYuI860SZJNMwncYSG65k220YmY1/s1600/busB+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-A_JvWJ_kav0S3Jc6DckcRdkzB16sAKzTZ2KNVW0Svd82fWqI6ghpTesfZs_cHtHO2PNBdNTtubtNlxTNum2MDlhWsNoqjHYxCiy8JO99D_RrhFnZWYuI860SZJNMwncYSG65k220YmY1/s640/busB+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-25593338384361701552011-02-28T15:20:00.000-08:002011-02-28T15:22:19.541-08:00Fresh Air<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmbhez85oEHL9X2phC_r-ypxJg6rkB0lxYwoS1ffsVpsDVjBSOpqyE9RlD3mqsgHeRnO8_oRcUPHbd_gqjOI8JcCePlqAQ4atBmDaxr6GenWVH7TCUCLQoxLcytLfR0fwjEAd-4MCaglc/s1600/tajB6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmbhez85oEHL9X2phC_r-ypxJg6rkB0lxYwoS1ffsVpsDVjBSOpqyE9RlD3mqsgHeRnO8_oRcUPHbd_gqjOI8JcCePlqAQ4atBmDaxr6GenWVH7TCUCLQoxLcytLfR0fwjEAd-4MCaglc/s640/tajB6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4gdRM2zxK0GyLXEjgK5kOD8ZmNn4zxFgLwNVqeBEefpsJxzI7gSNbknCqsaiajDX1UyaxFP_8Z2iK93Ly5y1ZzWhXSmo4kpdgpCImUzDQVW_dPlRI250CKvsY7CMHOgYZZm5co9Wz8HI_/s1600/tajB3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4gdRM2zxK0GyLXEjgK5kOD8ZmNn4zxFgLwNVqeBEefpsJxzI7gSNbknCqsaiajDX1UyaxFP_8Z2iK93Ly5y1ZzWhXSmo4kpdgpCImUzDQVW_dPlRI250CKvsY7CMHOgYZZm5co9Wz8HI_/s400/tajB3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 Volcanoes in the distance</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAf7RLOorSD9-ve0jbmaB4reU6bTlcktjLOa5apBibnPa59fcAdpkqi-h93-OEJxLuR6eEDcmbB281HA-WXnR5o_ezhHQuGGzdhsDdxqZfvRPl-6SnKVXRDHcVhaResA3STEvqJhlTuLCk/s1600/tajB4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAf7RLOorSD9-ve0jbmaB4reU6bTlcktjLOa5apBibnPa59fcAdpkqi-h93-OEJxLuR6eEDcmbB281HA-WXnR5o_ezhHQuGGzdhsDdxqZfvRPl-6SnKVXRDHcVhaResA3STEvqJhlTuLCk/s320/tajB4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I can’t remember the last time I saw a sunset or at least it seems like forever. But a sunrise is also a special moment and I saw one of those yesterday. What better way is there to start the day? Sunrises seem better suited for coffee or tea and sunsets for beer. When you climb to 13, 845 feet (the highest peak in Central America) to see a sunrise, just being there in the company of friends is plenty. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We had camped below the summit of Volcan Tajumulco after afternoon showers told us to take it easy and wait for morning. At 5:00 am, I squeezed myself out of the tent to find a clear sky, full of stars. I just knew a spectacular sunset would be greeting us very shortly. We made the final push to the summit as the frosty ground crunched below us. It got lighter, volcanoes in the distance came into view, and then that magical little ball of happiness bid a spectacular good morning. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is something amazing about short adventures in the natural world. You can be away for such little time but feel so rejuvenated and alive after them. This time was twenty-four hours but I know that an hour has the potential to be just as special. You just have to make the moments happen. During my time in Guatemala, I have plans, with two adventurous souls, to meet up once a month for an outdoor adventure recharge. I am making it happen and you should too. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQl56dX-25NeRIlyZMLbZXdSmJT4H6XfavHzCaAnEJQotPnxyUmetn3SydOLHEhMrwdUY82NnZCbBqHqQSHXfKlfeIpKpFmuWSxrAps2zz5nfuBlsG-T2uiqCJGEnSX8838CH0XhBt1lvP/s1600/tajB2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQl56dX-25NeRIlyZMLbZXdSmJT4H6XfavHzCaAnEJQotPnxyUmetn3SydOLHEhMrwdUY82NnZCbBqHqQSHXfKlfeIpKpFmuWSxrAps2zz5nfuBlsG-T2uiqCJGEnSX8838CH0XhBt1lvP/s400/tajB2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Of course we made it! </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Cheers! <o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Al2D-4dQmGAYUUTIVyfMK-wYtH9vG7hzpqZEqCqe2mW4bri1nnh5gzZsjd4zUUBMfM4aGKtyiYshCZwUoan90g3VyPQiEI0V3T9f0g4cRyveuaAi-IXTd632Yw30kMNzuF4pt70LweuI/s1600/tajaB5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Al2D-4dQmGAYUUTIVyfMK-wYtH9vG7hzpqZEqCqe2mW4bri1nnh5gzZsjd4zUUBMfM4aGKtyiYshCZwUoan90g3VyPQiEI0V3T9f0g4cRyveuaAi-IXTd632Yw30kMNzuF4pt70LweuI/s320/tajaB5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-35099513261807564122011-02-28T15:07:00.000-08:002011-02-28T15:11:43.500-08:00Then and Now<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlLbrptuY3Frd1-TnQ2kNWeN3tNWSnMPxFiwQKXI_WF04dUzcjhL1WH5zsTuMQbWHsEqFo2m9pydWQ4MiRcr0p_E3GQis6VNJ3P6Zc1K-MvLZLLcS-9bdxfZi74CO7ag2Sg5hamNYl2Jl/s1600/ixembe1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlLbrptuY3Frd1-TnQ2kNWeN3tNWSnMPxFiwQKXI_WF04dUzcjhL1WH5zsTuMQbWHsEqFo2m9pydWQ4MiRcr0p_E3GQis6VNJ3P6Zc1K-MvLZLLcS-9bdxfZi74CO7ag2Sg5hamNYl2Jl/s640/ixembe1.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><br />
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Seems unlikely that I would find myself at Mayan ruins on the tail end of a work trip, but here I am lying under a huge pine tree in the midst of what was once at important city: Iximche. What remains now, forces your imagination to run wild: important ceremonies, human sacrifices, the comings and goings of people from the surrounding villages, a soccer type game, using a ball similar in weight to a bowling ball, that ended in death, weddings, births. It was an elaborate and complex society that only the impressive trees remember seeing. The wind rustles their leaves as if trying to whisper the story of this place and the birds chirp and fly by, as they always have. It is the most peaceful and serene place I have been in Guatemala and there are few things better than finding a quiet, breezy place where you can lay and watch the clouds roll by as the symphony of sounds plays a one time show.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6Qow1V8MHuhLpNBtpygmWKZfV7N5yNHLfxrZu73U0ySkkfaSmb09W7VFAnx3nhUlvxQ_yTXIIVrrGAkERP_LjmjXxBf78NvLSlDDsCRx0X8ceOrsHLo15MXqFS1Jxwi-SjXjOEVPO1W6/s1600/ixembe3B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6Qow1V8MHuhLpNBtpygmWKZfV7N5yNHLfxrZu73U0ySkkfaSmb09W7VFAnx3nhUlvxQ_yTXIIVrrGAkERP_LjmjXxBf78NvLSlDDsCRx0X8ceOrsHLo15MXqFS1Jxwi-SjXjOEVPO1W6/s640/ixembe3B.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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Yesterday was a 18-hour day. All that time was used to visit two homes, eat a couple of meals and compile the information from the interviews and photos. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">6:00 am found me taking a taxi to a direct bus that had been cancelled, so a “chicken bus” it was. Three exciting hours later, I hopped on a motorbike with Jose, the Habitat promoter, for a nearly three-hour ride on unpaved roads to the first home. The scenery was stunning as the motorbike struggled to carry us up and down the numerous mountains and along the ridges. The steep mountainsides proudly displayed their crops and were dotted with workers tending them. Textures and hues of green varied as we crossed through many microclimates and in front of some homes, women were crouched down on their knees, weaving away on their looms, as they have for generations. As the day-to-day life whizzed past, it was so easy to see the connection these people had to the land and place. They learn skills at a young age and many will teach their own children the same thing in the same place. Is it important to pass down skills from one generation to the next? I think so and maybe those skills are what we are knowledgeable in and we find to be useful wherever we are in the world. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhQi9TNFAtxvDbjE4rAsHdKmv4DNy6F82oTDQxzbWULT90KV2khHrpCAUs-4ZB2fxMp0b0BINa6LE7psXstwWZGDAZaA8aPwybx9zj5AAe6xGmXyYRw1eZhpO3R-OWWCY3tLnYdSWT1sl/s1600/tecpan2B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhQi9TNFAtxvDbjE4rAsHdKmv4DNy6F82oTDQxzbWULT90KV2khHrpCAUs-4ZB2fxMp0b0BINa6LE7psXstwWZGDAZaA8aPwybx9zj5AAe6xGmXyYRw1eZhpO3R-OWWCY3tLnYdSWT1sl/s640/tecpan2B.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ONjlssciTpdmpdJmaHcmk-ds2jM18Le_YU2pz8RK6PzjImhY_U2B6O-KmkIUJ-H9tmVIGdjoBGHLjs1nwfxX3oUT_MVSJ4YP7WPPNAWoRVXndXHADcNtEe82OG9B5OfG_D-lV687Rz8g/s1600/diego1B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ONjlssciTpdmpdJmaHcmk-ds2jM18Le_YU2pz8RK6PzjImhY_U2B6O-KmkIUJ-H9tmVIGdjoBGHLjs1nwfxX3oUT_MVSJ4YP7WPPNAWoRVXndXHADcNtEe82OG9B5OfG_D-lV687Rz8g/s320/diego1B.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mejia family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Barely able to get off the motorbike, I hobbled down to the first house. It was the first time I had seen a home that was given as a gift with no payment expected. The Mejia family’s previous home (a one room, adobe walled, dirt floor, tin roof sleeping area) was destroyed, in December of 2009, during Tropical Storm Agatha. For the past year, the family of 10 slept in an even smaller adobe room, connected to the kitchen. Financially, there was no way to repair or even consider building a new home, so life went on. The family lives three hours by bus, on unpaved roads, from the nearest town but the father heard about Habitat helping victims of Agatha while working in the capital city. A year passed with no word, more money was donated for Agatha victims and then came the news that they would be given a house. Two months later, their new three roomed home was ready. All three rooms will be used for sleeping and it is surely a much warmer night’s sleep with no worry of the house washing away. The family is full of thanks, overflowing with joy and still in awe. Their smiles and kindness wrapped around me like a blanket and made me feel the warmth of the human spirit. <o:p></o:p></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKldTQ3Y-27FTNePGNDsr-QxSKEJrPqMU7IGzUpRZT4nbTK-bVi0vl8_laMtv4Eld0TWIOHjoLkdOWyPsndyCSHZyCOqA4rR91s-8zSQfrpGR1hq9aNuJPkYANogz-pz1OqoF4cSJ1wXej/s1600/diego2B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKldTQ3Y-27FTNePGNDsr-QxSKEJrPqMU7IGzUpRZT4nbTK-bVi0vl8_laMtv4Eld0TWIOHjoLkdOWyPsndyCSHZyCOqA4rR91s-8zSQfrpGR1hq9aNuJPkYANogz-pz1OqoF4cSJ1wXej/s200/diego2B.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mejia family's old home</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNDwBfifvLJXOH3oQ2_VpUsbYF02DO3ohpbQfBiJcwgJ9B99Q1luU5E9ngWvFqOz_5Mj8AoVJD5O0FPaoHMvPdJ6LhCgbBZ9glV2EEzaAjFB6N753mHoA6oyvUeV2NtDWruDP-lA18UZk/s320/diego3B.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New home</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;">The two and a half hour ride back was bumpy and my legs could barely be convinced to stay in place to hold me on but I was pleased with what I had seen and I felt lucky to be in the moment. With a new appreciation for paved roads, a quick lunch and two more hours riding, I found myself at the second home. Flora and her two daughters greeted me with big smiles and curious glances. Their family of seven had been taking cover in the kitchen when their tin walled and roofed home was ripped away during Agatha. They managed to put it back together, in a sense, but there were gaping holes and a certainty that it would not withhold the rains that are soon to start. A year also passed before they got the news that they would receive a free Habitat home, and it was a huge surprise when the materials started to arrive. They are beyond grateful and after 26 years, they will have a sturdy, warm, dry home. Volunteers did not build either of these houses and it seems that I was the American face that had the pleasure of accepting their gratitude. Many people don’t see or realize the direct impact they have on other’s lives but I am certain that if we put forth the energy to help others, we can rest assured that somewhere things are just a little better. </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiodsiqNYc0SmbL_YFo3HpMWUsWgqa2tVfRoI11k0IO8ErXEYaHmP-wSttU9V0YZXXq5mQbQQTxsqvBxzG2KlTk_fCmZmOMk9DksE2a02WOg3CTCU_gyzz1AtSq_uh-u13VDuAAemdRdfi/s1600/flora2B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiodsiqNYc0SmbL_YFo3HpMWUsWgqa2tVfRoI11k0IO8ErXEYaHmP-wSttU9V0YZXXq5mQbQQTxsqvBxzG2KlTk_fCmZmOMk9DksE2a02WOg3CTCU_gyzz1AtSq_uh-u13VDuAAemdRdfi/s320/flora2B.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old home</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New home</td></tr>
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I arrived back at my hotel after dark and when I looked in the mirror, I saw a dirt-covered face with a huge grin. My body ached, I was mentally drained and I was filthy from all the dusty roads and black smoke of buses, but I felt recharged. I drank a beer, had some dinner and wrote and emailed the reports and photos just before midnight. Dormí como una piedra! (I slept like a rock)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7tU85j4sA1xVvtGVUXl3zGU1Im5QUcI0KjnIGPD3TaFJjZxVTs7gfxQ2mqnKc2IByYvnYkDUrSECOWwkzj2x1SpvVGewwVqvGvgFVsf0derP4cPTYRRNmSTwP-0XQ5NzzNDKX-YYyWR6G/s1600/flora3B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7tU85j4sA1xVvtGVUXl3zGU1Im5QUcI0KjnIGPD3TaFJjZxVTs7gfxQ2mqnKc2IByYvnYkDUrSECOWwkzj2x1SpvVGewwVqvGvgFVsf0derP4cPTYRRNmSTwP-0XQ5NzzNDKX-YYyWR6G/s320/flora3B.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She asked for a picture with me.</td></tr>
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-54051153433425914842011-02-15T16:13:00.000-08:002011-02-15T16:13:12.184-08:00little by little<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioxx5kKFYh-TPB2NHPfXJkMAc45soaiBPxCqnNPGf_-pfV94G6vnXgfJxpg8dBanDusHz6cRw5TWcEKxOGl3QnNVom3Ek-CNboi0fKYeYN7kLOGu_5kB82wz1M79Au7RZ6ehKFHfNebnUk/s1600/IMG_2431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioxx5kKFYh-TPB2NHPfXJkMAc45soaiBPxCqnNPGf_-pfV94G6vnXgfJxpg8dBanDusHz6cRw5TWcEKxOGl3QnNVom3Ek-CNboi0fKYeYN7kLOGu_5kB82wz1M79Au7RZ6ehKFHfNebnUk/s640/IMG_2431.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tobacco drying</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kqqdTrzvG20UHO1WNroWcoGztGSYVbWqvirM0jp6cpiLSDm_eWwRYROkwpVIOUeTYgLobdt2TCGPMI6VkKcg28f_r_bsEO59lACtL_XSH9CZmf7KQQJQl_WaNfEoGAgox9aksrpRQZnV/s1600/IMG_2401-P2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kqqdTrzvG20UHO1WNroWcoGztGSYVbWqvirM0jp6cpiLSDm_eWwRYROkwpVIOUeTYgLobdt2TCGPMI6VkKcg28f_r_bsEO59lACtL_XSH9CZmf7KQQJQl_WaNfEoGAgox9aksrpRQZnV/s320/IMG_2401-P2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucky and her son</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I traveled a full day to arrive in Rio Hondo, in the Oriente of Guatemala, where it is overwhelmingly hot and dry. The landscape changed dramatically from the fertile, patch-worked hills of the Highlands that I now call home to the “montanas secas” (dry mountains) that remind me of another home in Southern California. The typical clothes worn by women in the highlands don’t colorfully paint the landscape nor does the impressive array of fruits and vegetables. The kindness of the people in this area is genuine, the cheese and milk delicious, the melons abundant and a sweet bread called “quesadilla” not to be missed.<span style="color: navy;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This trip was different than my normal routine and unfolded in quite a remarkable way.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A group of volunteers is coming to help build in less than a week and Habitat needs to send them photos and info on the families they will be working with. I oriented myself to the new questions, since this was “a before you live in your house” interview and not after. Confusing after only a week on the job!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had heard about “La Colonia” or the colony, a type of housing development done by Habitat, but had never seen one. I arrived at the colony, where the new homes were going to be built, and immediately thought, who would really want to live in a place like this? All the houses are exactly the same and close together. I definitely prejudged and made assumptions. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Earlier in the week, when I was doing my first interviews, it became clear that a family member had given all the new homeowners, except for one, their land. It was unsettling and made me wonder how people in this country got a home if they didn’t have land.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Introducing ……”La Colonia” (applause please, un aplauso por favor)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">How it works: Habitat buys a large plot of land with the intent to build houses close together and form a community. By purchasing the land in one lump piece, they are able to offer families a plot to build on for less than 50% of what land would normally cost them. For the first time, it becomes affordable to own a home and the land it sits on.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3K8edgMiYJ1cLsuvAQwCk-4L0OIWIh9uMQ6JOJc6p6K6oOiw-UKbsXJqjYEGV9ueyDrl0kNLzajYFcLbMFI9VzKUYZUCr4g88ZBXKGo_zGd98o9usE2RGvjg48cYMZmC1euc2K0JQCBSF/s1600/IMG_23820P2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3K8edgMiYJ1cLsuvAQwCk-4L0OIWIh9uMQ6JOJc6p6K6oOiw-UKbsXJqjYEGV9ueyDrl0kNLzajYFcLbMFI9VzKUYZUCr4g88ZBXKGo_zGd98o9usE2RGvjg48cYMZmC1euc2K0JQCBSF/s1600/IMG_23820P2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3K8edgMiYJ1cLsuvAQwCk-4L0OIWIh9uMQ6JOJc6p6K6oOiw-UKbsXJqjYEGV9ueyDrl0kNLzajYFcLbMFI9VzKUYZUCr4g88ZBXKGo_zGd98o9usE2RGvjg48cYMZmC1euc2K0JQCBSF/s200/IMG_23820P2.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Due in 4 days!</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal">The old saying, “you can’t judge a book by its cover”, true again.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While waiting for the families to arrive, I walked in the colony that was built the year before and skeptically looked around. I was invited inside a home and given a tour by a smiley, proud homeowner. After talking to her and seeing how happy she was to be living in the colony, I started thinking; maybe this place has some good things going for it. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>In the course of the afternoon, I interviewed 12 families. Their stories were genuine testimonies to perseverance, moving forward in life, raising your self-esteem, and creating a better and calmer home for the sake of their children. Without the colony, they could have never afforded their own land and home, at the same time. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One single mother, who goes by Lucky, had been keeping the dream alive, of home ownership, for decades and she will move out of her mother’s home for the first time ever. Another woman’s husband died 5 years ago and she is finally able to move out of her in-laws home after 19 years. A couple, pregnant with their first child, is excited to start their family in their OWN home.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFxqW_cazO9t0wAi15PP371G4drV0VKa1TV41gjn0k8yYqJneOf6_GOXXHE4vFJT0j96wFWVMnIyq1dRatTFsrbT5QayuHCYk1qXfhvi57wbiNcvU6sL5Sb3GdmQA6KdIJdVECf2RovHRT/s1600/IMG_2421-P2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFxqW_cazO9t0wAi15PP371G4drV0VKa1TV41gjn0k8yYqJneOf6_GOXXHE4vFJT0j96wFWVMnIyq1dRatTFsrbT5QayuHCYk1qXfhvi57wbiNcvU6sL5Sb3GdmQA6KdIJdVECf2RovHRT/s320/IMG_2421-P2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rene in front of his nearly built home</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I was filled to the brim with utter joy from the stories but still had one family left. Rene (25) and his brother, Rony (23) were abandoned by their parents, at ages 7 and 5, and spent most of their lives moving around, from one place to the next, sometimes with extended family. Rene, now a teacher, worked hard to make his way through school and managed to keep his dream alive. Rene said, “Owning my own home it is my biggest dream. I am on a good path and little by little I am changing my life and making it better.” Rene and Rony are a reminder that people all over the world are manifesting their dreams. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The temperature is rising and I have photos and reports to get ready. It makes me happy to pass on the stories, so the volunteers know the families are worthy of the time and energy they are putting forth. Two weeks from now, those 12 families will be waking up in their new homes and staring their days, but things will be just a little bit different. Little by little, change is possible. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Peace in Egypt.<o:p></o:p><br />
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-85621086621626276372011-02-15T15:35:00.000-08:002011-02-15T15:35:39.271-08:00One thing leads to another...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOYc3haPT_V7HlCGUnUqiF_NS-3Si7u6DIWAvoLx0JVVqZ3hwXy6lonau9E2TgiOs_qWHFo6OQ_RwdaaVRIy8Vwfd-HMLQuPcKEUT0jWoBdHoMcEXss6N-7k03FiMMIyE1CptDpj4tE05/s1600/IMG_2221-P2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOYc3haPT_V7HlCGUnUqiF_NS-3Si7u6DIWAvoLx0JVVqZ3hwXy6lonau9E2TgiOs_qWHFo6OQ_RwdaaVRIy8Vwfd-HMLQuPcKEUT0jWoBdHoMcEXss6N-7k03FiMMIyE1CptDpj4tE05/s320/IMG_2221-P2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGaJ4Fb2MGk-QdtpaeDuyhM2Btdt9bLcTC3chgsQbWmfbR6BlX70WDYBTk3cR8mUXn3csj2959U2tFghaYhoYbjExCb4kMwnXDbkta1EBdfNfTtnBHr_HbQAhIAO7EJINYpGyWeqUgJ03/s1600/IMG_2268-P2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGaJ4Fb2MGk-QdtpaeDuyhM2Btdt9bLcTC3chgsQbWmfbR6BlX70WDYBTk3cR8mUXn3csj2959U2tFghaYhoYbjExCb4kMwnXDbkta1EBdfNfTtnBHr_HbQAhIAO7EJINYpGyWeqUgJ03/s320/IMG_2268-P2.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">It almost seems that the Voyage of the Misty Moonlight was in another lifetime but each day it is apparent that Misty is the gift that keeps on giving. First and foremost is the friendship and sisterhood that grew and continues to thrive. It is the grandest gift of all and has made my life more exciting than any bus ride in Guatemala (to date) or any moment of terror on a boat with two other people that don’t really know how to sail. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Somewhere, on a completely different level, is the chunk of money I received when we sold the boat. It was understood that the journey might not/would not return what was invested and if it did, we were dam lucky. I guess we got lucky and now, thanks to Misty, I am able to be a volunteer for Habitat for Humanity. Habitat pays my travel expenses while working, which includes food, lodging and all sorts of transport but I pay the rest. I am hopeful that the opportunity here in Guatemala will give insight into the international non-profit sector and possibly open some doors later. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So what do I do? Well, According to the manual they gave me, this is the description of my position, “ The profiles volunteer travels within Guatemala visiting families in their new Habitat homes. They are required to conduct a short interview with the family and take photos of the family in their new home to aid in the creation of reports for donor follow-up.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That’s me, the profiles volunteer and work has started. Last Monday and Tuesday, I visited 12 finished homes in the Lake Atitlan area using panga, motorbike, tuk-tuk, bus, micro-bus, back of truck, and walking to get around. In each area that I go, there is a local promoter (who often has a motorbike) who takes me to the houses and often has a little beta on the families. I would be lost without him, as there aren’t really addresses or mapquest here, <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">During the interviews (in Spanish of course), I inquire the families about their previous living arrangements, which is often grim, as far as quality of the home or number of people in the home. I ask about their experience with Habitat, why they wanted a new home and how it feels to have their own home, among other things. I take lots of photos, inside and outside, of the house. The information and photos are used for international donor relations and sent to the volunteers who came to help build the homes. It is quite amazing to hear the stories of these families and see how their quality of life has improved substantially through owning their own home. I have to write up reports of all the homes I visit and organize/edit the photos. Last but not least, I rest. Public transport really takes it out of you. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Habitat offers non-profit loans so families are able to build a home or improve the one they live in. The loan is paid back in a specified amount of time (usually 10 years). Habitat has been in Guatemala for over 30 years and built over 30,000 houses here. For more information, check out the website: http://www.habitatguate.org/<o:p></o:p><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201360686979822994.post-59362570024284592102011-02-09T16:52:00.000-08:002011-02-09T17:56:56.711-08:00A New Journey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWCxEbwWAH4DVLFIDdF_9q7hfVtIw-uREmareiWHa_FkSr6uW9KYJmHSFtIIWRW3ZbdNzqe7Uythz6NkX_FwuF6SNSbOu85TGfRorUmrRo3j4RQZm2s7mxLMyz0c6DPEqUNyxmalOfoQLL/s1600/IMG_1718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWCxEbwWAH4DVLFIDdF_9q7hfVtIw-uREmareiWHa_FkSr6uW9KYJmHSFtIIWRW3ZbdNzqe7Uythz6NkX_FwuF6SNSbOu85TGfRorUmrRo3j4RQZm2s7mxLMyz0c6DPEqUNyxmalOfoQLL/s320/IMG_1718.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Capitals;">Guatemala!!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am here. It has not been a short path, nor one with few choices, to get here, In fact, it has been 30 years of living that has put me here and seven difficult months. I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason and sometimes the beauty of believing in that is waiting for the reasons to unfold. I know that I am here for a reason. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It has been two weeks since I arrived. Hurled into the chaos of a new dialect of Spanish and the cacophony of horns and “bombas” (fireworks not bombs), I have found myself excited and often grinning at the circumstances that currently are my life. Strangely enough, it all feels quite comfortable. The question of “how the hell did I end up here, right here, right now?” has crossed my mind but seems to be dismissed by the answer –“you manifested it”. More on manifestation at another time. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I arrived to Guatemala city via plane and took a taxi/bus/taxi combo to a friend’s house that is in the Peace Corp. Yes-I (as I know him) has become Jesse, cut his hair and is clean shaven since our days working together on Catalina Island. I think it has to do with the fact that he is working for the Mayor in a town called Totonicopan (20 min. from where I live) on an ecotourism project that involves waterfalls. His kindness and introduction to the marvelously crazy country of Guatemala has been invaluable.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I spent the first few days figuring out how to ride the “chicken buses” and micro buses without getting lost or ripped off. Check! I made my way to the Habitat for Humanity office where I will be working, set up Spanish classes, and committed to live with a family, for a bit, that will hopefully fatten me up some. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The weekend found me heading out with Yes-I to climb my first volcano in Guatemala: Volcan Atitlan (11,604 ft.). It was an organized trek with the intention to remove trash from the volcano. I was nervous that the summit would elude me (out of shape and middle aged) but I was in the company of over 60 people (Guatemalans and foreigners) that were full of determination and the notion that, of course, we are going to make it to the top. It did not matter that nearly everyone was ill-prepared, according to American standards, and seemed to lack sufficient amounts of food, water and shelter. First valuable lesson in Guatemala: food, water and shelter are meant to be shared. Why else would you have it? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After 10 hours of hiking, we make it to the summit, totally exhausted, and Yes-I, Judy and I set up our broken tent. Even though it was really cold and windy, I awoke in the night sweating, and realized I was sleeping on some serious thermal activity that was heating the ground. I had a little difficulty easing my mind and falling back asleep. The volcano was shrouded in clouds the following morning, thus holding the views to the coast for another day. As the sun peeked in on the 60 or so exhausted folks at the top of Volcan Atitlan that morning, it was clear that we all felt fulfilled by the journey. We removed an absurd amount of trash as we stumbled, and sometimes slid, our way down. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I continually find myself inspired by the people that cross my path and this weekend was abundantly giving in that regard. Taking the insight and wisdom from those around you and being able to listen is truly a blessing and a gift. The hike made me feel ALIVE and ready for this journey to unfold in whatever form it chooses. I know I made the right choice. This is where I am supposed to be. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Irene (E-RAY-NAY)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Irenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03824834614502811360noreply@blogger.com1