Somewhere over the rainbow….

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.   

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. 

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. 

At the final house, the family hardly spoke any Spanish so my co-worker translated the interview from Quiche to Spanish.  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.  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.

old house

new house

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.  I will always carry gratitude for them like one does for a close friend that lets them confide. 

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.   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.

Cafecito con Leche

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.

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.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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Cafecito con Leche

31 with my chin up

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.  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, 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.

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.

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.  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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

7 Cruces

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.

Decorating a cross
to celebrate
Dia de los Cruces

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.  

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.

Santiaguito erupting in the distance

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.

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. 

Irene, Carlos, Judy, and Elias in front of 7 crosses (that is the name of the trail)

corn starting

quite absurd really

PHOTOS FROM OMETEPE ISLAND, NICARAGUA 

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.

Some synonyms for “absurd” provided by Miriam-Webster are:

fantastic, bizarre, crazy, foolish, insane, nonsensical, preposterous, unreal, wild 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Any absurd ideas or suggestions on being more absurd?

PHOTOS FROM GRANADA, NICARAGUA

YES!

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.

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.

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?

The next five hours made me realize how important yes can be.

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.

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.

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.

Ernesto! all smiles.

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.

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.

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.

magnified quetzal feather

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.

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.

Ernesto and Jose with a painted gourd gift

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.

YES! 

random farmer, father, grandfather