La Escuela

Our project is located in the mountainous pueblo of Santa Maria de Jesus, very near Volcan Agua. It is a 20-30 minute drive from Antigua, and everyday I force myself not to puke as our private shuttle (which is a beat-up 15 passenger van) winds up the steep switch-back roads. 8,000 people live in Santa Maria, which at first seems completely impossible based on the visual size of the town. Yet many people live in the outskirts making a living off their land; and then I also remember how many kids and people live in each house. (Hint: it´s a lot.)

We rent the land of our school from a family and there is always the sound of patted tortillas and the mother is constantly weaving the in the background of our recess breaks. Our rent is the family´s main source of income, which I suppose makes the constant screams of young children more bearable for them. Pet chickens run around the yard, and freshly laundered clothes are usually hanging up to dry.



Public school is free in Guatemala for all children. Yet if a child shows up to school on the first day without the appropriate school clothes and supplies, the child is turned away. When the families have many children, new clothes and school materials are an impossible fortune to come up with. Our project then, is not to take the children out of the public school system, but simply to supplement their education and aid in their ability to afford the schools. If the students attend our school with excellent attendence, we give them a yearly scholarship to buy the materials they need for their public education, and a little extra to their families for food. We have different students in the morning and afternoon, with the understanding that when they are not at our school they are in class at their public school.



Because anyone who can pay for their materials and their gray shirt with the word Escuela printed on it can attend, the schools consequently are packed with a student to teacher ratio that would make anyone cringe. On average each class has 60 students for each teacher. And when the kids are 7-10 years old, public school is more of an animal control center than a place for quality education. We then also work to give our students some more one-on-one attention, in the hopes that we can help them pass their yearly exams and matriculate to the next grade. I teach first grade to kids ranging ages 7-12. Which is a true testament to the ability of the public school system here.



Yet, in a few cases the reason some of the older children are in lower grades is because they have never had the opportunity to go to school. Many children have spent their childhood working in the fields or working for their parents and family. Which is beyond heartbreaking.


But as my wise friend told me, some of the things you see will simply break your heart. But you must have your heart broken in order to give out more love.


As hard as the situation can be to face, the children are absolute beauties, and are some of the happiest people you could meet. They are always excited to be at school, and have the most gorgeous smiles possible.


I decided to try to read them a book on Wednesday and see if I would be able to hold their attention for the whole time. I pulled out Ricitos de Oro y Los Tres Osos (Goldilocks and the Three Bears) and their chairs all crept as close as possible. None of them had known the story before and the look of glee was amazing while also slightly sad. For I´m not sure if many of them have ever had a book read to them. (Another reason probably that reading is very difficult for many of them....) They squeeled when Ricitos de Oro broke the chair and clung to their friends hands when los tres osos came home. After caving to their cries of Otra Vez! and giving an encore of my steller bear growls, I asked them to recall what happened in the story. They all were able to, to a T. Then they had to draw the picture. My day was complete when one of my girls drew eyelashes on Mamá Oso.




This Friday we celebrated all January birthdays. The birthday kids sat in the front of the class and each child in turn had to line up and give every birthday bird a hug and kiss on the cheek. They then got their presents; with the most humble and hidden smiles I have ever seen someone less than 50 give upon receiving a gift.


We then had piñatas, one for the little chicitins, and then one for the bigger kids. Followed by donuts and some amazing pineapple juice with pulp. Then we danced and laughed.





These kids are competely unafraid of life.

Las Drogas

Apparently I am beyond allergic to something in Guatemala. Last week I was sneezing more than I have ever sneezed in my entire life. I thought I was just sick with a cold I picked up from the students who use my shirt as both a napkin and a tissue, and who like to braid my hair with sticky hands immediately after their snack of oranges. Yet one day I took a hay fever pill that one of the volunteers had just in case, and things cleared up a great deal. So Im now thinking my allergies are because of the new plants, dirt roads, and the huge amounts of smoke in the air from the wood stoves that are constantly burning to make the massive amounts of tortillas each day by the women and girls in Santa Maria.

The moral of this so-far very uninteresting story, is that I quickly realized I had to find some drugs of my own here in Guatemala. I found the nearest farmacia and struggled through broken spanish to explain I have alergias from too much polvo (dust). I was quickly given a quote for the cost and handed a box of drugs. No prescription, no waiting, not much money, all added to a quick and easy errand but also some slight apprehension towards the way drugs are distributed here.

Back in the states before I left, I visited Walgreens 3 times and called them 5 just to get a vacation override for a prescription for 2 months. Insurance and pharmaceutical companies in America have some serious work to do, but Im not sure openly handing out drugs is the ideal alternative....

In conclusion, I should be able to teach for more than 3 minutes without having a sneezing attack. That is, if I did indeed end up with basic allergy pills. And at least we will find out if my spanish is good enough not to kill me...

Naked in Monterrico

No, we didn´t travel to a beach in France and I did remember to pack my bathing suit. Yet the waves at the beach in Monterrico, at the southern coast of Guatemala, were the absolute biggest I have ever seen in my entire life. And yes, they declothe everyone that attempts to enter the water.

Last weekend we decided to travel out of town to spend a relaxing weekend at the beach. We took a 2.5 hour private shuttle from Antigua to the small beach town of Monterrico. After boarding the shuttle at 8 a.m., driving around Antigua for thirty minutes to pick up other passengers, switching shuttles completely to another driver and van, and getting gas, we were on our way. Guatemalan time is not quite the same as the rest of the world, it´s slightly...slower. Our ears popped as we dropped from 1500m in elevation to sea level. The countryside was littered with small pockets of communities, made visible to the searching eye by the black smoke floating up from the wood burning stoves. The relatively elegant houses of Antigua transitioned to those made of cinderblocks and sheets of metal. Closer to the beach, the corrogated metal roofs switched to roofs of straw and bundles of mongrove wood.

Once the shuttled pulled over in Monterrico, we had scarcely set our feet on the pavement before we were greated (or rather ambushed) by five different hotel owners louding selling their accomodations. The other five volunteers and I set off to select one of the many beachfront resorts, followed by all five men who were pleasantly surprised that we understood his Spanish. Against the guidance of four of the hotel promoters, we decided to stay in Hotel de Delfin, a very nice `resort` for $6 a night.

The sand was jet black, broken down from volcanic rock, and was hotter than Hades. No, seriously. There was no shade to be found and Steph and I quickly over heated and headed towards the water. The picture does no justice to the size of the waves and the undertow was ridiculous. It was literally impossible to run out of the water against the pull of the tide. When standing 7 feet into the ocean, I was seriously scared when looking at the approaching wall of water. If Steph and I delayed too long in running back to shore, and neglected to dive under the water in time, we were quickly taken for a torpedo ride all the way to shore, where we would then stand up with our bathing suit tops around one arm and our bottoms barely on.

And I was convinced I was in the water during high tide. I was wrong.

We ate dinner and watched the sunset for a while, and while falling asleep at the table I announced I was going to bed. That was until my friends informed me that it was 7:15 p.m. Realizing that it was wrong to go to bed so early when on a foreign beach that is known for it`s nightlife, I agreed to stay awake.

We all had our lights out by 8:30 p.m. Oops.

Yet, we woke up at 5 a.m. to go on a boat ride through the estuary to watch the sunrise. We boarded a gondola-like boat that our Guatemalan tour guide pushed through the calm water with a long mongrove pole. While I normally get sick to my stomach at the mere thought of waking up early, the ride was peaceful and the sunrise simply outstanding. We saw four-eyed fish (two eyes underwater and two above) that skim the surface like water snakes until they sporadically dart across the surface like a skipped river rock. I´ve never seen so many herons and cranes in one place and the bird calls echoed eerily in the still morning.

All in all, it was a good weekend of firsts: saw a shooting star before falling asleep on the beach, actually enjoyed a sunrise, and was indeed naked in Monterrico.

Mi Casita

Here is my house!

The living room...

The dining room...

My room...

Las Iglesias y Las Catedrales

After a long week of Spanish school, and after waking up late on Saturday after attempting (and failing) to keep up with the Guatemalan night life that ends around 4 or 5 am on average, I decided to spend my day by embarking on a self-conducted tour of either the famous or the ancient churches and cathedrals in Antigua. While the plan sounded like a good one and seemed simple enough, I quickly learned that the map I was using didn´t match the streets, and that none of the streets in Antigua are even marked at all. So after giving up and merely wandering around aimlessly I have only a few photos...

La Iglesia Y Convento de Nuestra Señora de la Merced (or simply La Merced) is one of the prettiest in the city and is the most intact. The bright yellow color can be seen from a great distance and the entire church and convent looks like a skilled cake decorator worked his magic across the front entrance.
La Catedral de Santiago towers over the Central Park of Antigua, and at night the saints are so brightly lit that it invokes a sense that yes, perhaps God really is watching your every move. The Cathedral was first built in 1545 but was poorly constructed and the roof crumbled only years later in 1583. After 11 years and after the work iof many indiginous mayans, a new, larger cathedral was constructed. The church was decorated (apparently) with artwork created by European and colonial artists and inlaid with mother-of-pearl, silver, and ivory. However, the infamous earthquake of 1773 pulled this down with it leaving intense ruins of piled rock and only a couple arches to give the idea of the massive structure that once stood. Because of UNESCO, the ruins must be left untouched. However a fully functioning cathedral was erected in front which is the one you see below.

The only other church I have any information on is La Iglesia y Convento de Santa Clara (the church is now merely ruins behind the yellow arches). The church was similarly destroyed in the 1773 earthquake and is now heavily barred and locked with no entrance permitted. But in front of the church are the bright yellowed arches that were used at one time by the local women to do laundry. Under each arch is a concrete wash basins known as pilas, and a great pool of clear water sparkles in front of the basins.

Hablando en Español

So speaking in Spanish is coming along. I suppose. I can order my meals with increasing confidence and I can tell that my comprehension is growing. The relationship between me and my host mother is only getting better; for the more I´m able to speak, the more her patience increases.

However, with all of the good times there are also the funny times, and the complete failures. At Spanish school on Friday we had a mock-school day where Stephanie, another volunteer and I took turns being the teacher while everyone else goofed off. Mi maestro (teacher) was the worst ¨student¨ and quickly regressed 40 years to tossing spitwads at the others. My grand idea to ¨control¨ him quickly resulted in hysterics on their part and un poco de verguenza (embarassment) on my mine. I was trying to tell him to put his hands (manos) under his legs (piernas) while he was sitting, so that he would stop tossing paper. However, I goofed piernas with piedras and said instead: ¨Pon tus manos abajo de tus pierdas.¨ While piedra usually means a rock, it can also be slang for balls. Yet, the first round of laughter was not the last as I managed to goof one more time and repeated the error when trying to say put your feet on the ground. I said, ¨Pon tus piernas abajo los piedras.¨ Mi maestro managed to choke out ¨No puedo¨ (I can´t) before falling off his chair laughing.....

Pero, esto es la vida para aprender el español...